#i was having horrible anxiety in that massive airport and then they moved me to a different flight and I was there for like 5 hours | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

imagining-in-the-margins · 5 years ago

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Here to Misbehave (Pt. 22 | S.R.)

Summary: Things are changing for the better. Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Content Warning: Adults w/ Age Difference, Sub Drop, vague mentions of trauma/dissociation, PTSD (mostly comfort) Word Count: 7.25k

MASTERLIST

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The dulcet, bustling sounds of the Dulles International Airport were more soothing than I expected. Normally, the massive crowds and constant barrage of information would make my brain go into overdrive, but there was something about Spencer being there that made it all turn to white noise. If I had to guess, I would say it was the feeling of trusting someone to take care of you.

I still hadn’t gotten used to it.

“Hey, I got you something.”

Even then, when he’d approached me from behind and gingerly placed the bag on my lap, I barely even flinched. I smelled the contents of the bag before I noticed the logo or managed to open it, but once I confirmed it was what I thought it was, my eyes immediately teared up.

“Oh my god,” I keened, pulling out the familiar blue cup holding a much too sweet, much too large cinnamon bun. Although my mind was running with a million things to say to express just how appreciative I was, I took a bite out of it before I said anything else.

“I love you so much,” I mumbled around a mouth full of pastry.

Spencer tried to respond, but after one glance at me, fingers and face already covered in frosting after only a few seconds, he burst out laughing.

“You’re a complete mess,” he chastised, trying to cluck his tongue but failing in his laughter.

I just smiled back, not even bothering with the plastic utensils and enjoying the indulgence with absolutely childlike joy. It wasn’t even just the sugar or my fingers pressing into the warm, sticky dough that made the morning seem so much better; it was the way Spencer watched me.

With one arm leaned against the chair, his whole body was turned towards me. It was clear from the slightly glassy look in his exhausted eyes that he was also stuck trying to find the right words to say to express just how grateful he was that we could still have moments like that.

Those same eyes roamed over my figure with such an overtly intimate gleam that it almost made me blush. If he’d touched me, I definitely would have. But he kept his hands to himself, and eventually, buried them into his carry-on bag. I didn’t even look at what he was doing, too lost in the sweetness of being cared for.

That foolhardy trust was a mistake. Because, it turned out, Spencer Reid was a monster.

Without any warning at all, a cold wet wipe was dragged over my cheeks. I flinched back, only to find Spencer’s hand holding onto my head and stopping me from turning away. The madman even had the audacity to smile as he gingerly wiped the frosting from my cheeks and chin. Of course, considering the fact I was thrashing wildly away from him, it ended up mostly on my lips.

“Pfftbtb! Spencer!” I spit and whined, earning confused looks from basically everyone in the vicinity. What they would find when they looked over was him in a fit of laughter, continuing to try and clean my face, which was still covered in sugary frosting despite his best efforts to remove it.

“I thought you enjoyed the taste of alcohol,” he teased.

“First of all, no one does, and second—” I started, only to be cut off with a kiss over my much too clean mouth. I smiled, but only because it used to be my move. I wondered when exactly the tables had turned, and it became his job to shut me up with a kiss.

“I know,” he whispered, licking his lips just to cringe at the taste he’d forced on me, “I’m just joking.”

I decided then that the sight and shared disgust for ethyl alcohol were enough for me to forgive him for the time being. I let him clean the rest of the evidence of my greed from my face but decided to clean my fingers myself. I popped each one into my mouth in what I’d imagined was a very non-sexual manner, but Spencer still seemed to enjoy watching me as each digit was cleaned. Granted, he handed me another wipe seconds later. Damn germaphobe. Like he didn’t shove his tongue in my mouth on a daily basis.

The rest of the treat was shared between us, with utensils this time, in a relative quiet. Brief giggles or sighs were all there was to be said. Once there was nothing left to fixate on, I was left only with my thoughts and Spencer’s eyes that still watched me like a horribly affectionate hawk.

“I’m really sorry,” I mumbled without realizing. I’d almost hoped he wouldn’t even hear it, or let it go without a conversation, but of course, he couldn’t do that.

“For what?”

“For making you do all of this,” I explained with a heavy sigh, “I feel like a big baby.”

Spencer’s hands came to brush away the stray strands of hairs from my face. They weren’t actually in the way of anything; I think he just wanted to make a better view. That alone was enough to make me smile, but that only seemed to make him feel guilty.

“Don’t apologize for this. This is my fault,” he said just as quietly. I mirrored his motion, running my fingers through his hair and watching as his mouth dropped open in a pleased smile.

“No, it’s not. You’re wonderful,” I said through my own. It was only a little bit sadder than his, but wasn’t that usually the case? I could only imagine what would happen the day we were both overflowing with nothing but joy. Before, that thought might lead me back to the bank, the place that ended our last purely happy encounter, but…

I looked at Spencer, with his mouth still slightly open and his head lolling back and forth with the little weight of my hand, and I couldn’t bring myself to think of anything bad. So I just thought of the picnic, instead. I thought of him licking my hand as we rolled in grass, and of his own hands working through my hair to make it into something besides a mess on my head.

I looked at Spencer, and I saw beautiful things. And the longer I played with his hair, the more relaxed and content he became. Of course, I would never be satisfied. His smile was the most beautiful thing to see, and I needed it to deal with the guilt still sitting like rocks in my stomach.

“Besides, it’ll be so much easier putting down my work and actually getting sleep when you’re waiting for me,” Spencer slurred, his neck relaxing to drop the weight of his head against my palm.

“I hope not too easy. The world needs you, Dr. Reid,” I kindly reminded.

His eyes fluttered open, trapping me in dark honey irises filled with pure adoration. “You need me, too,” he whispered.

“Arrogant bastard.”

Naturally, he took it as a compliment, his smile growing into a smirk as he answered, “A little bit.”

He should have known better than to give me that look, though, because within seconds my hands fell from his hair. A small whimper came from the pitiful man at the loss. It was quickly followed by a sharp inhale when my hand grabbed his thigh.

“You think I’ll actually let you sleep?” I whispered.

Aside from the obviously tense quadriceps beneath my palms, Spencer showed very little response to my suggestion. Well, rather, he showed little arousal to it. There was a reaction— just not the one I expected.

He looked... nervous.

“I actually wanted to talk to you about that...”

“What?” I shot back immediately, my hands withdrawing and tugging on my shirt while I instinctively tried to hide from him. I was trying to look less guilty, but I was acutely aware that my actions screamed the opposite. So, I tried to combat my obvious anxiety with a voice that was far louder than it needed to be. “I swear I’m on all my medications. I haven’t missed a single therapy appointment, either!”

Spencer’s hands were gentle and cautious when they came to my wrists, gently pulling them away from my chest. “I know. I trust you,” he said with a sad but still genuine smile, “I just wanted to ask you how you wanted to handle this.”

“What do you mean? I’m fine.” The words tumbled out of me in the least convincing manner. Spencer was too smart to fall for them, although I could see a playfulness bloom through his features.

“No offense, but you just cried over a cinnamon bun,” he said, unable to stop a few chuckles from mixing with the words.

“It was just really good, okay?” I scoffed, tearing my hands away from him and feigning offense despite his little disclaimer. From there, I sank down in the shitty airport chair and refused to look up at him. I could still feel his cheeky, arrogant little grin watching me.

Eventually, after I thought we’d suffered enough and I could already feel my legs going numb, I weakly conceded, “Fine. What are my options?”

“Well, basically anything. But the main thing to consider is...”

He paused. It was one of the sure signs that he was taking the situation very seriously. Usually, he would just spout out whatever came to mind and sort out the details later. But this time, he spoke slowly and purposefully. “Majority of our relationship has been based on physicality. Whether it was sex or healing or hurting and I... I want to give you the option to not do that. At least, not for a little while.”

A feeling of dread filled my blood that I could suddenly hear rushing through my ears. I didn’t tell my heart to beat faster, but it did. My hands that had once again crossed over my chest suddenly itched to hold him.

“Why would I not want to?” I asked, fiddling with the buttons on my shirt and occasionally glancing up at him only to realize that he wasn’t looking at me, either. I tried not to read into it. After all, he was the profiler— not me.

“It’s not a matter of avoiding it. I just need you to know it’s not expected of you.”

Without shifting my body at all, my eyes were glued to him. The strain of the angle and the sound of those words caused them to burn, but I refused to let tears fall again. He wasn’t rejecting me, right? He was telling me that he loved me. There was no reason to be scared.

I wasn’t used to that yet, either. But I wanted to be. And judging by the way his hand cupped my face and guided it back to his, I think Spencer felt those anxieties. He tried to will them away by pressing his forehead against mine and letting his thumb ghost over flushed cheeks.

“Don’t be scared. I just need you to know that we don’t have to have sex for you to be worth my time and attention.”

The tears grew bigger under his scrutiny, but they didn’t fall until he closed his eyes. I think that was why he did.

“I love you,” he assured me with a whisper, “I’m not going to deny you affection or intimacy if that’s what you want. I just need you to know that it is always an option.”

Normally when Spencer pulled away, the air felt cold in his absence. For so long, my body had felt lonelier and less than without him. But in that busy, bustling airport, I felt just as loved even when his hands fell away and he sat back up in his chair.

For those who might’ve been watching, they would just see two lovesick idiots whispering sweet nothings in a flagrantly public display of affection. They wouldn’t have heard the weight of the words or felt the way my perception of the whole world shifted from them.

Spencer smiled again, still nervous, but also clear and authentic.

“I’m sorry,” he told me with his eyes fixated on my hands in my lap. He made no move to hold it, although I could tell he wanted to. I suspect he wanted me to focus on the words, so I tried my hardest. I almost asked him what he was sorry for, but he answered first, “I don’t think I’ve ever told you that before.”

A lump quickly formed in my throat that I tried to swallow. When that failed, and I felt the telltale signs of tears filling the sides of my eyes, I did the only thing I could think of to hide. I threw my arms around the only thing that never failed to make them better. I buried my face in Spencer’s neck and laughed along with him as my eyelashes and breath tickled the soft skin.

After a brief second of listening to our hearts settle into a matching rhythm and letting our body heat sink into the clothes between us, Spencer groaned, “How are you still sticky?”

—————————————————

A couple weeks prior, the thought of being alone in a hotel room waiting on Spencer to finish work for the day would have instilled the fear of God in me. I would have done just about anything to avoid the exact situation I found myself in now.

But honestly? It wasn’t all that bad. It was the perfect opportunity for me to force myself to slow down. Granted, that mostly just meant that I would watch bad TV in a bathrobe with overpriced food, but... like they say, change is as good as a rest.

The hardest part about it was actually just convincing myself that I deserved the rest. While I was taking naps and trying to do anything to unwind, I knew what Spencer was doing.

Well, I had some idea of what he was doing. Reality was probably worse than my imagination— it usually was with his job. At first, I had let that guilt get in the way, but at some point over the nine hours, I realized that I would have to find a way to cheer myself up. Because as soon as I heard that small beep of the keycard, I would have to find a way to remind him of all the beautiful things in the world.

No pressure, right?

The sun had already started to set, and I hadn’t heard from him in hours. We’d started the day out with a constant line of contact, but over time he became too busy. Which, again, just meant that I would have to work even harder when he finally arrived.

Luckily for me, by the time Spencer had arrived, there was no need for a pep talk or acting of any kind. My heart immediately started to race the second I heard his voice down the hall. I had already bolted from the bed and positioned myself just far enough from the door that I could jump forward the second it opened far enough to fit me.

And when it did, I pounced.

“Spencer!” I cheered, throwing myself into his arms that had fully been expecting me. Still, the two of us crashed back against the frame and I heard the breath be knocked out of him from the impact.

“Hey, little girl,” he managed to laugh with empty lungs that made it impossible to forget how tired he was. His arm eventually settled at my lower back, lifting me slightly so he could move us from the door’s path. But when we were out of harm’s way and the latch clicked softly in place, Spencer didn’t let me go. In fact, he tossed his bag into the chair at the desk and wrapped his other arm around me, too.

“How was work?” I asked, afraid I already knew the answer.

“You know...” he muttered with a crackling voice, “awful.”

If that hadn’t given it away, the way he buried his face in my neck certainly did. His hands were even more insistent, pressing into my back as he led us both to the bed.

I had to laugh, though, as the realization dawned on him that he’d have to let go of me if he didn’t want to track filthy shoes in our bed. A heavy sigh fell from his lips when he finally released me, practically throwing me onto the terrible mattress before taking his seat next to me.

“I missed you,” I announced in the ambient noise of the cheapest hotel that the government could justify using.

Spencer looked up at me, but the words took a little longer to register. I could only imagine how busy his mind must’ve been, and the guilt quickly came creeping back.

“I missed you, too,” he returned, albeit with a tint of sadness in his tone. But the longer we stayed there, the calmer he seemed. It was such a powerful effect of our proximity that by the time he did lay down next to me, he seemed like the man that had wiped frosting from my face in the middle of a busy airport.

