#need to stop writing episode codas and lock in

[effervescentwolf]

"No one believes me," Buck complains when Eddie picks up the phone, "when I say that I'm not in love with you."

Eddie's heart drops. Then, like his stomach isn't still in his throat, like he doesn't feel out of his body for no reason at all, "Hey, Buck." He gestures, imagines Buck's hands waving around as he talks. "Hi, Eddie. How's the house?" Then, back to himself, "Finally unpacked most of my stuff. How's your unpacking going?"

"I don't get it," Buck continues morosely like he didn't even hear Eddie. He sounds a little like a kicked puppy, and there's a fond little feeling tugging at Eddie's chest. It feels good to feel that again, even though it hasn't been that long yet.

Yet.

But it still feels like something familiar in this unfamiliar house, familiar in a way all of Eddie's worldly possessions don't either. The closest he got to comfort were Christopher's things, and then the things Buck has bought him over the years. The rest felt—impersonal.

"You told them I'm straight?" Eddie says, and there's that other feeling again, the one that makes him feel like he's missed a step when walking, like his feet are being swept right out from under him.

"That's what I said," Buck says, glum. "Even Tommy—"

"Tommy?" Eddie repeats, brows drawing together, warmth in his chest snapping shut, like turning a key in a lock, like there's something closing up.

"Yeah, I—" Buck starts and stops. "I—I ran into him the other night when I was out with Ravi, and—"

"You were out with Ravi? Didn't think you two had much in common," Eddie says, not sure why he asks or why he says it, not sure what he wants to know. Buck didn't tell him that though, and it feels almost like panic for a second, except Eddie doesn't panic, and Buck isn't—Buck is his best friend. Buck just... hadn't told him yet.

"Yeah, Maddie said I needed to make friends so—" Buck groans. "Why is this so hard?"

He's whining. Eddie smiles despite himself, fiddles with the hem of his shirt. "Never really needed to," he says absently.

"I know! And I'm fine being alone—uh, not that I'm alone," Buck immediately backtracks, still doing that thing of stepping around Eddie to protect him.

"Buck," is all Eddie has to say.

"But I can't sleep in your house and pretend," Buck says, and now it's an outpour, "It doesn't feel like my house. Even when I—I hooked up with Tommy here, and—"

"What?" Eddie says, and he thinks the only thing keeping him standing is the way he's about to shatter his phone with his grip, so tight it hurts, fingers numb, mouth dry, heart pounding. "Buck, why would you—"

"I know, I know," Buck replies hastily, "I won't do it again. I thought it was—I mean I didn't want to be alone, but he asked me—he thought I was in love with you," he rounds out, sounding small, and Eddie has to swallow two times before he can even say anything. Buck beats him to it, still on a roll. "I guess he was... jealous? I get it, I guess."

Eddie's lips are numb now. He still feels a flicker of something vindictive, a little bit of satisfaction. That's what he gets for breaking Buck's heart, he thinks. Should've stayed away in the first place. "You get it," he repeats anyway.

"Yeah, I mean—you know," Buck says, hesitant, and Eddie can see him so clearly it hurts, see the way his face scrunches up, the way he shrugs and turns his shoulders inward like he's trying to hide, just a little. "We're—close. We're—you know. You and me."

"Yeah," Eddie says. He's not choked up, not really, but he's so grateful for everything he has, and he's just—he's glad he has Buck. He misses him, and he's glad for him. If he has to blink back tears, there's no one to witness it. "Me and you."

Buck doesn't respond for an eternity. "I just miss you," he says eventually, soft.

"Not in love with me, though?" Eddie has to ask, and he doesn't know why.

Buck laughs a little, sheepish. "Not in love with you," he says, and what he should sound is relieved, but he sounds nervous, mostly.

What Eddie should be is relieved. But it takes him another eternity to realize he's not that, and he's not breathing either, and then he inhales and the world keeps going, and Buck is still on the other end of the phone, and he thinks there's a very tiny part of him, something hidden away in a corner, something that he hasn't dared touch, that wonders what it would have been like in another world and another conversation where he wasn't the tiniest bit, guiltily, disappointed.

[myenterpriseisparked]

Little things from Star Trek Voyager that make me soft:

- Harry inviting Captain Janeway to Tom’s holobar for games and the way Janeway seems so touched at being included

- When Tom makes a cheesy joke at the helm and Janeway rolls with it while smirking at him knowingly (ex. “What if we set up a bicycle in the mess hall and pedal our way home?” “Now why didn’t I think of that.”)

 - When the ship is traveling through the Void and Harry writes a concerto on his clarinet and Tuvok stops to listen to it because he knows Harry worked hard on it

- When Chakotay makes little jokes with Harry and chuckles to himself when Harry jokes back like a proud dad

- Tuvok and Seven bonding over how dumb they think humans are

- The way Janeway looks at Sam Wildman when Sam tells her she’s pregnant. Janeway is clearly sympathizing with her nervousness about having a baby in the Delta Quadrant but she congratulates her anyway because she knows Sam needs to feel supported in her decision.

- When Tuvok tells Neelix he isn’t completely inept during security training and Neelix treats that like the massive Vulcan compliment it is

- The achingly gentle way Janeway looks at all of her crew members when they’re going through a tough time

- How defensive Chakotay gets when any member of the crew questions the captain’s judgement

- At Janeway’s funeral in “Coda,” she manages to keep her emotions in check until Harry starts talking and then she cries

- The fact that Janeway cries like a real person. Like, her face scrunches up, her lip quivers. She’s not out here crying those fake-ass stoic tears that other fictional characters do. She’s crying for real. 

- When Tom covers for Harry’s indiscretion because he knows how important Harry’s clean Starfleet record is to him

- The way Janeway hugs Kes during Elogium and sits to talk to her about puberty while gently stroking her hair and listening to her patiently

- The fact that there’s a pot of coffee ready in Janeway’s ready room all the time and you just know that Chakotay is using his own replicator rations for her

- In the wedding between duplicate Tom and B’Elanna when Chakotay walks B’Elanna down the isle and Janeway walks Tom down the aisle and they both look like the proudest parents to ever exist

- Chakotay and Neelix’s background friendship. You have to squint for it, but they have some funny little moments together that indicate an offscreen friendship that I wish we could have seen more of

- The fact that Janeway goes to visit almost everyone who gets admitted to sickbay

- Tom telling Harry that he will never forget Harry defending him in “The Chute” simply because he is Harry’s friend. Not because he had something Harry needed, or because Harry couldn’t survive without him, just because “this man is my friend.”

- When Janeway flat-out tells Harry that she thinks of him like a son and she’s proud of how he’s grown since coming on Voyager

- The way Tuvok just really, really loves his wife

- The fact that Janeway makes baby blankets for babies born on Voyager 

- How absolutely into Captain Proton Harry and Tom get (and how into character Janeway gets when she plays Arachnia)

- Chakotay and Janeway exchanging looks when someone says something dumb, especially when it’s one of their officers and they just look amused/exasperated

- “Chakotay? Are you there?” “No, I left an hour ago!”

- Tom inviting Seven to play ping pong because he thought she might enjoy the math behind it

- The way that Janeway never writes Neelix off, even though he can be a pest sometimes. If he says he knows how to do something, she lets him take a whack at it. If he’s got a story to tell and there’s no immediate danger, she listens. When he’s clearly baiting her into a conversation where he can show off his knowledge of Earth history, she bites and encourages him to tell her more because she knows it’s important to him to know about the history of the cultures represented on the ship.

- The fact that Neelix tries to get to know the cultures represented on the ship, even when he gets it wrong sometimes. He has good intentions.

- The entirety of Neelix and Tuvok’s interactions during “Riddles.” I was a hot mess that entire episode.

