#untouchable 2017

[rose-serpent]

Okay but where do yall find cool ships in NMS?? I want one of those solar ships and all I've found so far are just ugly

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

Do you have a list of good sex ed books to read?

BOY DO I

please bear in mind that some of these books are a little old (10+ years) by research standards now, and that even the newer ones are all flawed in some way. the thing about research on human beings, and especially research on something as nebulous and huge as sex, is that people are Always going to miss something or fail to account for every possible experience, and that's just something that we have to accept in good faith. I think all of these books have something interesting to say, but that doesn't mean any of them are the only book you'll ever need.

related to that: it's been A While since I've read some of these so sorry if anything in them has aged poorly (I don't THINK SO but like, I was not as discerning a reader when I was 19) but I am still including them as books that have been important to my personal journey as a sex educator.

additionally, a caveat that very few of these books are, like, instructional sex ed books in the sense of like "here's how the penis works, here's where the clit is, etc." those books exist and they're great but they're also not very interesting to me; my studies on sex are much more in the social aspect (shout out to my sociology degree) and the way people learn to think about sex and societal factors that shape those trends. these books reflect that. I would genuinely love to have the time to check out some 101 books to see how they fare, but alas - sex ed is not my day job and I don't have the time to dedicate to that, so it happens slowly when it happens at all. I've been meaning to read Dr. Gunter's Vagina Bible since it came out in 2019, for fucks sake.

and finally an acknowledgement that this is a fairly white list, which has as much to do with biases with academia and publishing as my own unchecked biases especially early in my academic career and the limitations of my university library.

ANYWAY here's some books about sex that have been influential/informative to me in one way or another:

The Trouble With Normal: Sex, Politics, and the Ethics of Queer Life (Michael Warner, 1999)

Virginity Lost: An Intimate Portrait of First Sexual Experiences (Laura M. Carpenter, 2005)

Virgin: The Untouched History (Hanne Blank, 2007)

Sex Goes to School: Girls and Sex Education Before the 1960s (Susan K. Freeman, 2008)

Bonk: The Curious Coupling of Science and Sex (Mary Roach, 2008)

Transgender History: The Roots of Today's Revolution (Revised Edition) (Susan Stryker, 2008)

The Purity Myth: How America's Obsession with Virginity is Hurting Young Women (Jessica Valenti, 2009)

Not Under My Roof: Parents, Teens, and the Culture of Sex (Amy T. Schalet, 2011)

Straight: The Surprisingly Short History of Heterosexuality (Hanne Blank, 2012)

Rewriting the Rules: An Integrative Guide to Love, Sex and Relationships (Meg-John Barker, 2013)

The Sex Myth: The Gap Between Our Fantasies and Realities (Rachel Hills, 2015)

Come as You Are: The Surprising New Science That Will Tranform Your Sex Life (Emily Nagoski, 2015)

Not Gay: Sex Between Straight White Men (Jane Ward, 2015)

Too Hot to Handle: A Global History of Sex Education (Jonathan Zimmerman, 2015)

American Hookup: The New Culture of Sex on Campus (Lisa Wade, 2017)

Buzz: A Stimulating History of the Sex Toy (Hallie Lieberman, 2017)

Histories of the Transgender Child (Jules Gill-Peterson, 2018)

Revolting Prostitutes: The Fight for Sex Workers' Rights (Juno Mac and Molly Smith, 2018)

Ace: What Asexuality Reveals About Desire, Society, and the Meaning of Sex (Angela Chen, 2020)

Pleasure in the News: African American Readership and Sexuality in the Black Press (Kim Gallon, 2020)

A Curious History of Sex (Kate Lister, 2020)

Boys & Sex: Young Men on Hookups, Love, Porn, Consent, and Navigating the New Masculinity (Peggy Orenstein, 2020)

Black Women, Black Love: America's War on Africa American Marriage (Dianne M. Stewart, 2020)

The Tragedy of Heterosexuality (Jane Ward, 2020)

Hurts So Good: The Science and Pleasure of Pain on Purpose (Leigh Cowart, 2021)

Strange Bedfellows: Adventures in the Science, History, and Surprising Secrets of STDs (Ina Park, 2021)

The Right to Sex: Feminist in the Twenty-First Century (Amia Srinivasan, 2021)

Love Your Asian Body: AIDS Activism in Los Angeles (Eric C. Wat, 2021)

Superfreaks: Kink, Pleasure, and the Pursuit of Happiness (Arielle Greenberg, 2023)

[requiemforthepoets]

first encounter ⟢ CL16

⟢ part two of you’re the closest to heaven that i’ll ever be

𖤓 series masterlist ⟢ playlist ⟢ part three ☽

PAIRINGS: charles leclerc x celestial!reader

SUMMARY: all thanks to leo, charles finally got the chance to meet you—the celestial being who has consumed his every waking thoughts, and managed to find out new things.

REMINDERS: this is purely fiction, the way how the character is portrayed in my story does not reflect the person that is portraying my character in real life. always separate fiction from reality, and do not repost or copy my work in any way.

WARNINGS: bible angel names references, some people may find this fic offensive, concept of divine beings and heaven & life and death, no use of y/n, angels and devils, mentions of papa leclerc (beginning is set in 2017) and jules bianchi, fluff, falling (literally & figuratively) in love, named side characters, angst but with a happy ending, purely written fic, a little bit of world building (concepts), mentions of death, bad/evil people, cursing, not proofread, and typos.

WORD COUNT: 5k

AUTHOR’S NOTE: this fic may not be some people’s cup of tea, if you don’t like it, don’t read it. sorry it took me a LONG time to post the part 2 of this series, i already have this on my drafts but never got the time to check on it bc i’ve been working on my other series (fa14 series), but finally, here it is! the part 3 may take a long time to be posted again 🥲 but you don’t have to worry bc i intend on finishing this series. taglist is open for this series, so just comment or message me if you want to be tagged. your comment/reblog is highly appreciated, and i hope you’ll enjoy this second part of the series!

It was a warm late afternoon in Monaco, and Charles had finally pulled himself out of his apartment, hoping that some fresh air and Leo’s cheerful company might turn off the constant thoughts running through his mind. Since that night in Singapore, you had been all Charles could think about—the image of you standing before him, looking at him as though you knew the secrets he hadn’t even dared to ask himself. Charles had barely gotten a word in before you disappeared, leaving him with nothing but more questions.

The park was mostly empty, allowing him and Leo to stroll without the usual flood of cameras or people hoping to get a quick word with him. Charles enjoyed these rare quiet moments, watching Leo run through the grass, capturing photos of him mid-leap, his ears flapping, and his tail wagging in pure delight. For a while, it was peaceful—that is until Leo began barking persistently, his gaze fixed on something in the distance.

“Leo, calme-toi.” Charles called, trying to soothe his normally docile dachshund.

Leo rarely barked at nothing, and Charles couldn’t see what had him all stirred up. As he looked past Leo, his heart skipped. There you were, standing at the edge of the park, just as he had remembered you, dressed in black, untouched by the brightness of the world around you, as if you had stepped from a different realm entirely. Slowly, Charles walked over, kneeling beside Leo, who was still barking.

“Can you see her too, buddy?” Charles asked softly, but Leo only turned his head back towards you.

His barks began shifting into a delighted whine, tail wagging as though greeting an old friend. To Charles’ amazement, Leo took off towards you, bounding across the grass with uncharacteristic excitement. You bent down on one knee as Leo reached you, his small body pressing happily against your touch. Charles just stood there and watched, captivated by the whole sight, how your hand moved over Leo’s fur, and how the dog responded, oblivious to the fact that what he felt was something beyond the ordinary. You then looked up at Charles and smiled, a gentle, knowing expression on your face.

“Hello, little one,” you murmured to Leo, reaching out to stroke him. Your gaze followed Leo’s figure as he trotted back toward Charles. “He’s a beautiful soul. It’s clear how well you take good care of him, he is very happy with this life.”

Charles swallowed, taken aback by the warmth of your words. He felt a huge wave of relief washing over him, and somehow, you were not a figment of his imagination. You were in front of him, speaking to him, your voice soft but firm, grounding him in the reality of your presence.

Noticing a bench nearby, you gestured, “shall we sit?” Charles nodded.

He followed you as you walked, though he kept glancing around as if worried that someone might catch him talking to thin air. The two of you sat side by side, your gaze focused on Leo as he scampered around, while Charles couldn’t seem to look anywhere but at you. The silence between you felt almost sacred, deafening, thick with all the unspoken questions he longed to ask.

“I know you have many questions,” finally, you broke the silence. Your voice was gentle. “Especially as to why you can see me, when others could not.”

Charles let out a shaky breath, nodding. “I—I don’t understand. I’ve seen you before, but you keep on disappearing, and no one else…they never see you.” his voice was a soft murmur, filled with confusion and wonder.

“Our kind, like myself, we’re not meant to be seen by human eyes. We’re here to watch and guide, but only from afar. Most humans only sense us as a passing feeling, a presence.” you softly said, as you studied him with a faint smile. “But in your case, you see me. Truly see me.”

“Why, though? Why am I able to see you?” Charles’ brows furrowed, his gaze intent on yours.

You turned to look at Leo, who was now sitting a short distance away, watching the two of you with a curious tilt of his head, and you couldn’t help but smile at the sight of Leo.

“It’s rare, Charles. But sometimes, there is a connection between our kind to your kind that goes beyond the veil. I’ve thought about it myself, and though I don’t have all the answers, it’s clear that there’s a reason you and I keep crossing paths.”

Charles’ heart raced. The way you spoke, as though fate had woven an invisible thread between you had left him reeling. He glanced around the park, reminded of how strange this conversation must look to anyone passing by, but he did not care at all. The need to understand, to know you, outweighed any risk of prying eyes.

“Maybe…maybe we should go somewhere less public?” Charles suggested, his voice low.

He did not want this moment to end, he couldn’t let you disappear on him again before he had the chance to understand this kind of connection. You looked at him for a long contemplative moment, then nodded.

“All right, lead the way.”

Charles led you quietly through the streets of Monaco and up to his apartment. He hadn’t said much on the way, clearly lost in thought, yet there was an unspoken understanding between the two of you. When you entered his apartment, you immediately noticed how it held an essence of him. Warm, understated, and filled with memories. The walls were decorated with framed photographs spanning his life from childhood karting days to podium celebrations in F1. Trophies were all lined up on the shelf, and each piece seemed to carry a story of its own.

You were drawn to the photos, especially those capturing his relationships, the warm smiles he shared with his family, playful moments with his friends, and candid shots of him and his brothers. Then your gaze settled on one particular photograph, and a bittersweet feeling bloomed within you. It was a younger version of Charles, perhaps in his teens, standing alongside a man whose face you recognize. Jules Bianchi.

Charles noticed the direction of your attention as he finished filling up Leo’s dog bowl, and he stepped over to join you, his expression softening as he saw the photograph. Jules had been so much more than just a mentor to him. The man in that photo had shaped parts of his soul and his dreams. You could feel the weight of Charles’ emotions lingering in the air, a tender ache mixed with recognition.

“You knew him?” Charles’ voice was quiet as he stood beside you.

You nodded softly, your own voice taking on a gentle tone. “I was there in his final moments. I was the one who guided him when he was ready to go, helping him crossover.”

Charles’ face was a mix of expression, caught between surprise and disbelief. For a second, he seemed unable to respond, the information settling slowly. You watched him intently as he took a deep breath, grounding himself.

“You…you spoke to him?” he managed, his voice strained with a mix of sorrow and longing.

“Yes,” you said, your voice steady but tender. “I spoke with his soul as he lingered between here and the afterlife. It was…peaceful. He was calm when I arrived, almost as if he knew he was not going to stay.”

You paused, “I then asked him about his life, what his favorite thing about life was.”

”He told me that his family meant everything to him. He then mentioned being a godfather, and his dreams for his protégé, a young man named Charles.” you added.

“He said that?” he whispered, breath hitched as he instinctively reached up to touch the frame, his fingers resting just over the image of Jules’ face.

“He spoke of you with such pride, with hope that you would go on to achieve everything he had dreamed for you. Jules saw himself in you, Charles. His last thoughts were with his family and you.” you looked at him softly. A quiet rage simmered in Charles’ eyes as he turned to look at you, his voice tinged with frustration.

“But why? Why couldn’t you let his family speak to him, too? They waited for so long, hoping he’d wake up, to say goodbye properly.” the raw pain and anger in his voice were unmistakable.

Charles had not meant to question your intentions, but the loss of Jules had carved a wound that had never fully healed, and in his grief, he momentarily forgot you were not human. You looked at him with a soft, understanding smile, letting the weight of his sorrow wash over you. You had witnessed this kind of reaction before, how those who are grief-stricken often felt deprived of closure.

“I understand, Charles. If I could have done differently, I would have,” you replied, your voice gentle but firm. “But it wasn’t his body I spoke to, it was his soul. Jules was already watching from the other side, beyond the reach of the physical world. In those moments, he wasn’t in his body anymore, he was seeing all of you from a place where time no longer held sway.”

Charles looked down, processing your words, the anger fading slowly as he tried to keep his emotions steady. He tried to reconcile his emotions with the reality of what you had just shared. He ran a hand through his hair, gaze fixed on the floor as he took in a shaky breath.

“So he…he was watching us all along?” he whispered.

“Yes,” you assured him. “He was with you. Every tear, every moment spent beside his hospital bed, he saw it all, even if he himself couldn’t respond in a way you wished for it to be.”

“Souls don’t always leave the way we want them to. They transition gently, often lingering just to be close to the people they love.” you added. Charles’ shoulder slumped slightly, and he let out a shaky sigh, nodding as if finally accepting what had once seemed unimaginable.

“It…it makes sense,” he murmured. “Jules was always calm, even in the most difficult moments. Maybe he knew it would be easier this way.”

There was a peaceful silence that settled between the both of you, the only sound being Leo’s soft footsteps as he padded over to sit by Charles’ feet. Charles looked at you again, the sorrow in his eyes tinted by a glimmer of gratitude.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, a sincerity in his words that touched you deeply. “For…for being there with him, and for telling me.”

You gave him a reassuring nod, feeling the depth of his appreciation. “He is proud of you, Charles. More than you know. You are honoring his legacy every time you step onto the track.”

Charles closed his eyes briefly, absorbing your words, a new sense of peace settling over him. He knew that the ache would remain, but perhaps now, with you there to share this part of Jules’ journey, it would be a little easier to carry.

Eventually, you found yourself seated on the barstool, observing how Charles moved around the kitchen, gathering ingredients as he prepared a dish called pasta, and noting the way he moved with a quiet confidence. He seemed at ease, but you could tell by the occasional glance he cast your way that he was still processing everything. The strange connection he had with you, a Celestial he could see but others could not. As he stirred the sauce on the stove, he broke the silence, glancing over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow.

“So…what exactly are you?” Charles asked, attempting to sound casual, though his curiosity was clear. “Are you like an angel of death or something?” his brows furrowed slightly as he added.

“No, Charles. I’m not here to take you away,” you assured him, tone gentle, and couldn’t help but smile at his suspicion. “Think of me as a guide and a protector. My duty is to help souls cross the afterlife, to make sure that they are not alone and lonely when they cross the other side.”

“So, you’re…you’re not here for me?” he asked, his voice tentative. You could see the worry in his eyes, as if he had been half afraid that he might be speaking with the very spirit that would one day guide him out of this life.

“Not at all,” you replied. “I’m here because, somehow, we have this connection. I was there in the hospital room, with your father, when you saw me for the first time. It was a natural part of my duty, I was waiting to guide him. Just as I was there for Jules.”

“So you only appear when…someone’s close to death?” Charles’ gaze dropped to the countertop, and he nodded slowly, as if piercing it all together.

“Typically, yes,” you replied. “Humans are not meant to see me. They may sense it, a presence, calmness, or even a cool warmth when I’m near, but that’s usually all. So, I could not quite understand why you could see me. It isn’t common.”

“But I can see you.” he said, almost to himself, as if still trying to grasp this phenomenon.

“Exactly.” you looked at him thoughtfully. “Over time, as I have watched over you, you’ve somehow become aware of me. It’s as if the bond between us allowed you to see me when others can’t.”

You let the words hang, hoping it answered the mystery that had puzzled him for so long. Charles turned back to the stove, his movements slower, as if he were allowing himself time to absorb what you had just said. After a moment, he turned to look at you again.

“Back in Singapore…I kept thinking of you, wondering if you were real or just in my head.” he hesitated, then continued. “And you appeared, it was like you sensed me or something.”

“That’s precisely what happened,” a gentle smile crossed your face as you saw the gears turning inside his head. “I could feel your thoughts, your longing to see me, and so I came to you. Your thoughts, they called to me.”

“But why do you always disappear?” he asked, his tone a mix of curiosity and exasperation. “Every time I think I already have you here, you’re gone the second I look away.”

“It’s not by choice, Charles.” you met his gaze, understanding his frustration. “My presence here beside you is not permanent. I have duties beyond just watching over you, it is my duty to guide other people as well. My duty is to help those souls cross peacefully into the afterlife, which means I’m often called away. That’s why I can’t always be here, even if you want me to be.”

“I understand,” he said softly as he looked down, absorbing your words. “It’s…strange, but it does make sense.”

A comfortable silence fell between you and Charles as he took out a plate and transferred the pasta dish on it. You could still feel the wheels turning in his mind as he processed everything. After a moment, you spoke again.

“If you want me to be with you, well, there is a way.” you said.

He looked up at you, now intrigued. “A way?”

You nodded. “Yes. If you light a match or a lighter and call for me, then blow it out, I’ll hear it, and I’ll come to you.”

“Why a match?” Charles’ brows furrowed as he considered it.

“Fire.” you explained. “It is a symbol of transition. It’s an ancient element that is used to connect realms, to call forth spirits, and to bridge the distance between worlds. When you light a match or a lighter, you are creating a momentary flame that connects you to my realm, and when you blow the fire out, it becomes a message—a summons. I’ll hear it, wherever I am.”

“So, I just…call out to you, light a flame, and you’ll come?” Charles’ lips curved into a small smile.

“Yes.” you returned his smile, feeling the warmth in his gaze. “As long as you need me, Charles. Wherever you are, I’ll always find a way to be there.”

Charles looked at you with a mix of gratitude and something deeper, a newfound comfort that seemed to settle over him. In that quiet moment, Charles reached for his fork, but his gaze lingered on you, a newfound clarity softening his features.

“Thank you.” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

He then placed a plate of pasta right in front of you, and you tilted your head, looking at the dish with sheer curiosity and slight confusion. Charles noticed your expression, stopping mid-motion as he raised his own fork.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice gentle but genuinely concerned.

“I don’t…eat,” you explained softly, gaze flickering between him and the plate, offering him a small, apologetic smile. “Celestials don’t have the need for food, so I don’t know what it’s like to taste something, let alone pasta.” you could see a flicker of surprise and something that almost looked like offense pass over his face.

“What? You’ve never tasted pasta?” he asked, shocked, as he looked down at his beloved dish, looking genuinely horrified. “Pasta is…it’s comforting, it’s warmth and tradition. It’s something everyone has to try.”

“Okay, imagine this—it’s soft and a little chewy, warm and…kind of like a hug, but for your mouth.” he added, grinning at you with his eyes lighting up. “And with this tomato sauce, its got this balance of sweet and tangy, a bit salty too, it just…makes everything feel better.” his expression softened.

You watched Charles as he spoke, entranced and touched by his earnest attempt to describe something so familiar to him yet so foreign to you. Spending this time with him, watching his animated expression, hearing his heartfelt explanations, you begin to understand why his father and Jules had spoken of him so warmly in their final moments. Charles was not only passionate, but genuinely kind and unpretentiously funny. There was a gentleness to him that touched your heart, even if it couldn’t beat the way a human’s did.

Hours slipped by so fast, and you both found yourselves seated on his living room couch, talking quietly, the evening light fading around you. Charles asked questions after questions, fascinated by your world and by what you do. You answered each one as best as you could, and with each answer, his awe seemed to deepen. You shared stories of guiding other souls, moments of peace and love you had witnessed. He listened, hanging onto each word, and you could see a newfound calmness in his eyes.

While you were in the middle of telling him a story about guiding an elderly woman who had waited until all her children were by her side before letting go, you heard a soft sound. Glancing to your right, you found Charles with his head tipped back against the couch cushion, his breathing steady and calm. He had drifted off, exhaustion settling over him like a soft blanket. For a moment, you just watched him, studying his peaceful face. Charles’ long lashes rested against his cheeks, and a gentle warmth seemed to radiate from him, a stark contrast to the chill you carried with you.

A quiet yearning tugged at you as you lifted a hand, your fingers hovering near his face. You wanted, just once, to feel the warmth of human skin, to know what it was like to truly touch, but you know better. If you let your fingers graze him, he would only feel a cold wisp of air, a reminder that you didn’t belong to this world in the same way as Charles did. So, reluctantly, you lowered your hand and simply looked at him, memorizing the moment.

You had spent nearly the entire day with Charles, and though part of you longed to stay, you knew it was time to leave. Quietly, you stood up from the couch and made your way to where Leo was resting nearby. You knelt down beside the little dachshund, who lifted his head to watch you with those soulful eyes, tail giving a soft wag, and you reached out, your fingers ghosting over his fur.

“Leo, I know that your past life was not kind to you and had been cut short, but you’re safe now. In this life, you’re well taken care of and so loved.” you spoke softly, as Leo seemed to tilt his head, like he understood every word you say. “Charles is a good man, he will love and take care of you, always.”

As you straightened up, Leo continued to watch you, his eyes filled with a sense of understanding. You turned to take one last look at Charles, still asleep on the couch, chest rising and falling in steady rhythm. A soft smile crept over your face as you watched him, there was a wave of warmth washing over you, even without a heartbeat to drive it.

With a final, quiet glance at Leo, who looked back at you with trusting eyes, you let yourself disappear, and slipped back into the unseen world that had always separated you from the people you guided. Yet, for a short moment, you knew you had left a part of yourself with Charles and Leo in that Monaco apartment.

Charles woke up with a dull ache running through his neck, reminding him of the night he had spent sleeping on the couch. He rubbed the sore spot, groaning slightly as he tried to stretch out the stiffness. For a moment, he just sat there, gathering his thoughts, until the memories of last night’s memory surfaced. The conversation, quiet moments, and then the emptiness when he realized you had left. He sat back on the couch, staring at the ceiling as a sense of longing settled over him, a quiet ache that wasn’t so easily stretched away.

A small bark drew his attention to Leo, who was sitting nearby, watching him with an endearing tilt of his head, and noticing Charles’ contemplative state. He smiled and reached out, calling Leo over.