Spencer must have noticed the shift, too, because no sooner had his head hit the pillow than he had flipped over, throwing his leg over me to pin me down against the bed.

My initial reaction was to keep laughing, but the noises were muffled by the persistent kisses he gave. They started at my cheeks and over the bridge of my nose but landed on my lips. I felt the tension leave his shoulders as he lowered more of his body weight against me, and I reveled in the feeling of his presence.

“God, I needed this,” he growled just before his tongue slipped into my mouth.

Everything we’d talked about at the airport felt a lifetime away, and as soon as I felt his erection pressing hard against my thigh, I only had one goal in mind. I forced my hands between us, trying to remove his tie with the hope that it would shed some of the thoughts he’d brought back from work.

But then it all stopped. Spencer had pulled away, grabbing onto my wrist and pinning it to the bed beside me once more.

“No, we don’t need to do that. I just wanted to kiss you,” he panted through heavy breath and swollen lips. I couldn’t stop staring at them long enough to answer, but it was clear from the look on his face that any plea I gave would be for naught, anyway. “I’m honestly way too exhausted to give you the attention you deserve.”

I believed him. Even when he hadn’t slept for nearly two days, he still looked livelier then. I had a sneaking suspicion that it had less to do with sleep and more to do with emotions. I wanted to help him with that, too, like he did for me, but I didn’t know how. So, I did the only thing I did know how to do well, which was to place a soft peck against his lips until they turned up into another smile.

“Get some rest, old man,” I murmured, “I’ll be here to kiss again when you wake up.”

“Let me hold you,” he answered immediately, nuzzling his face against my neck like a puppy seeking any shred of attention. I couldn’t tell if I was laughing because of the way his hair tickled or because it was so strange to see him so vulnerable while still in dominant, albeit disheveled, work clothes.

“Fine. Only because you asked nicely.”

Continuing the trend of being remarkably adorable, Spencer giggled as he rolled onto his side. I was almost tempted to turn towards him, but he had already wrapped his arms around me before I could decide. He pulled me as close as he could before his lips once again settled against the column of my throat.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” he stated absently. It was so quiet that I’m not sure he’d actually planned on me hearing it. But when I reached a hand up to run through his hair, he spoke with a shaky, relieved whine, “I can’t believe you’re here.”

A gentle, warm exhale breezed over my skin as he continued, “I love you so much.”

From that point, any words he might’ve whispered were muffled through sloppy, sleepy kisses over my neck and shoulder. His hands, though slow, were still rough and purposeful as they pawed at me in a way that was only vaguely sexual. It was more like he was trying to prove to himself that he was actually here with me, and my breasts just happened to be the first thing he could grab.

That still didn’t stop my mind from running wild. The hairs on the back of my neck stood at attention as I focused on the way his breath felt against areas still wet from his kisses. And when I arched my back, I felt his hips press harder.

Eventually, when I could trust myself to speak without whimpering, I asked, “Are you sure you don’t want to...”

I peeked back at him before continuing, having noticed a lull in his kisses. Sure enough, Spencer was fast asleep, his lips still attached to my shoulder. I had to chuckle at the sight, but my heart did hurt for him. I couldn’t imagine how tired he must have been to fall asleep then, and still in his clothes, much less.

The guilt over being the main cause of his tiredness was enough to keep me still for at least two hours. I spent that time slowly inching to a more comfortable position, only to be squished seconds later by Spencer. Even in his sleep, it seemed he was terrified of the prospect of me slipping from his arms. He was just being dramatic, though. It’s not like I had anywhere to go.

Wait, that sounded wrong. Truthfully, there were many places I could go, but I didn’t want to. I wanted to stay with Spencer, tangled in his long limbs and tickled by his hair that had grown long enough to gracelessly flop onto my face regardless of position.

For the first time in my life, I didn’t want to leave at all.

But I did. Inch by inch, I carefully slipped from Spencer’s arms. Against all odds, I managed to maneuver through the death grip he had on me and plop down on the ground beside the bed. My mind found that to be the perfect time to recall the lecture he’d given me about how suitcases, and more specifically, their wheels, were the most dangerous bacteria-laden aspects of traveling, but I dismissed the thought shortly after I stood again.

I didn’t want to leave Spencer’s embrace. I’m not really sure why I did. There wasn’t even really a particularly angsty reasoning for it. I just had this feeling, this tingling on my skin and a weight in my stomach that told me I was meant to be doing something different.

The only problem was that I had literally no idea what the fuck that something different was.

So, naturally, I did what every young child does when their parents had grown tired of their restless children jumping on the hotel bed. I grabbed the keycard and the ice bucket and set out on a very thrilling journey to find the vending room. The first part was the hardest. It was shutting the door to return the room to darkness, knowing that Spencer was alone in bed.

It was hard, but it wasn’t impossible. I slipped from the room into the horrible yellow lighting of the halls with the dizzying wallpaper and patterned carpet without another thought. I’d hoped that the walk might bring me answers to the mood I was currently wrestling with, but I was wrong. Because it basically only took me three doors to find the room that I was looking for.

Great.

I threw the door open haphazardly, actually contemplating grabbing the ice and returning to bed no wiser than I had left it. But when the door swung shut behind me, the humming from the machines bled into my brain and started to cover all the other thoughts. It was warmer than my room, as well as smaller and quieter. Of course, it was also remarkably less private, but it was also like 2am. If someone came in to find a strange girl sitting on the floor next to the ice machine, that was their own fault.

In a strange way, it was the most peaceful I’d been in a long time. As much as I loved being with Spencer, these circumstances made it hard for me to not feel like I didn’t belong. Probably because I didn’t. He was here on work, a life that he’d tried very hard to keep away from me. I didn’t blame him for that, either. I was sure he’d gotten a number of questions from Morgan and Garcia about my presence, but he hadn’t shared them with me. I’d even asked him, just so I could concoct my own retaliatory questions for the nosiest of them, but he just laughed the question away.

Maybe that was it. Maybe it was just the realization that Spencer had a life of his own and I was just starting to see it for the first time. I was learning so much about him and honestly… None of it was bad. Most of it was just downright silly. Things like prank wars and physics magic and careful, chemistry-based improvements to shitty coffee. I was just too busy realizing that I was falling even more in love with Spencer to notice anything else.

Including, apparently, the sound of the door to the room opening. Trust me when I say that was saying a lot; the presence of Aaron Hotchner was not easy to miss.

“Can I join you?” His voice filled the room despite its low volume, and I followed the sound with a small smile that grew at the sight of him in casual clothing. It wasn’t something that happened often, but it sure did make him less intimidating than our previous encounters.

“Sure,” I said as I pulled the still-empty ice bucket into my lap. Once he took his seat beside me, I rolled my head toward him to try and figure out what exactly he had planned. But after another few seconds of silence, I realized that he was doing the same thing I was.

Improvising.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?” I asked, insistent that it wasn’t my job in this scenario to come up with the advice.

Hotch seemed equally lost, and with a slight shake of his head, he explained, “I only heard the door open once. Figured it was worth a trip to get some ice to check.”

He held up his matching ice bucket, to which I lifted mine to knock together like the worst kind of toast. It at least succeeded in making him laugh, although the sound was short-lived. We both recognized the shoddy attempt at humor was just masking the things I didn’t want to talk about.

“Why can’t you sleep?”

He had never really been a beat-around-the-bush sort of guy.

“Freakin’ profilers,” I affectionately muttered back, which only earned me a playful warning glance that I, for once, didn’t choose to ignore. “I don’t know. I’m guessing it’s probably the 3-hour nap I took when we got here.”

Then, deciding that still didn’t describe the situation well enough, I tagged on, “You know, while you all were working and saving the world and what not.”

Unfortunately, I’d forgotten the cardinal rule of the BAU: Do not ever speak poorly about yourself. Not even an implication.

“Rest is important. No reason for you to suffer for us,” he returned without pause.

“You sound like Spencer,” I said through a half-hearted laugh.

Hotch shared my laughter, causing them both to grow in volume as he snarkily replied, “And who do you think taught him?”

“Right. Sorry.” I held my hands up in surrender, but we both knew it would be harder than that.

But that was okay. He came prepared.

“So, what else is wrong?”

“So persistent, you lot,” I chuckled. I half expected him to let it go, but he just turned to stare at me with that usually stoic face contorted with an obvious reprimand. I swear, I didn’t even realize his eyebrows could move that far. But there were, raised up his forehead as his cheeks dimpled from his little, knowing smirk.

“I don’t know,” I sighed, “Just thinking about things and I was scared I would wake up Spencer. Like he would feel my anxiety in his sleep.”

“What’s making you anxious?”

I paused. For a moment, I thought about lying. Not the kind of transparent lie that you do when you say that everything is fine. The kind of lie that also contained the truth. There were many things that had happened lately that would explain my anxiety, and they would be believable enough because I did still feel them.

“Everything. You know. The usual,” I said softly, attempting to stall.

Because that wasn’t what the problem was that day. The problems that day were… complicated in a different way than the usual angst. So, I let the thoughts marinate for a moment, considering the different outcomes and deciding which I really wanted.

I hadn’t let myself want things in a while. Maybe that realization was why I decided to just tell him the truth, despite how embarrassing it felt.

“It’s not bad anxiety, necessarily. It’s just this realization that… I don’t know.”

“Take a guess,” he pressed, feeling the hesitance as I stood at the brink of what I really wanted to say. The real answer to why I was sitting on the floor of an ice machine vending room with my boyfriend’s boss, who also happened to be our shared adoptive father figure.

I took a deep breath, clutching onto the ice bucket so tightly that my knuckles blanched and the edges imprinted on my hand until I blurted out, “That I think I’m ready for something else. Something more.”

We both stopped then, enjoying the noises of machinery and the barely-there echo of my words.

“Something more, huh?” he repeated more clearly.

I didn’t appreciate the way the words were practically sung through a clever grin, and before he could take that train of thought any further, I stopped him with an answer too loud to not be deemed defensive.

“Not like that! Not like, let’s run off and elope and have lots of babies tomorrow!“ He didn’t look convinced, so I continued with a much more believable promise. “Don’t worry, I’m not sniping your genius.”

“Thank goodness,” he replied sarcastically. I appreciated his ability to keep things lighthearted, and for a second I did have to laugh at the fact he was such a different person when he wasn’t at work. He must’ve taught Spencer more than I realized. And, in turn, Spencer was teaching me. I just wasn’t sure when the lesson would be over, or if it had already ended.

“I’ve just held onto my independence and this… heavy bullshit for so long, and I’m a little worried about what that means,” I thought aloud.

Again, Hotch had read my mind, or at least, my body language, and demanded the answer he saw written across my features. “What do you think it means?”

“Do you always give fatherly advice like this to whiny girls in ice machine rooms?” I shot back with my first attempt at a glare. It only lasted until he flashed me a toothy smile and his own clever retort.

“No. Now answer the question.”

“I had to try,” I grumbled, only to be shut down again in an instant.

“I’ll forgive you when you answer.”

With a begrudging sigh, I tried to do what he asked. But I only barely got through one word before they turned to a lump in my throat. I choked on the words strongly enough that tears I hadn’t anticipated began pooling on my eyelashes. The power of a profiler, I guess, to know I was on the verge of an emotional catharsis before I did.

“I know we all change. I know that no one stays the same. We all go through things and they change who we are. And that can be good, right? But…”

Once the words started, they wouldn’t stop, turning and tumbling from clumsy lips still chapped from incessant biting. But teeth and willpower couldn’t stop the feelings that caused them, and if Spencer had taught me anything, he’d taught me that speaking a feeling into existence was half of the battle to let it go.

“But sometimes it’s gotta just be bad, right? Like, we’ve got to acknowledge that sometimes we change in an irreparable way that’s just bad for no reason.”

“Right,” he very eloquently returned. Normally, I would have bullied him for giving such a simple response to such a complex question, but at that moment I was just grateful that I could continue. Heaven knows Spencer wouldn’t have let me.

“So, what if that happened to me? What if one day I wake up and finally find out the answer to the question I’ve been asking myself?”

When I turned to the man then, I saw a genuine confusion for the first time that night. I couldn’t tell you where I’d lost him, but it was clear that he heard something in me that alerted him that some deeper rooted issues were just now finding the light of day.

Of course, in this situation, it was really just a flickering fluorescent bulb.

“What question is that?” he whispered, like his voice would intrude in the thoughts.

But the truth was they didn’t feel like they belonged to me, either. That was the problem. I’d spent so long with memories that felt like a dream. I saw them playback when I closed my eyes, just to open them and find the same images reflecting in Spencer’s. I knew they were real because they were written into my skin, yet my mind rioted against them so hard that instead, I just started to think that this body wasn’t mine, either.

“How much of me died that day?”

The question sat with us, taking form in the reflection on the metallic surface that hummed a somehow somber tune. And even though I knew I was looking at myself, it didn’t feel that way. When I saw Hotch move in the background, I turned to him just in time to feel his hand resting over mine on the metal pail in my hands.

“Can I tell you what I think?” he offered.