- Janeway finding out Tuvok’s birthday, making him a cake, baiting him into thinking she was mad at him so she could do a dramatic reveal, and Tuvok blowing out the candle even though he thought the candle was dumb just because she’s his best friend and he loves her

- The way Chakotay turns into Hearteyes McGee every time Janeway puts her hands on her hips, cocks her brow, and tells off an enemy

- How excited the whole crew gets when they find a cool space anomaly that isn’t immediately threatening them

- The fact that Janeway does her best to allow her officers to pursue their interests. Like when Tom asks to build the Delta Flyer, she lets him because cool spaceships are his Thing. When they find that lost ship from the early Mars missions, she lets Chakotay lead the away mission because that’s his Thing. She lets B’Elanna and Harry make a ton of adjustments to the engines because it might help them get home faster, but also because that’s their Thing. She understands how frustrating it can be to be locked in a spaceship for years without a way to pursue your interests and hobbies outside of the holodeck so she does her best to let them do their Things when opportunities do arise. 

- When Tom and Harry start a street brawl because they tried to play drunk tennis with some aliens and Janeway dresses them down for unbecoming conduct but then is like “.... so did you win?”

- The fact that both Harry and B’Elanna have fever dreams where they very clearly reveal that they see Janeway as a mother figure

- Seven of Nine and Naomi’s friendship and how pure it is and also how Seven always calls Naomi by her full name

- Also Neelix and Naomi’s friendship

- And the fact that Naomi is the Captain’s Assistant and Chakotay and Janeway send her back and forth between the two of them with messages because it makes her feel important

- I guess just Naomi Wildman in general

- Seven and The Doctor connecting over music

[notsowrites]

Untitled 3x01 Coda #2

I truly loved all the Forlex in the episode, and the Miluca scene was so soft - but hello?? RNM?? Where is my Malex? I demand to be fed. So I guess I will just have to write it my damn self.

----------

Alex watched as Michael's truck pulled into the junkyard, grinding to a halt next to his SUV. They hadn't spoken since he'd gotten back, and it was probably time. Especially with everything that'd happened with Forrest, the revelation about Deep Sky and his subsequent decision regarding them... it was a lot to process. He'd lit the fire pit when he's arrived, knowing it might be a while before Michael returned, and had settled into one of the chairs, enjoying the cool breeze of the night and finally allowing himself a moment to think about Forrest. 

A moment to wonder if he's made the right decision, if he should have gotten on that bus. If down the line somewhere he was going to regret the path that he'd now set himself upon. He couldn't stop thinking about Kyle's advice, about the loneliness and isolation he'd be getting himself into by allowing himself to be recruited into their ranks.

Michael looked tired, that much Alex could see even through the darkness. His curls were wild, like he'd been running his hands through them for hours, his black cowboy hat nowhere to be found, and Alex wondered what he'd missed in the 12 hours since he'd been back in town.

"Didn't expect to see you here." 

No, Alex thought, he wouldn't. It wasn't like they'd left in a great place either when he'd made the decision a year ago that he was going to clean up his father's mess so he could finally move on, move past everything regarding his fucked up family history.

"Didn't expect my night to end up here either," he replied, trying to sound friendly, and knowing he wasn't completely succeeding.

Michael stopped next to one of the empty chairs, taking in the lit fire, and nodded, his hands tightening on the metal of the back. "And where did you think you'd end up?" 

Alex shrugged, looking away. He didn't know how much he wanted to tell Michael - did he tell him he'd been thinking he could make a good go of it with Forrest? That he almost got on a bus out of town with him?

"Have you ever heard of something called Deep Sky?"

The laugh Michael let out cut right through to Alex's core. He could feel the anger, the frustration - every bit of Michael's emotions as he dropped into the chair in front of him. 

"You've got to be kidding me."

Michael pulled a flask out of his jacket pocket and took a generous sip, shaking his head. As Alex watched, he realized how good alcohol sounded right about now, and maybe that was what he needed to do, despite the beers he'd had at the Pony earlier with Kyle.

"Is that-" 

Michael narrowed his eyes at him. "It's acetone." 

After another moment, Michael stood up, tucking the flask away and pulling open the door to the trailer, disappearing inside with a slam of the metal door. Barely a moment later, it was opening again, Michael reappearing with two bottles of beer in his hand, holding one out for Alex. 

"Thanks. It's been-" he sighed, realizing it was inevitable he'd be telling Michael everything that had happened to him. "It's been a night."

"You wanna talk about it?"

This was still new territory for them. Even after all the time they'd spent together uncovering the truth about Michael's mother, Alex couldn't deny his absence over the last year had probably hurt Michael. It hadn't been that they hadn't talked, hadn't had stilted, awkward phone conversations as he'd dug into Project Shepherd and his father's involvement, reporting on anything he might think Michael found useful. But talking, really opening up to one another, was still something they didn't do.

"Do you want to hear me tell you that I almost left town with Forrest?" 

Michael shook his head. "But you're here." 

"Yeah," Alex agreed. "I'm here."

"So what happened?" Michael immediately followed up, taking a sip of his beer. 

Alex bit his lip, carefully considering his words. "There's an organization called Deep Sky - they want to recruit me. And there's a part of me - the part that has been involved in trying to figure out what Project Shepherd was doing - that wants to let them." 

"But?" Michael knew him too well. 

"But," Alex continued, "it would mean secrecy. It would mean cutting myself off from everyone." 

"Sounds like you've already made up your mind."

"That's why I'm here, I guess," Alex realized. "I haven't. And I didn't really know - I still haven't decided." 

"I'm not making that decision for you, Alex."

"I'm not-" Alex stopped, feeling himself get annoyed at Michael inferring that he was unable to make the choice himself. "I'm not asking you to."

"Then what, Alex? Why come here and tell me all of this?" 

He watched as Michael finished off the beer in his hand, dropping the bottle to the ground and taking flash back out from his jacket.The words were stuck in his throat, to tell Michael that there was a part of him that wanted to do this for him. For Michael. 

"This could be my chance to learn things my father never could.” He paused, knowing he had to answer Michael’s question too. “And because I still want you to know." 

Silence fell between them immediately, and Alex noticed the way Michael's shoulder relaxed slightly, and he fell back against his chair. 

"I came to the bus stop today," Michael said, his voice quiet, his chin tucked into his chest so he couldn't look at Alex. As if the words he was saying were something he didn't want to admit, didn't want to talk about. Alex didn't understand it - in all their years together, Michael had never held back from him. "I thought-" He cut himself off, and Alex watching him shake his head, looking away, making sure he couldn't catch Alex's gaze.

But Alex needed to know. Michael had been there? At the bus stop? Had he been so focused on Forrest that he hadn't noticed?

"I saw you," Michael continued, "-you and Forrest. So I left." 

"You could have said hi."

Michael shrugged. "You looked busy."

All those years ago, when he'd left Roswell for basic as a scared and angry seventeen year old, he's been furious that Michael had gotten himself arrest and locked up. That he'd had to leave town without saying good-bye. It had been a deep hurt that had lingered for years with him, something he couldn't understand. Why had stealing hubcaps been more important?

And what could he even say to that? That Michael had shown up in that way - was he trying to right the wrong of that day more than a decade again?

But they weren't - they weren't anything anymore. Except maybe friends.

"We broke up," Alex replies instead of telling Michael he wanted him to be there at the bus stop. Instead of admitting that Michael is the only one he's ever wanted to greet him when he's returned to Roswell. Because Michael is the only person who has ever made Roswell feel like home, like he could be happy here.

"You and-" 

Alex nodded. "That's how I found out about Deep Sky." 

Michael glared at him, processing his words. "He was using you?" 

"No!" Alex shook his head. "No, I don't think so."