“What do you think, Leo? It was one strange night, huh?” Leo padded over gently, wagging his tail as Charles scooped him up, holding him close.

For a few minutes, Charles simply enjoyed and basked in the warmth of Leo in his arms, the familiar comfort that Leo offered in the midst of all the strange, unexplainable things that he was feeling. Last night had been a fever dream for him, but he knew that it was real, that it happened.

“Do you think it’s strange? Wanting to see her again?” he added. Leo just responded with a quiet, comforting look and nestled close to Charles.

After a while, curiosity began to gnaw at him. Charles could not shake the desire to know more about you, as to why he felt this pull, this connection that seemed impossible and yet so real. He padded into his bedroom, grabbed his laptop and settled in, typing Celestial Angels into the search bar. Countless articles, myths, and even fiction flooded his screen. Charles sifted through several pages, skipping over anything that seemed overly romanticized or far-fetched, until one article caught his eye.

The article spoke of Celestial Angels who formed deep bonds with their humans, describing how they acted as protectors, watchers, and guides. It mentioned the rare connection that could occur, a phenomenon where an angel might become so deeply intertwined with a human soul that they developed a sense of longing or even love, something that was both a blessing and a curse for the Celestial. As he read further, Charles could not help but wonder if this was what he had experienced, if this was the reason he kept seeing you, why he felt such a pull toward you.

Charles then stumbled upon a book: The Celestials by an author named Celestine Williams. The cover featured a faint, ethereal image of a figure wrapped in light, the silhouette barely discernible, much like he imagined you, and the description noted that it explored the stories and folklore surrounding Celestials and their interactions with humans, a deep dive book. The reviews were glowing, a few feedbacks talking about how the book shed light on the mysteries of these beings and the unique connections they could form. Without a second thought, Charles clicked buy, hoping the book would give him a glimpse into your world, something that might help him understand you much better.

Charles then returned his attention back to the article. But his focus kept drifting, thoughts of you had surfaced in his mind unbidden, wondering where you were right now, what you might be doing, if you were watching over someone else or wandering through some hidden place unknown to humans. The pull to see you, to call you, was growing stronger by the second, becoming a quiet ache that settled deep in his chest.

He set the laptop aside, exhaling as he mulled over the idea. Charles remembered what you had told him when he needed you—that he could call you by lighting a match or a lighter, a summon that would draw you to him. He doesn't know if it would even work, or if you would even come, but the need to see you was already overriding any doubts that he has. So he then grabbed a small lighter that he kept somewhere hidden in his kitchen and went to his living room, sitting down on the couch with Leo curled up beside him.

Charles knew it was kind of absurd, like it was something straight out of a fairy tale of a late-night ghost story, but last night, you had told him that if he wanted to see you, all he had to do was light a flame and call out to you. A part of him, the rational side, wanted to shrug it off as nonsense. But then the other part of him had witnessed things that were impossible and felt that strange connection to you, urging him to at least give it a try.

“Am I really fucking doing this?” he murmured, looking down at Leo for approval. But Leo just looked at him, with a face that said ‘what’s the harm in trying?’ “Ah, fuck it.”

Finally, with a deep breath, he flicked the lighter on, watching the tiny flame flame dance as he whispered out to you, a barely audible plea for you to return. The flame flickered as he called out to you, then he blew it out gently, his eyes lingering on the wisp of smoke that rose and faded. His heart was pounding, unsure if should expect an immediate response or if he had simply made a wish to the empty air.

A hush settled over the quiet living room, and for a moment, nothing really happened. Charles felt a pang of disappointment, even a touch of embarrassment at how eager he was and had hoped. He let out a disheartening chuckle, letting out a quiet sight right after, and lowering the lighter, thinking that maybe he had been mistaken or that the depth of the bond he felt was just his pure imagination.

Just as he stood up, about to return the lighter back into the kitchen, Charles felt a shift in the air, a delicate, almost undetectable shimmer, like a faint breeze brushing across his skin. He looked up, and there you were, standing in the soft morning light, an almost imperceptible glow framing your presence. The world seemed to pause, the weight of the day fading away as he took in the sight of you. You stood there, a soft, otherworldly light around you, the faintest hint of warmth in your eyes as you looked at him. Charles felt his breath hitching, he had not realized how much he missed seeing you until now. He began feeling a strange mix of relief and happiness.

“You called for me?” you asked softly, your voice like a distant melody.

Charles nodded, suddenly feeling a little bit embarrassed, but unable to look away at you. “I…I did, I hope it’s okay. I just…” he paused, fumbling over his words. “I wanted to see if it works, and to see you again. I don’t know why, but I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

“You’re allowed to call for me, Charles. That’s why I told you how you can reach for me.” you smiled gently, a warmth in your expression that seemed to reach him despite your distance.

“I’ve been reading about Celestial Angels, trying to understand.” he let out a soft chuckle, placing his hands inside of his pockets, feeling uncharacteristically vulnerable. “I came across all these stories about angels who…form connections with their humans.” Charles looked down, collecting his thoughts.

“I guess I just wanted to understand what we have. Why do you keep on appearing, and why does it feel like I know you, even though I don’t really.” he added.

“The connection between an angel and their human isn’t something that happens every day. It’s rare, something beyond explanation.” your expression softened, and took a slow step forward, closing the gap between you. “We’re not supposed to form attachments, but sometimes, it’s as if the universe allows it, just for a moment.”

“So…it’s real, then? I’m not imagining it at all?” his gaze never leaving you, but filled with curiosity.

“No, Charles,” you shook your head. “You’re not imagining it. It’s real. You were always different, even from the first time I saw you.”

“I don’t know what this all means, but I want to understand.” he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, voice quiet, and a raw honesty was lacing his tone as he held your gaze.

“Sometimes, understanding isn’t possible, not in a way humans desire. Some things simply are.” you said quietly.

You then placed a hand near his, close enough that Charles could almost feel your presence, but not quite touching. The silence stretched, rich and weighty, filled with words left unsaid. Finally, he managed a faint smile.

“Thank you. For you know, for coming.” Charles said softly.

“For you, I always will.” you replied, smiling at him.

taglist : @charlesgirl16 , @chloes-book-corner , @wierdflowerpower

[perreqult]

I CAN SEE YOU CLAYTON KELLER

summary: you wish you could say clayton’s attempt to seduce you failed. especially when your dad was team USA’s general manager that talked to clayton almost daily during the tournament.

takes place at the 2017 wjc

word count: 1.2k

contains: p in v (protected — take advice from clayton and reader in that regard !!!), secret hookups, clayton NOT keeping his head in the game smh, swearing, think that’s it.

notes: good news; condoms are finally a thing in a perrequltverse fic.

very short— sorry.

ignore how this came out before the james hagens fic i teased

“We really shouldn’t be doing this” A voice mutters behind you, matching with a silenced door click, shutting behind you. He was right.

You really shouldn’t have been doing this. You don’t even remember what lead to this— you and Clayton ending up in a dusty broom closet that could barely fit the two of you.

I mean you and Clayton had known eachother since the roster had been announced. You’d always thought he was cute but did you really think you’d end up with his lips trailing down your neck— deliberately defying your father’s requests? You’d like to say no.

The one thing you can remember right now is your father’s words.

“Look, these boys are good kids but I don’t want them going anywhere near you. They don’t… They’re immature and I’d like to not have to deal with heartbreak between my daughter and a team member.”

You’d thought you were going to listen. Well, the thing is you didn’t. You really wanted to. Wanted to refrain yourself from doing anything with those boys.

Especially the boy who just so happened to be your age, who just so happened to be hot, who just so happened to flirt with you after spotting you in a slim fitting dress back at the hotel, who just so happened to find his way in your pants.

You shake your fathers words out your head. You didn’t really care about that now.

“Uh… I have a condom in my wallet.” He says, pushing the stray hairs that wandered in front of his face back into his head of hair.

“Wow. Classy.” You joke to him, leaning your head against the wall, ready to pull your dress zipper down.

“Just take off your dress already.” He tells you, starting to undo his dress shirt from earlier. You let out a chuckle and a sly charismatic grin spreads across his face.

You snake your hand around your body slip your dress zipper on your back down towards the start.

You can see him reaching to fish a condom out of the compartment of his wallet before yanking it out and ripping it open.

When your dress finally slips down your hips and falls to the floor, leaving you in just your underwear and bra he just smirks.

“Get those pants off and we’ll both be smiling that wide.” You tell him.

He obliges, kicking his pants off his legs, leaving him in only his boxers.

His eyes travel up and down your body, focusing on your curves and accents of your figure.

He shifts his boxers down his legs, stepping out of them and revealing his cock—rock hard, tip red and leaking with proof of arousal. You follow suit, leading your panties and now unclamped bra to the dusty ground carelessly.

He fiddles with the condom packet from earlier, yanking the rubber out of the foil pouch and slips it over his length.

He takes a short stride towards you, stepping you back up against the wall, locking eyes with you.

You stare up into his bright eyes as he grasps your hips, tracing along your pelvis.

You lean forward, interlocking lips with him hungrily, almost animalisticly.

You really weren’t thinking about your dad’s words now as Clayton lifts up your leg a bit, allowing for easier access.

He hesitates for a moment and you’re almost about to yell at Clayton to hurry up and fuck you, leaving your slick, glassy folds untouched, but he finally releases that thought when he lines up his dick to your entrance.

You both release a low groan at the motion, head tilting back a bit in response. That’s when you feel the head of Clayton’s cock start to push up into your moist opening. Your head fully pushes back into the wall as you wail out, Clayton sucking in a breath at the tight feeling.

“Fuck, you’re tight.” He says through a smirk . You’re contemplating telling him to shut the hell up, to just fuck you already but his next thrust knocks the breath out of your lungs. He cuts off your next moan by pressing your lips together.

He whispers through your kiss in a raspy, sultry voice, “You’re gonna get me in so much trouble.”

You were. God, if your dad knew you’d be up against the wall with a boy he specifically didn’t want you around—you’d be fucked. Now you’re getting anxious. Did Clayton lock the door? Too late now.

He grips tighter on your lifted thigh, grip digging into your flesh during his next thrust, forcing his way through your walls, digging balls deep into you.

“Fuuuuuck.” You drag out, clenching around his length.

He starts out in a fast, steady pace, rutting in and out of you, letting at loud, low, groans with every drag through your hole.

He dips his head into your jaw, digging his teeth leaving shallow marks, suckling across the expanse of your neck, anywhere he can get his mouth on, actions drawing moans out of your mouth.

He it’s the spot deep inside you that makes you almost spasm and jitter all over the place, drawing a loud cry out of you— something Clayton almost laughs at.

“So loud f’me.” He tells you, only proving his point when he continues to slam into that same spot, making you wail, sound reverberating along the walls with the smacks of Clayton slamming into your pelvis.

You’re lost in pleasure, time flying by so fast, barely even thinking, only hearing the audible noises of your sex.

God, you’re getting close. His thrusts grow almost violent with how fast paced and needy they are.

Your lips and every other inch of your body are quivering. It’s one of the most pleasurable thing you’ve ever felt. The one thing you can think is ‘Oh my God.’

Your orgasm draws near, each thrust threatening to teeter you over the edge. What does it is a deep slam as he pushes his younger through your lips, exploring your mouth.

Your orgasm crashes against you like a harsh wave through a storm, lips pulsing around his member, throbbing.

He works you through your high, thrusting sporadically as his release creeps closer.

The clench of your hole sends him over the edge, filling the rubber condom up with his warm seed.

“‘Think I’m in love with this pussy.” He tells you, pulling out of your heat, settling your leg back on the ground— still supporting you because he’s not even sure if you can walk with how fucked out you look—and gazing at your release dripping down your thighs.

You manage to say something even in your fucked out state, “I’m sorta glad I convinced my dad to let me travel with the team.” He smirks.

“Keep this a secret. ‘Think your dad would ruin my career if he found out I fucked his ‘off limits’ daughter.” He says, getting his clothes back on and discarding the condom into some small trash bin that’s on a shelf for some reason.

“I won’t ever tell, Clay.” He winks, finally getting fully dressed and ready to step back out of the closet you just fornicated in and probably made smell like sex for days.

Oh God. You’re gonna have to see Clayton throughout the tourney. This is gonna happen again isn’t it.

[svt-luna]

𝜗℘ IF ONLY

❛ 𝘢𝘮 𝘪 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘻𝘺? 𝘮𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦 𝘸𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯. 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘤’𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘳𝘶𝘯 𝘰𝘶𝘵? 𝘪𝘧 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘪 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘦. 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪’𝘮 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘢 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮? 𝘪𝘧 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘪 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘨𝘯𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘦, 𝘪 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘪’𝘮 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦— 𝘪𝘧 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺. ❜

timeline: 2017 & 2018

synopsis: A moment of vulnerability, a confession left unanswered, and a heart quietly breaking— If only things had gone differently, but some stories take time to unfold.

wc: 8k

warnings: cursing, crying, misunderstanding, drinking, angst, drunk confessions, rejection, sad!Luna, confused!Jeonghan, heartaches, talks about embracing the pain, unrequited love (?), a somewhat hopeful ending

surprise! my first ever one-shot in the Luna-verse, I really hope you guys like it! Also… I am so sorry for making this sad and angsty. A lot of you have been asking me about how Jeonghan rejected Luna ever since I posted the Group Ships… so here it is, but I promise it gets better from here. Luna and Jeonghan’s story is very very interesting so keep a lookout on that 🤍 (p.s. I made myself cry writing this.)

╰ ౨ৎ LUNA-VERSE MASTERLIST ╰ ౨ৎ writings masterlist

If only she wasn’t the way she was, that is what Luna thought growing up.

Luna had always found it difficult to make friends. From a young age, she was used to the way people looked at her— peers who seemed to keep their distance, children her age who were either too intimidated by her or too quick to judge. The few times she had tried to approach someone, their hesitation or outright dismissal had stung.

But with time, Luna learned to accept it. She carried herself with an air of quiet confidence, convincing herself that she didn’t need to fit in with the rest. Even as a child, she’d find comfort in the quiet, the solitude that followed her like a shadow.

That sense of isolation followed her into her teenage years, long after she had moved back to Korea to chase her dream of becoming an idol. At just fourteen, she had thrown herself into a world where competition was everything.

It was hard enough to adjust to the grueling training regimen, but there was something even more challenging— forming connections.

Surrounded by other trainees, Luna had hoped that maybe here, in the shared space of hard work and ambition, she would finally find people who understood her.

Instead, the distance only grew.

The girls she trained with didn’t just avoid her because of her looks. They avoided her because of her talent, her skill, and her determination.

Luna was better than them, and they knew it.

Every time she entered the practice room, Luna could feel the stares. Her sharp movements and flawless execution stood out, but not in the way she had hoped. It didn’t make people want to get closer to her. It made them wary as if they were afraid her presence alone was a threat.

Luna never intended to intimidate anyone; she simply wanted to do her best. But no matter how hard she worked, it seemed to push people further away.

Luna had taken it as a compliment as she got older. But back then, it was suffocating, watching the others group together while she was always left on the sidelines, untouchable, unapproachable.

If only she could have done something differently.

If only people could see beyond her cold exterior.

If only people weren't so quick to judge.

As she grew older, she tried to find some comfort in the idea that perhaps this distance was a compliment. If they were intimidated, it meant they saw her as someone to be taken seriously, someone skilled enough to be a rival. And rivals didn’t need to be friends, right?

But even as she told herself this, the isolation lingered. There were times when the silence became suffocating, and she wondered if anyone would ever approach her without that look in their eyes.

No one ever did.

Not until Jeonghan.

She remembered the first time they met vividly like it was etched into her mind.

It was her first day at PLEDIS after she had transferred from YG Entertainment. She had expected it to be just like the others— people watching her from a distance, maybe a polite nod or two but no real effort to get to know her.

But Jeonghan had been different from the start.

While the other trainees kept to their familiar circles, glancing at her curiously but saying nothing, Jeonghan had walked right up to her. His messy swept hair was already growing since then, and there was a smile on his face— easy and warm as if they had known each other for years.

“Hi,” he had said, extending his hand to her. “I’m Jeonghan. What’s your name?” he’d said with a casual smile like it was the most natural thing in the world. His warmth disarmed her and made her wonder why he didn’t hesitate like the others.

Luna had blinked, momentarily stunned by his straightforwardness. She had been so used to people shying away from her that for a second, she didn’t know how to respond.

“I... I’m Jiyeon,” she had managed to say, her voice uncharacteristically small. “Or Luna… you can also call me Luna.”

“Jiyeon or Luna,” Jeonghan repeated, his smile widening. “Welcome. If you need anything, just let me know.”

That was it. No fanfare, no awkward small talk— just a simple greeting, but it had meant the world to her.

It still does.

Jeonghan was the first person to make her feel like she wasn’t an outsider in the cutthroat world of trainee life. From that moment on, he became a constant presence in her life.

He became her first friend within the company and her first proper friend ever. The one who cheered her on during monthly evaluations when no one else would.

His voice would always rise above the whispers of competition, “You’ve got this, Nana-ya!” he’d say, his voice full of encouragement.

And when she did well— when she ranked first during one of the most intense evaluations— it was Jeonghan who was the first to congratulate her, beaming with pride as if her success was his own.

If only she had realized back then just how important he’d become to her.

Jeonghan became her anchor, the one person she could count on when the loneliness threatened to overwhelm her. He was the first one to truly see her—not just as another trainee, but as someone worth knowing.

Jeonghan was her first friend, her first best friend, but he was also the first guy she ever liked.

As time passed, it became clearer. Jeonghan wasn’t just a friend to her. Luna didn’t know when it had happened exactly, but one day, she realized that her feelings for Jeonghan had shifted.

It wasn’t a loud, thunderous realization. It crept in like a slow sunrise, soft and warm.

His easy smiles, the way his hair would fall into his eyes, the effortless kindness he showed not only her but everyone around him. It was the way her heart would flutter when he smiled at her, the way she would find herself glancing at him in the practice room, admiring his soft features, the way he moved with effortless grace… it all felt different.

It made her heart ache, a tender pull that grew with every interaction.

Jeonghan wasn’t just her best friend— he was someone she cared about, someone who had become more important to her than she had ever anticipated.

It started innocently enough, a soft crush that lingered in the back of her mind, growing stronger with every passing day.

Back then, Luna had convinced herself it was just admiration. After all, Jeonghan was everything she wasn’t— outgoing, charming, and effortlessly kind. He had a way of making everyone feel comfortable, and for someone like Luna, who had always been hard to approach, that was something she admired.

But it wasn’t just admiration. She knew that deep down.

If only she could stop herself from liking her best friend.

It terrified her.

Cause just like every first crush, it came with fear.

Fear that he wouldn’t see her the same way.

Fear that their dynamic would change, and the closeness she cherished would slip away.

As a trainee, Luna had done her best to suppress those feelings. She’d bury herself in practice, pushing herself harder and harder, hoping the exhaustion would numb whatever emotions were swirling inside her.

But Jeonghan always seemed to break through that wall. He was the one who encouraged her when she doubted herself, the one who praised her when she felt like she wasn’t good enough, and the one who always made sure she never felt alone.

He had this way of showing up exactly when she needed someone, even when she hadn’t realized she needed anyone at all.

If only it were simple.

If only her heart didn’t race every time he smiled at her during practice, or when he pulled her aside after evaluations just to tell her how well she’d done.

If only she could keep it all together like she wanted to. But every time they stood next to each other on stage, every time they shared a laugh behind the scenes, every time he gave her that gentle, knowing look that only he could, her feelings for him grew stronger, despite how desperately she tried to push them away.

And yet, she knew she couldn’t say anything.

From their trainee days to their debut, Luna kept those feelings locked inside. She’d convinced herself it was better that way. After all, they were in the same group now. They were members of SEVENTEEN, a team. If anything were to happen, if her feelings were ever discovered, it could ruin everything they had worked so hard for.

The thought of jeopardizing that terrified her. That is the last thing she wanted was to complicate things—for herself, for Jeonghan, or the group.

So, for years, Luna held back.

She smiled when Jeonghan smiled at her, laughed when he teased her during practice and pretended it didn’t hurt when he leaned a little too close to one of their other members, playfully tugging on their sleeves the same way he did with her.

Luna tried to delude herself into thinking that her feelings would fade sooner or later.

If only it did.

The feelings persisted, gnawing at her every time they shared a moment. And as much as she tried to hide it, there was no denying the truth: she had hard fallen for him.

Soon, she had become a master of hiding her emotions, of keeping her heart carefully tucked away.

By 2017, she had gotten so good at it that even she almost believed she didn’t care anymore.

Almost.

But it all came crashing down one late night in June, in the quiet of their shared dorm floor. The group had just come home from a long day, having performed at ‘Music Bank’, and the exhaustion clung to them like a heavy fog.

But for Luna and Jeonghan, the night was far from over. It had become their little routine— after a long day, after all the noise and chaos of performing and smiling for the cameras, they would retreat to either Jeonghan or Luna's place, pour a few drinks, and talk.

Tonight was no different.

The apartment was dimly lit, casting a soft glow around the living room where they sat on the floor, leaning against the couch, with half-empty glasses between them. The curtains were drawn shut, blocking out the city lights, and the only sound was the low hum of the air conditioner and the occasional clink of their glasses as they took small sips.

The rest of the members were asleep or off doing their own thing, leaving Luna and Jeonghan in their own little bubble, just as they always had been.

Jeonghan had been talking about something— Luna wasn’t sure what exactly, her mind was too clouded with the effects of the alcohol and the way he was looking at her, that soft, knowing gaze he always gave her when he thought she was overdoing it. His now blonde hair, now tousled from the day, framed his face as he watched her with that same concerned look he always gave her whenever they drank together.

“You’re going to regret this tomorrow, you know,” Jeonghan said, his voice soft but amused. He leaned forward, reaching for her glass as if to take it from her, but Luna pulled it back with a childish pout, cradling it against her chest.

“I’m fine,” she whined, her words slightly slurred, but playful. She leaned back against the couch, closing her eyes for a moment before glancing at him with a half-smile. “We are so busy nowadays that we never get to just… talk anymore. I miss this.”

Jeonghan chuckled softly, shaking his head. “We’re talking now, aren’t we?”

Luna nodded, her gaze drifting to the ceiling. The room felt heavy with unsaid words, with all the things she’d been holding back for years. And yet, there he was, sitting across from her, calm, composed, completely unaware of the storm raging inside her.

He was so infuriatingly perfect— always knowing what to say, how to make her feel safe, how to make her laugh, how to keep her at a distance just enough that she could never cross that line.

Jeonghan shifted beside her, his arm brushing against hers as he reached for her glass again, gently prying it from her hands this time.