“I’d like that.”

I felt the warmth flow through him, bringing life back into a hand that suddenly started to feel like me again. His voice shared the same rejuvenating quality as he quietly but confidently answered, “I think… it’s much less than you think.”

As tears slid down my face, they felt less like the beginning of a downpour and more like the drizzle that follows the storm. I let them fall without wiping them away, hoping that as they fell away, they would take the fear with them.

After they did drip from my jaw, I laughed. I couldn’t hold it in because it seemed so silly how much lighter I felt after losing just a few droplets of saline. But, realistically, I knew it had more to do with his hand still holding mine.

I dropped my head to his shoulder, selfishly stealing his body warmth as I croaked, “Thanks for talking to me. I know I must sound like a stupid kid to you sometimes.”

“Not at all,” he said with that tone that was difficult to discount, “You sound just like you should.”

“Can I tell you something now?” I asked between sniffles.

“I’d like that,” he mirrored.

“You’re like… a really good dad.”

It was his turn to shed tears, then, which he did. They were much manlier and less silly than mine, but they were there. I almost accused him of creating them just to make me feel less embarrassed, but before I could, he’d enveloped me in a hug that was way too genuine to question it.

As I hugged him back, I realized just how badly I’d missed moments like this. I’d fooled myself into really believing that loneliness and independence were the same things for so long that when I was granted the support all human beings need, I didn’t know how to respond.

But that was the beauty of family, right? You don’t have to try to earn their love. They already thought you were worthy.

So I hugged him harder, ignoring the clanking of the machines and the sounds of crowds of people stumbling back from bars in the hall that could walk in any moment. I wasn’t embarrassed to be sad anymore. I was just a person. It happens sometimes.

“Speaking of, it’s well past your bedtime,” Hotch said finally, gracelessly shattering the moment in a very dad-like fashion.

“I walked into that one.”

Following that trend, he continued with a gentle bump of his shoulder against me, “If you don’t want to go yet, you can talk to me about that something more.”

I practically shoved him off me, huffing between chuckles and shaking my head in the hope that he wouldn’t notice how it flushed.

“Please. Spencer talks about that stuff, but he’s all talk.”

At first, Hotch just nodded. But after a few wayward glances, he confessed, “I wouldn’t be too sure about that.”

That time the warmth I felt came from within, carried by butterflies that had burst in my stomach at the thought. I almost asked him what he meant, but then felt the familiar, creeping embarrassment that came along with loving someone a little too much.

“Yeah, right,” I scoffed.

I knew he was reading my expressions, but I couldn’t hide the smile, no matter how hard I tried. He still had the decency to ignore my blatant displays of excitement, instead asking the question we both knew the answer to already.

“Is that something you’d want?”

“I…” Such a simple syllable still seemed like too much, and I stuttered it a few more times before I landed on an answer that wasn’t too humiliating. “I guess he’ll have to ask and find out.”

“I hope it turns out well when he does,” he said, pausing to correct with a sarcastic, “Sorry. If he does.”

“Yeah, me too,” I sighed heavily. It was a last ditch effort to hide the way my cheeks were still stuck in a full-faced smile. I turned to see him with a very similar expression.

I knew just how to change that. When he stood up and offered me a hand, I took it and let him do half the work for me. But once we were on equal footing, I placed my hand on his shoulder with a complacent pat.

“You know, if it doesn’t turn out well, you’ll have to figure out how to comfort the both of us.”

“The horror,” he jokingly cringed with a shake of his head.

I almost left then, but thankfully he’d remembered the actual purpose for the room we’d had our impromptu surrogate-father-daughter moment in. He grabbed my ice pail from my hand and dropped it under the dispenser without saying anything else, letting the chaotic crunching signal the real end of the moment.

Once it was over, I looked down at the now freezing bucket in my hands that suddenly felt warm. Then I looked back up at him and saw a pride that I wasn’t expecting.

“Goodnight, Aaron,” I said as the last remaining bit of tension fell from my shoulders.

“Goodnight,” he answered, opening the door and watching as I padded down the hall. He waited until I slipped back into my room before his door clicked shut, and mine quickly followed.

That tiny sound was just enough to wake the man in the bed, and when I turned to him, the sight took my breath away. Because there was Spencer, the man I loved, reaching his arms out into the darkness and grabbing the empty air as he whined, begging me to come to him faster.

And I did. Tossing the bucket onto the table, I rushed over to him and threw myself into the bed beside him without any grace. With a similar restlessness, Spencer wound his arms around me as soon as I was within his reach, pulling me as close as he could without sacrificing all the air in my lungs.

“I missed you,” he mumbled against my hair.

“Don’t worry. I’m back,” I whispered back. The words were lost in his shirt, but he somehow heard them well enough to ask, “Where did you go?”

I didn’t know how exactly to describe what had happened, so I told one of those lies I’d contemplated earlier. “To get ice,” I said. It wasn’t exactly a lie. It was just a very inefficient summary.

Spencer didn’t care, either. In fact, he giggled at the thought, nuzzling his face down into my neck and tickling me with his lips as he mumbled, “Let me warm you up.”

It did succeed in warming me up, but only because it turned into a fit of giggles and more intense tickling. His fingers danced along my sides and his whispers turned back to the same kisses that we’d started the night with.

But it couldn’t last forever. The poor guy still had only had a couple hours of sleep, and I felt the excitement wear off all at once, leaving him only half-awake on the pillow beside me. He still found the energy to look at me like there were stars in my eyes.

“Where did you really go?” he asked again, dragging his hand over my cheek like he could see the tears I’d shed just a few moments before.

“Just ice. I promise,” I answered, ending the thought with a quick kiss on his palm. When I could tell that he didn’t believe that, I brought my hands up to his face as I snickered, “See? Cold hands.”

Surprisingly, he didn’t flinch. Instead, he just leaned forward, letting our noses touch and pulling me in to him again. His eyes fluttered shut, and I could almost see the way his body started to return to sleep as he barely muttered, “No cold feet, though?”

It took me a moment to register the words, and once I did, I still couldn’t believe them.

“Cold feet for what?” I whispered back.

Spencer’s answer only came in the form of a dreamy laugh. He didn’t open his eyes again, instead choosing to drop his face back into my shoulder just like he had before. This time there were even fewer kisses against my neck before he went still again.

Once again, I was left with my thoughts. Only this time they weren’t scary. Because marrying Spencer Reid was not the worst thing to imagine by far. In fact, there were very few things I’d ever wanted more.

—————————————————

| Part 23 |

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds self insert #spencer reid series #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #dr spencer reid #spence reid #spencer reid request #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction

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apparentlynotreallyfinnish · 5 years ago

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I’m still trying to get back to some kind of normalcy after my US trip and I’ve been jotting down some of my observations and little tidbits about the trip (a lot about the food, some about general stuff and meeting Mick and V). This is more for me to remember and look back on, I don’t really expect any of y’all to be that interested. So I’ll put it under a read more.

I’ve never been on a plane that big (with three rows of seats, 3-4-3) and surprisingly, the flights (3h and 11h on my way there, 8h and 2,5h when coming back home) went really well! I will definitely visit the US again now that I know I can do it. (In case you didn’t know, I have always had a horrible fear of flying.)

I stayed at an Airbnb for the first two nights, which turned out to be an excellent idea since I caught a stomach bug from my friend’s baby before the flight and spent the first night in the states sleeping on the bathroom floor and being extremely ill.

The Airbnb host was lovely.

Simply Lemonade’s Raspberry Lemonade is my favorite drink ever and I’m so very sad they don’t sell it in Finland. Also, apparently, I like Dr. Pepper.

Floridian strawberries are cheap and tasty (but not as good as Finnish strawberries).

Milk Duds are nothing like I imagined. They were okay though.

I love Sour Patch Kids.

I’ll probably never again eat at Taco Bell, even if I get a chance. (Also, Mexican food, in general, is gonna be on hiatus for a while…) I had a Crunchwrap and it was okay when it went down but pure murder when it came back up the following night.

The Cheesecake Factory was ridiculous. The portion sizes were monstrous and the cheesecake was a bit too much. Also, the eye of Sauron pillars were a strange decor choice.

Portion sizes in other places weren’t as big as I’d expected. But the drinks… Good God. No wonder there’s so much diabetes in America.

Bojangles was my favorite fast food place and I’m still dreaming about Cajun Filet Biscuit.

All chicken foods I ate were great.

Seeing the calory counts so prominently displayed on menus and commercials was very disconcerting and gave me so much anxiety.

Why does everything have to come in a huge bag/bottle/package?! I would’ve wanted to try out all kinds of stuff but I’m not gonna buy a 15-pack of drinks to drink one (or a 1 pound bag of candy etc.).

I expected the food to be cheaper.

I felt weird about someone packing my groceries for me.

I felt weird about waiters and cashiers being so cheery. It freaked me out and always made me mumble something incoherent in response.

My depit/credit combination card was apparently very strange to many cashiers. Don’t you guys have those?

There are SO MANY trucks. And they are intimidatingly big.

I only saw one oversized load which was a tad disappointing but still good. (This will not be understood by anyone else except Mick.)

Road signs were massive.

I’d never seen a skyscraper before so that was cool.

The houses are massive and very American.

So many cars….

The Georgia Aquarium was a heaven on earth and I sat in front of the big tank for 30 minutes and actually cried because I was so overwhelmed and affected. (Yes, I have a weird obsession with aquariums and ocean creatures.) I wanna go back and sit there a whole day.

Also, I saw puffins and it was everything I hoped it would be. (I obviously bought a puffin plushie for myself. It now sits under my lighthouse print.)

Also, a middle-aged guy accidentally titty-punched me (at the Aquarium) and I’m not sure which of us was more embarrassed.

It was about 22C/72F on one day and we sat out on the porch and wrote. It was lovely. When I came back home a few days later we had -7C/14F and it was snowing.

I could move into 2nd and Charles (I LOVE used book stores). It was literally heaven for me and I made Mick and her whole family annoyed at me by staying there way too long.

@mythicalpurgatory is the sweetest person on Earth and gave me the prettiest earrings as a gift. I miss her hugs and I am so sad we forgot to take a pic together.

@sass-and-panache was exactly as I’d imagined her to be. She really is a force to be reckoned with. She’s amazing. The best mom and an all-around awesome person. Meeting her in real life was almost anticlimactic because it all felt so familiar (but only almost, it was actually freaking awesome).

I was very awkward and embarrassed about my accent.

I’ll probably miss Mick’s son more than Mick but only because he snuggled with me. (Also, he’s like super smart and cute as heck.) (This is only like 50% a joke.)

When Mick drove me to the airport we listened to Rhett and Link sing Silver Wings and it was very fitting and slightly hilarious.

On the flight back home, the plane flew over Newfoundland and I’m like 95% sure it also flew over the exact spot I’d decided LMBYL’s lighthouse island is. I was VERY excited.

I almost missed my second flight back home in Paris (because the airport is massive, the staff was unhelpful and I didn’t have enough time between flights). It was very stressful. I almost cried at the security check and the staff member checking my bag was super rude. They called my name on the loudspeaker (last call) and I was on the plane right as they were closing the gate.

Jet lag was not a problem while I was in the States. Now though… My body has no idea what time it is.

It was a great trip and I’m so glad I did it. That I could do it. That my anxiety didn’t stop me. If you’d told me a year ago that I was doing this I would have laughed and called you crazy. I’ve always dreamed of visiting the US but I was certain I would never do it. Actually going was a huge personal victory.

I will be forever grateful for Rhett and Link because they are the reason I met Mick and did this trip.

#Appa's rambles #Appa's trip to the States #aftermath

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maevefiction · 7 years ago

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Your Light in the Mist - Chapter 48

Tom remained at Wilcox Medical until July 11th, and I didn’t leave his side for more than a few minutes during the entirety of his stay…a navy-blue leather recliner to the left of his bed had served as my sleeping spot. Said sleep was elusive, as is the case with any hospital stay. It’s all a blur of doctors and nurses and machines and strange periods of quiet that turn into an assaultive dissonance on a dime. Detective Frye paid us a visit at the hospital the day before Tom was discharged in order to discuss his recollection of the incident, aspiring to fill in as many blanks remaining in the police report as possible. Since there was no one to prosecute, such matters were for the record only, but accurate information was essential in the event that a civil suit was filed by Claudia’s family. I was initially taken aback when Tom asked me to leave the room while he spoke with the detective, and it must have shown on my face because Tom quickly apologized and said he simply wasn’t ready for me to hear any of it, even though I might be ready to listen. Upon my return an hour later, Frye was gone and Tom was visibly upset, with an underlying anger reflected by the tension in his shoulders and the set of his jaw. Though it was a challenge, I didn’t pry, settling instead for squeezing his hand before I retired to my chair and sat in silence with him until he was ready to talk. And when he did, it was about everything and anything other than whatever it was that he’d just shared with a complete stranger.