Silence fell between them, the only sound crickets in the distance and the fire crackling between them in the pit. It felt nice, it felt comfortable. He wanted more of it, he wanted to do this more often. 

“If I do this,” he starts, a plan devising in his mind. “I don’t want to be cut off completely. That much isolation - it can’t be good.”

Michael nodded. “So what are you going to do?”

“If they’re as desperate to recruit me as Forrest made it sound, maybe I don’t have to.” It was possible he knew, to have his own demands for his cooperation. Especially if Deep Sky was this interested in him. Perhaps he could have communication with someone, perhaps he could negotiate his won way to not be completely cut off from everyone. “I don’t want - I don’t think-”

The words stuck in his throat. Why was it so hard to say the things he wanted? He wanted Michael to be the one he told his findings to. Anything he may come across that would help him understand his own history, his people, where he came from - Alex wanted to find those answers for him. 

"I meant what I said, you know," he continued, finding his voice finally. "About being friends."

"About starting over?"

Alex nods. Because that's always been their problem, hasn't it? He knows everything about Liz and Maria and Kyle from their birthdays to the favorite foods and drinks but he didn't know all those little thing about Michael. And it feels important somehow that he find them out. That he really learn who Michael is.

Because if there is one thing the past two years has shown him is it's not going to change anything between them. He's always going to love Michael.

He doesn't quite understand it, what it is about their connection that is so strong that even now, even after everything they've been through, that they're still drawn together. And maybe he can find answers with Deep Sky.

But what he does know is that he wants Michael to be the one at the bus stop waiting for him next time. Wants to know that Michael is there.

What he doesn't know is how long it may take for them to work their way back, but it's not something he plans on jumping into. Not with the fight with Forrest still so fresh.

But one day, maybe some day soon.

[skylessknights]

One Step Closer

fandom: 9-1-1 

pairing: Buck/Eddie 

chapters: 1/1 

words: 1.7k

rating: General Audiences 

additional warnings: Love Confessions, Awkward Eddie, Buck is a big flirt, 4x12 coda, Mention of Taylor Kelly, Jealousy, Fluff and Humor, We finally get a kiss!!, Mention of Ana

notes: After the way we got FED in the recent 9-1-1 episode, I just had to write this fic! It's been on my mind all week! 😭 Buddie fans how we feeling?! Why does this make me feel like we could potentially be canon with this ship? 🙊Hope you all enjoy this fic, Let me know what you think in comments :)

Synopsis:  Eddie is surprised when he sees Buck at his house following the aftermath of the treasure hunt. Things take an unexpected turn...

Eddie locked the door behind him and hung his jacket on the coat rack in the entryway. He casually swung his keys around his finger before throwing it into the bowl that rested on the table beside him.  

Combing his fingers through his hair, Eddie let out a much needed sigh that he didn’t realise he’d been holding in.

If he was being honest, he was still upset about how today’s events had played out. Eddie was never really interested in finding that five million dollars that the whole of LA was searching for. He wasn’t bothered by the hundreds of emergencies that they were called to because of this stupid treasure hunting scheme that the author had set up.

All he cared about, all he hoped for, was to spend some time with Buck, his best friend, who he could never stop thinking about. The one who made him feel butterflies in his stomach whenever his gaze would land on him. The one who was currently with that reporter, or whatever her name is.

He would never admit it out loud but he hated how Buck’s attention was solely on her for the entire day. He hated how his gaze never left her sight. It made him even more… jealous.

[read on ao3]

[prairiedust]

Gimme Shelter livewatch under the cut.... I was on my phone when I wrote it so apologies for the typos

“Patchwork Community Center: Care Given to All” with a huge, lurid heart. Hmmm.... patchwork having two meanings here.....

Pastor (?) has 2 Timothy 2:22 tattooed on his arm! “Flee the evil desires of youth and pursue righteousness, faith, love and peace, along with those who call on the Lord out of a pure heart.” (NIV) Are we looking at growth and found family in this episode?!?

Oh that’s the alleyway!

Hitting mythology themes— Connor is an Anglicized version of an Irish name— Conchobar mac Nessa is maybe the most famous bearer of the name, from Irish mythology— he’s the king who lusted after Deirdre and had her locked up until she came of age, which is probably neither here nor there as far as this poor Connor is concerned...

That thing has a big lurid heart on his overalls better run lol— Oh shit it’s an evil Teddy Ruxpin!!!! Thanks Davy Perez!!!!

That’s the thing animal control uses to manage aggressive animals??? Is this saying something about the Patchwork people?

And that’s it for the cold open.

——

The uh, the mcfuckin what, the Camelot Palace Casino? Is this a tour of the legends of Ireland and Britain all of a sudden? What’s with hitting this theme so hard so fast?

Uh-oh the whole Highway to Heaven reference has me side-eyeing Dean’s suggestion for Cas snd Jack to leave the bunker... Dabb even “spoiled” that line in a tweet lol... in that show the cop and the angel got their (vague) assignments from the big guy.......

Oh SHIT “we’re standing in what I call ‘the trap zone’” Perez is coming for my whole life with this episode!!!! And they’re doing highkey “season one totally-normal Winchester investigation questions script” I love it!!!!

“Slasher flick” Oh we’re revisiting Mint Condition. This is fine.

AND TOMBSTONE THIS IS NOT FINE DAVY! We’re running the good times backwards what did I say about this being the flipside of Last Holiday!

H2H again but this time it’s sus... plus I’m with Zack, I totally want the cozy murder spinoff I imagined Adam and Michael doing plz

Oh the Cas and Jack dynamic here is so sweet.

Pastor just leaving his door open like there’s no such thing as a thief bless his heart. They must be torn up about Connor but Pastor was the last one to talk to him so he’s sus I don’t make the rules.

Oh no Red’s a THIEF!!! Who ever would have guessed. Okay I did NOT expect that jumpscare because of the way Connor’s murder primed me, that was masterfully done.

That’s vaguely an Ohio Star quilt square on the sign behind her except um I forget what that tilted square in the center turns it into? It’s chiming with something... I’ll have to look that up later.

“Divide and conquer” no never split up in a slasher movie that’s how you get murders use the buddy system!

Gonna stop a sec because I just realized that Zack is two-faced. The British dandy was an act. The killer is wearing a Cinderella mask. Ok I’m gonna make a prediction that Zack is actually the killer, a la the demon in Repo Man...

Okay there was definitely a beat after Dean said “Glad soneone’s taking charge” [ofHell] and the focus shifted to Sam. Hm.

“We’ve got to set her up for her own death” so meta, these writers are gonna shred us.

I love being shown how much Castiel has changed throughe Jack not understanding the Kool-Aid reference. And the cats line lol. That’s both amazing and poignant.

That’s a log cabin pattern in the cafeteria. Home. Makes me think back on other quilts we’ve seen this season and if “weaving” is the right metaphor for writing lol. I mean, the action of “patching” is synonymous with “mending” or even healing, but patchwork is also a craft with a long, long history in America (idk if quiltmaking is called patchwork everywhere) of taking a few often mismatched fabrics and cutting and sewing into something beautiful. There are generally two kinds of quilt tops— patterns, like we’ve seen so far in this season, which are carefully planned and involve precise measurements, and ���crazy quilts” which also require skill but are often more freeform and piecemeal. But both aspire to be beautiful. That’s an interesting way to conceptualize a serial text... as both creating and mending....

That prayer was sweet and not at all what I was expecting.

I get the finger-cutting for Valerie (stealing=sticky fingers) but not for Connor? Tenuous connection still betw lying and writing? It’s evocative of Se7en but the killer seems to have the same MO for all the killings (I attended CSI for a while.)

Snow White is making me uneasy. Oh she’s the preacher’s daughter... we’ve seen that in early days, too.... oh.... oh....