“Nana-ya, you’ll get hungover if you keep this up,” he said, his tone more serious now. His fingers brushed hers as he took the glass, setting it aside, and she hated how even that small touch made her heart race.

If only if her heart stopped doing that.

“I don’t care,” Luna murmured, the alcohol loosening her tongue more than she realized. She slumped further into the couch, her legs stretching out in front of her, her head turning to rest on the cushion behind her.

She watched as Jeonghan stood up, stretching his arms over his head before leaning down to gently take her hand, pulling her up with him.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed,” he said softly, his voice low and soothing as he gently tugged her toward her bedroom.

“I’m not tired,” Luna whined again, stumbling slightly as she followed him, her body swaying from the alcohol.

She felt warm all over, not just from the drinks, but from the way Jeonghan was guiding her with such care, as if she were fragile, something to be protected. His hand was steady, firm but gentle as it held hers, and Luna found herself hating it. Hating how easy it was for him to be like this. How perfect he was.

“We can talk more in the morning. You need to rest.” Jeonghan said, his voice soft but insistent. He led her into her bedroom, helping her sit down on the edge of the bed.

Luna shook her head, her vision blurring slightly as she stared up at him. “You’re too good to me, Hannie,” she mumbled, her words tumbling out without her even realizing it. “You’re… too perfect, it’s annoying.”

Jeonghan paused, crouching down in front of her, his hands resting lightly on her knees as he looked up at her with that same gentle smile. “What are you talking about?” he asked softly, brushing a stray strand of hair away from her face

Luna's heart clenched. She hated it. Hated how effortlessly he could make her feel like this.

“You make me feel things,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “And I hate it.”

Jeonghan blinked, his smile faltering slightly, but before he could say anything, Luna let out a frustrated sigh, leaning forward to rest her forehead against his shoulder. He stayed quiet, his hands gently resting on her back, his touch light, almost hesitant. He didn’t say anything, didn’t push her away, didn’t ask her to explain. He just stayed there, holding her, letting her lean on him as the weight of her words hung in the air between them.

“You’re too perfect,” she repeated, her voice muffled against his shirt. “And I hate it. I hate that you make me feel this way.”

Jeonghan's brows furrowed as he heard her words, the frustration lacing her voice, and something in his chest tightened.

He had a feeling he understood what she meant— he wasn’t oblivious, after all. He’d seen the little signs, the lingering glances, the way her gaze softened whenever he was near. But even with that knowledge, there was a part of him that needed to hear her say it outright. To confirm what he had long suspected but never dared to address.

“What do you mean?” he asked softly, his voice gentle but probing, hoping she would clarify even though he already had an inkling.

Jeonghan’s heart beat a little faster, anxiety swirling in his chest. He didn’t move, his hands still resting lightly on her back, his fingers brushing against the fabric of her shirt. He could feel the heat radiating off her body, the weight of her leaning against him.

Luna pulled back slightly, just enough to look him in the eyes, her expression a mix of frustration and something else— something raw, something vulnerable.

“I hate you,” she muttered, her words slurred but filled with emotion. “I hate that you make me feel like this.”

Jeonghan blinked, momentarily taken aback by the bluntness of her statement. “What do you mean ‘feel like this’?” he asked again, his voice quieter now, a little more uncertain.

Jeonghan knew, of course, he knew, but hearing her say it— he needed that.

Luna huffed, her frustration growing as she ran a hand through her hair, tugging at the strands as if trying to pull herself together.

“Since we were trainees, Yoon Jeonghan,” she said, her voice rising just slightly, her words tumbling out faster now as if she couldn’t stop them. “You were always so... nice to me. Too nice. And you were always there, cheering me on, helping me, making me feel like I wasn’t alone. You made me feel so pretty… so loved… so feel special.”

Jeonghan swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. He listened, his heart pounding in his chest as she continued.

“And I hated it. I hated how much I needed that. I hated that every time you smiled at me, I felt something. Something I wasn’t supposed to feel.” Luna’s voice cracked, her frustration turning into something more fragile, more pained. “It’s been the same since we were trainees. And even now... even now, you’re still making me feel this way. And I don’t know what to do with it anymore.”

Jeonghan stayed silent, his mind racing. He could feel the weight of her words sinking in, each one hitting him like a stone, and yet... it wasn’t surprising. Not really.

Jeonghan was good at reading people, he had always sensed it— this undercurrent between them, something deeper than friendship, something unspoken that lingered in the spaces between their interactions. But hearing her admit it, hearing the depth of her frustration, her hurt... it made his chest ache in a way he hadn’t anticipated.

“Jiyeon-ah...” he started, his voice soft, but before he could say anything more, Luna slumped forward, her body going limp as the alcohol finally took over. She had passed out, her breathing evening out as she leaned against his chest.

Jeonghan froze for a moment, blinking down at her in surprise. His heart was still racing, his mind spinning with everything she had just said, but as he looked at her now, so peaceful in her sleep, all that frustration and pain gone from her face, he felt a wave of tenderness wash over him.

She looked so fragile in that moment, so vulnerable, and it made something deep inside him stir. He didn’t move right away. Instead, he sat there for a few minutes, watching her, his hand lightly brushing the hair away from her face as she slept. His heart ached for her, for the weight she had been carrying for so long, for the feelings she had kept hidden all these years.

If only things had been different.

If only he had realized sooner.

Jeonghan let out a soft sigh, his fingers trailing through her hair one last time before he leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. It was light, barely there, but it was all he could offer at that moment.

“Goodnight, pretty angel,” he whispered, his voice barely audible as he slowly pulled away.

He stood up, carefully laying her down on the bed and pulling the covers over her, making sure she was comfortable before stepping back. He glanced around the room, his gaze falling on the mess they had left behind in the living room— the half-empty glasses, the bottle of soju, the scattered snacks. With one last look at Luna, he quietly left the room, closing the door behind him.

Jeonghan made his way back to the living room, his mind still spinning from everything that had happened. He cleaned up in silence, his movements slow and methodical as he cleared the table, washed the glasses, and wiped down the counter. His thoughts kept drifting back to her words, the way she had looked at him, the raw emotion in her voice.

By the time he finished cleaning, the apartment was quiet again, the night settling in around him. He stood in the middle of the room for a moment, his hands resting on the back of the couch as he stared at the empty space where Luna had been sitting earlier.

If only he had known earlier.

If only things were simpler.

The next morning, Luna woke up with a pounding headache and three immediate regrets.

If only she didn’t remember what she said to Jeonghan last night.

If only she hadn’t drank so much.

If only she drank more— enough to forget.

But she remembered everything. Every. Single. Thing. And she knew, with a sickening certainty, that Jeonghan did too.

Luna stayed in bed longer than she should’ve, staring up at the ceiling as her mind replayed the previous night’s events on an unrelenting loop. The hazy confession, the way her voice had trembled when she told him she hated how he made her feel—her heart sank deeper with each flash of memory.

She squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to forget, but it was useless. The image of Jeonghan’s face, so soft and caring as she spilled her heart, refused to leave her mind.

Her schedule wouldn’t let her wallow in bed, though. Today was packed with activities: music shows, interviews, rehearsals, variety show tapings, and a radio appearance in the evening.

All of them required her to see Jeonghan.

Dragging herself out of bed, Luna’s stomach twisted at the thought of facing him. How was she supposed to look him in the eye after what she said?

She could still feel the weight of his gaze from the night before, the warmth of his hands guiding her to bed, the way his lips had brushed her forehead so tenderly. Her heart beat faster just thinking about it, but now all she felt was dread.

She couldn’t avoid him. Not when their schedules were so packed together. And yet… If only she could. She pulled on her clothes, barely paying attention to what she was wearing, her mind too preoccupied with thoughts of how to survive the day without falling apart in front of him.

The day started with a soundcheck at a music show. Luna moved through the motions, greeting staff, warming up her voice, and running through their choreography.

All while keeping one eye on Jeonghan.

She didn’t have to look to know he was watching her. She could feel it— the way his gaze followed her across the room. It wasn’t unusual for him to look out for her, but today it was different. His eyes lingered too long, his expressions too soft, too thoughtful.

And yet, she refused to meet his gaze. Whenever he moved towards her, she skillfully maneuvered herself away, pretending to be busy talking to another member or reviewing notes with their staff. When he tried to catch her between breaks, she’d feign exhaustion, lying down in the waiting room, headphones in, eyes closed, hoping he wouldn’t disturb her.

He didn’t. But he watched.

During the interview portion of their music show appearance, she stood sandwiched between Mingyu and Wonwoo, grateful for the buffer zone. Jeonghan was on the other side of the group, but still, she felt his eyes on her. Every time the camera wasn’t focused on them, he’d glance her way, and she’d pretend not to notice.

The weight of it was suffocating, but she couldn’t bring herself to acknowledge it. Not yet.

The rest of the day unfolded in a blur of performances and obligations. She danced, smiled for the cameras, and laughed when appropriate, all while dodging Jeonghan’s attempts to talk to her. When they left the studio for rehearsals, she managed to stick close to the other members, always positioning herself away from Jeonghan without making it too obvious.

But he was relentless. Subtle, but relentless.

For two days, she avoided him with increasing skill. If he took a step toward her, she’d suddenly have a question for staff or be deep in conversation with another member. If he tried to speak to her during breaks, she’d claim she was too tired or needed to use the restroom.

Thankfully, their schedules were so packed that it was easy to stay busy. The exhaustion from back-to-back schedules worked to her advantage— no one questioned why she was too tired to chat during their downtime.

No one, except for Jeonghan.

He never pressed her. Never forced her into a conversation. But Luna knew. She could see it in the way his eyes would flicker with something unreadable when she ducked out of his reach, the way his expression softened whenever she pretended to be preoccupied.

Jeonghan wasn’t fooled. He knew exactly what she was doing.

And he let her.

But there was no escaping the fact that the more she avoided him, the more she felt the tension building between them. It was like a taut string, pulling tighter with each passing day, each fleeting glance, each unspoken word.

And the worst part? She knew it couldn’t last. Eventually, she’d have to face him.

There was only so much running she could do before everything came crashing down again.

And it did.

Three days after her drunken confession, Luna found herself in the worst possible scenario— alone with Jeonghan.

It had been a long day of grueling practice, the kind that left everyone too exhausted to talk, but not too exhausted to finally notice the tension between the two of them.

Luna was desperate to get to her room, hoping to avoid another awkward interaction. She quickened her pace as soon as they entered the dorm, hoping to reach the elevator before anyone could catch up to her— before he could catch up to her.

One thing about Luna is that she hates elevators— she got stuck alone once when she was a child. From then on she never took it alone… till now, that’s how desperate she was.

She must have jinxed it.

As the elevator doors slid open, she stepped in quickly, but a second later, Jeonghan slipped in behind her. The doors closed, trapping her in the small, suffocating space with the one person she had been desperately trying to avoid.

“Fuck my life,” She cursed under her breath.

Where were the other members? Normally, someone would’ve joined them, but tonight, it was just the two of them. Jeonghan must’ve said something to the others, some quiet, strategic whisper to give them privacy.

Luna sighed audibly, her shoulders tensing as she avoided looking in his direction.

The silence in the elevator was unbearable. She could feel Jeonghan’s presence beside her, calm and unhurried.

She hated how composed he always was— how nothing seemed to faze him. Luna, on the other hand, felt like she was barely holding herself together, her heart pounding in her chest, her palms sweaty as she stared straight ahead, willing the elevator to reach her floor as quickly as possible.

But Jeonghan didn’t speak. He didn’t push, didn’t prod. He simply waited, giving her space, like he always did.

If only he wasn’t so perfect.

Finally, unable to bear it any longer, Luna broke the silence. "Just spit it out already," she muttered, still refusing to meet his eyes.

She knew he had something to say, something he’d been holding back for the past three days. It was the thing she had been dreading ever since she confessed her feelings to him— the thing she had been running from since their trainee days.

Jeonghan’s voice was soft, almost tender when he finally spoke. "You’ve been ignoring me."

He didn’t sound angry or hurt, just… understanding.

And Luna hated it. He was too perfect, too kind, too gentle for her own good. How could she not fall for someone like him? How could she not hate him for making it so easy?

A beat of silence stretched between them, heavy and uncomfortable.

Luna could feel the weight of his gaze on her, but she kept her eyes on the elevator doors, counting the seconds in her head, hoping this would all be over soon. But the words were clawing their way out of her, demanding to be spoken.

"What do you want me to say, Han?" Her voice was sharp, and defensive, as if she could protect herself with her words. "That I lied? ‘Cause I didn’t."

She finally turned to look at him, her eyes meeting his for the first time in three days. The impact of it hit her like a wave— his warm, concerned gaze, the softness in his expression, the way he looked at her like he saw straight through her defenses.

"If only it was," she added quietly, her voice breaking just a little at the end.

Jeonghan stepped forward slowly, his movements careful and deliberate, like he was approaching a wounded animal. His hands found her arms, his touch light, barely there, as if he was afraid to hurt her. He gently caressed her skin, his thumb tracing small circles against her sleeve, soothing in a way that only made everything worse.

"Jiyeon-ah..." His voice was low, almost a whisper, as if saying her name out loud might shatter the fragile moment between them.

He didn’t need to say anything else.

Luna knew him all too well.

She knew him inside and out— knew that the look in his eyes wasn’t just concern. There was something else there, something that made her stomach twist painfully.

A twinge of regret. Sadness.

She already knew what he was going to say.

And she dreaded it.

"I…" Jeonghan hesitated, his grip tightening slightly as he prepared to speak, his gaze never leaving hers. "I care about you so much, you know that, right?"

Luna nodded in defeat, biting down on her lip to keep the flood of emotions at bay. She didn’t trust herself to speak.

"But… we can’t do this." His voice was soft, so gentle as if he was trying to let her down easy. "It wouldn’t be professional. And it wouldn’t be fair to the others, to the team. We’ve worked so hard to get here, and… we can’t risk that."

There it was.

The polite rejection.

The one she’d expected but had hoped would never come. The words hit her like a punch to the gut, stealing the air from her lungs. She went numb, her mind buzzing with a kind of dull, painful shock.

She had prepared herself for this. She knew it was coming. But still, it felt like the ground had been ripped out from under her.

She couldn’t hear anything else.

The world around her became a blur, Jeonghan’s words fading into the background as her mind shut down, overwhelmed by the weight of it all. Her chest felt tight, her throat constricting as she struggled to keep herself composed.

If only she could forget this moment… this feeling.

At that very moment, something in Luna’s brain snapped— a survival instinct, a deep-seated need to protect herself from the pain that had just hollowed her out.

A switch flipped, and determination settled over her like a mask. She forced a giggle, light and airy as if nothing had happened. As if her heart wasn’t hanging in tatters inside her chest.

She could see Jeonghan’s face soften, but not in relief. No, his eyes were filled with something else—pain. He knew her all too well. Knew this was her defense mechanism. Her way of pretending everything was fine.

Jeonghan opened his mouth to say something, maybe to stop her from pretending and shutting him out but Luna was faster.

"It’s fine," she said, her voice calm, steady. Her smile not quite reaching her eyes. "I was drunk and being stupid."

There it was.

The first lie.

And then, with a forced chuckle, she gave him the second, her all-time favorite lie, one she had practiced in front of a mirror countless times just in case this moment ever came.

"It’s a little crush. It’ll go away soon."

Luna had become so good at pretending, at brushing off her own heartbreak as if it were nothing more than a mild inconvenience.

She waved her hand dismissively as if her heart hadn’t just been ripped to shreds and thrown at her feet. As if she wasn’t praying for the earth to open up and swallow her whole so she could disappear from the sheer embarrassment of being rejected.

"I’m sorry for worrying you," she said, her voice light, too casual. "You know me. I didn’t want to come off as weird and I’ve been missing my parents lately… Plus, with our schedule being so crazy, I’ve just been all over the place."

She was explaining herself, making excuses for her vulnerability, for the way her feelings had slipped through the cracks in her armor.

It was easier to blame it on something else— on homesickness, on stress— than to admit what was really happening inside her heart.

She saw Jeonghan frown, saw the worry deepening in his eyes as he tried to get a word in, but she was already moving, already pivoting away from the conversation.

"We’re okay." She cut him off, a little too cheerful. Her firm voice cutting through as if to reassure Jeonghan or more so to reassure herself. She stepped forward, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, something she’d done a hundred times before but this time it felt like a goodbye. "Don’t worry about it."

As if on cue, the elevator doors slid open, and without waiting for a response, Luna slipped out, leaving Jeonghan standing there, stunned and silent.

The moment the door to her apartment clicked shut behind her, the facade crumbled.

Luna’s breath hitched, and she locked the door with trembling hands. Her knees buckled beneath her, and she collapsed onto the floor, the weight of everything she had been holding back crashing down on her in one violent wave.

She pressed her forehead to the cool surface of the floor, squeezing her eyes shut as silent sobs wracked her body. The room was too quiet, the kind of quiet that only amplified the buzzing in her ears, the heavy thud of her heartbeat.

She had known it would hurt, but she hadn’t expected it to hurt this much.

For years, she had kept her feelings carefully hidden, burying them deep inside her chest where no one could see, not even herself sometimes.

Luna had told herself it was better this way, safer. But now that it had all come out— now that she had laid herself bare only to be rejected— it felt like everything she had built around herself was crumbling.

All the walls she had put up, all the armor she had worn, were useless now.

If only she hadn’t said anything.

If only she had kept quiet like always.

If only she hadn’t let herself hope.

Luna was angry— at the universe, at herself because she couldn’t find herself to be angry at Jeonghan. It was not his fault after all. It’s not his fault he didn’t feel the same way, he didn’t do it on purpose. In the same way, she didn’t fall for him on purpose.

However, she was angry that she had been stupid enough to believe, even for a second, that he might feel the same way… even a little. Angry that she had let her guard down. Angry that no matter how hard she tried to let go, her heart had latched onto him with a vice grip that wouldn’t loosen.

Her thoughts spiraled, wild and desperate as tears streamed down her face. She had tried for so long to suppress her feelings, to push them down, to keep them from surfacing. But now, they were all spilling out, every fear, every insecurity, every moment of doubt.

Years, she thought, choking on the sobs. Years of holding this in, of pretending I was okay… all for what?

Luna had always known that liking Jeonghan would lead to this.

It had been inevitable, she supposed.

A quiet, creeping sense of dread that had lived in the back of her mind ever since they were trainees. She had always feared that this would be the outcome, that her feelings would only ever be one-sided, that the day she confessed, everything would fall apart.

But she had never expected it to hurt this much.

Her heart clenched painfully, and for a moment, she wished she could rip it out of her chest just to make the pain stop.

The rejection wasn’t even the worst part.

No, it was the fact that Jeonghan had been so kind about it.

So understanding.

So… perfect.

Luna hated that about him.

Hated that he had been so gentle, so considerate when he let her down.

It would’ve been easier if he had been harsh if he had given her something to be angry about. But instead, he had given her nothing but soft words, valid excuses, and apologies.

The buzzing in her ears became a dull hum as the last of her sobs faded, and in the silence, her body slowly went numb as she curled up on the cold floor, hugging her knees to her chest as she let the pain settle deep within her heart.

Luna didn’t push away the pain this time; she allowed it to consume her, to wrap itself around her heart like a vice.

Every ache, every sharp sting of rejection, she accepted it— because maybe if she let herself feel it fully, let herself drown in it for just this moment, her heart would finally learn.

Maybe this time, the hurt would leave a scar deep enough to remind her, to teach her, that hoping for more was futile. That loving someone who didn’t feel the same way was a battle she was always destined to lose.

Maybe, she thought, maybe this time, my heart will finally take the hint and move on.

But deep down, Luna knew better.

She had tried to move on before— countless times—and it had never worked.

No matter how much she wished for it, her heart had always found its way back to Jeonghan. Always.

And now, as she lay there, broken and exhausted, she realized with a painful clarity that this wasn’t the push she needed to forget him.

No.

This was only the beginning.

It was still painful, though.

Knowing that the first guy she had ever liked— the first person she had truly opened up to— would never see her the same way.

Jeonghan had been the first person to approach her, the first person to become her friend, the first person she liked, and now, he was the first person to break her heart.

If only things had been different.

Life, however, moved on.

The next day came with the same grueling schedule and the same routines. Music shows, interviews, practice sessions, and variety show appearances all blurred together as if nothing in her world had been torn apart the night before.

Luna didn’t allow any cracks to show; she was an expert at wearing her mask by now. She laughed with the other members, joked with the staff, and smiled for the fans— all while something heavy settled deeper within her chest, like a stone she couldn’t quite shake off.

With Jeonghan, it was as if nothing had ever happened. No awkward tension lingered between them, no strained silences or hesitant interactions. He treated her the same way he always had— kind, supportive, teasing her whenever the opportunity presented itself.

Jeonghan was worried, of course.

Luna could see it in the way his eyes lingered on her a second longer than usual, the subtle softness in his voice whenever he spoke her name. But he didn’t push. He didn’t force her to talk about what had happened that night, didn’t ask for explanations or demand a conversation she clearly wasn’t ready to have.

Luna spoke to him like she always did, her tone light and unbothered.

Not once did she avoid him because, in her mind, avoiding him would only prove that she wasn’t okay.

And she desperately needed to be okay.

She couldn't allow anyone— especially Jeonghan— to know the truth despite knowing he probably already did.

That her heart still beat just as fast when he smiled at her, that every casual touch sent a familiar warmth spreading through her chest.

No, she wasn’t going to let anyone see that she was still hurting.

Not again.

Days turned to weeks and weeks turned to months and Luna realized quickly that nothing had changed with her feelings.

They hadn't diminished, they hadn't been pushed away. If anything, they only grew stronger the more she tried to bury them.

So, she made a decision: she would lock them up deep down in her chest, chain her heart, and throw away the key.

It was better like this. Safer.

But fate has a cruel sense of humor.

Because no matter how far Luna thought she’d thrown the key, somehow, in some twisted cosmic joke, it landed straight into Jeonghan’s hands.

Unbeknownst to her, he had already begun to notice the cracks beneath her carefully crafted facade, the moments where her smile faltered just a little too long, or when her gaze lingered on him longer than she intended.

Jeonghan, who had always been so attuned to her, had found the key she so desperately wanted to hide.

And little by little, without her even realizing it, he was using it to unlock the very heart she was trying so hard to protect.

A year had passed since that night.

A year since Luna had bared her soul, and Jeonghan had rejected her.

It was 2018 now, during the filming of the music video of their song ‘THANKS’ and the air was thick with a quiet intensity as the members pushed through a grueling day of shooting.

But even amidst the rush and exhaustion, Jeonghan couldn’t help himself. His eyes followed Luna from a distance, as they often did.