His recovery had gone smoothly, but we’d found ourselves taking what amounted to a forced vacation in a rented condo on Kauai, waiting for Tom to be cleared to fly to San Diego so he could, hopefully, arrive there in time to participate in the Kong Skull Island panel. Since we’d be in Australia for a large chunk of my pregnancy, I’d decided to choose an obstetrician there, and had managed to find one in London as well who was willing to follow along and take over once we returned home in mid-to-late November. That date was tentative at best since we weren’t sure what physical limitations or restrictions Tom would have nor how they’d affect the Ragnarok shooting schedule. I’d had a basic blood work-up and general physical exam at Wilcox, and when that turned out fine I opted to wait on a sonogram. It seemed silly, but I just didn’t want to forever associate the experience of seeing our progeny for the first time with…whatever the correct term for what we were going through was. Prog…that’s what we’d started calling the little bugger that was making me violently ill at least once a day. Short for progeny, with a ‘j’ sound. The Prog.

Diana, James and the rest of Tom’s family had headed home as soon as he’d been discharged, but Luke and Simon stuck around under the guise of not wanting to fly to London only to have to turn around and fly right back to the US again for SDCC. In reality, I knew the reason for them remaining was because they figured we’d need their companionship and assistance but wouldn’t want to ask for either, which was one-hundred percent correct. They’d taken on the task of finding the rental, packing up our belongings at the hotel and having them ready and waiting when we arrived. No one even asked if I wanted to do it myself, for which I was grateful, because there was no way I was going back there. I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able go back there…just looking through our wedding pictures and videos pushed me to the edge of the ‘massive anxiety attack ahead’ cliff, and, in all honesty, I couldn’t wait to get the fuck off of Kauai. Remaining there seemed to make it impossible to process, to try to move forward. I’d begun having nightmares, as had Tom, but we didn’t speak of them in the daylight hours, nor in the dark of night. I knew that there was work to be done, that we needed to find a pathway to healing emotionally…but that didn’t seem possible until things in the physical realm were fully sorted.

Tom’s first follow-up appointment had taken place on the 13th, his second – and last – on the 18th. Dr. Salinas gave him clearance to travel and return to normal physical activity with some limitations…no running and no stunt work for thirty days. After that it would be business as usual, but for the next three months he’d need to self-monitor, and if he noticed any pain or atypical shortness of breath he was to head to the nearest medical facility immediately. Copies of all related paperwork would be sent to the proper department at Marvel for review, and the new shooting schedule emailed once it had been established. Since he was fine to do a majority of planned scenes, it was likely only three weeks or so of actual filming time would be lost. Which was bad enough, but…could have been worse. So much worse. I wondered if I’d always think that way, and if it wasn’t actually a bad way to evaluate one’s current situation. All things should seem less horrible when you pause to consider what’s worse, in theory. I decided to file it under ‘convenient diversionary tactics to avoid dealing with life’, mainly because my pondering had been interrupted by another round of heaving up the contents of my stomach.

All four of us shared a charter to San Diego on the 21st, heading directly from the airport to the same hotel we’d stayed in the year before via a car service. Stepping out of the black Dodge Durango and onto the pavement was surreal…a mix of reporters, media, and attendees thrilled to be among their people again were all around us, and we were paid little to no mind until we entered the lobby. There were stares, pointing, and whispering as well as several shouts from well-wishers. While it was a bit overwhelming after spending so much time in a private setting, the positive energy emanating from those within our space reminded me that there were likely some folks who’d been concerned about us and had been sending along that same energy from a distance via social media. I hadn’t looked, and neither had Tom, but now was probably the time to investigate and at least post a simple thank you if nothing else. I didn’t want to, but it seemed rude not to, so I added it to my mental to-do list.

After check-in we took the elevator up to our floor, and when the doors opened I could feel my body tense at the sight of the narrow hallway. Tom and I stepped out into it, leaving Luke and Simon behind as their room was two floors above us. We walked to our room, the third one on the left, and when I turned to face the door a vision of Claudia knocking on it froze me in place. Once Tom completed sliding the keycard and swung the door inward the contents of the room were clearly visible, and though slow to process the data, my brain cycled logically…not Kauai, different place, dead Claudia, all clear…and I managed to step forward and inside. The door shut behind me with a loud click, and I flinched, then headed for the bathroom. Tom had pulled out his phone and begun talking to someone I assumed was either Jordan or a fellow cast member about the panel’s structure and content. He was still engaged in conversation when I emerged a few minutes later, standing in front of the window that overlooked the city. The setting sun, now at its lowest visible point on the horizon, had created a halo effect that surrounded his upper body, and in that moment, I felt like myself again…normal, even. My version of normal, anyway. And then, there was a knock on the door, and I panicked, whimpering quietly because that’s all my body would permit. Tom didn’t realize anything was awry at first, only turning around when the knocking continued. He took one look at my face, tossed his phone on the bed, and walked quickly to stand in front of me as he loudly stated to whomever was out in the hallway that he’d be right there.

He took my face in his hands ever so carefully, trying his best to keep himself even-keeled for my benefit. “It’s okay. It’s probably just our luggage. I’ll go see, and I promise I’ll leave the bolt on until I’m certain. All right?”

I nodded, watching him from the foot of the bed, unconsciously clenching my hands into fists as I waited for something terrible to unfold. As the door opened my heart began to pound like mad, and when I saw the luggage dolly I sat down, elbows on my knees and my head in my hands…relieved, but confused and embarrassed by my behavior. I heard the door close again, then felt Tom’s weight shift the mattress as he sat beside me. I lifted my head slowly as he slipped his arm around my shoulders. I wanted to say something but I didn’t know where or how to begin, and since he remained silent I assumed he felt the same way. Though it felt wrong to judge so quickly, this was becoming a pattern, and it made me uncomfortable across the board. We hadn’t been intimate since the night before the public wedding ceremony and learning that I was pregnant, and it felt petty and selfish to even be thinking about not having fucked my husband in three weeks when I’d almost lost him forever, but I missed him, missed the reinforcement of the connection between us sex provided, all of it. It had been officially off the table until the restrictions Dr. Salinas had imposed were lifted, and while I’d been expecting to get back to it right away his expectations clearly differed. To be honest, he’d expressed no interest in it whatsoever. I didn’t know what to make of it, and it was another instance of me saying nothing because I had no clue as to what I should say, if anything. I’d also caught him looking at me on multiple occasions while wearing an expression of guilt and/or regret and again, said nothing. A pattern indeed, and an awful one that I was unsure how to break free of, other than being patient until it ran its course. Lord knew he’d been ceaselessly patient with me all along the way, the situation he’d just navigated serving as a prime example. Was that the right way to handle this? Fuck if I knew. What I did know that I was exhausted, and softly announced that I was going to try to get some rest. He kissed the top of my head, rose and began to unpack our luggage as I undressed and crawled under the covers. As I lay there, I realized that it wasn’t only him who hadn’t revealed the details of their experience that day…neither had I. Yet, he’d known the circumstances, enough, at least, to know someone knocking at the door was something I might now find frightening. Had he watched a video of the press conference? Discussed it with Luke or Simon? Or, perhaps, Detective Frye? I sat up, intending to broach the subject, but found myself trapped between needing resolution and wanting to avoid causing him any additional pain. His voice startled me.

“Maude? You okay?”

I stood, nodding. “Tired, but can’t sleep. Gonna take a shower and see if that helps.”

As I walked past him, he set the shirts in his hand down on the dresser in order to reach out for me, pulling me to his chest and kissing the top of my head again, then releasing me. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” The carry-on that contained my toiletries was on the floor near him, and I stooped to pick it up and brought it with me into the bathroom. After closing the door behind me, I started to cry. I cried as I unpacked what I needed. I cried as I turned on the water, I cried as I shampooed my hair, I cried as I rinsed it, I cried as I soaped myself and rinsed again, and I cried as I dried myself off and hung the towel back on the rack. My eyes were red when I glanced at my reflection, so I wet a washcloth with cold water and held it over them for several minutes then checked myself out again. Not ideal, but acceptable. I blew my nose, then walked back out into the room. Tom had finished unpacking and was sitting at the room’s desk, laptop open in front of him. He looked up at me, smiling.

“Better?”

“I think so.” I put my hands on my naked hips. “You coming to bed?”

“Not yet…going over a few things for the panel tomorrow. Will it keep you awake if I’m working?”

I shook my head as I allowed my hands to drop to my sides. “I don’t think so. I can always put my earbuds in and listen to music if it does.”

“Okay. I can’t imagine I’ll be at this for more than an hour, honestly, so I’ll be joining you soon. Get some sleep, my love.”

“Okay.” I returned to my tangle of sheets and blankets, my damp hair clinging to my neck, my back turned to him. There was, of course, no sleep to be had, though I pretended to be out cold when he finally settled in beside me two hours later. Once I was positive he was asleep, I got up, put on my robe, pulled out my own laptop and sat at the desk he’d recently vacated to do my own work. Which didn’t require much effort, as the only pressing task on my list was the Skype interview I had set with Chad Morrison for the New York Times tomorrow at 1 PM. I reviewed the most recent Manageall stats Trudy had sent me, created a bullet-point list, then spent the next few hours surfing around checking out random things that I thought might hold my interest and, perhaps, entertain me. I woke up in a puddle of drool with my hand beneath my head resting on the desk, my browser still open and displaying an article entitled ‘Gentle Yoga For A Better Birth’. The system clock read 6:17 AM, and a quick glance at the bed confirmed Tom was still sleeping. I stood, removed my robe, hit the bathroom and then slipped in beside him, waiting for him to awaken and for the day to begin. A new location, a full schedule, little time to dwell…and, hopefully, all of that would amount to first steps down that pathway we needed to traverse.

***************************************

SDCC had gone off without a hitch…everyone was incredibly respectful, and kind. I don’t know why I would have expected anything else, other than that little voice I kept hearing inside my head whispering things like ‘they know it’s all your fault’. My interview with Chad had been published on July 25th, and by the time we arrived on the Gold Coast in Queensland on the 28th Manageall had surpassed the ten thousand subscriber mark. That kept me busy over the next week as I scrambled from our rental house just outside of Oxenford to remotely help Trudy configure new servers and ensure that the system could handle three times our existing traffic, just in case. Five new employees were added within the space of two days, and all but one stayed on board despite being thrown into the fray with little to no training. Ten-thousand plus subscribers was A Big Deal…aka the amount that tipped our monthly gross revenue over the million-dollar mark. It was a milestone that warranted a discussion, one which Luke and I decided to have in person once I returned to London.

Tom had begun filming at Village Roadshow Studios on July 30th, waking each morning at 4 AM, leaving by 4:30 and returning home each night well after 10 PM, showering, then falling into bed exhausted. To make up for lost time, the shooting schedule would be six days a week until a temporary relocation to Brisbane happened in late August. My schedule mirrored his, mainly in order to account for the 9-hour time difference between Queensland and London. When I’d contact Trudy or Luke at 5 AM my time, it was 8 PM the night before where they were. A mindfuck, truly, and it meant I was done working every day by 11 AM at the latest, which left me with entirely too much time to think. Things between Tom and I were still as they were back in San Diego…no conversations about the incident, no sex. Every day had begun to represent another brick being added to the wall building between us. There was no animosity, we still talked about a broad spectrum of other things, still slept in the same bed, but there was a sense of necessitated cautiousness and a distance that hadn’t been there before.

The obstetrician I’d chosen, Dr. Bresden, practiced out of Brisbane, and my first appointment was scheduled for 1 PM on August 15th. The drive up would take about an hour or so, but we figured we’d leave at 11 and allow ourselves some extra time. If my guess as to when I’d conceived was correct, I’d reached the 13-week mark, possibly the 14th, and over the past eight days I hadn’t puked once, which was both awesome and anxiety inducing. Did it mean I was progressing normally, or was, you know, something WRONG? The evening before the sonogram was rough…I was obsessing over the morning sickness waning, and my nightmares had gotten continually worse, to the point wherein I began to dread going to sleep. We’d gone out to dinner with Chris and Elsa, who decided it was time to share their horror stories about child-rearing and childbirth now that Tom and I were official pledges to the Paternity Fraternity. I bitched about it the entire way home, then continued to complain about it after we’d arrived back at the rental house until I thought I heard Tom sigh heavily, at which point I had to decide whether or not to flip the fuck out or let it pass. Since I couldn’t be totally sure, and also because I could readily admit I had one foot over the cray-cray side of the fence, I let it go and we turned in for the night.

The next thing I knew, I was screaming, Tom was yelling, and my hands hurt like a motherfucker. I took stock of my surroundings and realized I was standing in front of the closed bedroom door. Looking down, I saw knuckles that were bruised and bloodied, as were the pinky-sides of my hands. When I looked back up and left and my gaze met Tom’s, my screaming stopped and his yelling ceased, replaced with a loud gasp of relief that was nearly a sob.

“What the fuck HAPPENED? I was asleep. How am I here? I don’t understand.” I reached out and touched the door with a fingertip, searching for confirmation that this was, in fact, reality, and as soon as I pressed down a jolt of pain hit my brain and I…remembered, my body twisting so I could face Tom.