It’s not the AV guy despite having seen all the AV equipment around Valerie. That’s too easy.

“A saint is a sinner who keeps trying-“ no scroll back, the important part was “we all have to take care of each other.” That’s a theme in the series.

She’s all in pink....

dean and amara on the same wavelength about food lol

Ha ha inversion of “oh you’re a fan of religion? name all seven gods then.”

Castiel’s testimony just wrecked me.

“Members serve the gift of food” hmmm the signs in this episode are tip-top

Gonna just watch for a while.

Oh crap “each is a finger” oh it’s about the sins of the father— No Cas no, you’ve fallen for the misdirection!

Oh okay good, Chuck’s not done snuffing worlds. That had me REALLY WORKED UP ha ha because Amara has no reason to lie right?

That was a really good conversation.... and implying that Former Death bent the truth...

Oh fuck I’m gonna cry “I wanted younto see that your mother was just a person” YES! DISMANTLE THIS MYTHOLOGY AMARA!!! Name it!

THE MYTH THAT YOU’D HELD ON TO FOR SO LONG did they just— THEY DID

rigging the game— ftfoh with the casino metaphors already we know the house always wins except when it doesn’t

Lying, lying, lying,

Do we even know Snow White’s name yet? And why was Connor a liar? Because I think we can make a guess at this point.... ah ha ha her name is sylvia— “forest spirit” she’s Mrs Butters— and she’s after hypocrites— but the killing isn’t supernatural, just churchy?

Oh shit SHE IS A DEAN MIRROR IF SHE STABS JACK I’LL FLIP A DAMN TABLE

....

....

prairiedust.exe has encountered an error and must be restarted

....

....

Okay so “Dad” steps in and stops Sylvia’s attack on Jack...

Why is that Zack? What????

“I’ve been lying to you” oh here we go

Oh it would be death #3, remember what Dabb said about threes a long time ago, two attempts that are unsuccessful and one that satisfies the parameters— but no he’s a jack :((((

I have to stop watching for a while.

Okay I finished it. Holy cats do I have some Thoughts about this episode.

What I loved: Revisiting Dean’s anger, BUT the parental mirror here (in retrospect, at least for me) was a John mirror-- all the mothers (exc for Rowena) in this episode are dead. And Pastor Joe didn’t apparently embrace his wife’s faith until she had died, and then his vision was radically different than his wife’s was-- much like John’s reasons for becoming a hunter were vastly different from Mary’s... but much like “patching” this subtext was possibly even more “healing” than having John back in the 300th ep... This was... looking at a child’s anger when they’re in the middle of their own family mythology. Am I implying that Dean’s anger is immaturity? Eh, it’s... unripeness. I have an old meta in my drafts about the heroine’s journey and why Mary’s story conformed to it while feeling totally unfulfilling in her actual character arc and I’m so glad I sat down and examined that rather than finish it. I have a lot I want to say about Cas’ testimony too, but that has to sit a while. ALSO also, Cas has already thrown away his shot by making the Empty deal, right?....

LANGUAGE! Cas saying “I found myself lost” is a bonkers sentence, right? It’s like when people say someone “turned up missing”-- AND it does not have the same meaning as “I realized I was lost”-- you get a double whammy of the connotation “to search for.” I loved loved loved how language was such a big deal in Last Holiday and then again here, I need to rewatch while paying closer attention to Sylvia and things she says... but these two were sister episodes in so many ways, that when I said there was a “lack of narrative mirrors” in Last Holiday, that’s only because the lens for that kind of reading is Gimme Shelter. That is not the first time spn has played with a “coin” or paired structure-- I think the first time I noticed it was Fan Fiction/Ask Jeeves but I was a transfer student from another fandom at the time lol. But of course, we get a huge truth bomb at the end of the episode, and again that splashy cymbal all over lying...

What I got wrong-- Zack wasn’t the killer but he’s fishy as hell-- he stole Sylvia! Is this part of Rowena’s “people generally end up where they deserve to be” except she’s built in an express lane? “Do you need a driver” is that his actual job now? Taking unripe souls to Hell Orientation? What’s up with him being there... the other shoe did not drop. So there is a third episode out there somewhere where this might get wrapped up? The conversation between Dean and Cas can easily be something that happens offscreen, and I don’t think that it would be the first time we miss an “important” conversation, especially since we know roughly what will be said and how it will wrap up-- it’s an “open text” of a sort. Maybe a fanfiction gap lol, I can’t wait for the codas.

Also, the fingers thing being Sylvia’s father’s favorite analogy is where she got her MO, something that I definitely didn’t see, although it fits right in with her father’s slightly pithy character. I think it’s interesting again how we’re playing with threes and fours. Three fingers got cut off but it was apparent that Valerie (valorious one) wouldn’t die until finger #4.... Jack really seems to be our last hope.

[shittyelfwriter]

Stay Alive

Pairing: established Castiel x fem!reader

Word count: 3100-ish

Summary: After the events of a day that is a strong contestant for the worst of your lives, you and your partner take a moment to process some of the damage. Coda for 15x01 “Back and to the Future”.

Warnings: Angst that is consistent with the episode, mostly hurt/comfort

A/N: Obviously this episode wreaked havoc on my poor Cas loving heart. Was he a badass? Yes. Was he treated like shit? Also yes. Is the title a reference to the Hamilton soundtrack because while I was writing this I thought of the Stay Alive (reprise) and drew death-of-a-child parallels? Also also yes. I wrote this in half an hour, hopefully it’s not crap but the fire of my emotions really got me going and I went into a frenzy.

More of my writing (masterlist)

You saw the moment that Dean approached Cas from a distance. You’d just tossed your FBI jacket in the back of the Impala and broached the practical subject with Sam of finding something for dinner when you saw the few terse moments of interaction. You only caught the tail end of it, had seen rather than heard Dean say good, and then that was all. No comfort was offered, no physical reassurance, none of the warmth or solidarity you’d seen him and Sam exchanging earlier. Granted, they were brothers. Perhaps that just came with the territory. But you knew Dean was shunning Cas, you knew why, and you were internally furious with the man. You wanted to scream at him up and down the street for the way he was treating the angel, who had just experienced perhaps the most emotionally tolling loss of his existence, barring his falling away from Heaven and its tenets.

You’d lost Jack. Again.

Cas had lost his son, you all had, and here was Dean, still holding a grudge over Castiel’s head like a weapon. You knew that losing their mom was a hard hit. Mary’s death had been Jack’s fault, one way or another, and Cas had been protecting Jack. Dean was unwilling to forgive that mistake—if you could even be so bold as to call it that. Could protecting your child from the ire of another adult (and one likely to take aggressive action at that) really qualify as a mistake? It seemed like something any parent would do, especially when the matter of blame wasn’t really a clear cut thing.

Dean was grieving, obviously; and so far, he was coping with that by treating Cas like dirt and shunning him in all the ways that mattered. You needed to all pull together, to be a team in every sense to face what you were up against— dealing with three billion ghosts wasn’t going to be any sort of cakewalk, and then there was the fact that you were all hoping that Sam’s theory about Chuck dipping out of your universe were true, and that he wasn’t cooking up some fresh bullshit somewhere on Earth, under the radar.

But Cas was grieving too, and why Dean couldn’t see that and understand and maybe grant a little bit of mercy on the angel who had given so much to be standing at their side in the face of the wrath of his own father and creator was just a little too much for you to choke down. And to top it all off, a slap in all of your faces was the fact that as the gates of hell were opened, a demon had hopped skipped and jumped right into Jack’s still warm corpse.