She was talking animatedly to the camera set up for their ‘Inside SEVENTEEN’ behind-the-scenes footage.

Luna’s laugh echoed faintly across the set, and Jeonghan couldn’t stop noticing the smallest things about her.

The way her eyes crinkled slightly at the corners when she smiled— an indication that it was real, genuine, a smile that Jeonghan hadn’t seen in far too long. He noticed how her hair danced in the light breeze, strands occasionally kissing her face before she absentmindedly brushed them away.

Her smile stretched wide, almost reaching her ears, a sign that today, she was happy. Genuinely happy.

And Jeonghan was thankful for that. He’d worried about her for so long.

Luna turned toward him then, catching his gaze. For a moment, time seemed to slow as she smiled at him—soft, warm, real.

Jeonghan returned it with a smile of his own, but the second her attention shifted back to the camera, where she began laughing about something with Dokyeom who sneaked up on her from behind, his heart twisted in a way he hadn’t expected.

Jeonghan would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about her confession every day since it happened. Because he had. It had haunted him, followed him into every quiet moment, and lingered in every glance they shared.

He couldn’t stop thinking about it— about her. He hadn’t stopped worrying about her since that night, either.

The truth was, he admired her— he always had.

Jeonghan admired the strength she had to smile and laugh even when she must’ve been hurting inside.

He admired how effortlessly beautiful she was, today, yesterday, and every day in between.

He admired how she seemed to carry the weight of the world on her shoulders but never let it dim her light.

But as Jeonghan watched her now, laughing freely with Dokyeom, something sharp and bitter jabbed at his chest.

It was innocent, of course. Luna and Dokyeom had always been close. Their laughter was nothing more than friendly.

But that didn’t stop the sudden realization from slapping Jeonghan across the face: he couldn’t keep this lie up any longer.

The lie that he had been telling himself since the night Luna confessed to him.

When she had stood there, vulnerable and raw, spilling her heart out, he had been scared.

He’d made excuses— talked about professionalism, about the team, about the risks. But deep down, they were just that— excuses.

He had lied, not to her, but to himself.

Because he felt the same.

He always had.

And he’d been too scared to admit it, too scared to face what it would mean to let himself fall for her.

If only he hadn’t lied.

If only he hadn’t been scared.

If only he had the courage to do what his heart had been telling him all along.

But the sight of her laughing with someone else, even if it was innocent, hit him like a bolt of lightning.

The thought of someone else making her laugh like that, of someone else being the reason behind those genuine smiles— he couldn’t handle it.

Jeonghan couldn’t let someone like Luna go.

Not now.

Not ever.

His hands were clammy as he fidgeted with the hem of his top, his leg bouncing anxiously. His heart was pounding so hard in his chest, it felt like it might burst out. There was a smile creeping up on his face, a warmth spreading through him, and for a moment, Jeonghan wondered if he was going into cardiac arrest.

But then, no… this wasn’t heart failure.

This wasn’t a symptom of physical pain.

This was him falling for Bae Jiyeon.

It wasn’t fear.

It was exhilaration.

It was the undeniable truth that he couldn’t keep hiding anymore. He was falling for her— had been for a long time, but now, it was clear as day. The thought of her with anyone else made him feel like he’d lose a piece of himself.

And there was only one way to fix that.

Jeonghan wasn’t discouraged by his mistakes from the past. No. He was determined now— more than ever.

Determined to make this right, to tell her what he should’ve said a year ago.

Determined to hold onto her before it was too late.

With the key to Luna’s heart, which she had thrown away in her desperate attempt to lock her feelings deep inside, now firmly in Jeonghan’s grasp, he was determined to unlock a future they both had wished for but were too hesitant and scared to reach.

Jeonghan is determined to do anything to turn the if only into an unequivocally so.

ೃ⁀➷ comment or message me to be added to the tag list :)

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ SUBMIT A REQUEST AND ASK ME ANYTHING!

: ̗̀➛ requests are always open ♡ - selఌ

Taglist: @yeoberryx @minminghao @angie-x3 @jennwonwoo @k13endall @heeseungthel0ml @chisskaa @megumi2020 @yoonzzziino @lllucere @smh-anon @yveclipse @randomworker @bunnystrm @iamawkwardandshy

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Named # 1 in Dwell's Top 10 Prefabs in 2017, The Frost House is a mid-century modern prefabricated aluminum + steel + glass house, designed and engineered by Emil Tessin, and manufactured by Alside Homes Corporation. The 1964 mid-century modern in Michigan City, IN has 3bds, 2ba, and is listed for $925K including all furnishings (appraised at $400K).

The entrance foyer. You'll notice several of these 2-glass divider walls throughout the house.

The living room is in a sunny corner with a wall of windows and doors to the patio.

The open concept room also has a dining area. The chairs look like Eames.

The dining area has a door to the enclosed sun room.

This is beautiful.

The kitchen is original and untouched. There's a new dishwasher, but the bronze oven and fridge are original. Look at the wall of closets- there's plenty of storage.

On the other side of the kitchen is a family room with another table & chairs. I like the blue doors on the closet.

Colorful closet doors in the hall to the bedrooms.

The primary bedroom is large for a mid-century home. The room divider separates a smaller room with double dressers and mirrors. I imagine that it's a dressing room. There's also a large closet in each room.

Behind the dressing room is a small shower room with original gold sink and toilet.

Bd. #2 is very nice and has the dresser and a window in the closet.

Bd. #3 is a child's room. All 3 bds. have sliders to the patio or yard.

This bedroom also has a dresser in the closet.

Bath #2 is a 3pc. with a tub and has all original blue fixtures.

There's a beautiful pool. Aw, does the doggo come with the house, too?

0.78 Acre lot

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/3215-Cleveland-Ave-Michigan-City-IN-46360/118695882_zpid/?

[blueiscoool]

Archaeologists Unearth Ancient Mosaic of Winged Medusa in Spain

The stunningly preserved Ancient Roman mosaic floor was found at the Huerta de Otero site in the city of Mérida.

In both ancient and modern interpretations, Medusa is often known as a monster — a Gorgon with tresses of serpents whose stare turned men to stone. This version typically appears in children’s movies and fantasy thrillers, but her image hasn’t always been so awe-inspiring. In late June, archaeologists in Western Spain uncovered an Ancient Roman mosaic floor that depicts Medusa with tiny wings and flowing locks of hair, thought to have been used as a protective symbol.

The mosaic was found in the city of Mérida’s Huerta de Otero archaeological site. Ancient Romans established a colony there in 25 BCE named Augusta Emerita. Traces of its former inhabitants — including an amphitheater and a bridge — can be found throughout the modern-day city. “[The site] is of an exceptional nature due to the level of conservation of the ruins and, above all, the ornamental elements that decorate the well-preserved house: not only the mosaic of the Medusa but also paintings and sculptural motifs,” said archaeologist Félix Palma in a statement.

The Huerta de Otero location was excavated in 1976 but lay untouched for decades. Research picked back up in 2019, when the city employed professional archaeologists and students from its Barraeca II Professional School to explore the ruins. Since then, the team has uncovered an Ancient Roman defensive wall, a road, and the home of a wealthy family.

The Medusa mosaic adorned the floor of this home. Depictions of fish, peacocks, and carefully tessellated patterns surround the artwork’s central figure: a human-like Medusa, her gaze turned to one side.

Although this image diverges from some contemporary renditions of the mythological figure, the mosaic’s winged version was common in Ancient portrayals of Medusa. While early Greek depictions of the mortal-turned-monster, cruelly punished for being raped by the god Poseidon, show her as grotesque, Medusa’s image softened by the time of the Ancient Romans. Beginning in the Classical Greek period, her face acquired more human attributes. It started to be rendered with symmetry and youthful beauty in the following centuries.

Other Ancient Roman mosaics featuring the head of Medusa have been discovered throughout Spain. Medusa again comprises the focal point of an Ancient Roman mosaic in a 115–150 CE work found in Rome, where she can be seen sporting human curls and a snake around her neck. A 1st-to-2nd-century ornament from a chariot pole shows a young woman with curly locks (although a couple of snakes still peer through her tangle of hair).

In Ancient Greek mythology, Perseus killed Medusa to avoid being turned to stone. Medusa, in her early terrifying form, was used as a protective symbol — “an image of evil to repel evil,” Madeleine Glennon writes in a 2017 essay for the Metropolitan Museum of Art. The goddess Athena famously included a representation of Medusa’s severed head on her protective cloak or aegis. In Ancient Rome, her beautified image was still employed as a protective symbol, although the depiction shifted into a form more similar to a woman than a monster.

By Elaine Velie.

[xponentialdesign]

Out from the past, a sequence returns Vaulted loop from June 1st, 2017 Archived source, untouched until now Loaded the project today, refined the export Intentionally enhanced and optimized Under 10MB now re-rendered (720p, 120 frames) Memory reborn in motion

Ovalium

[tgmsunmontue]

Saga of Solitude 21/21

Nepo!Baby Bradley and his life at USNA and afterwards. DADT fully in force. IceMav AU. (Begun prior to 'It's not who you know' - the non-angsty version). (Side Hangster, which is ALSO angsty).

PROLOGUE (He remembers)

HANGSTER FIRST MEETING (Lonely Nights - set 2009)

PREVIOUS CHAPTERS

ONE (2000) TWO (2001) THREE (2002) FOUR (2003) FIVE (2004) SIX (2005) SEVEN (2006) EIGHT (2007) NINE (2008) TEN (2009) ELEVEN (2010) TWELVE (2011) THIRTEEN (2012) FOURTEEN (2013) FIFTEEN (2014) SIXTEEN (2015) SEVENTEEN (2016) EIGHTEEN (2017) NINETEEN (2018) TWENTY (2019)

WARNING - this is ~25k long. Sleep first. Or make yourself comfy. Eat something.

HUGE thank you to all the people who have given this a chance, and especially those who have been my cheerleader/s from the start. @phisworld14 especially gets a special shoutout for putting up with me sending her messages constantly about EVERYTHING.

CHAPTER TWENTYONE – EPILOGUE

            “Come home with me?” Bradley asks. Part of him is terrified Jake might say no. He wants to talk, but doesn’t particularly want Ice and Mav within hearing range when he does so. There are limits for his personal groveling and humiliation and he edges them toward the door, leaves their drinks untouched where they are, which will no doubt annoy both Ice and Mav, but he has more important things to think and worry about right now and he hopes they’ll understand.

            “You really don’t live here?” Jake asks as he follows Bradley’s lead and puts his shoes back on.

            “No,” Bradley says, a little horrified. He also bites back the fact that he told Jake a little earlier that he wanted to take him to his parents. “I have my own place, a little closer to base actually.”

            “Okay. Well. I’m at your mercy. You’re my ride.”

            “Tell me where you want to go…” Bradley states, and he doesn’t just mean about vehicular transport. He’ll take Jake back to base if that’s what he wants. Or a diner, somewhere neutral. “You’re the one giving the directions right now…” he offers, and they’ve gone from talking about hot drinks to driving and they’ll get to the point eventually but it feels safer, circling the subject like this.

            “You better be serious about this Bradshaw…” Jake mutters, and Bradley knows then that he understands exactly what Bradley is saying. Offering.

            “Well, you’ve met my parents. Well. Half of them. Wait. Maybe one-third, because my mom and dad are dead…”

            “You’re rambling.”

            “You make me nervous,” Bradley admits, because if they’re going to do this… if he’s going to do this… then he needs to be honest and upfront from the start. At least when he can be, because sometimes he really struggles to identify how he’s even feeling, let alone voice it aloud. He should probably share that fact with Jake.

            “Do I now?”

            “Yeah. Why wouldn’t you make me nervous?”

            “I don’t know. You tell me…”

            “I’m… I’m terrified of fucking this up,” Bradley states, then sucks in a breath. “Again.” he says on an exhale and Jake’s lips twist into a half-smile and he so desperately wants to just lean over and kiss him, instead starts the Bronco and reverses down the driveway.

            “Pretty sure we’ll fuck it up. But…”

            “But?” Bradley asks, hope lacing his question.

            “Well. Bit of a difference between doing it by accident and doing it because you want to hurt someone… think we’ve hopefully moved past the deliberately hurting each other stage.”

            “Yeah. Years ago…” Bradley says, because it’s nothing but the truth, glances across at Jake who is staring out the window.

            “Mmm. Well then. As you said… you’d like to get to know me.”

            “Yeah.”

            “So what am I to you now?”

            “The guy I’m dating. My partner. My boyfriend. All of them… take your pick. Make up a name if you want to.”

            “Hmm. I’ve never had a boyfriend before.”

            Bradley isn’t going to say that he has, because he suspects that that’s part of the problem. Jake wanted him to be all of those things years ago, and fuck if he’s only just starting to realize what he almost let slip through his fingers.

            “Then boyfriend it is…” Bradley offers quietly, throat feeling tight and he lets silence fall, focusses on driving but when he feels Jake’s fingers brush over his hand on the stick shift he turns his hand over, squeezes Jake’s hand and turns to smile at him. The tightness in his throat still there and he licks his lips and sucks in a deep shuddery breath. He drives, wants to say something, words tumbling over in his head, half-apology, half-explanation.

            “I’m sorry I wasn’t ready before.”

            “What?”

            “I wasn’t ready to be yours.”

            “Oh. And you’re ready now?”

            “I think I’ve been working on getting ready to be yours for the last decade. More than ready. If you’ll have me…”

            “You’re an idiot.”

            “That’s not an answer Jake…”

            “Well. It sort of is. Of course I’ll have you… even when I hated you I loved you.”

            “Jesus Jake…” Bradley says under his breath, because that’s heartbreaking and he wishes he could go back and change things. Wants nothing more than to reach over and kiss him; instead holds himself back, suspects that maybe they might need to take things a little more cautiously. Ease into an actual relationship with more open communication than they’ve had in the past. The last thing he ever wants to do again is hurt Jake.

…         …         …

            “Did I just hear Bradley?” Maverick asks, head poking around the corner, and he’s toweling himself dry, wearing only his boxers and Tom lets himself step forward and press a kiss to the curve of his shoulder, feels warm at the responding wide grin he gets from Pete.

            “Yes.”

            “Uh. Has he gone already?”

            “He was just here with Seresin.”

            “Hangman? Really?”

            “Maybe finally sorting out their relationship…”

            “Thought you said they didn’t have a relationship…”

            “Well. I think they might be taking the last ten years and trying to turn it into one.”

            “Oof. That’s…” Pete pulls a face and Tom purses his lips, because yes, they’re both familiar with how difficult that can be. “What did they come for exactly?”

            “Does it matter?” Tom asks, because he has his suspicions, given Bradley’s whole head-banging episode against the fridge, and Seresin’s expression as he took in the photos. He hopes it’s had whatever desired effect on Seresin that Bradley was aiming for. Knows Bradley will be wanting… something. Seems to have finally settled into his own skin and he wonders sometimes. “I know we did our best, but sometimes I think Bradley would have been better raised by someone…”

            “Don’t you dare say someone who loved him. We love him.”

            Tom sighs, shakes his head.

            “Maverick. Pete. That isn’t what I was going to say… I think he would have maybe found himself a bit sooner if he hadn’t spent so much of his life trying to live up to an ideal frozen in glass.”

            “What do you mean? Are you talking about Goose?”

            “No. Well. Yes. But… us as well. I’ve had so many people tell me that I must be so proud of him, because of everything he has achieved, everything he’s become. But then I try to recall how often I’ve told him that I’m proud of him and I… I come up empty. I don’t generally tell men under my command that I’m proud of them.”

            “Oh…”

            “Yes. And I don’t know if he’s been trying to live up to Goose, or to you, or to me… but to have any or all of us as people to try and live up to? The fact he’s not more messed up is a small miracle.”

            “You really think that’s what he’s been trying to do?”

            “I don’t know Mav…” Tom sighs, tired suddenly. “But if it were you? I know you had to fight against your own father’s reputation, but imagine having three reputations to either overcome or live up to…”

            “Shit.”

            “Yeah.”

…         …         …

            “So, uh. This is my place… my parents. My uh, real parents that is…”

            “You’re fine Bradshaw. Bradley…”

            He jerks his head, feeling inexplicably awkward and exposed showing Jake his home. This isn’t a place that he shares with people outside of his immediate family. Hearing Jake say his name, the first time he’s called him something other than Bradshaw or Rooster in years makes him feel fragile. He needs something to do with his hands, stop himself from reaching out.

            “You want a drink? I’ve got… a whole range.”

            “Just some water would be good. Stay hydrated and all that.”

            “Yeah, okay. Uh. Feel free to look around. I’ll go and grab some water I guess…”

            “You’re not worried about me finding all your secrets?”

            “You know all my secrets,” Bradley replies, because it’s the truth, and he likes that Jake has followed him into the kitchen.

            “Do I?”

            Bradley opens his mouth, ready to say yes, of course, and then pauses.

            “All the important ones. And I’ll tell you anything you want to know. Just ask.”

            Jake takes him at his word, starts asking questions like he’s on a fact-finding mission and Bradley wonders if he’ll ever be given the opportunity to do the same. He doesn’t care if it takes him years to find out all of Jake’s secrets, he’s willing to wait however long it takes. They end up settled on the sofa, facing each other but just within touching distance. Jake continues to ask questions and Bradley continues to answer them.

            He ends up sharing facts about everyone he’s had sex with, that he remembers anyway. He does mention his one threesome but refuses to expound on it further when Jake raises a curious eyebrow. Then he’s talking about his time at the USNA, hiding his relationship with Maverick and Ice, using Tamsin and Petra, along with Sarah to offer a thin smoke screen to anyone just glancing past. His relationship with Natasha, and Jake seems surprised to learn that she’s known all of it for as long as she has. Mutters about her balancing skills and Bradley has no idea what he means by that.

            “Can I ask you a question?” Bradley asks, and Jake nods, waves his hand as if encouraging him to continue and he cannot believe how much he finds him so endearing and amazing.

            “Were you jealous?”

            “Which time?”

            “When you saw me with Tamsin and Petra. Were you jealous?”

            “Trying to stroke your ego there Rooster?”

            Bradley’s lips twitch, but he doesn’t let himself actually smile. He’s starting to realize that Jake uses his callsign when he’s getting defensive. Thing is, he’s pretty sure he’s just learnt a failsafe way of dismantling his walls as easy as breathing, and that’s admitting his own feelings.

            “No. Just wanted to let you know that I would have been, if our roles had been reversed. Fuck. I’m jealous of fucking Coyote some days…”

            “Yeah?” Jake asks, clearly surprised.

            “Yeah. Of course.”

            “You don’t have any reason to be jealous. Coyote is awful in the sack.”

            Bradley barks out a surprised laugh.

            “Is he?”

            “Fucked if I know, but… point stands. You don’t have to be jealous of him.”

            “I’m not jealous of the sex. Hypothetical or otherwise. It’s your close relationship with him. I want that with you.”

            “Well. It’s yours. If you want it.”

            “Yeah. I… I do want it.”

            “It’ll take a while.”

            “Years and years…” Bradley offers, confirms and the smile Jake gives him is small and hesitant, and he returns it, a little wider and brighter because it feels like a weight has lifted. They sit there, looking at each other, fingers just touching, brushing each other and it’s a sharp contrast to so many of their previous interactions. The conversation has left him tired, emotionally drained but also refreshed like he’s had a really good cleansing cry. Then Jake is shifting, moving closer and he holds his breath, watches as Jake kneels awkwardly on the sofa beside him, eyes meeting his.

            The kiss is soft, like spun sugar, delicate in its newness and just as sweet.

            “You want me to take you home? Or do you want to stay? Up to you,” Bradley says softly, and he’s quietly serious, runs gentle fingers down the side of Jake’s face, brushes hair back off his forehead. He’s going to be fine with whatever Jake chooses, whatever he wants; however, he wants to move them forward, his face is schooled into easy acceptance of giving Jake whatever he wants. Then Jake is shifting again, straddling his thighs and he moves a little to accommodate him, lets his hands rest on Jake’s legs, looks up at him and waits for an answer, tries not to get his hopes up.

            “I want to stay.”

            “Yeah?”

            “Take me to bed… please.”

            “Yeah?” Bradley asks again, needing to make sure, and his voice breaks on the question and Jake clearly thinks it’s funny, laughs into his chest, nodding his head.

            “Yeah.”

            He kisses Jake then, lets his hands settle on his hips, fingers reaching around to press into Jake’s ass, grinds them together as best he can and Jake is kissing him, fingers curling and tugging into his hair and he groans, wants Jake everywhere.        

            “Mission parameters?”

            “You’re such a massive dork…”

            “Yep. Guilty.”

            “Just… take me to bed. Then take me apart.”

            He’s not quite sure what Jake means by that, doesn’t want to stop and keep poking and prodding and asking questions. He’s familiar enough with Jake’s body at least to know what he likes and doesn’t like. He braces himself, wonders if this is going to end in hilarity, disaster or a trip to Urgent Care, but he stands, muscles straining as his fingers dig into Jake’s thighs and ass, holding him up. Jake squawking, arms gone tight around Bradley’s neck, and he’s swearing under his breath but he’s pretty sure Jake’s secretly pleased. And his bedroom is close.

            Jake isn’t light, though, and he grunts as he maneuvers around the furniture, distracted a little by the fact that Jake has decided sucking at his neck is a good idea. He pushes him against the wall, readjusts his hold a little so it’s more secure and Jake’s laugh is bright in his ears.

            “If you fucking drop me right now…”

            “We’re both going down before I drop you…” Bradley promises with a grin, because it’s maybe ten steps and he means it. He would rather fall to the floor with Jake in his arms than just drop him to the floor. Jake’s arms are tight around his neck as he takes the steps, and he doesn’t drop him onto the bed, but it’s a close thing and Jake seems to know it, if the amusement in his eyes is any judge.

            “You can carry me next time…” Bradley says wryly, lowering himself to lie as close to Jake as possible without simply lying directly on top of him like he wants to. Then Jake is pulling him, legs spreading to make room for him and Bradley doesn’t need more of an invitation than that, rolls and settles, lets his body blanket Jake and he looks down at him. Lets himself soak in the fact that Jake is here, in his bed, in his home.

            “Hi…”

            “Hi.”

            He grinds his hips a little, not hard, not fast, just… a little bit firmer than the pressure of where he’s resting, covers Jake’s mouth with his own, kisses and licks into his mouth, just sinks into the pleasure of the closeness, the way their bodies are moving against each other, hands exploring and plucking at clothes, fingers finding bare skin.

            “Fuck…”

            “This… okay?”

            “I’ll tell you if it’s not. Promise.”

            That makes him relax a bit, that Jake understands where he’s coming from and it gives him a little flare of promise that a relationship between them might not be quite as fraught with mines as it might have been otherwise.