“The Marriott, but…not the real Marriott. I was in the hallway, and you were dead, right there on the floor, and she was dead next to you, and I was just staring and staring and then she moved. She moved. And then she sat up, and she had the gun and she said ‘did you really think you were getting out of here alive’ and then she stood up and it was like something out of the Walking Dead, her eyes were all filmy and when she opened her mouth I could see right through because the back of her head was just…gone. And I turned around and ran down the hall and I tried all the room doors but they were all locked and then I got to the end of the hall and where there should have been stairs there was a door, a metal door, and the handle moved up and down like it was open but it wouldn’t open and I kept looking back over my shoulder and she was moving so slowly, but I couldn’t get the door to open and down at the other end of the hall was just a wall. She talked again and said she was going to wait until she got close to me to pull the trigger because she wanted to watch, she wanted to see…and I screamed for help, for someone to let me out, but no one came and I started to pound on the door, first with the sides of my fists, but then I started to punch it because she kept getting closer and the she touched me, her hand was on my shoulder and I swung around and punched her in the face and I thought she was going to fall down but she didn’t and then I tried to grab the gun but she wouldn’t let go and I went back to hitting the door and jiggling the handle but I knew I was going to die and then…then I…I was here…”

It felt like my heart was going to pound right out of my chest, and as I reached out to touch Tom to make sure I really wasn’t still inside a nightmare I noticed that the left side of his jaw was reddish-purple and that it was streaked with blood. My hands rose in an instant to cover my mouth, and when I spoke my voice was muffled and garbled.

“Oh my god, I hit YOU, didn’t I? Not her. YOU.” I lowered my hands, briefly assessing their condition once more and realizing that the blood on his face was most likely from my knuckles. “Oh my god. Tom, I’m so sorry…so sorry…are you okay? Jesus fucking CHRIST. What ELSE did I do? What is WRONG with me?!”

He stepped forward and embraced me, rubbing my back in slow circles and rocking me gently until he felt my heart rate returned to normal. Pulling back, he placed his hands on my upper arms, eyes focused on mine. “There’s nothing wrong with you. That was a night terror. I knew the risk of intervening…you’re never supposed to, but I couldn’t just stand aside and…anyway. I’m fine. How are you feeling?”

I shrugged, shaking my head back and forth slowly.

“I know. I’m so very sorry, Maude. First things first…those knuckles of yours need to be cleaned, And, we both could use some ice. Will you come to the kitchen with me? We’ll get that bit sorted, and then we can figure out what’s next. All right?” I nodded, and he stepped back, leaving one arm around my waist. He unlocked the bedroom door, opened it, then led me to the counter that held the undermounted stainless steel sink. We were both nude, and as he leaned forward to open the tap and set the right temperature with his free hand I felt the brush of his pubic hair across my hip, then again as he pulled back and released me in order to go find a clean kitchen towel. More than a year ago in New Orleans I’d had a brief case of performance anxiety after he’d revealed his full sexual history, but this, this was the first time ever that being naked in his presence made me feel uncomfortable. It was more than that, really…I felt self-conscious and exposed. I wrapped my arms around myself, and when he returned to my side I spoke, my chin lowered to my chest as I stared down at the water circling the drain.

“Would you mind getting me my robe?”

He placed two tan and white towels on the counter. “No, not at all…shall I turn the thermostat up a few degrees as well?”

I shook my head. “No thank you. I’m not cold.”

He hesitated, and I said nothing, continuing to stare. I heard his bare feet padding across the tile, the sound fading as he entered the bedroom. Upon the resumption of the sound I forced myself to lift my head and turn to look at him as he drew closer. In his hands was my black silk robe, and when I noticed he’d put on his navy-blue running shorts it dawned on me that by saying I wasn’t cold I’d clued him in as to what was on my mind, at least in part. He held the garment open so I could slip into it easily, his eyes averted as I carefully worked my arms through the sleeves. Though it wasn’t exactly pleasant, I tied the belt on my own. The water was still running, and he reached in and dipped his index finger into the stream.

“That feels all right to me.” His voice was nearly toneless, any emotion present seeming somehow forced. He reached for my right wrist, then paused, eyes asking for permission when I met his gaze. I nodded, then turned to watch as his hand encircled my wrist and guided my knuckles slowly into the streaming water. When I winced at the intensity of the stinging he spoke again, voice now trembling.

“I’m sorry.” He patted my right hand dry ever-so-gently, then moved on to my left. I winced again as the water made contact, noting that Tom’s own hands had begun to shake. By the time he’d dried my left hand off with the second towel, his entire body was quivering, and at that point I realized he was weeping. My head jerked upward and I swiveled my torso so I could see his face. He looked down and away, holding his hand up palm out toward me as he strode rapidly into the living room. I followed, and when I came to rest directly in front of him he spun around, leaving me with a view of his bare shoulders and back contorting as he sobbed.

This was it, then…the tipping point. Seeing him this way overrode my own emotional disarray, and I couldn’t imagine that anything I might say would make the situation worse, so I went all in.

“Tom. We need to talk.” He shook his head, and I gingerly placed my hand on his upper back between his shoulder blades. “Tom.” The contact was broken by him taking two steps forward. “Okay, no touching. That’s fine. But…”

He spun back around, blinking to clear his vison. “You want to touch me?”

“Of course I want to touch you. Why wouldn’t I want to touch you?”

His arms rose from his sides, bent at the elbow with his hands extended, fingers splayed and pointing in my direction as he looked me up and down. “Since you don’t want me to see you, I’m assuming you’d prefer that I also don’t touch you, which leads me to believe you’d prefer to not see or touch me, either.”

“That’s an incorrect assumption all around. I’d prefer it if you did touch me. But you haven’t, not in the way I’d expect you to, and you’ve given me no indication as to why you haven’t, which has caused me to assume that you’re no longer interested in me sexually, which has ultimately resulted in my feeling self-conscious and exposed when standing naked in your presence. Is my assumption as off base as yours?” Not an easy question to ask, that one. I hadn’t thought it through and wondered what the fuck would happen if he said no.

He nodded repeatedly. “Yes. It is. Completely.”

I lifted my arms and extended them outward at shoulder height, palms to the ceiling. “And that’s precisely why we need to talk, Tom. Ow.” Down went the arms, though it didn’t really do a whole hell of a lot for the throbbing ache in my hands. “We’ve avoided this conversation for far too long…instead we danced around the subject in an effort to prevent causing each other any additional pain. But that didn’t work. That never works, and I know that, but here we are…staring at each other across an ever-widening chasm which will eventually grow too vast to bridge. This distance, this disconnect…it’s awful. I’ve seen the pain in your eyes, and the anger, the guilt, the regret…and there’s my own shit I need to talk about…but I’ve stayed silent for fear of hurting you and I don’t want to do that anymore, Tom. I don’t think I CAN do it anymore.” There were two beige micro-fiber chairs on one side of the living room, and a matching couch on the other. We were standing between them, and I sat down at one end of the sofa. Tom hesitated at the other end briefly, then decided to sit in the middle, right by my side, and began to speak.

“I’m afraid. It terrifies me, the thought of my lung collapsing again. What if the next time I’m not so fortunate? What if it kills me, and you’re left here alone, and our child grows up without ever knowing me? All day long, with everything I do that’s even remotely physical, I’m aware of every breath that seems even remotely atypical, every twinge of the muscles in my torso. I’ve been counting down and focusing on the three-month marker because that’s when the risk of it happening again decreases to align with the norm. I’ve promised myself that then, that’s it, there’s no further need to worry, that I can let it go. I want to let it go. I hope I can let it go. But that’s why I haven’t…we haven’t. I wouldn’t want you to have to live with that, us loving each other being the end of me. And I should have told you. I should have. And I’m sorry. There’s another reason as well, and it’s a completely irrational fear but it feels real, and present. I’m sure it’s relative in some fashion to my past loss, but…I…”

Thinking in such a macabre and medieval-esque fashion was not Tom’s style, and that his mind had gone there was indicative of what a mess he’d been, and I was both impressed with and distressed by how well he’d managed it all from me. “You’re afraid that if we have sex I might have a miscarriage.”

He turned to face me, nodding. “It’s ludicrous. This I know. It’s not specifically that sex would be the cause, but if such a thing were to happen within close proximity of the act…and Maude, I just…I…I feel like death is just…it’s always lurking…even on set, you know? Loki’s role in Ragnarok is redemptive, there’s a comprehensive resolution, and he finally is able to ascertain his place in the universe and be at peace with it, and perhaps begin to experience happiness, or at least contentment…but I know what awaits him, that this moment for him is fleeting at best and I can’t help but see parallels there to my own reality.” Pausing, he rested his head in his hands, then moved them slowly back to his lap as he turned sideways, right leg bent with his knee on the couch resting centimeters from my left thigh. I shifted to mirror his position as he swallowed hard before continuing.

“I was mid-way through my run when I saw her. She waved at me as if her being there was perfectly normal. It made my blood boil, and instead of having the wherewithal to get back to the hotel as quickly as possible I approached her. I asked her what the fuck she was doing there, and told her she needed to leave immediately or she’d wind up with a police escort off the property. The mask of a friendly greeting fell away and she said ‘How could you let her to this to me, Tom? Let her ruin my life? I did what I had to do so she couldn’t trap you, and instead of being grateful you let her lie about me to the world, and then you married her. You married her, when you know how much I love you. And you love me. We belong together, you know that. She’s brainwashed you, that’s what’s going on here. She’s trying to keep us apart, and you can’t just roll over and and let it happen. Tom, come with me right now. We’ll run away and be happy, you and me, just us. Please. You have to come with me.’ And I told her I would do no such thing, that not only did I not love her, I regretted every moment I’d spent with her and that I wished I’d never met her, that I wished I could go back in time and tell her to get the fuck away from me when she crawled under the table to suck my dick. That whenever I thought about having fucked her it made me physically ill. And then I told her I was so lucky and so blessed that in spite of the mistakes I’d made I’d found you, that I’d never loved anyone like you before, and I never would again. Her response was that this was all your fault, that you’d stolen me away from her, and that if she couldn’t have me, no one would…and that’s when she pulled the gun out of the gift bag and shot me. The pain knocked me down and back and I fell onto the sand, and she put the gun back in the bag and said she really thought she wouldn’t need to use it, but I was too far gone and you were to blame. And that if she was going to have to pay for her crimes, you’d have to pay for yours too. She smiled at me, knelt down in the sand, kissed my check, said goodbye, then got up and took off running down the beach toward the hotel. I sat up, and the pain…and the blood…but I had to go after her. Each step I took seemed an eternity, and I couldn’t run, but I needed to get to you. I realized I’d never catch her, and that I was close to Luke and Simon’s room, so I began to walk that way. And then I crawled. But it wasn’t enough. I couldn’t get to you. I set all this in motion, there in that moment. I let my anger get the best of me and we both almost died because of it. In LA, when she threw the highball glass at you…I should have known. Up until that moment I was her focus, and she still believed that her and I would have a relationship at some point. You were just a minor inconvenience, a bump in the road. When she discovered that you knew about the videos…that’s where the shift happened. You became her target, the one to blame. I didn’t see it. I should have seen it. Having you speak at the press conference instead of handling it on my own was akin to painting a bullseye on your chest. And when you needed me most, when I should have been the one to face the monster I’d invited into my orbit, I wasn’t there for you, or for our child. I wasn’t there, Maude. I couldn’t protect you. I couldn’t save you. I wasn’t THERE.”

For the first time in a long while…since our wedding day, really…I saw him…really saw him. Because he’d finally let me see him again. Sitting before me was a man so burdened by guilt and sorrow that he had no tears left to cry…an anxious, exhausted, depressed, defeated man positively teeming with self-loathing. My husband. A rush of pure, unadulterated love washed over me followed by an irrepressible urge to comfort him and banish all his fears that resulted in my reaching out and taking his hands in my damaged own, oblivious to the pain.

“Tom. No one sees this kind of thing coming. This is the stuff of late-night crime dramas and tragic Oscar-bait films. There was no way for you to know. I didn’t know, either…and believe me, I’ve beaten myself up for it, too. I’m the one who got in her face in LA and spouted off about prison. And no one ‘had’ me do anything…I stood at that podium of my own volition and called her bluff. I knew she’d be pissed, and I did it not only in spite of that fact, but, at least in a small way, because of it. The blame for that falls squarely on my shoulders. But what she did…no, Tom. It’s not your fault, it’s not my fault…that’s all on her. It was her choice. Her decision. And she was too much of a coward to answer for it. And even though I know all that, the logic behind it, I still feel guilty about how I handled all of it every day…and I thought you’d distanced yourself because you blamed me. Do you blame me?”

He shook his head, voice barely a whisper. “No. I thought the same…do you blame me?”