And then Dean—and Sam, which made it suck even more—had insisted that Cas wasn’t allowed to chase the damned thing out. Nor were you, you were quickly told, when you’d bristled alongside your partner. To add insult to injury, the demon, who apparently went by Belphegor, was overtly cheery and made every attempt at camaraderie—which was just uncomfortable and grating, considering whose face he was wearing and under what circumstances. Both you and Cas were on edge every time he was around, but rushing away from what looked like Jack felt foreign, wrong. It was awful.

You weren’t gonna pick a fight with Dean, not today. Even though part of you wanted to chew the man out and give him a good piece of your mind, you yourself were exhausted. You’d been running on air for days, the only thing keeping you going had been fresh adrenaline and the need to keep moving. You had two days within the barrier Belphegor—if that really was who he was—had raised around the town before the real feds showed up. That was long enough to allow a few hours of rest, you figured, striding over to the angel before he could slink away from the scene feeling completely unwanted and alone.

You slipped your hand in his, and squeezed gently. “Hey.” It was a simple greeting, far too simple, but it was loaded with meaning. I saw. I know. I’m on the same page with you. You’re not alone.

A slight moment of hesitation later and he squeezed back, your heart warming at his attempt to reciprocate. “Hey,” he replied, voice even more gravelly than usual—a tell tale sign of emotional overload. His attention immediately focused in on you, as if grateful for a distraction from everything hurting him. “Are you alright?” He asked, other hand moving to rest on your arm, as he looked you over for any injuries he might have missed on his last visual inspection after the chaos had settled, anything he could heal. Anything he could fix, something he could make better for you. You offered him a small, watery smile.

“No,” you replied softly, and he knew you meant more than just a physical pain. He could see it in your eyes, the loss that he felt mirrored there. “But neither are you,” you added, a hand slipping up to his cheek, smoothing a thumb over his jaw. You saw that look flit through his eyes, the one that meant he felt like he didn’t deserve your sympathy, that he was beginning to believe that Dean’s anger was righteously placed upon him. Don’t do that, you prayed silently at him. Don’t you dare take his cold shoulder to heart. He’s hurting too. We all are. Give him time.

He drew a shaky breath, stepping into you, pressing closer like he needed the contact as reassurance. “I just…I can’t…” he fumbled for words, casting a glance over at the demon wearing your son’s body as a vessel, his expression distraught and angry and broken. You knew how he felt; it was a cruel taunt for Jack’s body to be walking and talking and filled with something so unholy when you’d lost him so recently—so recently, that you hadn’t even had a moment to slow down and process it.

“I know.” Your voice broke, tears filling your eyes. “I hate it too, Cas. I hate it so much.” You’d both lost Jack before, the first time he’d died. You’d grieved him, commemorated him, and you’d done it as a family. Now, it seemed that that wasn’t a luxury that would be afforded to him a second time, whether it be because Sam and Dean were too angry at his involvement in Mary’s death or the functionality of his body playing host to an unexpected freeloader. It was cruel, and impossible to fully come to terms with. You felt tears burning behind your eyes, a thick lump in your throat. He had deserved so much better.

You took a deep breath of your own, and a step back. “Come on, angel. I’ve got zombie guts on me and we’re gonna need to set up a base of operations. Let’s go.”

Whether it were just the example of a universal constant or instead the ever present influence of Chuck’s handiwork was unclear, but there was a motel just down the street from the high school where the rest of the town was holed up. It was just as mediocre as any motel you’d been in over the years, but it might as well have been the Ritz-Carlton because it was safe and quiet and had running hot water. Sam and Dean were wrapping things up with the locals and law enforcement and then making a stop wherever they could to scrounge up some food stuffs, and the demon—and more importantly, Jack’s body—would be with them until they got back. The only upside was that it left you with a short while alone with Cas where rude comments or just general harshness wouldn’t be flung at him.

Throwing the lock on the door and tugging yourself out of your jacket was thankfully routine, because you were barely even functional at this point. You felt like you were in a daze, like none of this were real; perhaps just a bad dream, wherein you were drained, completely and emotionally wrecked. Cas didn’t seem much better off, standing in the middle of the room like he didn’t know quite what to do with himself. You couldn’t blame him, but it still broke your heart when you saw him casting his eyes around, like a bird trapped in a cage. He wanted to run, to find something to fight, to get away from what he was feeling, it it wasn’t really what he needed. You knew him well enough by now to know that. Because as much as he wanted to escape it all, he didn’t want to be alone, either.

You tugged him by the hand when you went to shower, gently inviting him in with you. He didn’t need to, obviously, and it wasn’t going to be glamorous after the week you’d had, but it was a routine of your relationship, a little bit of constancy, normalcy. Being close was a comfort, one he needed too, and some privacy after all that had happened was welcome. You weren’t surprised when halfway through the shower your tears started free flowing. Even once you were clean, he just held you in his arms under the warm water, the two of you anchoring to each other in the middle of the storm. Nothing was said; neither of you were ready yet, your hearts too heavy. But by the time you’d pulled on clean clothes and tumbled into the shitty motel bed together, curling into one another like you couldn’t be separated, you found some.

“I know it’s stupid to say ‘it’s not fair’.” Your voice was soft, even in the quiet. His face was buried against your neck, breathing soft against your skin. He was holding onto you like a lifeline, like you were all that was keeping him tethered to reality instead of tumbling headfirst into his grief. Maybe you were, but he was doing the same for you. “But it’s not. And I hate it. And maybe we were never meant to win, or be safe, or be happy in Chuck’s story. But dammit.” Your voice broke, tears strangling you as you clenched your trembling hands. “I wanted Jack to have better than this. I didn’t want him to be just another person we cared about and lost, because he was so much more than that.”

“It’s my fault.” The words rumbled through you, and you felt your chest tighten. “I was supposed to protect him, and all I ever did was fail at it.” He let out a huff, a slight sardonic attempt at a laugh. “I lost him once and swore I’d never let it happen again, and I still failed.”

“No it’s not. It’s not your fault,” you countered, insisted. “It’s not. Do you honestly think there is anything we know of now that we could have done to protect him from Chuck? From God, himself? We were completely blindsided. We thought Dean was the threat.”

“We were wrong.” You knew Castiel had given up on his father a long time ago, but this was the kind of wound that took that to an entirely different level.

“I hate him.” You didn’t have to say who, you knew Cas could feel your intent. Chuck, God, whatever you called him he was a cruel, sadistic motherfucker and you wished you’d never had the misfortune of meeting your Maker. You could also tell, with the way Cas’ arms tightened around you, that he agreed, and that scared him a little.

“It should have been me.” Even though it wasn’t the first time you’d heard him say that, especially about Jack, it still it made your pulse skip a beat in panic. “If anyone deserved to die, like that, it’s me. I’ve done things to be worthy of my father’s wrath. Jack was”—his voice broke, and your heart shattered into even smaller pieces, fresh tears poring from the corners of your eyes—“Jack was so young. He was just trying his best. All of this, what he is—was—was so confusing, overwhelming. People tried to take advantage of him left and right.  Lucifer, Dumah, even Dean…” You could feel in his words how betrayed he still felt by Dean’s choice to try and lock Jack away. “He was just a child. He was meant for so much more.”

“That doesn’t mean it should have been you.” You felt him nuzzle deeper into your hair, hiding his face from the world. “Cas, listen to me. I would have taken a bullet for that boy myself, any day of the week. I would have gladly died to keep him here, with you.”

“Don’t say that.” You could heat the panic lacing his voice, even in a whisper. “Don’t you dare say that, don’t even think it.” He drew back enough to fix you with a pleading look, and you were shocked to see his eyes swimming in tears. “For a moment I thought that he was going to—you were standing right there, not even six paces from him and I was so afraid that he’d just snap again and you’d be…”

That he’d kill you, too.

You hadn’t even paused to consider he might have been afraid of that.