            “Good. Thank you…”

            He shifts, sits up and separates them enough so they can strip each other’s clothes off, fingers gentle and smoothing over skin, kisses leaving invisible trails. He kisses his way down Jake’s body, still wonders if he’ll ever get used to the idea that Jake and him are… well. That there is actually a Jake and him. That Jake is giving them a chance together and he will do anything and everything to make it happen.

            Well. Nearly anything.

            “If I blow you can you still come if I fuck you?”

            “Oh you absolute asshole…”

            “What? We’re not that old…” Bradley says, not sure what he’s said to make Jake say that, to call him an asshole.

            “I wasn’t… yes. Yes. Please… yeah… that… that sounds perfect.”

            He licks and sucks and it’s something of a luxury, having Jake spread out in a bed, no time constraints and he realizes then why Jake was maybe calling him an asshole. It’s not the same as their first time, but it is very similar and he wants Jake come-drunk, warm and pliant beneath him. He slicks up his fingers a little, runs them over Jake’s hole as he blows him, sucks and licks while his fingers just circle and brush over, not pushing in, not yet. Jake said he wanted him to take him apart and Bradley can do that, knows how to do that. Hasn’t in a long time, but he hopes that Jake trusts him enough to let him take care of him, and not just with this.

            “Oh fuck… uh…shit… Bradley…”

            He sucks harder, feels Jake’s fingers curling in his hair carefully, the shifting in Jake’s hips as he tries to both push and press and stay still. He lets his jaw go slack, wants to drool and get Jake sloppy, wants to revel in the messiness and the fact that they have time, have each other. His own cock is hard, throbbing a steady tempo with his heart, blood hot. But he’s practiced, more experienced now, at ignoring and holding off and he feels single minded in his determination to take care of Jake first and foremost. He lets Jake’s cock hit the back of his throat a couple of times before he pulls off, kissing the head in sympathy as Jake whines at the loss of contact, of suction.

            “Jake… want you to fuck my throat… want everyone to know what I got up to with you tonight… think you can do that for me?”

            “Oh fuck…” Jake’s voice is barely an audible whisper, a broken sound edging toward a sob.

            “Soon…” Bradley promises.

            “Bradley…”

            He bites his bottom lip, but it does nothing to stop the smile he knows is on his face. Pleasure is bubbling through him and he settles back down to his task at hand, sucking Jake’s cock until he comes, tips over the edge into pleasure because Bradley is the one taking him there, step one in taking him apart. Jake’s fingers feel a little shaky in his hair and he groans as Jake shifts a little, his hips flexing and pressing his cock further into Bradley with restrained politeness. He doesn’t want that. He wants Jake mindless with pleasure.

            He reaches for Jake’s hand, the one resting on his head, curls his fingers around Jake’s and pulls his own hair and Bradley groans, repeats the movement and Jake is swearing under his breath and Bradley knows he’s got the message and lets his hand fall away. Jake’s fingers stay, tugging Bradley’s hair with an edge of desperation as his hips begin to jerk and Bradley lets his eyes glance up to Jake’s face. Their eyes meet and Jake’s eyes slam shut, like the sight of Bradley looking up at him is too much.

            “Oh fuck… you’re going to kill me…”

            Feeling a little perverse, he slows down, massages over Jake’s perineum, sucks each of his balls into his mouth carefully one after the other, drags his moustache up the length of Jake’s cock before sucking him back down again for a few drawn out seconds before beginning the process from the start. Jake is pleading with him, not quite begging to come, but getting there. The fifth or sixth time, Bradley’s lost count, Jake’s hand in his hair is tight, hiships jerking and twitching uncontrollably and he’s no longer making sounds that Bradley can recognize as actual words, although part of his name is making its way out of Jake’s lips, along with what he’s pretty sure is meant to be please.

            Jake’s body arches off the bed as he comes, and Bradley gags a little but he swallows and draws back, mouth and tongue gentler now, just holding Jake’s cock rather than trying to coax out an orgasm. Jake’s entire body is shaking, shuddering out its pleasure, his hand in Bradley’s hair now there, resting. He waits for Jake to either shift away or say something. Anything.

            “Fuck…”

            Yeah. That’ll do for a start.

            “You’re so fucking gorgeous…” Bradley says, and his voice is definitely rough and low. He starts peppering little kisses over the inside of Jake’s thigh, up over the jut of his pelvis, then over his stomach, murmuring more words as he kisses a path up Jake’s body, let’s his cock drag over the muscles of Jake’s legs and groans when Jake reaches and wraps his hand around his cock. “Only getting started in taking you apart…” Bradley says, and then he licks one of Jake’s nipples, can’t help but feel smug when Jake groans, his body shifting and pressing against him, seeking more of the touch and Bradley smiles as he licks over the over nipple, teases it a little with his teeth.

            Like he hoped, Jake has relaxed completely, his body warm and lax, and he gives in to the urge to kiss him, knows Jake doesn’t care about the lingering taste of come. He rubs against Jake’s body, grinds his cock against the flesh of Jake’s thigh despite Jake’s hand trying to give him an awkwardly angled handjob. He doesn’t need the added stimulation, already more than hard enough and he’s still got to prepare Jake for taking his cock. He grabs for the lube, has to scramble for a bit because he doesn’t want to look away from Jake.

            He moves his hand and presses in with a finger, takes his time, forces himself to be patient and build the anticipation in his own gut with the knowledge that he’s getting to give Jake pleasure. More pleasure. It’s that which helps him ignore the aching in his own cock, and he’s generous with the lube and stretching, isn’t going to ask how long it’s been but instead treat Jake exactly how he’s always wanted to treat him, with desire and reverence.

            “You good?”

            “You know it…” Jake says, but his words are slurred, legs spreading even further, his eyes fixed on Bradley. He rolls the condom on and slicks himself up, rubs the extra between Jake’s ass cheeks and bends down to kiss him again, lets himself just enjoy the intimacy of kissing and not needing to hurry it along. Jake’s hard again, his body shifting and chasing the friction Bradley’s body offers and he lets him grind and flex against him for a bit while they kiss, his own cock definitely hard and aching.

            “Come on… get your dick in me…”

            “So charming…” Bradley says, grinning and bending down to kiss him again, glad that the laughter and teasing has come back without even seeming to try. He shifts Jake’s legs, is already between them, rubbing and pressing the head of his cock against Jake’s hole.

            “I am the most charming… but I’m going to die of old age… hurry the fuuu– ”

            He presses and presses and presses, it’s hot tight all-encompassing driving him to pin-point focus as he holds himself fully sheathed in Jake’s body, hands shaking a little with the effort to not just fuck into him wildly.

            “You were saying?” he asks, but the playful bite sounds breathless to his own ears, and he shifts slightly and Jake clenches down and he groans, deep and guttural. “Jake… gotta move… please…”

            “Yeah… fuck yeah…”

            He takes that as implicit permission, pulls back slowly, halfway before pressing back in with a groan, his entire body shivering at the sensation. Jake’s low hum is promising and he repeats the movement, slow and steady, rocking into him. It’s a bit disorganized, holding Jake’s hips and legs and he pushes in, holds himself and grinds while also reaching for the pillows. He shoves them under Jake’s back and hip, and it’s a little awkward but they’re grinning at each other, and he feels light.

            Happy.

            He doesn’t want the feeling to end, doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to capture this feeling, of a first time without it being the first time, allowing himself to feel everything he does for Jake and trying to make Jake aware of it without saying anything. He will tell him, not right now, but soon enough. Jake’s fingers are digging into Bradley’s ass encouraging him on, breath warm and damp and he pants out Bradley’s name, mixed with expletives and delicious little sounds Bradley wants to hear more of. Hopefully for a long time.

            He comes with a punched out grunt, his mouth latched firmly onto Jake’s neck, the fingers of one hand clenched into Jake’s flank, the others gripping the sheet of the bed. It’s fine though, he’s pretty sure he’s going to have scratch marks down his back, Jake’s fingers and hands clinging to him even now. He kisses up Jake’s neck, along his jaw, licks into his mouth as he continues to ride out the lingering jolts of pleasure from his orgasm, his cock still hard as he thrusts a little languidly, grinding and circling his hips just right to press into Jake’s prostate. He pulls back a little, just enough to wrap his hand around Jake’s cock, to shift him a little so Jake can relax his legs and so he can jerk him off. If that’s what he wants.

            “What do you want Jake? Going to come for me like this? Or want me to finger you and suck you off again? Want to give you whatever you want. Want to give you everything…”

            Jake comes with a shudder, his ass clenching tight around Bradley’s cock and he lets out a low fuuuck as his body shivers with over sensitivity and he wonders what it is exactly that set Jake off. He looks forward to future investigation and he smiles as he places kisses everywhere he can reach with his mouth before he shifts, pulls out of Jake and kisses the little furrow in his brow, murmuring be right back. Jake’s fingers wrap tight around his wrist though and he stops, leans back down and runs his nose through the sweat damp hair around Jake’s ear.

            “Bradley…” whisper quiet.

            “Yeah baby…” Bradley whispers back and the endearment slips so easily from his mouth and he freezes for a second, wonders if Jake will mind. He remembers being unable to call him anything but baby. The little hiccupping sound Jake makes has Bradley concerned, worried that Jake’s crying… and fuck. He is. He kisses tears from Jake’s face, voice soft as he murmurs his apologies.

            “Shit Jake… sweetheart. I’m sorry…”

            “Just… don’t let go.”

            “Never again…”

            He doesn’t let go, shifts a little to reach for the box of tissues to clean up instead, but he doesn’t stop touching Jake, lets his fingers be gentle, lets himself press his lips wherever he wants. Like with the Bronco and the moustache he remembers the first time they fucked, how different Jake had been. A lot softer and trusting and Bradley wonders if he gets to get that back. Hell. He’ll work toward it for the rest of his life if he has to. Because Jake used to be come drunk and lazy after coming. That changed to terse abrupt departures and words, but right now Jake is in his arms, more alert but also far more relaxed and seems completely uninclined to move anywhere.

            And like their first time together he remembers their conversation afterwards, their frank and open words about what they liked and didn’t like. Both of them treating it like a debrief. No secrets between them. Fuck. Looking back no wonder it had fucked Jake up when he’d just pretended to not even know him when they’d started crossing paths professionally. Making their entire time together a secret that he couldn’t even share with Bradley.

            “We’ve… you’re… we’re definitely…”

            “Sexually compatible?” Bradley provides, and part of him relaxes even further, because this is the familiar ground they’re treading as well.

            “Mmm. Well. That and all the practice you’ve no doubt had…”

            Bradley’s eyebrows shoot up and he’s glad Jake can’t see him, because he’d accused Jake of being jealous, but he hadn’t seriously thought that he might be insecure about it. He can allay that fear or worry at least, and he makes Jake roll over so they’re facing each other, fuzzy in the dim light.

            “Most of my practice was a while ago now. I mean, I haven’t had sex with anyone but you this entire year, so…”

            “What?”

            “Jake… I’m not… when I was younger, yeah. But… not for several years now. You’ve been someone I always kept circling back to, and it probably wasn’t healthy. For either of us. But that was then. I don’t want anyone but you. Okay?”

            Jake is nodding quickly, lips tight, he’s swallowing like he’s holding back tears again and Bradley leans forward and kisses him, slow and thorough, lets his hands run all over Jake’s body and hopes he’s conveying the depth of what he’s feeling. He’s all in.

            “You know… talking about jealousy. You set a pretty unfair bar.”

            “What? What kind of bar?” Bradley asks, because that hadn’t been talking about jealously just now, although he supposes alluding to the past and all the people he has slept with might make Jake feel jealous.

            “Sexual expectations…”

            “Did I? When?”

            “The first time,” Jake mutters, sounding exasperated. “Kind of brutally unfair having you for an entire weekend when I was young, and then having to… experience so much shitty sex afterwards, knowing it could be so much better…”

            “Oh. I’m sorry. Should I have given you a shitty sexual experience?” Bradley asks with a laugh, leans is and bites playfully at the curve of Jake’s neck. He feels a flicker of possessiveness, of pride, that Jake has always compared the other people he’s had sex with to Bradley and found them lacking. Fuck. He’s never going to admit that aloud to anyone, although he suspects from the way Jake is looking at him his expression has given him away.

            “It’s why I sometimes had sex with you again. Because I was like, surely it can’t be as good as I remember it being. And then…”

            “I’d knock your socks off.”

            “And rip my heart to pieces in the process…”

            Bradley recoils, but he supposes it’s fair. They can’t ignore their very shaky and less-than-ideal past. All the times Jake has thrown acid-laden words his way and he knows that they were a coping technique, one he no doubt forced Jake to employ. Wonders if suggesting they get therapy together would be too much too soon. He wants… so much.

            “I’m sorry…”

            “You can spend the next ten or twenty years making it up to me… then we can figure out what we want to do.”

            Oh. He pulls back, tries to focus better in the half-light, wants to see Jake’s face better but all he can really see is the outline, but it’s enough.

            “Twenty years huh?”

            “Seems a good a start as any.”

            “Yeah… yeah it definitely is.”

            If Mav and Ice can figure out their relationship through DADT and marriages and children then he and Jake can surely figure it out as well.

…         …         …

            He pushes himself against Jake, lets his lips press into the curve of his neck.

            “Morning…”

            “Morning.”

            “You okay?”

            “Yeah. Just…” he shrugs then, face scrunching in the way Bradley has come to recognize as a little self-depreciating but inwardly annoyed with himself all at once, for doubting himself. It’s uniquely Jake and he suspects that not very many people get to see this side of him.

            “It’s a lot to have dumped on you in an evening and even more to process?”

            “Yeah.”

            “Anything I can do to help?”

            “You’re doing enough…”

            “Well… I can do more. I want to take you on dates, and have showers with you, and go and get haircuts, and go grocery shopping and fight over replacing the toilet paper and… everything. I want everything. Does that help?”

            Jake nods, quick and fast and Bradley lets himself cup Jake’s face in his hands and kisses him, slow and sweet. He’s spent years holding himself in check, has no reason to hold back now. Tries to put the way he’s feeling into actions, worried that if he speaks them out loud they’ll be too much for Jake. All at once after everything.

            “I want to take you dancing.”

            “Yeah? Line dancing?”

            “Yeah. That okay?”

            “Of course. I really enjoyed doing that with you last time…”

            The little smirk Jake gives him is softer and it fills him with warmth, a little more confident that they’ll be more than okay; that Jake feels comfortable enough to be soft with him, even after everything.

…         …         …

            Pete wakes up in pain, not a new experience, but still not one he thinks anyone likes. His back aches, and he knows he’s getting on in years, but the two ejections and crash landing haven’t exactly endeared his body to repeating any of it ever again. Then Ice’s hands are on him, large and warm and he’s pushing him back into the bed.

            “Where does it hurt the most?”

            “Uh. You don’t have to…”

            “Pete… let me. Please.”

            Pete lets out a sigh, and it morphs into a groan of relief as Ice’s hands press into the aching muscles around his spine, digging in and relieving some of the aching pressure that’s built up. He slumps a little bit more into the bed, feels Tom press a kiss to his shoulder and he wonders if he’s angling for sex. He’s not averse to the idea at all, would be more onboard if the pain wasn’t quite as distracting as it is. Although the longer Tom massages his back the more the pain slips away.

            “It’s not like I mind doing this. Not really. I don’t have anywhere I need to be…”

            “You’re a perverted old man…”

            “Mmm. I am. Can’t keep my hands off you. Even when our bodies are falling apart…”

            “At least they’re falling apart together.”

            “That’s almost poetic Mav…”

            “I should take up poetry.”

            “I’d love to read it.”

…         …         …

            He tries not to feel insecure about it, but when he hears Jake end the call with bye mom, love you his heart twists painfully. Jake hasn’t talked about his family at all. Bradley doesn’t know anything about them. He doesn’t know why Jake hasn’t mentioned them; if it’s some misplaced sense of guilt that his mom is alive and well, while Bradley’s mom is dead? Or is he embarrassed to be with Bradley? Or is it something else? He needs to know.

            “Talking to you mom huh?”

            “Yeah…” Jake says on an exhale, and he sounds tired.

            “Um. Everything okay?”

            “Yeah. Of course. Why wouldn’t it be?”

            He’s lying. He doesn’t know how he knows, but it’s visceral and immediate, the knowledge that not only is Jake lying, but he knows him well enough now to be able to spot it without even trying. Why he’s lying is a completely different matter.

            “Jake… please tell me?”

            “How old were you when you came out to your family?”

            “Uh… shit. I… I was still at high school,” Bradley laughs, hit with the sudden memory. “I told Mav I thought I was gay, and I knew then I wanted to go into the Navy and Mav was telling me that it’d be hard and I remember thinking to myself what would he know?”

            Jake looks at him in shock.

            “You didn’t know he was gay?”

            “No! He’d married my mom. Ice was married to Sarah. I was a very self-absorbed teenager dealing with my mom dying and… yeah. In hindsight I can’t believe I missed it all, but…” he shrugs then, because he’s trying to get Jake to talk. “Anyway. They were all great. Supportive. Loving.”

            “You’re lucky.”

            “Yeah. I know,” Bradley says quietly. “Can you tell me?”

            The look on Jake’s face hurts, and he knows he’s not the one causing it, wraps his arms around him and just holds him. Wants to say not to worry about it, but also feels that this is something, a part of Jake, that he really should know about going forward.

            “I was back from my first deployment. Had my wings and feeling very accomplished and grown up. Figured I’d be able to survive if they kicked me out. I had places I could go. I was an adult. But… uh… knew kicking me out was definitely on the cards.”

            Bradley doesn’t dare say anything, just leaves the space for Jake to talk, organize his thoughts, wraps his arms around him a bit tighter.

            “They didn’t exactly kick me out, but they did ask me to leave. Haven’t invited me home. They asked me not to tell anyone else in the family…”

            “Wait. What?” Bradley asks, confused. Haven’t invited Jake home? Since his first deployment? To not tell anyone else?

            “Oh, they don’t want to disown a son serving in the great US Navy, but no one can know he’s gay.”

            “Jake…”

            “It’s fine. It is what it is. I just… I usually volunteer to take deployments so they cover the holidays… I call home and talk to my mom every couple of weeks, but…”

            “Oh baby…”

            “If I even refer to it, they just… ignore it, talk over it, or hang up on me. It’s…”

            “Fuck. I’m sorry Jake.”

            “It’s fine Bradshaw. Not all of us can have an idyllic coming out story…”

            “I wish you wouldn’t do that.”

            “Do what?”

            “Make light of my own life like I had it easy.”

            “Looks pretty good to me from where I’m standing. Sitting. Whatever.”

            “Just… fuck. Jake,” he huffs out a breath of frustration. “It was… yeah okay. It is good. Now. And it’s definitely better than what you’ve got to deal with. But it’s not a competition. I’m… my dad died when I was three. I didn’t get it for like… two or three years, that he really wasn’t ever coming back. Then I spent most of my childhood freaking out that Mav wasn’t going to come back from every single deployment. It kind of fucked me up, and then, the person who had been stable in my life? She got cancer and died Jake. In under a year. Just… gone. And I was lucky, because I got to live with Ice and Sarah and see Tamsin and Petra grow up, and I was included in their family in every way. But I was… they weren’t my mom and dad.”

            Jake’s silent.

            “Do you think they would have been okay with you being gay?”

            “Uh. My mom and dad?”

            “Yeah.”

            Fuck. Given what Jake’s just shared this feels like taking a knife and twisting it, but he won’t lie.

            “I know they would have been, because my mom introduced Ice and Sarah. Married Mav. Slider, uh, Admiral Kerner, he told me that they did that because there had been rumors. Anyway… I know I had it good. I’m sorry your family don’t accept you and love you like they should. See every amazing part of you.”

            Jake hums under his breath and Bradley wonders what he’s thinking.

            “You’re pretty well adjusted despite everything.”

            “Oh,” Bradley snorts. “Trust me. I’m not. Or I wasn’t. Mav made me get counselling after my mom died and then… well. I went and got some more about five years ago.”

            “Yeah?”

            “Yeah. I felt like I kept making the same dumb mistakes and figured I needed to work on that so…” he looks at Jake, his stomach in knots because he knows Jake is one of the reasons he wanted to be better. Won’t quite share that with Jake quite yet, because he was only one of the reasons, not the sole reason. But being this open and honest is still a struggle.

            “Well we can’t both be fucked up.”

            “You’re not fucked up Jake,” Bradley murmurs, and Jake rolls his eyes. “And even if you were, doesn’t change anything.”

…         …         …

            Bradley is a nervous wreck.

            He’s not worried about Mav and Ice. They’ve met Jake. They both like Jake, even if he hadn’t saved them, Jake can really turn on the charm when he wants to. Ice already liked him before he saved both him and Maverick from being shot from the sky, and Mav likes the fact that he’s an excellent aviator and clearly cares about him; he is not going to ask which one Mav considers more important. It’s the other people he loves who he needs to introduce Jake to and have meet Jake in turn.

            Tamsin and Petra.

            Except Tamsin and Petra are used to spotting bullshit from miles away. Their moms and dads both passing on all their skills and Bradley should be better at it considering, because Melissa is queen, but he suspects she’s also used to patients maybe stretching the truth a little or lot depending. Tamsin and Petra though, they’ve been exposed to the worst and best of them their entire lives and he really wants them to like Jake. Wants Jake to like them, and he wonders if he’ll be a little irrationally jealous anyway, like how he feels about Coyote sometimes.

            Plus it’s only been a week, but it’s Tamsin’s birthday so she’s coming home for the weekend, along with Petra, and it’s not Thanksgiving, but it’s still a family gathering and he’s bringing… he’s bringing Jake. It feels important.

            “Calm the fuck down. What are you so worried about?”

            “I just… I really want them to like you. And for you to like them.”

            “I’m easy to like. They’ll love me. And I’ve already got something pretty major in common with them, so I’m not too worried about not having common ground…”

            Bradley frowns, tries to think of what it is Jake could be talking about.

            “Don’t hurt yourself there Bradshaw… I’m referring to the fact that they love you.”

            “You love me?” Bradley asks dumbly, all his worries over the last day or so about saying the same words and feeling like it would be too fast and scare Jake away. Instead Jake is looking at him like he’s an idiot. “What?”

            “You’re an idiot. Of course I love you…”

            “Oh. I love you too.”

            “I’m aware. You tend toward flashy gestures, or silent acts… I’m slowly becoming wise to your ways.”

            “I have ways do I?” Bradley asks, imminently pleased by the fact that Jake is apparently learning things about him that even he himself might not be privy to. He wonders what exactly he’s said or done to make Jake so sure, wants to keep doing it. He slides his arms around Jake’s waist, can’t stop grinning at the fact that they just casually told each other they loved each other.