“No. I do not. I have not. Not even for a second. And there’s something else you need to know, Tom.” Those blue eyes full of trepidation met my brown ones. “You’re right about not being there…but you’re wrong about not protecting me, and you’re wrong about not being able to save me. When I opened that door and she was standing in the hallway, I was frozen in place. I couldn’t move. I watched the gun rise higher and higher and inside my head I was screaming ‘close the door, close the door’ but I couldn’t and then that faded and the only thought I had left was ‘she’s going to shoot me now’. And then I heard a man’s voice shouting for her to drop her weapon, and that broke the spell. That voice is the reason why I was able to get the door closed. That voice is the reason why those three bullets lodged in the door and not in my flesh. The man that voice belonged to? Police officer. And why was he there in exactly that place at precisely that time? Because you sent him, Tom. You sent him upstairs. You gave him the room number. You told him to go, GO! And he went. If you hadn’t done that, I wouldn’t be sitting here with you on the couch right now…so I don’t ever want to hear you say you couldn’t protect me or that you couldn’t save me ever again. You might not have been by my side when it happened, but you saved my life and our child’s life all the same. And you risked your own life to do it, Tom. Dr. Salinas said if you’d have stayed still your lung wouldn’t have fully collapsed so quickly. But you didn’t stay still. You got up over and over again and kept going and being in restraints couldn’t even stop you. You almost died that day in order to make sure we didn’t. Do you understand that? You almost died. To save your family. If that’s not protecting what you love, then I don’t know what the fuck IS.”

When our eyes met his lower lip began to quiver and I tightened my grip on his hands. “That day, outside the recovery room, Dr. Salinas…she said that she couldn’t explain why you made it through so well…why you lived. She didn’t phrase it quite that way, but that was the gist of it. But I know why. When you got word that I was alive, that I was unharmed…you went to war. You waged a battle with the final enemy. And you were victorious. You returned to me, to us. You fought death that day and you won, Tom. You came back. You came home.”

His gaze turned toward our joined hands a he positioned his left ring finger so it was next to mine, the silver bands that bound us clinking softly together in the silence. He looked back up at me, the right corner of his mouth having curled upward in a half-smile, tears tracking down his cheeks and through his stubble like tiny pachinko balls. “When I promised to never let you go, I meant it.”

I began to sob then, as did Tom. He pulled me onto his lap, my bottom nestled between his thighs, legs sideways, feet resting on the cushion I’d just vacated. He wrapped his left arm around my waist, the right around my shoulders, hand cradling my head and pressing it gently to his left shoulder. He rocked us back and forth, side to side, his face buried in my hair. When the weeping ceased, I ran my right thumb along the base of his left one, that oddly sensual spot of flesh which allows lovers to steal moments of secret erotic pleasure in full view of the world. As he began to do the same in turn, there it was…a spark of the energy within us both demanding to be set free so it could unite each with the other’s and light our collective world ablaze. I raised my head to take stock of his expression, wondering if he felt it as well. His tongue snaked across his lips and I inhaled sharply, which earned me a an ecstatic eyeroll and a pelvic thrust from him, his cock hard against my ass. He kissed me then, both our mouths open from the start. There was no finesse in any of it, all tongues and saliva and clashing of teeth as he undid my robe and cupped my left breast in his right hand, thumb stroking back and forth over my nipple. His touch caused me to gasp and cant my hips, and I could feel his body tensing…whether it was with fear or desire, I couldn’t be certain. I removed his hand from my breast and stood up, then turned to face him as I let my robe drop from my shoulders and fall to the floor. Leaning forward, I placed my hands on his shoulders and stared into his eyes, again unsure of whether it was lust or terror at hand.

“Tom, honey…please don’t put any pressure on yourself. It’s okay if you’re afraid. I understand. Now that I know why…I’m fine. Take your time with this. Please.”

He grabbed my hips and pulled me forward and down, his words nearly a growl. “I’m afraid I’ve reached the point wherein the chances of me dying are far greater if I can’t have you right now as opposed to any other scenario.” He looked up at me and for a second or two I would have sworn it was Loki whose eyes I saw, but then Tom was back where he belonged, expression now pleading. “Will you ride me?”

I nodded, placing one knee on either side of his lap. He didn’t even bother with removing his shorts, instead pushing back the elastic just enough to allow him to reach in and free his cock. When the head of it connected with my wetness we both groaned. I shifted forward so he was poised at my entrance but paused before welcoming him inside, needing assurance that he was certain about taking this step.

“Are you sure this is okay?”

He answered without hesitation, voice thick with desire. “Yes. I’m sure. I want you. I need you. I need to be inside you. Yes.”

I lowered myself onto his cock, relishing in the feel of it stretching me, filling me…of how it melded two separate beings into a combined entity that pulsed with unified power and unequaled pleasure. Tom’s head had lolled back onto the back of the couch, eyes closed, his elegant neck and jawline demanding attention from my tongue as I began to circle my hips. I was careful to avoid the bruised area, licking around and down until I reached the hollow of his collarbone, and the whine such ministrations elicited caused my unhurried gyrating to turn to a forceful, rapid rise and fall. His eyes opened, head lifting off the couch as he reached around to take hold of my ass cheeks, one in each hand, pulling outward.

“Maude. Oh Maude. MAUDE. Don’t stop please don’t stop I love you I love you I love you…” His lips found mine, tongue thrusting into my mouth as I rode him harder until he came, his breath and mine one and the same as his come painted my walls in a continuous gush of warm spurts that I thought might go on forever. His index finger found my clit and I orgasmed instantly, clenching and squeezing around him as if my body was insistent on locking him in place, an idea I thoroughly supported. It wasn’t until he broke the kiss and that I noticed he was panting, and I took his face in my hands, the past minutes eclipsed by a deep-seated concern for his well-being.

“Are you okay? Can you breathe? Do you have any pain? Tom?”

He inhaled, then exhaled, smiling softly. “No pain. Nothing unusual, just the normal effect being incredibly well fucked by my gorgeous wife has on me. I’m fine.” His smile faded, replaced with an expression of concern likely similar to the one he’d seen me wearing seconds before. “How are you? Everything okay?”

I nodded. “Yep. I’m good. Exhausted, but good. And all of a sudden I really, really want salt and vinegar potato chips. Like, bad. They have those here, right? Man…I can almost taste them…wow, this is…”

His smile returned as he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me close, our chests pressed together. “That sounds like it might be a craving. I believe I’m obligated to dress and head out now, in the middle of the night, to track down your snack of choice and bring it home posthaste.”

Though I admittedly salivated at the thought, my body’s need for sleep overrode what was in essence just a ‘want’. “As much as I appreciate your willingness to do so…no. The only place you’re going is back to bed with me. If you’re willing to risk round two, that is.” His left eyebrow rose, a small smirk that for some ridiculous reason made me blush appearing on his face. I rolled my eyes in an effort to distract him from the pink-hued heat that I could feel reaching my cheeks. “I meant round two as in a boxing match. You know, because I punched you? Round of boxing.”

He rubbed the tip of his nose against mine. “Oh goodness me…it appears I’ve got a blushing bride on my hands. Well, technically, on my cock, but…”

I covered my face with my hands as I shook my head. “Do you always have to notice EVERY LITTLE THING Tom? Seriously.”

He pulled my hands away carefully and kissed my forehead. “It’s adorable. Reminds me of the day we met…when we were in Kauai Pasta. You were sipping your soda and I watched the flush spread from your chest up your neck and that’s when you took too big a sip and began to choke.”

My jaw dropped. “Oh my god, you saw that? I was, like, half-joking about you noticing every little thing. Christ in a sidecar.”

Shrugging, he brought my left hand to his lips and placed a kiss in the center of my palm. “In my defense, I was bewitched. Mesmerized by your beauty, your essence…your everything. And I’ve always wondered what you were thinking of in that moment…”

“Oh you have, have you? Allow me to fill you in then. The server had just asked us if we wanted cocktails and I thought hmm, I wonder how that particular compound word came to be and that led me to…your cock, Tom. I was thinking about your cock.”

His brow furrowed, eyes narrowed in disbelief. “No you were not.”

I nodded, lips pressed together, eyes wide. “Oh, but yes I was. And, like, I’ve never STOPPED thinking about it so…you know, here we are.”

He roared with laughter, and I realized that it had been entirely far too long since I’d heard that sound, which made me tear up because that laugh…it was akin to a hymn, at least when it fell upon my ears, and my god, how I’d missed it. How I’d missed him. When he noticed that not only had I not joined in but was visibly upset he guided my head to rest on his shoulder, one hand wound in my hair and the other rubbing my back as he whispered softly.

“Maude, it’s all right. I understand that you may be sad, or angry…whatever it is you’re feeling, I’m here for you. I’m so very, very sorry I haven’t been. But I am now. I’ll help you through all of it. I know it won’t always be easy, for either of us, but we can do it. Together. Together, there’s nothing we can’t do.”

I lifted my head and leaned back, reaching up to trace his jawline with my right index finger. “I’m not sad, really…and I’m not angry…it’s just…I just…I missed you.” I gestured down to where we remained joined. “I missed this. That’s probably selfish and stupid but you…you’re a part of me and this is when you’re MOST a part of me and…and…I’m very, very sorry too. I wasn’t there for you, either. And you’re right about it not always being easy, because this is the big leagues of fuckery. I’m afraid of closed doors and…hello, night terrors. Sometimes it’s hard to be grateful when you’re overwhelmed by fear, but I know for sure I need to turn my focus toward what’s good, and there really, truly is an astonishing abundance of good, isn’t there? I’m here, you’re here, Prog will be here too soon enough…we are blessed, and it’s true…together, there’s nothing we can’t do. I love you. So much. So, so much. My god, we’re having a baby. It still doesn’t seem real…”

He smiled. “I have a sneaking suspicion that after your appointment tomorrow it will seem very, VERY real. In just a few hours, we’re going to get to see Prog. It’s…it’s…”

My eyes squeezed shut. “You mean my appointment this morning. Yikers, it’s so late it’s early and we haven’t slept and between your jaw and my knuckles we’re going to look like we had a knock-down drag out fight, but yes, WE ARE GOING TO SEE PROG.”

He lifted me by my hips, his semi-soft cock slipping out of me, then shifted me sideways so he could pick me up as he rose off the couch. “Off to bed we go, my love.” He carried me into the bedroom and placed me gently on my preferred half of the mattress, then climbed in behind me. “I love you, Maude Hiddleston. Sleep now. I’ll be right here, watching over you. Over you both.”

And I slept. It was fitful, and there were dreams…bad ones…but each time I woke from one, he was there, one arm around my waist, one leg atop both my own…warm and alive, and in that I found peace. Whenever he stirred, and he did often, I’d press my body backward into him and pull his arm tighter around me, stroking it with my fingertips until he stilled again, hopefully having found a peace of his own. The dawn came and went, the alarm began its electronic bleating at 10 AM, and we staggered to the shower hand in hand…gripping loosely, as I was still hurting, though not as much as I thought I would be. By the time we’d finished washing each other, the excitement in the air around us was palpable. Though I was still anxious about the appointment with Dr. Bresden, this was it, the moment. I patted my belly as I was drying the underside of my boobs.

“Hi in there, Prog. Big day today. Mamma and Daddy get to see you. Feel free to wave and stuff, okay? We love you.” Tom gasped, and I turned to look at him. One hand was over his mouth, and his eyes shone with tears. I tilted my head. “What?”

“I don’t…have you…I don’t think I’ve heard you do that before.”

“I have…but maybe not out loud? I think…probably only in my head. Huh. I really don’t know…”

He knelt before me on the tile, first kissing then addressing my stomach. “Prog, you are indeed loved. We can’t wait to see you, and before you know it you’ll be our here in the world with us, and we can’t wait for that, either. To share our lives with you…you, Mamma and me…our little family.” As he stood he wiped away his tears with the back of his left hand, grinning at me. “So…Mamma, then?”

Shrugging, I shook my head back and forth several times. “What can I say? Looks like my New Orleans is showing. It just sounded…”

“Perfect. It sounds perfect, Mamma.” He said it with a drawl, and I sighed.

“Godammit, Tom. That’s not supposed to be sexy.”

His grin widened. “Why not? You’re sexy, so logically...”

“Shut up with your logic.”

“As you wish, my love. Breakfast here or on the road?”

“On the road. Make it a double.”

He embraced me. “We’re off to view a miracle. What a thing.”

“It is. It so is.”

#your light in the mist #chapter 48

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stylo-xx · 8 years ago

Text

Eyes Closed (M)

G-Dragon: Angst/Small amount of fluff/Eventual smut

A/N: Hello all! This is my first fic that I’m ever posting ever so I’m slightly nervous haha I do have to say though this first part is a kinda long and I thought about breaking this up in two parts but I wanted all the intro stuff to be done with in one go haha. Anyway please let me know what you think and enjoy!

(Masterlist)||(Part Two-A)

A brilliant man once wrote: ‘ ‘Tis better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all’ but I can't help but wonder; had I never met you would I still feel this crippling void of being without you? ...I guess I’ll never know.