“Oh, Cas.” You took his face in your hands, pressing your lips to his. I’m sorry, you amended in prayer. I didn’t mean it like that. He kissed you back, desperate, hands grasping at your hips and pulling you into him. Like he couldn’t be close enough, like he needed you very, very near to be sure that you were still actually there. “When he said ‘story’s over’ I thought he was going to kill us all right then and there,” you confessed, when you broke for air.

“I thought he might, too,” Cas agreed. His eyes fell away from yours. “I almost don’t know what to do now that he’s just…left us here.”

“We’ll figure it out,” you told him, smoothing a hand over his shoulder. “We always do. We’ll find a way to get through this.”

There was a long pause, wherein he didn’t argue with you but he didn’t agree, either. When he glanced back up at you, there was a strange look in his eyes.

“Promise me something.”

“What?” You asked, concern grabbing at your heart as you hoped he wouldn’t ask something impossible. Something like don’t sacrifice yourself for me, because you didn’t know if you could stop yourself, if it came down to it.

“Promise me you won’t start to hate me, too.” It surprised you, but he seemed serious.

“Why on earth would I hate you?” You asked, bewildered and almost exasperated in your state of exhaustion. “I love you, Castiel. I trust you more than anyone, more than even Sam and Dean—especially with the way they’re treating you right now.”

“Because that’s what happens when I care about people.” He held your face in his hand, the gentle caress of his thumb serving to make you even more sleepy. “Maybe it’s because of what I am. Maybe angels really aren’t meant to love anyone, because it always seems to end badly when emotions are involved.”

“I think that’s just part of being alive, love,” you told him, your eyes fluttering closed as you leaned into his touch. Some part of your chest felt hollow with that familiar feeling of loss, but with him by your side, you didn’t have to bear it alone. “It’s not your fault. Life is just unkind like that sometimes, and people make choices that can hurt you.” You sighed, and looked up at him. “I’ve loved you long enough, through enough, to know that I’m not going anywhere, angel. If there’s one person you don’t have to worry about losing, it’s me.” You paused, and you could literally feel that you were both thinking the same thing. “Not by choice, anyway,” you added quietly. Death was an eventuality, you knew, but for tonight, you’d like to think it would come later rather than sooner—in spite of the odds of your current predicament, which didn’t seem to lend much to that hope.

But a promise was what he had asked for, not for you to defy fate. He nodded, seeming content for now with that answer. There was only so much reassurance could do for either of you at that moment, anyway. Part of you wanted to promise him that you’d get Jack back, that you were family, that you’d done it once before and you’d do it again. That the two of you together would move Heaven and Earth if you needed to, to fix this. But could you? Could you repair what had been done, when you were up against the Creator’s will?

It was all too much, far too much for your muddled, sleep deprived brain. You found your eyes kept slipping shut of their own accord, despite you willing yourself awake to keep your partner company. But he knew better than you did how exhausted you were, and he rolled over beside you, pulling you to rest on his chest, your ear over his heartbeat.

“We have just about two hours until Sam and Dean return with something to eat,” he told you, and you didn’t have it in you to argue. You reached for his hand as he pulled the blanket up over your shoulders the way you liked it. “Sleep while you can, and I’ll watch over you.”

You murmured your thanks, sending a wave of love his way in lieu of words. You felt his other hand cradle your head, a kiss pressed into your hair. As you drifted into unconsciousness, you thought you heard him quietly say something about protecting you at all costs, that you were the only thing he had left—but maybe that was just your exhaustion getting the better of you, one thought lingering in your mind as sleep rushed to greet you with the sweet promise of relief from your heartache.

We’ll keep each other alive.

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[samanddeaninpanties]

Rules are simple. Dust off fics that were posted at least a year ago and rec them! I had a hard time choosing just one or two - so have a short list! Mostly from other folks but I included one of my own at the end.

I'm not including warnings/tags here. Or who tops and bottoms. That would be way too much work. So like. Read through the tags before deciding to take the plunge with one of the fics, k?

*

Lima Syndrome by guestwho (Wincest)

Summary: Dean was late to rescue Sam during the fire that killed their mother, making Sam grow up with permanent scars on his face from a window that burst in the nursery. The social rejection he experienced from his scars was so fatal he stopped talking - and became so erratic John had to keep him locked in the attic upstairs. Dean always blamed himself for Sam, and does anything he can to make his brother happy.

Reccers Notes: From 2016. We get bits of high school and s1 in this baby. If you hate high school fics, don't let that ruin your fun. It's so much more than that. I got lost in the writing. From the very first scene I knew I was in for some compelling descriptions. Example: Dean slowly looks up, and sees God burning on the ceiling.

Just. Read it.

The Things You Can't Keep (When You're a Freak) by @azrielrose (Samifer)

Summary: Coda to Episode 13x21. How did Lucifer "convince" Sam to come with him to the camp site?

Reccers Notes: From 2018. If you dig hurt and no comfort with Sam getting whumped to hell with a side order of self hatred and shame - this fic might be for you! Listen. I don't even read Samifer. But this is a dark fic and written by my baby girl Krissy. So of course I devoured it like a greedy slut.

Everyone Needs Something by @oddsocksandstuff (Sastiel)

Summary: Sam is a little touched starved. Cas is a little touched starved. Maybe between them they can figure out a better way to live.

Reccers Notes: From 2017. Read on bad days! I know, folks are shocked. I recced fluff, wtf?! Also, I recced fluff from a dark fic buddy?! Even more wtf. But seriously. Cuddle buddies!! *flails*

Don't objectify me by @ryugarika (Dean/Bela)

Summary: Bella gives the boys 10,000 dollars as an apology, but she takes just one other thing too.

Reccers Notes: From 2018. It's only 300 words, so uh, keep that in mind. But if it helps I would have gladly read 30k? There's pegging! Pegging! Dean gets his sweet ass used. That's it, that's the fic.

Time Is Quite A Killer When You’re Left Behind by me / outoftheashes (Wincestiel)

Summary: Sam and Dean are thrown into the Empty. Cas deals the only way he knows how.

Reccers Notes: From 2017. I think I wrote this for coldest hits? Yeah, it's not cracky in any way, shape, or form. Oh, oh! There's time travel. And angst. Horny Sam making shit awkward for Cas. Honestly, I'm surprised this one isn't more well-read but *shrug* AO3 is a mystery!

[saras-almanac]

vic & robert, 10 may 2019 episode coda

So this is not so much an actual fic as it is just little moments. When I have more time I’d love to write this in a more fully fleshed out thing. And sorry anon who asked for this. I totally forgot about it this weekend and have just been crazy busy with other things. I hope this is okay for you for now. (And if you want something more, just let me know and I’ll find some time in the next couple weeks!)

Written for this ask. There’s not graphic descriptions, but vic’s storyline is mentioned. 

Robert felt helpless, standing there watching as his little sister—his baby sister—sobbed in Moira’s arms. He wanted to kill whoever laid a hand on her. He wanted to hold her. He wanted to cry. He just… wanted to go back in time and fix this, protect her the way that he should have done.

Aaron’s hand landed on his lower back, his fingers gripping Robert’s jacket slightly. He turned to look at Aaron and could see the grief that haunted his husband. Of course this would bring up issues for him too.

Robert should reach out to him. He should do something—anything—for the people he loves but he can’t do anything but stand there, rooted to the spot.

Diane mentions something about tea or water or coffee, and Robert jumped at the chance to help. He just needed to keep his hands busy, stop himself from thinking about what his sister went through.

Robert stood in the kitchen, doing some washing up for Vic, trying to not listen to whatever she was saying to Moira and Diane. Aaron had left hours ago, the atmosphere too intense that he needed some time. Vic had tried to convince Robert to leave as well, but that was a lost battle from early on.