            “You have very obvious tells once you know what to look for. And I’m looking.”

            “That’s good… I want you to look.”

            “Mmm. It’s no hardship when you’ve not got a bad side…”

            “I don’t huh?” Bradley asks with a grin, wrapping his arms tighter and tucking his head into the crook of Jake’s neck to place a soft kiss, grins when he feels Jake’s body shiver all over and kisses him again, lets his moustache drag over sensitive skin.

            “You know you don’t…” Jake says, and he sounds pleasingly breathless. Bradley wants to take him to bed and continue to make him sound like that, rolls his hips a little so Jake knows exactly what he’s thinking, but will say words as well, knows Jake will like hearing them.

            “Mmm. Neither do you. Every part of you is good.”

            “You’re so cheesy…” Jake mutters, rolling his eyes but he still looks pleased. Happy.

            “Oh eww… it’s like seeing the parentals…”

            He jumps a little at the new voice and he looks over to see Petra and Tamsin standing in the doorway watching them and he flushes a little, embarrassed. He doesn’t think they’ve ever seen him even kiss someone, because he just didn’t ever do that type of thing with Callum, and that’s the only previous boyfriend either Tamsin or Petra might remember. He forces himself to relax, to remind himself he has nothing to be embarrassed about. He’s in his own house with his boyfriend and these are his sisters.

            “Speak for yourself. They’re fine. You’re fine,” Tamsin repeats to them this time, and Bradley grins at her, draws in a deep calming breath and untangles himself from Jake to give them both hugs of hello. Then he steps back to Jake’s side and wraps an arm around his waist again. Doesn’t want him to feel like he’s facing the three of them like some form of interrogation squad or weird interview panel.

            “Tamsin, Petra, this is Jake Seresin. Jake, these are my sisters, Tamsin and Petra Kazansky.”

            “You know, I’m thinking of changing my last name to Mitchell…”

            Bradley is pretty sure that’s bullshit, because Petra is a shit stirrer. Of course, Jake’s eyes have gone wide as he looks at Petra, he quickly looks at Bradley, an eyebrow raised and he shrugs helplessly. It’s obvious if you’re looking, and Jake has all the pieces, even if Bradley hasn’t implicitly spelled it out to him the Maverick is Petra’s biological father.

            “I won’t though. Dad would be all sad about it. So. You’re the boyfriend.”

            “Yep, nice to meet you.”

            “Hmm. You know he snores right?”

            Bradley opens his mouth to object, wonders where the hell this conversation is even going. They’re not meant to gang up on him… oh. Wait. Maybe that might help a little.

            “He doesn’t if he’s tired enough…” Jake says, expression deadpan and Bradley flushes, red-hot and immediate at the implication. Tamsin is laughing and he supposes Jake should start as he intends to go on, but a little of the harder tougher shell is there, he recognizes the layer for what it is now; Jake protecting his heart.

            “Oh ew… gross. I do not need to think about you two going at it. What do you know about cars?”

            “I know your brother is driving a better car now than ten years ago…”

            “That’s a matter of opinion. An incorrect opinion.”

            “What do you mean? I’m the one that told him he needed to get himself a Bronco…”

            “Are you now?”

            And they’re off, talking about cars and racing and Bradley had no idea Jake was even into cars that much, but Petra seems to be delighted to finally have someone new to talk to, and he has no idea if Jake’s making his opinions be the opposite of hers just to be ornery or whether it’s what he truly believes, but he’s grinning and then following Petra out to the Bronco and he feels something settle further inside him. They’re going to get on even better than he had hoped.

…         …         …

            Bradley doesn’t ask for favors. Doesn’t ask for much. Has never asked him to use his name or rank for anything to benefit him; in fact has gone out of his way to ensure he never received preferential treatment. But he has asked for this, and Pete had agreed immediately. He’s not even going to have to do paper work. Easiest favor ever. The Dagger Squad have been trying to make Hangman’s new nickname stick, give him a new callsign. Pete was there on the carrier, he heard what Bradley had said, what he’d called Hangman while he was woozy with pain and shock.

            Angel.

            They think it’s funny. He supposes it might be, if they hadn’t been so close to death. He can look back now and know that they got lucky over and over and over. Having Hangman be called Angel makes a joke of the matter though, one he knows neither he nor Bradley are ready to accept. He doesn’t know how Hangman feels about it. Some of them are maybe joking about it to deal with the pressure, but he also can’t let their coping technique impact the mental health of others.

            He also suspects Bradley doesn’t know or remember why they started calling Hangman Angel, but everyone has noted that Hangman doesn’t particularly like it, which might be why some of them are keeping at it. So he knows Bradley isn’t asking himself, but rather because he wants to make Hangman happy. Pete is pretty sure being reminded of the person you love nearly dying every time someone uses your callsign would be difficult. Along with the fact that Bradley could never call him angel as an endearment. That’s what he had realized when he’d heard the Dagger squadron members using it a couple of times. Bradley uses nicknames and pet names easily, making them up on the fly. He’s already heard him call Seresin baby and he’d quickly turned his head to hide his surprise. Pleased surprise, but still.

            So he’s going to let them know in no uncertain terms that Hangman’s callsign will not be changing.

            “Aviators… please take a seat.” Bradley and Hangman are notably absent, but they’re comfortable enough with him that they don’t hurry to obey, clearly feeling the more relaxed vibe he was aiming for. “Now, this is not a formal request, however I do want you to take what I am about to say to you seriously –”

            There’s a cough and he looks up to the open door to see Ice standing there, just out of sight of everyone else. He’s dressed in his service khakis, which is odd. He hates those, but he looks fierce and impressive and Pete lets his eyes wander a bit before Ice coughs again, sharper, and gives him a look coupled with an eyeroll. Oh. Oh fuck. Yeah. Having Ice deliver the request, despite it being an informal one, adds a significant weight to it.

            “Ah…” he looks between his husband and the Daggers. “Attention,” he states, and there’s some grumbling considering he just told them they could sit however when Ice steps forward the grumbling immediately stops and they’re all standing at attention. Natasha knows of course, and maybe Machado now, but everyone is looking a little unnerved.

            “You can sit down,” Ice says, and Pete supposes he doesn’t need to introduce him. They all know who he is. “I’m just here to inform you that Lieutenant Seresin will not be getting a new call sign. Am I understood?”

            There is a chorus of yes sirs and agreement and Pete is pretty sure this is overkill, but he supposes when Bradley asks for something they’re going to ensure it happens.

…         …         …

            Tom knows Bradley is nervous, despite both his and Pete’s reassurances that everything will be fine. For some reason Bradley seems to think that Melissa and Sarah are the harder nuts to crack, while he and Pete are both of the opinion that it’s Tamsin and Petra’s far more scathing assessments which are likely to carry more weight. However Tamsin and Petra both report back that they like Jake, which is reassuring. Even if Petra had had some scathing things to say about his vehicle preference. He hasn’t yet had an opportunity to see them all interact, and while he knows travelling two weekends in a row is exhausting, Tamsin and Petra are both still young and seem more than happy to come home for birthdays and Thanksgiving.

            Melissa and Sarah are completely charmed by Seresin, who has said charm dialed all the way up. Bradley clearly has to stop himself from laughing out loud when Petra calls Jake a suck up under her breath, because he just turns, waggles his eyebrows in Bradley’s direction suggestively and Petra is groaning. It makes his heart feel full, all his kids at the table for dinner, along with his closest friends and everyone happy. It’s good.

            “Jake! Come have a look at the photo albums…” Tamsin says as soon as they’ve finished eating. Tom knows a ploy to get out of washing up when he sees one, hides his smile around his mug of tea, catches Sarah’s smile across the room. Seresin seems more than willing to look through the family photo albums, and he’s not quite relaxed around Tom, he’s definitely getting on well with both Tamsin and Petra. Bradley groans and mutters about making himself useful doing the dishes and Tom follows him through to the kitchen along with Petra.

            “I like him. He’s good for you.”

            “Yeah. He is. And I love him so… I’m glad you like him because it would have made future family dinners awkward as fuck.”

            “What’s his family like?” Tom asks, curious.

            “Uh… not as accepting as ours.”

            “Oh shit. Really?” Petra asks, turning with soapy hands Tom has to duck out of the way of.

            “Yeah. He still talks to them. But… uh. He doesn’t visit. Don’t expect to meet them at our wedding or anything.”

            “Are you getting married?” Petra asks, but Tom is pretty sure his eardrums are ringing along with Bradley’s.

            “Not yet we’re not… Jesus. Shh! I haven’t asked him. Fucks sake Pet… we only just sorted our shit out…”

            “But you’re… thinking about it?” Petra asks, eyes wide and incredulous; she’s whispering now but Tom is pretty sure that that particular horse has bolted and no doubt dancing the tango in a field if Seresin and everyone else didn’t somehow hear her previous yelling.

            “If it’s not him it sure as hell isn’t going to be anyone else for me.”

            “That’s kind of sweet. Romantic.”

            “Well, I’m coming up on forty. Had to sort my shit out at some point right?”

            “Ugh. You’re so old…”

            Bradley snorts and Tom pulls a face, shaking his head and leaving them to it. If anyone asks, he’s too old to wash dishes by hand.

…         …         …

            Seeing Bradley with Seresin settles something inside him. That Bradley isn’t going to live a life surrounded by only family.

            “Does he make you happy?”

            “He drives me completely fucking insane. But… yeah. I’m really happy. Just… yeah. It’s really good.”

            “I’m glad. You seem happier.”

            “I was already happy Mav…”

            “I know, I said happier…”

            Bradley rolls his eyes but heads over to where Jake is sitting with Petra. Bradley has always reminded him of Nick, the moustache adding to the illusion when he decided to keep it nearly a decade ago. But he’s never seen Bradley in love before and it reminds him of the look on Goose’s face every time he saw Carole, or talked about her, or thought about her. He’d never seen that particular look on Bradley’s face until he watched him look at Jake Seresin.

            “You see it too?” Ice asks, coming to stand beside him.

            “Yeah. It’s a good look on him.”

            “Mmm. I have to agree. Come on, we’re holding up the gift giving.”

            Pete lets himself be led away, and they’re celebrating their family holidays, a combination of Christmas and Hanukkah with it falling over Christmas this year. Melissa is covering Christmas Day so they can all celebrate together today, the 30th. He knows better to ask Jake what his family are doing, simply includes him in all of their little family traditions and pretends not to notice the shine of tears when Tamsin had pointed out the newly added stocking to the hearth bearing Jake’s name.

2020

            "Dude, I'm happy for you both... really I am. I just... I want you to know when Jake loves, he loves deep and long. Hell, I thought he'd never get over the guy he fell in love with back in 2009...."

            Bradley cough-splutters on his drink.

            “Wait. A guy from 2009?”

            “Yeah. What? Shit. Has he not told you about him?”

            “Um…” Bradley starts and he has a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach. “Not in so many words.”

            “Fuck. I didn’t mean to make trouble. I just… I assumed you guys would have talked about shit like that.”

            “Coyote, Javy. It’s fine. I know about the guy. If he ever comes back you have my full permission to knock him over the head and bury the body. Okay?”

            “Uh… okay. Yeah. Sure. Weird… you know him?”

            “Yeah, we’re acquainted,” Bradley mutters with a wry grin as he watches Jake across the Hard Deck. Jake’s personality hasn’t changed, he’s still arrogant and cocky, confident in his innate skills. His tongue can still be on the sharp side, and he doesn’t suffer incompetence or fools, however he seems to laugh easier. But when they’re alone all of Jake’s armor just dissolves away to nothing as long as he’s careful not to put him on the defensive. They’re still figuring things out but it’s been good. Better than good.

            “God. Go hang out with you man. Think they can see your heart eyes from space,” Javy says, shoving at him and Bradley grins, doesn’t need to be told twice. He strides across the bar and presses himself up against Jake’s back, hooking his chin over his shoulder where he stands watching Phoenix and Bob play pool.

            “Jake… baby… princess…”

            “What have you done?”

            Bradley can’t help but laugh against Jake’s neck, the fact he knows him so well. Phoenix is making gagging sounds and he and Jake both give her the finger which just makes her laugh and give it back.

            “I haven’t done anything wrong. Well. Not recently.”

            “Okay…” Jake says, and the word is drawn out, drawling and suspicious and Bradley can’t help but laugh again.

            “Just… I already apologized but I was made to realize just how much I fucked up. So I’ll just… keep being grateful every day that you forgave me for being an idiot.”

            “Uh. What?”

            “Just… something Javy said.”

            “What did he say?” Jake asks, and he’s getting stiff in Bradley’s arms, even more suspicious and Bradley shakes his head, angles down to capture Jake’s mouth with his own and kisses him until he relaxes, lets his body slump and cover him.

            “Javy just… he told me… about this guy… a guy you were really hung up on. How he really fucked you over.”

            “Oh…”

            “Yeah…” Bradley breathes. “Told him if he ever turned up again I’d help him bury his body…”

            “Yeah?”

            “Definitely. You have to try knock some sense into him first of course.”

            “God you’re an idiot.”

            “Less of an idiot now than I was ten years ago…”

            “Aren’t we all?”

…         …         …

            He finds Tamsin in the garage with the punching bag and he wonders if he should even ask. She’s got tear tracks down her face, but she’s not currently crying; she clearly didn’t think she needed to go for waterproof mascara this morning. He walks a wide circle so she can see him, doesn’t want to startle her and get a punch to the nose. When she sees him she plucks her ear pod out.

            “Hey papa…”

            “Hey. Didn’t expect you here. Uh. You want to talk about it?”

            “No. Yes. Maybe.”

            Pete nods, wonders if he should call in reinforcements. He’s never been good with crying, although he’d like to think he’s gotten better. Matured. He’s just worried he won’t know what to say to make things right. He will always try, but sometimes he worries that he’s making things worse.

            “Why are men idiots?” Tamsin bursts out, and thank fuck, that’s an easy question at least.

            “Oh, it’s years of evolution.”

            That makes her giggle-snort and he feels a welling up of pride that even through whatever she’s dealing with he’s made her laugh.

            “Which one in particular are we talking about? Or is it just… men in general?”

            “Ross.”

            Ah. The boyfriend. He probably should have guessed. Although Ross hasn’t ever been a problem before. He’s been around for years.

            “Oh. Do I need to provide an alibi?”

            Again there’s another laugh and Pete leans against the workbench.

            “Dad can provide an alibi for both of us if it comes to that, you and Bradley can help me bury the body…”

            “And what’s Petra doing in all this?”

            “Oh, she’d probably be the one to actually kill him.”

            “That bad?”

            “No,” Tamsin says with a loud sigh and Pete just nods slowly, because he’ll decide for himself.

            “He’s just… he dropped out. Decided he didn’t want to study engineering after all and now he’s just… bumming around.”

            “Okay… maybe he’s taking a while to figure his life out?”

            “He dropped out six months ago. He’s been living with me, but he just… sits around and smokes all day and I hate the smell. He isn’t doing anything…”

            “Is he maybe… depressed?” Pete suggests, trying to be even headed. For all he knows they could get back together. And Ross is, was, one of the nicer ones.

            “I don’t care if he is. Depressed or not I deserve a guy who won’t –”

            “Who won’t what?” Pete asks, wondering exactly how that sentence is meant to finish. His brain is offering up several possibilities and none of them are pretty. Shit. Maybe Ice will need to have an alibi ready. Not for murder, but maybe assault. Then again Tom would be right beside him.

            “Won’t steal and cheat.”

            “Hmm. Enough that you want to make a report to the police?”

            “No. I kicked him out, went to my landlord and asked to change the locks and deactivate my spare security fob just incase. Then went to campus security and asked them to keep an eye out for him. Just said he might loiter around and make a nuisance of himself. I just… I wasted three years.”

            “Oh. Oh sweetheart I’m sorry…”

            That seems to set off the tears, and he just opens his arms and hugs her, lets her cry and pats her on the back as she mutters about assholes and time wasters and he lets his mind wander a little, what he can do that would maybe make her feel a little better when he realizes that there is maybe something.

            “Just… I know you don’t like violence, but… give me a couple of minutes okay?”

            She wipes at her eyes and gives him a nod and he races off to Ice’s office, finds a photo of the offending Ross and quickly prints out two copies, before returning to the garage with them. He uses electrical tape to stick one copy to the punch bag, and then, to the newly acquired dart board he sticks the other.

            “There. No alibi required. And can I just say, if you want to talk to someone who can really commiserate about men being idiots, you should really talk to your dad. He’s had years of experience.”

            That really has her laughing and Pete grins.

…         …         …

            He doesn’t say the words very often. Not first. Struggles to say them to people who aren’t his family, wonders if he should tell Jake that that’s the case or whether he already knows. No. He won’t assume Jake knows anything. He’s said them before, repeats them effortlessly when Jake tells him first, easy as breathing. But he wants Jake to know. To be sure.

            “I love you Jake…”

            The smile on Jake’s face takes his breath away, wide and bright and the words are returned to him easily and he hopes his answering smile makes Jake feel the same way he does right now.

            “I love you too.”

…         …         …

            Fucking global pandemic.

            What the actual fuck is his life now.

            Everyone’s deployments are extended if they’re at sea, and he’s very fucking glad that the entire Dagger Squad are stationed together in North Island and their orders remain the same. Training, studying, simulations, flying, more training. It’s all still the same except not. The roads are emptier, shops closed, hospitals busier and Melissa and Sarah stop visiting. Tamsin and Petra both come home to finish their semester of study remotely, but Melissa refuses to let them stay with her and Sarah, insisting that they take her seriously.

            So they do. It’s an unusual way of living, and the bubble they create is odd. Tamsin and Petra bouncing between his place, and then staying with Ice and Mav. The fact that there is Harley, Ducati and Ceccato is a bigger drawcard. That and Mav drags Ice away to the hangar every other weekend under the guise of doing maintenance. He’s pretty sure that’s code for alone time but he’s not going to probe. Ice sends pictures of them flying and yeah, that’s nice for them.

            They’re asked to accommodate other officers in their homes if they can, so he invites Bob to join them, after Natasha and Coyote inform him that they’re going to bunk in together. That raises a few eyebrows, but he and Jake wisely both keep their mouths shut on the matter. It all happens so fast that he doesn’t really have time to tell Bob much of anything. He lets Tamsin and Petra know he’s going to have someone staying so they don’t take Bob out when they see him, but he’s reclined back on the sofa, feet in Jake’s lap when Bob appears in the doorway to the living room in his sleep clothes, eyes wide.

            “Rooster! Bradley! There’s a… there’s a woman in your kitchen.”

            “Blonde or brunette?” Bradley asks, a little distracted because Jake is drawing something on his ankle. He thinks it’s the outline of a dick but he’s not sure, trying to mentally visualize the image.

            “Uh… blonde? Does…”

            “That’s Tamsin. His sister. She must have come around late. Hair color wouldn’t have mattered. He’s got two sisters…”

            “Oh shit. Yeah. Sorry Bob. Come let me do a proper introduction.”

            Tamsin is standing and staring at the coffee maker as if willing it to go faster, and he wonders if she knows he’s set it up to make a large pot now, that she might be waiting a while. He goes over and gives her a hug and presses a kiss to the top of her head, because she’s all sleepy and grumpy, hair in a messy plait down her back and wearing her most comfortable sweatpants and t-shirt.

            “Tam, this is my friend Bob. Bob, this is my sister Tamsin. Her and our other sister Petra are taking turns spending time here…”

            “Robert. My name’s Robert… Bob is my callsign.”

            Bradley blinks, not expecting the correction at all.

            “Oh. Sorry. Robert Floyd. Callsign Bob.”

            “Nice to meet you Robert,” Tamsin says, and she’s reaching out to shake Bob’s hand, smiling politely, although her smile turns more grateful when Jake shoves his half-full cup of coffee into her hands as he enters the kitchen as well. It sounds weird to hear Bob called Robert.

            “Nice to meet you too. I didn’t realize Rooster had sisters.”

            “Uh… shit. Yeah. Sorry. I forgot to kind of tell you about my family…”

            Jake snorts and Bradley rolls his eyes, pokes out his tongue which just makes Jake grin at him.

            “I love our family. Our parents. Really. I do. I know how lucky I am to be so wanted, loved and supported. But seriously, if I have to deal with Papa’s hovering for another hour I’m going to snap.”

            Bradley snorts, because they’d stayed home this weekend rather than going to the hangar, and the shelter in place order is making Mav a little stir-crazy and making it everyone else’s problem. Hopefully Ice will take him out to the hangar so he can fly.

            “You’re, uh. Dads?” Bob asks, looking between Bradley and Tamsin, and Jake is wearing a shit-eating grin, clearly entertained and Bradley groans.

            “Shit. Knew I forgot to tell you. Sorry, with the whole… lockdown thing. Admiral Kazansky is –”

            “My dad.”

            “And Mav is her –”

            “Papa.”

            “Are you going to let me finish my own –”

            “Sandwiches!” Tamsin singsongs and Bradley groans and Bob looks amused.

            “So it’s not just me and Jake in our bubble. You’ll actually get a fair amount of choice. There’s us here, and then Mav and Ice at their place. Tamsin and Petra switching between the two. So… seven of us between two houses. And the base.”

            “Oh. That’s… that’s really good. Uh. Is there… do you have a mom?”

            “Of course. I have two of them as well. Mom and Mama. Sarah and Melissa. Mom used to be married to Dad, but it was all, like, a cover story. Pretty romantic really…”

            Bob is blinking and Bradley exchanges a look with Jake, because he’s glad Tamsin somehow thinks that Ice having to hide his feelings and emotions to Mav by marrying and having kids with a woman is somehow romantic… Ugh. He guesses they’re pretty extreme lengths, and Tamsin and Petra wouldn’t exist otherwise. But still. The coffee has finished and Jake pours himself a new mug, topping up Tamsin’s and then silently asking Bradley if he wants more and he shakes his head, unable to hide his smile though with the realization that they’re silently communicating in a way he’s used to seeing between Sarah and Melissa as well as Mav and Ice.

…         …         …

            Tom is glad to be retired. Because he has Zoom calls with his replacement and listens to how he has to deal with everything and is so infinitely glad that it’s no longer any of his concern. A global pandemic was never something he thought he’d have to manage, and he’s glad it’s not officially his problem. He looks up to see Seresin standing in the doorway to his study and he waves him in.

            “Sir…”

            “You can just call me Tom. I’m retired. Well. Mostly. It’s in process…”

            “Uh. Sorry. I call my own father sir…”

            “Oh,” Tom says, surprised. Not only is it the first time Jake has mentioned his family, but the idea of any of his children calling him sir makes him feel uncomfortable. Even Bradley only ever did so when there were other people around and they were both in uniform.