What we had was nothing short of a whirlwind romance that ended almost as soon as it began. Or so it felt that way. And for what felt like an eternity I did nothing but hate you, but then again there were the nights I got so wasted I would tell myself if I just heard your voice one more time I would be fine; but I wanted more than ‘just. one. more. time’. Being with you was something that I can only describe as the most addictive dream that I never wanted to end. And being without you, well that felt like a dream too… not one you'd want to have, but a dream nonetheless. But once the mourning had set in and eventually subsided, I came to terms with everything; I was finally ok. Yet here I am almost three months later since we parted ways and I’m practically on the verge of having my first public panic attack sitting on this plane on my way back to Seoul. A place I had avoided like the plague, and all together erased from my memory; just like I tried to do with you. But that is the one place I can't escape you. Not because I can’t stop thinking about you or any of the memories that godforsaken city holds but because your face is plastered all over the damn place. Kind of hard to get away from someone that’s a spokesmodel for every other company.

I had shifted in my seat for what felt like the billionth time which was accompanied by a tired side eye from my best friend Saige. The entire thirteen hours and ten minutes of this flight I was riddled with so much anxiety that I: hadn’t slept, hardly ate and shook my leg so much that it felt like it was starting to go numb and possibly fall off at one point. And the entire time she did nothing but shoot me concerned glances of pity and just sighed as she said ‘I know, I know you feel like your heart is gonna fall out of your ass’. That woman is Saint, but I think even saints reach a point when they feel enough is more than enough.

She groggily turned her body in her seat toward me, looked me in the eye and said “Alex, you know I love you and I’m only saying this because I care about you but..” she rubbed her eye “You are going to hate yourself for not sleeping when you see pictures the paparazzi take of you leaving the airport. As your best friend and PR manager I am obligated to tell you” she leaned forward placing her elbow on the armrest and her hand beneath her chin “You look like you’re going through it*”

“That’s because I am ‘going through it’ Saige” I scowled.

She sat upright and slightly tilted her head to the side “Where is the Alex that left LA? The one who was like ‘I couldn’t give two fucks yahddah yahddah yahddah. G-Dragon who? I’m not worried blah blah blah’--”

“Ahhh! Ahh! shhhhh! We don’t speak that name!” I interjected.

“--God it’s like as soon as we started flying over the North Pacific you started to loose your shit!” she continued “Listen kid, and I’m only going to say this once. As your PR manager, and because Scooter would have me scalped if I didn’t say this, we already went through this whole G--”

“Ahh! What did I just say?!” I hushed her with my finger.

She sighed heavily “--As I was saying, we already went through this whole ‘Ji-Yong--”

“Saige no! That’s even worse!”

“--Would you just let me finish?!” she huffed “What I’m trying to say is, that we can’t go through this bad press thing again. We don’t want to squander any of the amazing opportunities you’ve gotten since that whole fiasco. You and I both know we worked so hard to get you back in good standings with the media and your label. I don’t want to have to go through that whole thing again”

“Gee thanks…” I scoffed.

“BUT” she said a bit louder “As your best friend of nine wonderful years, you and I-- we’ve been to Hell and back together on more than one occasion and this, or any other time you feel like losing your shit in the far or near future, is no different. I’ll always be right beside you.’If you jump I jump remember?”

I furrowed my brow “I don’t think now is the best time to haul in the Titanic references Saige…”

“Oh for the love of God!’ she threw her hands up in defeat and slouched into her seat “Alexandra Marie McMahon--”

“Please don't use my full name...” I cringed.

“Alright I've had it, enough feeling sorry for yourself, enough letting some guy dictate how you feel. He, despite what his ego might make him think, has no power over you. Got it?” She gestured with her hand “Listen when we land you are going to walk off of this airplane and strut your shit into that fucking SUV like everything is peachy fucking keen!”

The more heated she got the more I started to notice a tiny vein on her neck begin to pop out. There were instances where I was afraid of her, very rarely was I on the receiving end of her rage but when I was it was less anger and more disappointed mother that wants you realize your full potential.

Saige brushed the hair from her eyes “All I'm saying is at least pretend for the cameras that you are having the time of your life, and then when we get back to LA--Hell, when we get back to the hotel even! Then you can go back to being miserable”

I raised an eyebrow. I opened my mouth to say something but she held up her hand to stop me. “If it makes you feel any better all we have to do is survive one week. One week Alex, that's all! Also just remember why exactly we're even going there in the first place; and it’s not because of J--’him’”

“I know, I don't want Tim to have a shit birthday because of me. It's bad enough he ditched us to move out there and part of me wishes he was lonely so he'd realize the horrible mistake he had made and come back to LA but unfortunately for my wishful thinking Tim is like a ray of sunshine that anyone within a ten foot radius wants to be his best friend” I slouched in my seat.

Saige nodded “Speaking of Mr. Sunshine himself, what did he say to you to make you lose your cool? It's like the second he said whatever the hell triggered you, you completely shut me out. So spill, what did he say?”

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes as I mumbled the heart attack inducing news I had received earlier from Tim.

Saige furrowed her brows “you wanna try that one more time but in English this time?”

I mumbled louder.

“Alex I'm serious, I'm going to--”

“HE FUCKING TOLD ME JI-YONG WAS GOING TO BE AT HIS STUPID FUCKING PARTY OKAY!” I stood up from my seat causing the stewardesses to stare “are you happy now?!”

“Very. Got you to actually feel something other than feeling sorry for yourself” she had a smug look on her face “well with that being said we still have about thirty or so minutes before we land so if you'll just excuse me your highness I'm going to take a well deserved nap”

Still standing in the same spot as I stood with my mouth agape, staring at my now dwindling out of consciousness best friend in disbelief. I look over my shoulder only to have the stewardesses quickly look away. Feeling embarrassed I quickly slunk down into my seat again and let out a big sigh “It's only one week Alex!” I mimicked “Pfft, one week. How in the Hell does she expect me to make it through this with whatever remaining sanity I have left in me?”

The only possible way I see myself making it out of this is by doing the same damn thing I did to get away from him the first time...drink until it doesn't hurt. And why wait until the party? No time is better than the present. I sat up in my seat and motioned for one of the stewardesses “can you bring me some champagne? Oh and leave the bottle here will ya?”

The redheaded stewardess knitted her brows together “B-but Ms. McMahon, we’ll be landing soo--”

“Well then in that case, times a’wastin! Better forgo the glass and just leave the bottle” I smiled.

The stewardess only shot me a weak smile as she turned to retrieve the bottle. She came back with bottle in hand and poured me a glass “I thought it'd be in poor taste to let you drink out of the bottle...we don't want another incident like the one on the flight to London” she sent me another weak smile.

My face slowly dropped into one of utter disdain “that'll be all thank you” I grabbed the bottle from her hands. As she turned to walk away I looked over at Saige’s sleeping form and back to the stewardess. Just great, exactly what I needed. Yet another person to remind me of how much of a fuck up I am.

I lifted the glass cheersing the air “Bottoms up”

Ji-Yong threw his head back and closed his eyes as he pinched the bridge of his nose trying to relieve the onset of a massive migraine. For the past 20 minutes he has had to endure the loud bickering between Seungri and Seung-Hyun, apparently the older of the two had taken a risqué picture of the other and posted it in succession of each other on his Instagram. In the older man’s defence he said he did it out of artistic expression; a modern Statue of David as he put it. The younger man emphatically disagreed.

“Yah Hyung! Delete it!” Seungri reached for the older man’s phone for the hundredth time.

Seung-Hyun cackled “Look it’s fine! I added a filter it makes it artistic. Look at all the likes you’re getting”

“Easy for you to say! Yang is going to kill me!” the younger man threw his hands up “Aish Hyuuuung!”

“Aww look at you!” the older man took a sip of his wine.

Still pinching the bridge of his nose with one hand, Ji-Yong balled his fist with the other hand so tight that his knuckles went white. His patience was starting to wear thin and he was far too exhausted to deal with any of their shit.

“Why do you enjoy torturing me like this? WHY?!” he reached for the phone again.

“Because look at you, look how cute you are when you get angry!” Seung-Hyun laughed again.

“Hyung please! I’m tortured enough when I’m constantly reminded that everybody loves GD&T.O.P”

Seung-Hyung let out another cackle “Okay, Okay I’ll delete it...Guess I should probably delete that video too”

“YAH HYUNG! I THOUGHT YOU DELE--” Seungri screeched.

“ENOUGH!” Ji-Yong slammed his fist onto the armrest of the couch; his sudden outburst took the two by surprise. Seungri cleared his throat, opening his mouth to speak only to be hushed by Ji-Yong before he could utter a single syllable. Seung-Hyun on the other hand was letting the maknae take the brunt of Ji-Yong’s rage as he quietly chuckled to himself and into his wine glass. Seungri suddenly began to feel more uncomfortable as he watched Ji-Yong pace angrily back and forth. He threw a side glance to Seung-Hyun but didn’t dare utter a single word and only managed to mouth “What do we do?”. Seung-Hyun only replied by sending him a smug look on his face; to his dismay the older man was tipsy and was of no help at all. Still pacing, Ji-Yong was working himself up so much he started to mutter incoherent insults, Seungri could only assume, every now and again he could pick up some of what he was saying; “Fucking mothe...asshole...fucking can’t…idiot...”. The younger man looked to his inebriated partner in crime but alas yet again he was of no help as he had dipped out of the room at one point without either of the other two noticing. He looked to the heavens and gulped before he slowly approached the man who was fuming before him. With an outstretched hand he reached for the other man’s shoulder only to be startled by Ji-Yong rapidly whipping his head to look over his shoulder.

“Touch me and you lose that hand…” Ji-Yong glared.

Seungri had retracted his hand back so fast that he slightly smacked himself on the face in the process. Saying his prayers in his head and gulping again he dared to open his mouth.

“H-Hyung?” he said timidly.

The older man turned to glare at him again “What?!”

“I think you might be stressed…”

Ji-Yong looked at the younger man incredulously “Oh no, what gave it away?!” he sneered.

Not letting the older man get to him he spoke with more confidence this time.

“What I meant was, I’ve noticed these past few weeks...months really...you’ve been so irritable that you’re hard to want to be around. Everyone agrees that we feel like we’re walking on eggshells with you…”

Ji-Yong scoffed and crossed his arms.

“Hyung I think you maybe need to let loose~” the younger man wiggled his eyebrows and smiled.

“Come any closer and I’ll let my fists loose”

Quickly losing his smile Seungri furrowed his brows “You see this what I’m talking about! Top Hyung even stopped asking you to drink with him because every time you would get drunk you’d either want to start a fight with someone and/or sing, without fail, ‘My Heart Will Go On’ at the top of your lungs!. Not that you have a horrible voice Hyung, far from it, it’s just that the last time you did it you had me in a headlock and sang--no yodeled! Into my ear and I think I may be going deaf…”Seungri absentmindedly touched his ear as he somberly looked to the ground.

The older man only smiled to himself recalling whatever pieces of that night he could remember.

The younger man quickly shook away the horrible memories of that night and straightened his posture “Anyway! Young-Bae and Dae-Sung Hyung, well they never actually go out....but if they did I’m sure they wouldn't want to hang out with you either!”

Ji-Yong laughed sardonically “If this is your way of trying to get me to ‘let loose’ the only thing that’s going to be loose is--”

“I know, I know ‘your fists’. Aish” Seungri mocked and instantly regretted it as made direct eye contact with a Ji-Young that looked like he was about to rip his head off.

Trying to placate the situation, before Ji-Yong actually turned into a dragon and set him on fire, the younger man spoke quickly.

“MY FRIEND IS THROWING A PARTY AND I THINK YOU SHOULD GO!”

The older man winced at the maknae’s sudden change in volume “YAH! ENOUGH WITH THE YELLING!”

“Sorry…”

Ji-Yong closed his eyes and rubbed the side of his temples with his fingers “So without yelling, or pissing me off even more… what was this about a party?” Treading carefully Seungri cleared his throat before he spoke “Well since we will be back in Seoul tonight I thought it was only right that my favorite~Hyung go out and enjoy himself in his old stomping grounds”

The older man simply nodded and signaled with one hand to go on.

With the approval of his Hyung to go on, he spoke with more enthusiasm “Yeah so then I thought to myself ‘but my favorite~Hyung shouldn’t have to go to a tired old club!’ which is why I remembered a friend of mine is throwing a massive party tonight at his new club in Gangnam”

“So you want me to go to a grand opening party so your friend’s club will be popular? ‘Cause that’s all I’m hearing” the older man raised an eyebrow.

The maknae’s eyes went wide “No, no, no! You misunderstand, no one has to know we’re there. All I want is for my Hyung--”

“Favorite Hyung..” Ji-Yong corrected.

“Right. All I want is for my favorite~Hyung to relax, have a drink or two, not ‘My Heart Will Go On’ amount of drinks but some drinks…and maybe dance a little...maybe even with a girl” he wiggled his eyebrows causing a small laugh to come from the other man “on the plus side this is kind of like a ‘pre-party’ before the real party this weekend”

“Alright fine I’ll go, but on one condition”

“Anything Hyung, you name it I got it”

“Don’t try to be my wingman tonight, don’t try to set me up; I don’t want to have to make another girl cry because I had no idea who she was”

“Oh..I forgot about that...but is that it? Pfft easy” a smug smile spread across the maknae’s face.