The only thing Robert could do right now is be here for her, wash some dishes, and just wait for her to tell him what she needed.

Did he feel this helpless when it had been Aaron? It feels like a lifetime ago, like it happened to someone else now. But this isn’t about him. This isn’t about what he’s thinking or feeling. It’s about Victoria and giving her the support and protection that he can.

“Rob,” Vic said as she walked into the kitchen, clutching a mug between her hands. “You don’t have to do that.”

Robert just took the mug from her hands, washing it gently. “It’s no trouble.” One less thing you have to worry about or deal with.

Vic nodded and stood in the doorway, biting at her lip and twisting her hands anxiously. Robert turned off the water and dried his hands but made no move to get to close to her.

“I know I can’t understand, not really,” Robert told her. “But I’m here for ya, whatever ya need.”

Vic nodded and reached out to him, pulling herself close and Robert just held on. Vic was one of the strongest people he knew and she would get through this, but it killed him that she was suffering at all.

Diane had gone home after both Vic and Robert told her that sleeping on a sofa wouldn’t be good for her. She had promised that she’d pop round in the morning, make some breakfast and something. Victoria had looked at him and he had made it clear that he wanted to stay, to be there for her during the night if she wanted him to be.

Vic had nodded and then told Moira to go back home for some sleep. She’d said that she’s be fine and she had Robert here. She had eventually gone off to bed, saying that she was exhausted, which Robert didn’t blame her for. But she didn’t stay asleep or in her room long that night at all.

She went to her room the first time. Then came down to get some water, double check the locks, and then headed back upstairs. Robert was on the sofa and pretended not to hear the locks sliding back and forth, just said he hoped she’d be able to get some more sleep.

The next time she came down it was to use the bathroom. Neither of them commented on the fact that she had a bathroom upstairs she might have used.

The third time it wasn’t an excuse more that it was just a wander through the house, double checking rooms and doors and corners on where someone might be hiding. Robert had walked with her through the house, opening doors and cupboard and cabinets for anything that might be there.

After that, Robert saw that Vic hadn’t been sleeping in her room at all. And he could only imagine how many times she wandered the upper floor alone. He went to grab a blanket off one of the beds and draped it over himself as he sat on the floor outside the door to her room.

Vic came out what felt like minutes later, shaking and crying and stressed because she just couldn’t sleep.

“Then let’s go watch a film or something, yeah?” Robert wrapped the blanket around her and walked with her down the living room.

She squished herself into the corner of the sofa, the blanket still clutched tightly around her.

“How about some hot chocolate?” Robert suggested. “I’m told I’m the best at it.”

“That’s cause Liv’s got your sweet tooth,” Vic said, sniffing a little. “I don’t think I have anything to even make it.”

“I’ll see we’ve got,” Robert said.

“Will ya check the door on your way?” Vic called out.

“Sure.” Robert loudly flicked the lock backwards and forwards and finally back to lock. He even moved some items in front of the door to make sure they’d hear it if it opened at all.

She only had enough stuff for one cup, so Robert made one up for her and made himself a cup of tea. He passed her the hot chocolate and went to double check the locks on the other door as well, moving thing in front of it as well.

“We’ll get the locks changed tomorrow if ya like,” Robert said as he sat down on the other side of the sofa.

“It’s stupid, I know,” Vic said.

“It’s not,” Robert assured her.

“I just can’t stand being  here,” Vic said. “I keep seeing him out of the corner of my eye.”

“He’s not here, Vic, I promise ya,” Robert said.

“I know, but I can’t stop checking,” Vic said.

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” Robert said. “Whatever you need to do to feel safe.”

She drank her hot chocolate, neither of them paying attention to the film anymore.

“I don’t want you in there, but will ya come with me tomorrow?” Vic asked.

“Where? To the police station?”

Vic nodded. “I can’t have you or anyone be in there while they ask me questions but I just…”

“Of course I’m gonna be there for ya,” Robert promised. “Whatever you need, I swear.”

Vic nodded.

Robert watched her as she slowly fell asleep on the sofa. It was nearly five in the morning when she finally fell asleep, but at least she’d get some rest. Tomorrow he might suggest she come to stay at the Mill with him so she didn’t have to have another sleepless night here.

[flowerfan2]

Bound To Be Together - Ch. 8

McDanno, M, A03

A continuous story of Season 9 codas exploring the bond between Steve and Danny as they grow even closer.

Chapter 8: 9.08

Steve parks his truck and twists around for his bag of gear.  He’s a little early for the team’s annual Thanksgiving football game, but it’s a beautiful morning and he wants to enjoy it.  The game’s an important tradition, and he knows Danny will grill him on every detail when he gets back from New Jersey.

Just then his phone pings with a text.  Speak of the devil.

Thanks for the playlist.

Steve had swiped Danny’s phone a few days ago, adding a playlist with an assortment of songs from local Oahu bands.  He figured Danny would enjoy it, something to distract him on the long flight.  Maybe he’ll even want to go see one of the groups perform live, and Steve will casually offer to take him.  

Like a date, maybe, kinda.

Steve shakes his head at himself and writes back.

No problem. How was the flight?

Boring.  You getting ready for the game?

Already here.

Overachiever.

Steve snorts. At least I didn’t abandon my team.  He regrets it as soon as he hits send, the stark words on the screen looking harsher than he intended.

 Boo hoo. You’re just worried that the kids are going to trounce you.

 Danny is apparently in too good a mood to get upset about Steve’s slip.  The last thing Steve wants is to make Danny feel bad about going away to spend time with his family.  Family has to come first, and Steve knows how much it means to Danny to be with his parents and siblings today.

 Steve recovers and lobs a shot over the bow.  You must be into the holiday booze already if you think Tani and those lugs are going to win.

 Ha.  You’re right.  Bridget gave us some kind of cranberry champagne thing this morning, think there was vodka in it too.  She’s making pumpkin pie martinis with dinner.

 You didn’t eat yet?

 Not turkey. But  Charlie and I made cookies this morning.

Any left?

A few.

Don’t eat too much, you’ll spoil your appetite.

Ma says I’m too skinny anyway.

Steve thinks of Danny stretching as he got out of the truck at the airport, looking delicious in his slim fitting jeans and black t-shirt.  

 You’re perfect, Steve types back quickly.  There’s a pause, and Steve wishes he had just turned this into a phone conversation.  He wants to hear Danny’s voice.

Thanks. Danny doesn’t elaborate or hedge, and for some reason it makes Steve’s heart leap.

He jumps as there’s a knock on his window, Tani frowning at him and Junior standing behind her trying to stifle a grin.

Gotta go play some ball.  Talk later?

You bet.

 ******

 Steve doesn’t linger long after Thanksgiving dinner.  The restaurant isn’t his responsibility now, and he’s thankful for that -- he doesn’t need to stay to make sure everything’s clean and locked up.  If there’s a break-in, it won’t be Steve’s fault this time.

 Steve knows his newfound freedom from being a restaurant owner isn’t the only reason he’s anxious to leave.  He pushes that thought aside as he says good night to Lou and his family, who have somehow managed to act out the script of a bad sitcom episode over the course of the day.  At least no one got hurt, he thinks.  That’s another thing to be grateful for.

 When Steve gets home he changes out of his clothes into a soft pair of sweatpants and paces around for a few minutes before giving in and calling Danny.

 “Steve?  Hey,” Danny says, his voice scratchy.  “Give me a sec, hold on.”

 “I know it’s late, I shouldn’t have called, but…”

 “Nah, it’s not so late.”

 It’s almost 3 a.m.  on the east coast.  Steve would like to think that the fact that Danny isn’t complaining about that means that he doesn’t mind, but it’s also possible Danny is too asleep to realize what time it is.

 “Did I wake you?”