            “Was there something I could help you with?”

            “I just… sorry. Do you remember when we first met?”

            Tom leans back and nods.

            “2011. On board the Carl Vinson. We had dinner. I believe we all had steak because I was eating with you all.”

            “You had dinner with everyone who was in the class of 2010. I just… I wondered if you had any particular reason for that sir.”

            Smart boy Tom thinks to himself, and he nods again, waves a finger at the chair opposite his desk and Jake obligingly sits.

            “You’re wondering if it was a coincidence,” Tom states, and Seresin is nodding. “You’re right to question it, because no, it wasn’t a coincidence at all.”

            “So Bradley had told you about me?”

            “Not you specifically, no. We had a conversation around the matter, DADT, and…” Tom frowns then, tries and remembers what advice he had given Bradley. “I had my suspicions…”

            “Oh.”

            “Never did anything about them of course. Didn’t need to once DADT was repealed. However observation skills and following your gut are… useful. As is keeping meticulous and coded notes of everything you learn through the grapevine.”

            “Notes sir?”

            “Mmm. I have dozens of notebooks. They’d be quite damning if they fell into the wrong hands. If they figured out my code anyway. I believe Aubrey may have gotten close before deciding she’d rather not know.”

            “Who is Aubrey?”

            “My assistant. Ex assistant now I suppose. Invaluable. Would you like to learn it?”

            “Learn… your code?”

            “Yes. I think you would become quite savage in your desire to protect those you love.”

            Tom knows he’s judged the man correctly and he pulls out one of his notebooks, the one which actually details his thoughts on figuring out who Bradley’s potential ill advised hookup had been and knows back then he never imagined he’d be considering the man as his future son-in-law, however he suspects it’s only a matter of time.

            Sure enough Tom finds he enjoys Jake’s company more than he thought he would. It’s not quite as easy as it is with Bradley, or Tamsin or Petra, but Jake is easy going and respectful, and not just to Tom, but to Sarah and Melissa. Not that they’re seeing much of either of them at the moment, Melissa insisting on them staying away from her with her working in the hospital and at such a higher-level risk of exposure with her work. But he’s glad of the opportunity to get to know Seresin better.

…         …         …

            He and Jake are both promoted to Lieutenant Commander and he wonders just how much chatter is happening behind closed doors. Because yes, Ice might be retired now, however that doesn’t stop him getting phone calls, or consulted with big wide sweeping things. Bradley isn’t stupid. He knows Jake and Ice have developed some type of mentor-mentee relationship because Jake has the drive to try and prove himself. Bradley is finding himself more and more content with the smaller things now that he has Jake.

            He’s not surprised at all when Natasha and Javy announce that they’re together and finally giving it a go. They both give him significant looks and he wonders if Jake is getting the same looks. It’s definitely something they’ve talked about, something that they want for their future together. Then Natasha is asking Tamsin and Petra to be her bridesmaids and Bradley doesn’t have time to think about that, he’s too worried about his future hearing loss.

2021

            Bradley isn’t even thinking about it when he sees it. A ring in a shop window and his heart just… skips. He wants to buy it. Needs to buy it. Wants to see it on Jake’s finger and have everyone know that he’s taken, that he’s Bradley’s. He doesn’t think about it, just walks in, buys it and walks out, the weight of it in his pocket making him feel jittery with nerves. Don’t think, just do. Fucking Mav. Fucking Natasha making him think about it even more. He doesn’t head home, instead goes to Ice and Mav’s, nerves vibrating so much he can almost hear them jangling in his head. He lets himself in and goes and sits at the table closest to the kitchen and just stares at the ring he just bought.

            “Uh… if that’s an engagement ring I’m sorry to disappoint. I’m a married man…”

            “Fuck off Mav, you know it’s not for you.”

            “You want to propose to him?”

            “I… yes. I mean. I know it’s not been that long. But also…”

            “It’s been nearly two years. That’s plenty long enough.”

            “You think so?”

            “Yes. That man’s world begins and ends with you. I know how he feels because I feel the same way about Ice.”

…         …         …

            “You ever think about having kids?” Jake asks, and he sort of thought Jake had fallen asleep already.

            “Um. I love kids… I honestly haven’t thought about having them though. It’s not like we’d accidentally stumble into having them…” Jake huffs at that, and Bradley can’t tell in the dark if he’s amused or annoyed. “I would love to raise a family with you Jake, if that was something you wanted. It’s… it’s not a deal breaker for me either way. We have kids, great. We don’t have kids, still great.”

            “We’d make very cute babies…”

            “Yeah we would,” Bradley agrees, and the image of a baby with Jake’s eyes and blonde curls lights up in his brain, Jake lying there with a baby sleeping on his chest and oh fuck, maybe he’s not quite as on the fence as he thought.

            “How about we get married first…”

            “How very traditional of you Bradshaw.”

            “I’ll show you traditional,” Bradley mutters with a laugh and he blows a raspberry on Jake’s stomach, making them both laugh.

            “What? You going to knock me up and force a shotgun wedding?”

            “You want me to try?” Bradley challenges and Jake’s gaze goes dark.

            “Always want you to try darlin’…”

2022

            Tom isn’t sure what’s wrong, but Jake is pacing back and forth. Harley has given up trying to follow, has simply slumped down and is watching with his eyes. Tom would make a joke about wearing a track in the carpet but Jake is actually wringing his hands. It’s very out of character and he’d be worried if he didn’t already have a slight suspicion about what it might be about.

            “What’s wrong Seresin?”

            “When will Mav be home?”

            “Did you want to call him?”

            “No. No it’s fine. I just… I’ll wait.”

            “Did you need to speak to me?” Tom asks, because he’d been under that impression, but is now a little confused.

            “I, uh, want to talk to both of you…”

            Bingo.

            He hides his smile as best he can, glad then that he hears Mav’s bike in the drive, the garage door opening and closing.

…         …         …

            “Ice! Jake!”

            “In here!”

            “Hey…” Pete greets, looks around for Bradley. Separating Jake and Bradley is something he’d maybe count as a sign of the apocalypse, and he glances at Jake, ready to ask where his other half is when he notices Jake looks decidedly pale, maybe a little green.

            “Everything okay? You look like you’re about to be sick… Is Bradley okay?”

            “He’s fine. I just… uh. I needed to ask you both something. I, uh, already asked the girls…”

            “Smart move…” Ice says quietly, looking amused and Pete frowns.

            “Asked them what?”

            “I want to ask Bradley to marry me…”

            “But isn’t Bradley…”

            Tom starts coughing loudly and he’s flailing out, accidentally kicking him and Ice doesn’t even apologize. Pete glares at him only to find Ice staring at him wide-eyed.

            Oh shit.

            He understands the kick to the leg now.

            “Sorry Jake. You were saying?”

            Jake’s eyes are narrowed, glancing between the two of them; he’s been a part of their family for well over two years now, marrying Bradley will simply be a formality. However Jake also knows them all much better, knows when they’re hiding something, or trying to bullshit him. He’s definitely become wise to their ways and it’s been pretty great including Jake in their family. He pulls Jake into a tight hug, tells him to go right ahead and ask Bradley and then Ice does the same and Jake finally looks less like he’s going to throw up.

…         …         …

            Bradley hasn’t planned anything big or romantic, although he guesses it’ll become romantic with retellings and nostalgia. But a walk along the beach, just the two of them, peaceful and quiet. He doesn’t even need to bribe Jake to leave the house to go out. They walk hand in hand and watch the sun creep closer and closer to the horizon, turning the sky pink and orange. He stops and turns, takes in Jake’s profile, bathed in the pain-orange glow of the sun and he wants to remember this moment forever.

            “Jake…”

            “Mmm… yeah?” Jake murmurs, finally turning to look at him and he smiles, steps in close, whispers the question he wants to ask against Jake’s cheek.

            “Will you marry me?”

            Jake pulls back to gape and stare at him, looking shocked. Like they haven’t talked about one day getting married.

            “Jake? Baby?”

            “You… but… I…”

            “How are you surprised by this? We’ve talked about getting married…”

            “Yes! But I asked Mav and Ice, and Tamsin and Petra!”

            “Oh… oh that’s sweet of you.”

            Honestly he’s surprised they all managed to keep it quiet from him.

            “But… you…”

            “You want me to take it back so you can ask me instead?” Bradley asks, biting his lip so he doesn’t burst into laughter.

            “No! You can’t take it back. But… yes. Yes I’ll marry you. Oh my god you fucking asshole…”

            “Yeah, there’s the Jake I know and love…”

            “Put your damn ring on my finger Bradshaw…”

            He slips the ring onto Jake’s ring finger, then brings it up to his mouth to press a kiss to where it now sits.

            “Love you.”

            “Yeah. Love you too. Can’t believe you beat me,” Jake grumbles and Bradley silences him with a kiss.

2023

            Because Jake thinks he’s funny he insists on them getting married on Bradley’s 40th birthday. The reasons he lists off are annoyingly logical, but Bradley knows it’s also because it means every year from now on Jake’s going to be able to say Bradley’s birthday present is going to be staying married to him. He can imagine it all too easily and it just makes him smile. Jake totally steals Petra to be his groom’s woman, along with Javy, leaving him with Natasha and Tamsin to stand up with him and he gets dragged along for massages and manicures, sends photos to Jake telling him he’s missing out, only to find out that the others are doing exactly the same thing.

            The ceremony is short, and it’s only about fifty people all up, and no-one mentions the lack of Jake’s family once. He suspects Javy has gone around and discreetly let everyone know the situation. He knows Jake tried to tell his mom. He also knows that she hung up on him and then didn’t answer his calls for five weeks. He doesn’t want to tell Jake what to do, but some days he really wishes he could. He’s standing on the side watching Ice dance with Tamsin and Mav with Petra when Jake leans into his side and presses a drink into his hand.

            “I figured it out���”

            “What?”

            “Your threesome. It was with Phoenix’s cousin and his husband.”

            “Jesus Jake, shh!”

            “Oh shit. She doesn’t know?”

            “No! Why would I fucking tell her that? I didn’t tell you! How did you figure it out?”

            “Oh. Patrick came over and congratulated me, and the way he kind of wiggled his eyebrows and then winked at me made me think he might have first-hand knowledge of exactly what I was locking down…”

            “Oh my god…”

            “I mean. They’re hot. And nice.”

            “Yeah. They are… but…”

            “Oh, you’re far too possessive to let anyone else into our bedroom huh?”

            “I… yeah. Sorry.”

            “Oh. Don’t apologize. I like it.”

            “Yeah, I know you do.”

            “Mmm. Come on. Dance with me.”

…         …         …

            “Huh. Can’t really call you Seresin anymore,” Tom muses and Jake grins.

            “No sir, you’ll have to start calling me Jake.”

            “When you start calling me Tom. Or Ice.”

            “Deal. Who do you think is going to be weirded out the most?”

            “Hmm. Tough call. But my money’s on Mav.”

…         …         …

            The Dagger Squad are officially reassigned; however he and Jake are sent to Fallon together, along with Natasha, Javy, Rueben and Mikey. The others are sent to Corpus and given that Tamsin is based in Houston with NASA doing something with her software engineering degree he lets her know that the rest of the Dagger will be in her neck of the woods. She’s coming up 27 and he’d be a little intimidated by her if she wasn’t also his kid sister. She has all of Ice’s confidence and ability to command attention and he knows she’s going to go places. Petra is also in Texas, although she’s working on the mechanics of racecars and driving them. With both there he and Jake take a long weekend and head to Corpus next time they have leave.

            It’s not the Hard Deck, but it’s still a Navy bar and when Petra walks in she draws attention; she’s wearing jeans and form fitting Wonder Woman t-shirt, nothing fancy at all but she’s still eye catching. Tamsin follows her, and she’s wearing a lilac-colored pantsuit, looking incredibly put together and he wonders what her colleagues think of her. Neither of them have seen him or Jake yet, and most people here are in civvies.

            “You got a name gorgeous?” one man asks, clearly deciding to try his luck and Bradley has seen this type of interaction play out before, although never in a Navy bar. This ought to be good.

            “I give names to those who earn them.”

            “And what do we need to do earn it?”

            “If you need to ask, then you’re already down and out.”

            Beside him Jake is rigid and he puts a hand on Jake’s arm to stop him from going over, pulls him back and shakes his head slightly.

            “Do not go there. They can both look after themselves. Trust me. Those newbies do not stand a fucking chance.”

            “You sure? There are five of them.”

            “Uh huh. Very sure. Made that mistake once. If they’ve been drinking it’s a different story, but even then, they just get vicious. Petra especially. Remember who their father’s are… Fuck. Think of Sarah and Melissa.”

            Jake nods, but his eyes don’t leave Tamsin and Petra. Tamsin has spied them now, is fighting back a smile and Bradley rolls his eyes at her as she subtly shifts them closer.

            “You’re hanging out in a navy bar near the base. Pretty sure that makes you base bunnies. What are you doing here if you’re not looking to…”

            “Looking to what? Enjoy a drink in peace and quiet? You don’t think that maybe I’ve come from the same base?” Petra asks, and she’s toying with them Bradley realizes.

            “We’re all naval aviators. Here for Top Gun. Do you know what that is?”

            “Oh my god… she’s going to eviscerate them,” Jake murmurs beside him, but he’s grinning widely and Bradley ducks to place a quick kiss on the corner of his mouth.

            “Yep.”

            “I do know what Fighter Weapon School is, and I also know that it isn’t here in Corpus. In fact,” Petra starts and Bradley meets her gaze and she grins, vicious sharp, as Jake toasts her with his bottle of beer. “In fact, I think you’re the new flight school intake and that I have more flight hours than all of you put together at this point in time.”

            A couple of the guys standing around look a little belligerent at that claim and he winces, hopes this isn’t going to end up in someone getting thrown out. Some of them are muttering about her not knowing anything about flight school and Bradley wonders what level of the stupid-barrel they’ve been scraping.

            “My father is the retired Admiral Kazansky. Yes. That Admiral Kazansky. My step-father is the retired Captain Maverick Mitchell,” Petra provides.

            “Oh god this is glorious,” Jake says to him quietly and Bradley has to concede that yes, it is indeed entertaining.

            “My brother is Lieutenant Commander Bradley Bradshaw, my brother-in-law is Lieutenant Commander Jake Seresin. I think I have an idea of what flight school is. And it’s a far cry from Top Gun. Now, you gentlemen are stopping my sister and I from joining our brother and his husband.”

            Bradley takes that as his queue and he steps toward them, Jake following and they’re not in Corpus for work, but the others don’t know that.

            “Gentlemen…”

            Almost as one they all stiffen as if on parade and he keeps his face carefully blank, notes Jake does the same, although Jake also looks a lot more calculating.

            “Sir.”

            “Hmm. Slightly disappointed in the welcome my sisters received. Be better.”

            “Yes sir.”

            “Have a good evening.”

            “On the other side of the bar,” Jake adds, and there’s more yes sirs and mumbling agreement and they all move off, some with nervous glances over their shoulders.

            “This is why I don’t like coming to Navy bars,” Petra mutters, and Jake grins at her.

            “Petra, I am never going to want to meet you anywhere but a Navy bar from now on. That was amazing.”

…         …         …

            “Bradley… I’d like to talk to you about something.”

            “Sure, of course. What is it?”

            “I’d like to offer my services as a surrogate.”

            Bradley gapes, knows he must freeze because Jake reaches over and closes his mouth with a not-so-gentle finger on his jaw.

            “That’s a hell of an offer Petra…” Jake starts, cautious, and Bradley is already shaking his head.

            “We can’t ask you to do that.”

            “You’re not asking. I’m offering.”

            Bradley doesn’t know what to say, looks to Jake who is looking completely shook. He knows Jake’s family would never, that he continues to be amazed by Bradley and his weird family dynamics but loves them all the same.

            “And I know you would never ask. Which, again, is why I’m offering. You guys would make great dads. If that’s something you want to do.”

            “Holy shit… you’re actually serious.”

            “Of course I am. Mama is a doctor. I already talked to her about the risks.”

            “Thank you Petra. We’ll have to talk about it. You can change your mind as well…” Jake says, and he’s gone stiff and formal, Bradley doesn’t like it, but he’s also used to it, a rarer form of Jake’s defense system.

            “Oh. I know. Mama made me talk to someone. Several someone’s. Then said I probably wouldn’t change my mind until I was actually giving birth and cursing you both…”

            “You… that’s… quite the bombshell,” Bradley mumbles, reaching for Jake’s hand and gripping it, feels Jake’s fingers grip back just as tightly.

            “Well. I thought I’d tell you sooner rather than later. You’ll need time to figure everything out, because I’m only signing up until the baby or babies are born. I know I don’t want to be a mom.”

            “You’d… do it more than once?” Jake asks, voice rough.

            “Well, yeah. Of course. I can’t imagine growing up without my siblings. You need to have at least two.”

            “Holy shit…” Bradley breathes. “Thanks Pet… we’ll, uh, we’ll talk about it and let you know as soon as possible, okay?”

            “Yeah, of course.”

2024

            Tom doesn’t know quite what Pete is upset and worked up about, but he’s used to waiting him out. Sometimes Pete doesn’t know himself what it is that’s bothering him, and he’ll bring it to Tom soon enough. He suspects it has to do with Petra being pregnant, although it’s early days yet and Tom has already dealt with both Bradley and Jake freaking out over the whole ordeal. He’d brazenly told them that this is the easy part, that it’s once the baby is born that they’ll really start freaking out.

            Out of the four of them, he’s the one with the most experience of being around pregnant women. Of course, Sarah and Melissa are offering their own support, but Jake and Bradley have taken to asking any question that pops into their heads with no regard to how sensible or ridiculous it might be, or the time of day or night they’re sending the message. He’s taken to muting notifications, but leaving the ringing option on, because he does still want to be reachable in case of emergency. Asking his opinion between different formula brands does not constitute an emergency. Especially when the baby isn’t even here, is a good six or seven months away.

            Bradley has put in his papers to retire from the Navy. That’s fortunately timed to finish in six months, which is just as well as Tom cannot imagine him having nothing to do between now and then. Jake on the other hand has been busting his gut working on another promotion and Tom has tried to get him to ease off a little. With both Maverick and Bradley out, it leave Jake as the sole active aviator with air-to-air kills and he knows the Navy is eager to keep him, and keep him happy. Tom is just going to need to teach Jake how to tweak those to get his way sometimes, and to know when to capitulate.

            Bradley and Jake have talked about their plans, sought their advice about where to base themselves. Decided that North Island makes the most sense because while Bradley can and will follow Jake to those positions he’s deployed on land, but when he’s sent onto a carrier for months on end Bradley will be grateful for the support that he, Mav, Sarah and Melissa can and will offer. Especially when the second baby arrives, although that’s assuming Petra really goes through with this a second time, if Bradley and Jake haven’t changed her mind with their slightly unhinged behavior. It’s probably a good thing she’s in Texas for the next few months, insisting on working; she can choose to ignore them and Tamsin is there as well which is reassuring.

            “I… do you sometimes feel like you don’t deserve the life you’ve got?”

            “What?” Tom asks, looking up from the crossword and processes what he just heard; Harley stirs and looks at him with one eye open before settling back to sleep. “No. We’ve worked damn hard to have everything we have.”

            “Just… I know. We’re so lucky. We’ve got this amazing family. I just… I don’t think I ever thought of Bradley becoming a dad himself. Something else Nick and Carole will never see. We get to become grandparents and they…”

            “Well shit Pete… they didn’t get to be here for any of it, but it doesn’t mean we don’t deserve it. It’s not like we murdered them. And do you think they would want Bradley to be alone, or for us to miss out on it all. You were part of their family and always would have been if they’d lived.”

            “Yeah, yeah I know. I just. Bradley’s mine. I’ve always… he’s always held a special place in my heart. He’s my kid you know. Just… he’s going to be even more my kid.”

            “Uh. How exactly?”

            “He’s going to be the father of my grandkids… Our grandkids. I feel like I’m really part of their family now, my blood being tied into theirs with the baby. Holy shit. We’re going to have grandchildren Tom…”

            “Oh Pete… come here…”

            Pete doesn’t cry very often, wasn’t there for Petra’s birth or a lot of her childhood at all really, but he’s going to be around a lot for this. Doesn’t have any choice in the matter, unless he decides to disappear to the hangar for a couple of nights. He’s not going to tell Pete he’s being silly, emotions don’t work that way and he just can’t believe that he’s going to be a grandfather either. He had thought, assumed, that the joys in his life had been made clear to him and finite in their number, not that he might have new people enter his life.

            Naïve of him he supposes.

            Well, he’s got a few months to get used to the idea.

            He can’t wait.

…         …         …

            “Hey Tim Tam… what’s up?” Bradley asks, and she rolls her eyes at the nickname but he slides the packet of chocolate cookies and offers her one. Her and Petra are visiting for a week, bookended by two weekends. Jake is massaging Petra’s feet while they watch car racing and he’s well aware it’s their bonding time, so Tamsin hovering in the kitchen gives him an excuse and a distraction. He watches as she scans the wine rack and picks a bottle. He’d make a quip about her making herself at home but he suspects she bought nearly all of the bottles, and he’s always insisted they treat it like their third home. He can’t change up the rules on them now. He follow her out to the back garden, smile soft as they walk past Petra and Jake yelling at the TV, oblivious to them passing through. She’s obviously got something she wants to offload.

            “How did you know you were in love?”

            “Uh…” Bradley’s eyes go wide, because of all the questions he could be asked that is not one he even really has an answer to even now. “I don’t know if I’m the right person to answer that question. It took me years to figure my shit out. Maybe Jake would be better to talk to?”

            “Jake isn’t my brother… you are.”

            “I mean… Jake’s your brother-in-law. Okay. Sorry. I just… I really think he might have a perspective that would be more useful…”

            “Okay. Can I just talk to you for a bit first?”

            “Yeah. Of course. You know that.”

            “Okay. So… I think I’m in love.”

            Bradley bites back his first automatic response, because her shoulder punches hurt and she wouldn’t hesitate if she thinks he’s being a sarcastic shithead. It’s not always appreciated, not like it is with Jake and their friends.

            “Okay. I didn’t… uh. Is this a problem?” he finally settles on asking, because he hadn’t even been aware she’d been dating or seeing anyone, and that doesn’t mean she hasn’t met someone and fallen in love.

            “I thought we were just friends… but…”

            “One of the best foundations for a relationship is friendship. You’ve known them for a while then?”

            She nods then, chews on her bottom lip and she’s not meeting his eyes and that’s unusual…

            “Tamsin…?”

            “I just. I didn’t think I’d ever fall in love with a guy in the military…”

            “Wait. He’s… he’s in the service?”