“Actually one more thing…” Ji-Yong said in a serious tone “Just do me a solid and make sure I don’t call a number labeled as ‘DO NOT CALL HER’...I don’t need that shit blowing up in my face”

The younger man furrowed his brows as he nodded. He knew exactly who ‘DO NOT CALL HER’ was.

“Seungri if it comes down to ‘My Heart Will Go On’ and ‘DO NOT CALL HER’...let’s just go with ‘My Heart Will Go On’ even if it means losing your hearing” the older man let out a small laugh.

Placing his hands on either side of his shoulders, Seungri gives Ji-Yong a warm smile and emphatically says “You got it Hyungie~!”

This causes Ji-Yong to let out another laugh only this time it was a bit louder “alright, alright” he dusts the maknae’s hands off his shoulders “Well I’m going to head back to my room and get some shut eye before tonight so make yourself scarce until then” he pushed his way past the maknae and out the door. After the door closed behind Ji-Yong, Seungri let out a big sigh of relief but that was short lived as he remembered a text message he had received from his girlfriend earlier ‘Hey babe I’m so excited to see you tonight!~love you my little panda~^-^ oh I almost forgot, Alex landed so don’t forget to give Ji-Yong a heads up about tonight. I know how my sister can be when she’s drunk and we both know how he can be... So glad you already ripped off the band-aid and told him about her being at Tim’s party after all haha I mean why wouldn’t sh--’ A small ringing sound filled his ears as the last part of the text echoed in his head. Seungri not only didn’t tell Ji-Yong about ‘DO NOT CALL HER’ going to her own best friend’s birthday bash but now he was going to have to defuse the bomb that is Ji-Yong when his Hyung finds out that he was withholding vital information about ‘DO NOT CALL HER’ being in the country again and/or possibly running into her one way or another. This definitely won't blow up in his face right?

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wolfleblack · 8 years ago

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On stage voice actor Troy Baker talks about how we all have our nerd, from those of us who love comics or Star Wars or movies to the people who are obsessed with engines or skiing or racing or anything else. Everyone, he says, is a nerd in their own way because being a nerd simply means being really obsessed with something, spending more and more time learning about it and enjoying it. And that’s the thing, isn’t it? Every person has that one thing they really love. Every person is a nerd. The only difference, muses Troy Baker, is that those of us at comic-con know we’re nerds and have embraced it.

The MCM show in Glasgow is the perfect example of this theory. It’s filled with people who passionately love comics, anime, movies, games and a bunch of other things, and all of them know they are nerds. They accept it. They are ahead of the curve. And so many of them are like me, not just in the sense that they share my passions but also in how they grew up in a time where reading comics or loving videogames or anything that wasn’t “normal” was viewed as something bad, a time when the label of nerd carried a lot of horrible stigmas with it. We were the outsiders, the forgotten, the picked on, just because of things we liked. But look how things have changed. Because of stuff like the Marvel Cinematic Universe people who had never read a comic are talking about Captain America or the Guardians of the Galaxy or Daredevil. There are still things that are generally seen with disdain, like anime, but by and large being a geek is…weirdly cool? When you live in a world where people are happily going to the cinema to watch the Suicide Squad being a geek almost means less than it once did, and yet at the same time it means so much more now.

Being in a crowd at comic-con is a unique experience. The sheer amount of people coupled with the wide variety of costumes on display makes it both claustrophobic and exciting. I don’t think you can adequately do the experience justice when attempting to tell people why it’s worth attending a convention, especially if you happen to mention the often insanely long queues or the fact that wanting to look at some merchandise can become an epic quest where you have to battle a torrent of people jostling around. And don’t dare mention the absurdly inflated prices of food. Bloody hell. But that’s like saying you shouldn’t attend a concert because the hot dogs are pricey, it’s as hot as the sun and you keep getting bumped by strangers.

So why the hell should anyone go? Simple; the people. Sure, the guests are cool and there’s some sweet loot to be picked up and maybe some awesome comics to discover, but you can get all that loot and comics on the Internet and watch guest panels on Youtube where you at least have the option of lounging around in your boxers while munching a bag of Jelly Babies, something which I discovered MCM frowns upon in their live panels. No, you should come because of the people. An entire building full of fine folk who share your passions and nerdery, who are willing to spend time and money creating elaborate costumes for themselves and others to enjoy. Stop just about anyone and you can easily strike up a conversation. For someone like me who has social anxiety and kind of sucks at being a human being, in general, getting trapped in massive crowds sounds like a stupid idea, but in truth it’s one of the best places to push past anxiety because these wonderful, wonderful people are the least judgemental folk around. How could they be, when they’re dressed up as the Joker or as a Digimon character? It’s kind of hard to poke fun at someone for being anxious when you’re dressed up as Sailor Moon, after all. No, despite the crowds comic-con is a prime place to say, “today I’m going to push myself by trying to meet new people” and at the end of the day if it goes poorly you’ll probably never seen any of them ever again.

Of course, if you are after that sweet, sweet loot and view people as little more than walking nuisances then there’s plenty of things to get your hands on. This can vary from convention to convention, but there is usually something awesome to be found if you have a rake around, from commissioned artwork from a talented pool of artists to some sweet indie comics or custom-made props. This year at Glasgow I had to admit that I was a touch disappointed as comics and comic-related merchandise felt like it had taken a back seat to anime, but that’s a personal thing and comic-cons haven’t actually been about comics in quite a long time. They’re now a celebration of comics, games, movies, TV shows and yes, anime.

Events like this tend to attract guests who come to speak to audiences, as well as sign merchandise and get photos taken with fans provided they can pay. Troy Baker was the highlight guest for me, his voice, along with Nolan North, arguably being the dominant force in videogame voice acting, He took to the stage to deliver a near hour-long panel where he managed to answer just over six questions due to the fact that every answer would detour into an entertaining and thoughtful tangent. He was funny, sincere, informative and held the audience in the palm of his hand. Sadly my own interview with him was cancelled as all his interviews were shifted to the Sunday at the very last minute, but I’m attempting to talk to him via Email instead so with any luck a Q&A with the man himself will happen. Regardless, despite his own admittance that he found doing panels scary it was also clear that he was a natural at it.

But other guests lit up the event, too, such as Manu Bennet who played Crixus in Spartacus and is currently rocking it as Deathstroke over on the Arrow TV show. There was also and Bryce Papenbrook and Trina Nishimura from Attack on Titan whose panel had the crowd nearly constantly laughing as they regaled them with behind the scenes tales and answered questions.

Still, with absolutely no disrespect intended to any of the guests who came to Glasgow’s event it is fair to say that the London show continues to attract higher-profile stars. Hopefully, as the Glasgow comic-con continues to get larger MCM might be able to persuade some of those people to come up to bonny Scotland to entertain the legions of fans who reside here.

Both the Saturday and Sunday were rounded off with the official cosplay masquerade where those in costume could come up on stage to display their efforts, while judges carefully eyed them up to pick a winner. As much fun as it is discovering amazing cosplays while walking around it’s arguably even better to see them up on stage where coloured lighting makes them look even better. Entrants can also choose backing music, and will either have a variety of poses or even a whole act. One person came out as Captain Phasma, for example, before busting out some fancy dance moves. It’s the perfect way to end the convention.

It’s amazing to think that despite how many people attend the Glasgow ‘Con is still quite young, and the organizers are still fine-tuning everything. This year guest panels and the masquerade were held in a different part of the SECC building, freeing up space in the two main halls which, along with some general restructuring of the layout, gave people a lot more room to move around compared to two years ago when there were severe cases of traffic jams. The extra space wasn’t enough to cope with the onslaught of visitors, though, as legions of fans poured in to celebrate their geekdom. The paths may have been wider, but at the ‘Cons Saturday peak it was still hard to push through the throngs. If you’re taking little children it’s fair to say that while people will do their best to avoid bumping into them there’s inevitably going to be accidents.

So, if you have an interest in comics, anime, cosplaying or a bunch of other geeky things then is it worth going to a comic-con? Yup. The crowds may mean it’s not really your cup of tea, it certainly can be exhausting, but it’s worth going at least once just for the experience of being amidst thousands of passionate people who share your love of everything nerdy and awesome.

Before we wrap this up with a bunch of pictures, though, here’s some general advice for adding comic-con or any other similar convention.

– Start planning early. When it comes to travel costs and hotel rooms booking early often means getting them cheaper, and that means you’ll have more cash to spend on stuff at the convention! In short, if you want to attend a convention the earlier you decide to do it the better.

– Check the schedule. Convention’s will typically publish a schedule well in advance of the event that will tell you when certain guests will be speaking. Read it, pick what you don’t want to miss and then consider setting some alarms on your phone so that you don’t get carried away and completely miss seeing your favourite guest panel.

– Pack light. Pack smart. This one is obvious, but try to pack light. It’s tempting to take everything, especially if you’re like me and own a pile of camera gear, but you’re going to be walking all day and the crowds don’t mix well with chunky rucksacks. Take what you need.

– Take snacks and drinks. You’ll find plenty of food at conventions which makes it tempting to save some bag room by just grabbing stuff while you’re there, but frankly the price of food and drink at these events is absurd. Now, I generally champion supporting businesses where possible, but the huge inflation of prices makes eating at a convention very, very expensive. Take a few snacks with you, and pack some water to sip on the way round because the crowds tend to make the whole place kind of hot.

– But do check if bag searches will be in operation. To put it bluntly bag searches are about as effective as airport searches when it comes to catching potential threats, which is to say they aren’t. But still, buildings hosting conventions will often employ these to help people feel safer, which also means you might get any drinks and other things confiscated on the way in. Chec before you attend to see if these searches will be happening. I got caught out no long ago when I went to 4TG and bag searching was not stated anywhere on the event site. They took my bottle of Coke away. Damn you random security guard. Damn you.

– Take out money beforehand. Many sellers at a convention will take card payment these days, but many won’t and guests doing signings will typically want cash. While there are often ATMs at a convention the queues tend to be massive, so visit a bank or ATM before the event and stock up on pennies.

– Budget. Another good reason to take out some cash before the event is that it makes it easier to limit your spending. Cards are great, but let’s face it, it’s pretty easy to get carried away with spending. By picking a limit and then putting that amount of money in your bag or wallet or pocket it’s much easier to keep your spending in check as you can visibly see your funds dwindling.

– Shop around. It’s so tempting when you see something to immediately whip our your money and start flinging it at the seller, but show some patience and have a look around. Provided the item you’ve seen isn’t one of a kind or of a very limited stock it’ll still be there later on, and that gives you time to see if anybody else at the convention is selling it for a better price. You could also consider checking online. Now, I advocate buying from the sellers at the conventions where possible, even if the prices there are a bit higher than you’d pay online, but there are times when sellers massively mark up their prices so it might be an idea to head onto the Internet and see how much cheaper it might be. If the price difference is significant, then maybe you should wait until you get home to order it. If it’s not too bad, go ahead and support a local seller.

– Buy later. Again, it’s tempting to just grab stuff as soon as you see it, but keep in mind that you might still have hours and hours of convention time left where you have to carry that item with you. That’s extra weight while you walk. Provided it’s not a limited item or one of a kind consider going back to buy it later in the day. If you are worried about it disappearing ask the seller if they’d consider keeping it back for you. I’ve done this a few times when I’ve been buying unique things, sometimes agreeing to pay half the price as a deposit or even the full amount upfront. Many sellers are happy to do this for you. Try to get something written, though, so when you come back later you’ve got some physical proof just in case.

– Haggle. Many sellers are willing to haggle price with you if you try, but this is especially true of the various people selling their own comics. They’re quite willing to do you a deal for multiple issues in most cases, so it does no harm to haggle a little.

– Take photos, but ask first. Taking photos is pretty much expected at a convention, especially since there are so many awesome costumes on display, but the general rule, as you’ll see written on most convention’s guidelines, is to ask permission before taking a picture. For cosplayers this also gives them the chance to get into a pose. Of course general shots of crowds and queues are the exception since you can’t be expected to ask for permission from hundreds, if not thousands, of people.

– Battery power! Another obvious one, but make sure any tech you’re taking is fully charged. If you’re going to be using a phone to take pictures then consider investing in a power bank to take with you so that you don’t run out of juice. This is especially important if you need to be able to call a taxi or something after the event, although generally the building’s reception is happy to help.

– Brush up on the rules. If you intend on going in costume make sure you thoroughly read the rules and regulations surrounding prop weapons, as many things simply aren’t allowed.

– Just have fun, yeah? –

Nerding It Up At MCM Glasgow Comic-Con 2017 (Plus A Guide To ‘Conning) On stage voice actor Troy Baker talks about how we all have our nerd, from those of us who love comics or Star Wars or movies to the people who are obsessed with engines or skiing or racing or anything else.

#2017 #comic-con #Glasgow #MCM Comic-con

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