 “Yeah, I guess.  But it’s okay.  I like the sound of your voice.”

 Danny’s words stop Steve in his tracks as warmth spreads through his chest.  It’s such a similar sentiment to what Steve himself has been thinking all day, missing Danny’s shouts of glee on the football field, his mumblings when they mull over a case.  The sound of his voice at a table crowded with friends, carrying to Steve’s ears regardless of who he’s talking to.

 “Well, uh, here I am.”

 Danny laughs, low and rumbling.  “How was your Thanksgiving?”

 Lonely, Steve wants to say, but that’s not really true.  He had good people around, his team, their families.  He wasn’t really lonely.  But there was an empty space where Danny should have been, where he should always be.

 Might as well say it. “Missed you.  Especially since we were at the restaurant.  It looked good, though, you’d have been pleased.  Kamekona had it all decorated.”

 “Did he make that stuffing we talked about?  With the sausage?”

 “He did, and you were right, it was amazing.”

 “Of course it was amazing, it’s my mom’s recipe.  We had it too, although my sister made it yesterday and reheated it today, and it got a little dry.”

 “Did she use a low heat? That’s supposed to help.”

 Danny starts to answer, and then laughs again.  “You know what?  It doesn’t matter.  It’s not our problem anymore.  We are no longer responsible for conjuring up ways to serve food to the masses.”

 “It’s true.  I signed the papers tonight.”

 There’s a long beat. “It’s good timing, really,” Danny says. “I don’t want to spend another minute thinking about food.  I don’t want to debate whether the cranberry sauce in the can is evil, or whether marshmallows are more acceptable in sweet potatoes if they’re organic.  I’m done.  In fact, next year I’m making stuffing from a box.”

 “You’ll do no such thing,” Steve says, grinning.

 “I will. Watch me. And we’ll get gravy in a jar, and buy a pumpkin pie from the bakery section of Foodland.”

 Steve doesn’t miss the “we” dropped casually into Danny’s assertion.  “What’ll we do for the turkey?”

 “Pre-order from Kamekona.”

 “It’s a deal, Danny,” Steve says, his voice falling low.  “Next year we’re having a casual Thanksgiving.  On the lanai, with paper plates and bottles of beer.”  Steve holds his breath, expecting Danny to backtrack once he realizes that he and Steve can’t have Thanksgiving together, not if Danny’s in New Jersey for the holiday like usual.

 But Danny doesn’t backtrack. Quite the opposite.

 “If you’re in, I’m in,” Danny says.  There’s something in his voice that makes Steve suspect Danny is talking about more than just where to spend the holidays.  

 “I’m in, Danno,” Steve says, proud of himself for keeping his voice steady.  “One hundred percent.”  

 “Good, then,” Danny replies. “Good.”  Steve hears blankets rustling, figures Danny’s turning over in bed. But he’s not at all prepared for what he hears next.

 “Steve?”

 “Yeah?”

 “Do you, uh, want to mess around?”

 Steve blinks hard, feeling almost lightheaded, and leans against the arm of the couch.  His mind is spinning, but there’s really only one answer to that question.

 “Yeah?”

 Danny hums, amused, but it just goes straight to Steve’s dick.  He’s half hard already, and they haven’t even gotten started.

 “You in bed?”

 Steve turns to the stairs and goes up them two at a time.  “Almost.”  He flops down on his back, hand reaching for his waistband.  “You sure this is okay?  You’re not bunking with Grace and Charlie?”

 Danny stifles a groan. “Do you think I would do this with my kids in the room?  How are you thinking about them right now?  What are you, some kind of monster?”

 “Sorry, sorry.”  Steve takes a deep breath, hand shaking as he puts the phone down and sets it on speaker.  “I’m in bed.  I’ve got my sweats on-”

 “The dark gray ones with the pocket on the ass?”

  “You been looking at my ass, Danny?  Yes, those.”

 “’Course I’ve been looking at your ass, prima donna, what do you think,” Danny mumbles.  “Take the pants off, boxers too.”

 “All right, all right. What are you-”

 “Nothing.”

 Steve’s breath whooshes out of him, although his next thought is “Aren’t you cold?”

 “Steve, focus.  No, I am not cold.  I’m under a very thick, heavy comforter, keeping toasty warm while I waited for your call.”

 The thought of Danny lying naked in bed, waiting for Steve, while Steve went through the motions of finishing dinner and driving home is ridiculously arousing.  “Holy shit, Danny.”

 “You touching yourself yet?” Danny boldly asks.

 Steve isn’t -- in fact his hands are fluttering around his body like confused butterflies.  “Should I?”

 There’s that amused hum again, and Steve is struck by a longing to touch Danny so strong it would knock him over if he wasn’t already lying down.

 “Take pity on a guy, Danno, we haven’t exactly done this before,” Steve says.

 “Okay, okay, you’re right, I’m sorry.  This is what we’re gonna do – you ready?”

 “Yeah.”

 “You in bed, clothes off?”

 “Yes.”

 “You thinking about me?” Danny’s voice drops half an octave, and Steve shivers.

 “Yes.”

 “You imagining me next to you, kissing you?  Kissing your neck, your collarbone?”

 “Yeah, that’s good, Danny.”

 “Using a little teeth - you like that, right?”

 “Fuck, you know I do.”

 “Okay, Steve, touch your chest now.  Just lightly. I’m doing it too.  Run your fingers over your skin.”

 “Okay.”  Steve rubs at his nipples, pulls on them a little. Danny did that to him, over his shirt, the last time they were together, and it works almost as well this time.

 “How you doing?”

 “Good, Danny, real good.” Steve imagines it’s Danny’s hands on his chest, imagines sliding his hand down to Danny’s hip, stroking his hands over the curve of his ass.  Giving it a squeeze and making Danny squirm against him.

 “All right, let one hand drift down now.  Touch your cock.”

 Steve hears Danny suck in a breath and he knows Danny’s doing it too.  “Wish it was my hand on you.”  He imagines how it would feel to take Danny’s cock in his hand, hard and hot.

 “Wish I was there too,” Danny replies, and he’s definitely breathing faster now.  “Wish I could see you, fuck.”

 “Danny, I… I’m not gonna last long…”

 “Just a little more,” Danny rasps.  “Steve…”

 Steve’s on the edge, picturing Danny there too, muscles tight and aching for release.  “Wanna put my mouth on you, Danny, feel you come down my throat-”

 That’s apparently enough to do it for Danny, as Steve hears a grunt and stifled moan, just before his own orgasm takes him over, his hips bucking as he thrusts into his hand. When Steve recovers enough for lucid thought, he’s a little surprised at the words that Danny coaxed out of him.  

 “Danny… wow…”

 “Fuck, Steve, that was…”

 “Yeah.”  Steve shifts and reaches for a tissue, wipes his belly. “Hope your house doesn’t have thin walls.”

 “I think Bridget’s drinks knocked everyone out.  And Grace and Charlie are actually at my sister’s with their cousins, so we’re good.”

 “You couldn’t have told me that earlier?”

 “I was otherwise occupied, Steven.”

 Steve grins.  “Okay, I’ll accept that.”

 “Steve?”

 “Yeah?”

 “You’ll pick me and the kids up at the airport when we get home, right?”

 “’Course I will, Danny.”

 “Okay.  Good.”  There’s a pause, and that blanket shuffling sound, and when Danny speaks again his voice is muffled by his pillow.

 “Happy Thanksgiving, Steve.”

 Steve wishes Danny the same, and hangs up the phone.  Danny Williams is a sap, and a pain in ass.  And also a hell of a lot of fun to have phone sex with.   Steve lets himself drift off to sleep, the echo of Danny’s voice in his ears, back where it should be.  It’s a happy Thanksgiving indeed.