            “Yeah…”

            “Do I know him?”

            “Yes.”

            “Who?” Bradley asks, and the protective streak he usually ignores has just raised its head and he’s wondering who the hell it is that has Tamsin sitting here looking so uncertain.

            “It’s Rob…”

            “Who the fuck is Rob?”

            “Robert.”

            “You… you mean Bob?”

            “I am not calling him by his stupid callsign!”

            “Uh…” Bradley starts, blinks, because of everyone’s callsigns Bob’s is by far the least stupid he’s ever heard. Much like the man, really. And he knew her and Bob had become friends during lockdown a few years ago, that Bob has been based in Texas at Corpus.

            “You know it’s not what he gets called at home right? All his family call him Rob or Robbie? Bob is definitely a callsign.”

            “You’ve… you’ve met his family?”

            “Um. Just through a video call once. They rang while we were having lunch and I told him to answer. So. Yeah.”

            “Bob.”

            “Yeah.”

            He likes Bob. Will like him a lot less if he hurts Tamsin, but…

            “If you have to fall in love with a guy then… yeah. He’s good. Nice. I like him. He treating you right?”

            She rolls her eyes at that and Bradley blows out a breath, puts both of his hands up in surrender. Heaven forbid he care. Jesus. He keeps his mouth shut and wonders what he’s going to be like if he has a daughter. Oh fuck. Well. At least he’s had plenty of practice.

            “Yes. I’m just…”

            “Just what?”

            “It’s not weird?”

            “Weird how?”

            “He’s… a bit older than me. Settled. Your friend and squadron member…”

            “How long have you guys been secretly dating?”

            “We haven’t. We became friends back in 2020, during –”

            “When he was living with us. Yeah. And…”

            “We just kept talking and then we’ve chatted and talked, had meals together whenever he’s been passing through. Then a couple of weeks ago he asked me if I wanted to go out for dinner and I asked as friends or something more and he… his whole face just lit up Bradley. Like I had maybe given him that magic of a Christmas morning as a kid? You know?”

            Bradley does know, and the fact that Bob is looking at Tamsin like that, it making her feel special and magical and… like she could be his entire world.

            “Yeah. Yeah I know… so you went to dinner?”

            “Mmm. He’s… he’s so funny. And sweet. And so handsome…”

            “Okay… you know Mav and Ice are going to have an opinion right?”

            “Yeah. That’s the other thing I wanted to talk about. Robbie –”

            “Robbie?”

            “Bradley! Focus!”

            “Sorry. Just, uh, go on.”

            “Rob seems to think I’m maybe worried about tell them, and I’m not. But he might be, and he doesn’t want to ask permission –”

            “Good,” Bradley mutters, and he still gets hit in the shoulder and he pulls a face. “I’m just saying! You get to make your own decisions!”

            “I do! And we all know it. But I think he wants to show me he doesn’t care about who my parents are.”

            “They’re nearly all retired…”

            “You really think that matters?”

            “No. I guess not. So… what? Bob’s just going to rock up to Ice and Mav’s and pick you up for a date all the way from Texas?”

            “Oh… oh my god Bradley! You’re a genius!”

            “Uh. Am I?”

            “That’s perfect! Thank you!”

            “No worries… any time,” Bradley offers, and wonders what it is he said exactly.

…         …         …

            Petra and Tamsin are both staying for a week, splitting their time between the three different houses. Petra is currently at Bradley’s letting Jake pamper her, which is maybe helping his little freakout about his impending fatherhood of making it worse. Pete’s not sure, he doesn’t remember freaking out this much, however he also knew he wasn’t really the one who’d be primarily responsible. Thinking about Petra and the rollercoaster accident, being the first of them on the scene to comfort her and make sure she was okay, well, he likes being there for them all.

            There’s someone at the front door. He grumbles under his breath as he heads towards it, because Tamsin is here, and Ice, and yet he’s the one getting up to answer the door. His attitude changes abruptly when he opens it and Bob is standing there looking equal parts steadfast and nervous.

            “Bob. What are you doing here?”

            “Evening Maverick. I’m here to pick up Tamsin?”

            “Tamsin?”

            Pete blinks. He wonders if Robert Floyd has any entries in any of Ice’s little notebooks he still hasn’t cracked the code for. He knows Jake has been gifted the notebooks, and taught the code and the idea of Jake Bradshaw climbing the ranks makes him smile.

            “Yes. Your eldest daughter?”

            “I… I know who Tamsin is. I just…”

            “Sorry Papa, I was just finishing getting ready. Hi Rob…”

            “Rob?” Pete asks, and Tamsin is there dressed in jeans and slouchy top, but her hair and makeup is all carefully done and she looks gorgeous.

            “Tamsin. You look beautiful.”

            “Thank you. Shall we go?”

            “Of course. Night Maverick.”

            “Night…” Pete says, watching as Tamsin skips down the front steps, Bob’s hand on her lower back. “How long has that been going on?” he mutters under his breath.

            “Who was it?” Ice asks, appearing in the door of his study and Pete waves wordlessly at the now retreating figures and looks at Ice.

            “You have anything on Robert Floyd?”

            “Robert Floyd? I… no. I don’t think so. Why?”

            “He just picked Tamsin up for a date.”

            Ice looks completely blindsided and it’s nice to have company there at least. He knows logically that they haven’t ever known details of any of Tamsin’s boyfriends prior to her bringing them home and them sitting through family dinners where he and Ice grilled them under the guise of polite interest. Robert Floyd though is someone that Ice can skip all those steps with. He’s aware it’s overstepping some boundaries, but he can’t bring himself to care. They’ve done it already for Bradley, doing it again for Tamsin seems easy. The door is already open.

            Except it isn’t.

            He’s retired. They’ve both retired.

            Doesn’t quite have access to the same resources as he used to.

            He could of course call in favors but… wait. What is he so worried about? Bradley and Jake will know Bob far better than any notes Ice might have. Plus Bob has already been around for several family dinners, he’s not going to be easily intimidated by them.

            “Huh. I wasn’t expecting that.”

            “Neither…”

            “Hmm. I’ll invite Aubrey over for dinner. Maybe have lunch with her on base one day this week. Maybe both.”

            Pete grins, because there’s the man he knows and loves.

…         …         …

            Tom comes home from lunch with Aubrey a little disgruntled. There’s nothing. Nothing. Robert Floyd has an exemplary service record, is skilled and well liked. Seems like a rule follower to the letter and he wonders if that type of person suits Tamsin, or whether he’s trying to press what he likes in Maverick onto her with how similar she is to him sometimes.

            He’s just going to have to trust that she knows what she wants. She’s never hesitated in ending her relationships that haven’t measured up to whatever ideal she holds. It’s fine. She’ll be twenty-eight at the end of the year. Hell. Petra is having a baby. They’re all old enough and adults and he needs to stop worrying so much. He walks into the kitchen, can hear noise which tells him it’s where he’s likely to find Maverick, and sure enough he’s there, standing on top of the stepladder he’s dragged in from the garage.

            “Mav… what are you doing?”

            “I’m baby proofing the cupboard up here.”

            “How is the baby going to get on top of the fridge Mav?”

            “This baby is going to have my genes, we have to prepare for every eventuality.”

            “And yet Petra never climbed onto the top of the fridge in her infancy. Just… deep breaths Pete. It’ll be okay. Kids are a lot more physically resilient than you think, trust me. We raised Bradley, Tamsin and Petra. A grandbaby should be easy. Its parents will be doing all the heavy lifting.”

            “I know… I just…”

            “You can worry, but how about we think

            His little pep talk has stopped Mav putting child-proof locks on the cupboard even he needs a step ladder to reach, but Tom gives in to the allowing of foam on every sharp edge. Knows Mav is anxious and this is his way of dealing with it, however he’s not going to imprison all his belongings in cupboards even Pete needs a stepladder to open.

…         …         …

            Bradley has never felt so ill-prepared in his life. Melissa has assured him that six weeks early is fine, that while it’s not ideal, there’s nothing to suggest anything is wrong. Despite all of that though he’s a mess. Tamsin is in the room with Petra. Melissa and Sarah are sitting with Mav and Ice across the room, because Mav looks as shaken and worried as he does. Jake’s knuckles are white on his knees and no matter how much Bradley tries he knows he’s not exactly a reassuring presence, his own nerves seeming to feed Jake’s and then feeding back to him. So they’ve settled on silence, not wanting to snap at each other through their joint worry.

            Then a nurse appears, looking at a piece of paper.

            “Bradshaw-Kazansky family?”

            “That’s… that’s us,” Ice is saying, standing and waving a hand at them all and Bradley is glad someone is there to do the talking. The nurse looks at the six of them, clearly unsure how it works but clearly decides she doesn’t care enough to ask, although she does a double take at seeing Melissa.

            “Mom and baby are both doing well. I was told mom would like to tell you the details. You’ll be able to all go in shortly, but I was looking for dad?”

            “Dads,” Jake croaks out. “We’re the dads…” he reaches for Bradley’s hand and they stand together, taking a step forward.

            “Okay. Well gentlemen, if you’d like to follow me?”

            They follow her and he tries to pay attention so he’ll be able to find his way back to the waiting room but gives up. He’ll ask for directions. Then he’s watching Jake undo the buttons of his shirt, sitting back in a large recliner and the nurse is placing a diaper-clad baby on his bare chest, covering the baby with a flannel sheet. She’s saying something about regulating body temperature, and kangaroo care and it’s all turning to static in his ears because Jake is sitting there with their child on his chest, his hand resting on its back, thumb moving back and forth and eyes transfixed on the top of its head. He’s never seen something so amazing.

            “Thank you…” he manages, quickly presses a kiss to Petra’s forehead. She’s grinning and looking pleased but tired, Tamsin is looking a little shell shocked and he wonders if he should ask or just be happy that the outcome is all he needs to know about. He goes and stands beside Jake before Tamsin pushes a chair toward him. It’s not anywhere near as comfortable as the recliner Jake is set up in, but nothing is going to make him move anytime soon. He runs his fingers over the soft fuzzy down on the baby’s head and then lets his hand rest on top of Jake’s, leans forward and presses a kiss to the side of his face.

            “Welcome to fatherhood… you look good. It suits you.”

            “Good. Not a look I’ll be getting rid of anytime soon. Yeah. I’m stuck with this one… Yeah, thank you Petra…” Jake adds, looking up at her with a watery smile and she smiles back.

            “You’re both more than welcome. I expect to always be the favorite Aunt. Sorry Tamsin, you’re automatically relegated to second place…”

            “I’m okay with that. Holy shit Petra, you were amazing… She was amazing.”

            “We’ll take your word for it,” Bradley says with a smile, because it had been something Petra had wanted, neither of them in the room. He knows Jake had been a little disappointed, however he suspects all of that is forgotten now that he’s holding their…

            “Is it a boy or girl?”

            “Oh. Boy bits. Five pounds and five ounces. You want to hear his name or wait for everyone to be here?”

            Petra had also asked if she could name the baby, considering she’s asked for very little else neither he nor Jake could say no. He trusted her to pick a color for his Bronco, he trusts her to pick a name they can live with, that the baby asleep on Jake’s chest can grow up with. The weight sounds good, he immediately wants to look it up, research average weights for premature babies.

            “Wait… we’ve waited this long,” Jake says without looking up and Bradley shares a smile with Petra and Tamsin.

            He snaps a picture of Jake with their newborn son, will send it to the Dagger group chat in a couple of days. Bob and Natasha will keep it quiet in the meantime, because they of course already know. Weirdly it’s Natasha who has had the hardest time adjusting to Bob and Tamsin dating, and given him the shovel talks to end all shovel talks. He doesn’t think Bob realized quite how close Natasha was to Tamsin and Petra, with her never talking about Bradley and his family out of habit despite being part of it for over a decade.

            Then Mav, Ice, Melissa and Sarah are entering the room, promising they’ll only be a few minutes to the nurse, who is nodding and smiling. Melissa has immediately picked up the medical chart, and Sarah is hugging Petra with tears streaming down her face and Bradley assumes it’s happy tears. Ice and Mav both hug him, then Tamsin and Petra, once Sarah has let her go. Then they’re all looking at Jake and he looks up, and no-one is going to mention that his eyes look wet.

            “You’re all here… let me introduce our newest family member. Mitchell Tom Bradshaw.”

            He hears Mav suck in a sharp shuddering breath, knows what it sounds like when someone is hit with too many emotions at once and lets himself feel smug. He knew she’d pick a good name.

…         …         …

            “They named him after us…”

            “Petra named him. She loves you. Us.”

            “We did good.”

            “Yeah. We did.”

…         …         …

            Even weeks later, finally home and functioning on less sleep than he’s used to, he will never get sick of the sight. Even better than he imagined, seeing Jake hold their son on his chest, tiny fingers curled around Jake’s index finger. He didn’t think he could love Jake more, that he could love someone else so fiercely and so immediately than he does Mitchell, but he does. His own happiness makes the tears on Jake’s face all the more shocking and he crouches down.

            “Hey. What’s wrong?”

            “Just… fuck them. I just… I’m always the one reaching out to them, making overtures and always having to make concessions to fit their world view. I’m over it. I don’t want our kids thinking that I’m okay with being treated like that…”

            “Jake…”

            “No. I’ve been thinking about it for a while. We have a kid Bradley. We’re married. And they… they don’t want to hear about any of that. They just care about my latest promotion. How much of me do they really care about if they don’t also care about the people I love huh?”

            He’s so proud of Jake making Commander, knows he’s got his eyes set on the long term and he’s more than happy to support that. Bradley sucks his lips into his mouth, because he’s glad that Jake has finally come to that conclusion, but had also never wanted to push it. They’re Jake’s family after all, and he’s never met them. Will likely never meet them now. Jake has other family who do love and care about him and that’s who Bradley will save his time for.

2025

            “I’m forty, I…is that too old to have a baby?”

            Bradley opens his mouth, promptly shuts it again, is fairly certain there’s not a right answer to that question. Mitchell is sitting in his highchair, chewing on a rusk and watching them both with wide eyes. He’s never seen photos of Jake as a baby, but the green eyes and blonde hair make it obvious to anyone with eyes which of them is the biological father.

            “Do you want me to call Tamsin?” Bradley offers, because he’s pretty sure a woman is probably the best person for Natasha to be talking to. “Callie? Melissa? Sarah? Uh. Petra?” he offers as a last-ditch attempt, because Petra is off racing in Australia somewhere and even before he’d have to figure out time zones he doesn’t think Petra would be someone with answers.

            “You’re my best friend, fucking deal with it…”

            “Uh. Right. Okay. You need to talk to Coyote. Uh. Chocolate? I mean, I can’t offer you wine…”

            She laughs wetly and Mitchell laughs as well, high and bright and her eyes slide sideways to him and Bradley wonders if having an eight-month-old baby sitting there when you’re freaking out about being pregnant is a good or bad thing.

            “Do you like it?”

            “What?”

            “Being a parent.”

            “Yeah. I… I love it. It’s… yeah.”

            “No regrets?”

            “Oh, I have plenty of regrets, but not about this. Not about marrying Jake or leaving the Navy…”

            “I just… Javy… he just… it was immediate. I don’t want him to propose because I’m pregnant!”

            “He’s had the ring for over three years. He’s not proposing because you’re pregnant. Well. He probably is, because that clearly made him pull the trigger but he’s been waiting for the perfect moment to ask you…” Jake says from the doorway and both he and Natasha turn to look at him, Mitchell squeals with delight and Bradley feels his insides his just turn to warm soupy goop watching Jake’s face soften as he looks back.

            “How’s my best boy… you been a good boy for daddy?”

            “What?” Natasha asks.

            “Javy. He’s all twisted up in knots thinking you’re going to end things with him.”

            “I don’t want to end things with him!”

            “Don’t tell me that, tell him. And ask him when and where he bought the ring. Man seemed to take lessons from the Rooster school of romance…”

            “Hey! It got me you didn’t it?” Bradley

            “Mmm. Despite my better judgement,” Jake teases and Bradley wraps his arms around him and hugs him tight, lifting him off the ground before placing a comically loud smacking kiss on his cheek because it makes Mitchell laugh.

            “Ugh. How are you both still so sickeningly sweet.”

            “We work at it,” Bradley replies with a laugh.

…         …         …

            It’s harder to get everyone together, schedules and careers spread out over the globe. However, Petra’s twenty-seventh birthday seems to be the focal point for the family gathering this summer. It’s a big lunch, timed between Mitchell’s naps and Tom won’t admit that he also likes having the odd afternoon nap now, something that the cats and dog all seem to agree is a good idea.

            Aubrey is coming, as is Slider. Natasha joining them is standard, however Machado will be coming with her, they’re apparently engaged and expecting a baby. And Robert Floyd is of course coming with Tamsin, Tom’s come to appreciate the quieter man, his calm assessment of situations and then cutting right to the heart of the matter. He understands now what Tamsin sees in him, other than the fact that he clearly dotes on her and thinks she’s amazing; a sentiment she for once seems to return. He’s glad, they both deserve good people.

            Wait.

            Is that a diamond he sees on her finger?

            He has some questions to ask.

…         …         …

            During lunch Pete takes every opportunity to steal away his grandson. He doesn’t need to, sees him frequently, however he loves the excuse to crawl around on the ground and play, even if his knees and back protest a little when he does it for too long. He’s not old yet and he can stretch it out.

            “Wait. His name is Mitchell Tom Bradshaw? I’d like to remind you that I was your favorite uncle when you were growing up kid!” Slider interjects into whatever conversation he’s having and Pete feels smug.

            “Only because my real favorite uncle became my dad,” Bradley says with a laugh, and then he’s saying that Petra chose the name and Pete’s glad the attention isn’t on him because he feels like he’s been sucker punched. Bradley has called him dad once or twice, the first time when he was a teenager and Pete remembers Bradley promptly bursting into tears. He’d thought that it had been a slip of the tongue more than anything else, not that Bradley seriously considered him his father. Stupid of him when he considers Bradley his son. He remembers at the time feeling a same of loss renewed afresh at the thought of Goose and he looks at Mitchell trying to chew on a rubber ball.

            “You know what I’m going to do Mitchell? I’m going to tell you all about your Grandpa Goose…”

…         …         …

            “So… you guys are going well.”

            “We are. You didn’t have to run off to Australia you know. We weren’t going to try and give him back.”

            Petra laughs at that, blows a raspberry on Mitchell’s stomach and shakes her head, smiling as he giggles and tries to crawl away.

            “I know. It wasn’t just for my sake though. I wanted to give you time to bond with him. And I did lie around on a beach for two weeks. Mama made sure of that. But. You guys ready to do it again?”

            Jake chokes on his drink, coughing and spluttering and Bradley looks at her incredulously.

            “Are you?”

            “I’m not saying right now, but maybe next summer?”

            “Fucking hell Petra… we have the easy part. It’s your body you’re…”

            “I’d argue that you have the harder part. A lifetime is a hell of a commitment. I don’t want to be a mom, but seeing the two of you like this? Knowing that’s because of what I did? I do want that.”

            “Then we’re not going to say no. We’d love to give Mitchell a sibling.”

2026

            Tamsin’s thirtieth birthday is a big deal, mainly because it’s also her wedding day. Jake’s already been warning Bob about the perils of having a partner sharing a birthday and wedding anniversary, telling him about how demanding and annoying people can be, making sure Bradley hears him, but it’s ruined by the badly hidden wink Jake sends in Bob’s direction.

            “As long as you don’t pass yourself off as the gift every year you’ll be fine,” Bradley says with a laugh, kissing Jake on the cheek and slapping him on the ass as he swoops down to pick Mitchell up and throw him into the air. He’s a robust two-year-old, and they joke about his middle name being Trouble rather than Tom. Silence has become incredibly suspicious.

            Petra is five months pregnant and has informed them that this pregnancy feels even easier; when Bradley expresses concern that he hadn’t been aware that the first one had been bad she just says she had no frame of reference then. She has no morning sickness, no extreme tiredness and also seems to be glowing the glow which people apparently talk of with regards to pregnant people. She does bemoan the fact that she can’t drink at her sister’s wedding, but then she shares a look with Natasha about how maybe that’s for the best and he wonders what happened there.

            Natasha and Petra are Tamsin’s bridesmaids, while Bob has asked him and Jake to stand with him. It’s a full Navy wedding, and it’s been a while since he’s worn his dress whites, but they still fit fine. Tamsin’s dress is white with gold detailing and her and Bob both can’t stop smiling. Jake looks equally stunning and Bradley can’t take his eyes off him.

            “I do love a man in uniform…”

            “Well, you sure got a wide range to pick from here.”

            “Only interested in one.”

            “Yeah? Do I know him?”

            “I think you’re familiar. Going to make the most of the empty house while we have it right? No chance of any interruptions…”

            “I like the way you think.”

2027

            “Ah, Uncle Ron… you were so upset about Mitchell not being name after you, I thought you should be the first to know. We named her after you…”

            “Jesus kid, I was kidding…”

            “Meet Slider…”

            The look Slider gives Bradley is so unimpressed it makes him burst into laughter at the sight. Serve the man right.

            “You’re not serious I hope, that’s a terrible name for a baby. Should have got Petra to name this one too…” Slider is saying, but he’s holding his arms out, ready to take the baby from Bradley, who doesn’t seem in any particular rush to let go of his daughter and Pete doesn’t blame him, he’s pretty sure she hasn’t slept anywhere but in someone’s arms since she was born three weeks ago.

            “Well, we agree on that at least,” Bradley says, settling the baby in Slider’s arms. He notes that Tamsin is off to the side and discreetly filming with her phone. Good girl. “Her name is actually Veronica Carole Bradshaw. Closest name to Ron we could both agree on…”

            “I… I was joking kid. You didn’t need to…”

            Pete smiles, knows a little how Slider might be feeling; has heard Jake talk haltingly of how Slider had been his first CO after flight school, that he’d held the man in high regard before he’d become part of his extended family. He continues to stack blocks with Mitchell so that he can measure his height against them and lets himself feel the sense of happiness that being surrounded by his family brings him now.

…         …         …

            He’s not expecting Jake home early, so when he hears the car he already knows something is wrong. Not usual or standard for a Tuesday afternoon. He doesn’t know what to expect, but Jake’s standing in the doorway to the garage and he looks pale, maybe a little green.

            “Are you okay?”

            “I… I’m… My dad’s died.”

            Oh shit. Bradley doesn’t know what to say. Isn’t going to offer his condolences. Wonders how Jake found out, because as far as he’s aware Jake hasn’t called his family since Mitchell was born nearly three years ago.

            “What do you want to do?”

            “I don’t fucking know.”

            Bradley nods, supposes that’s probably a normal response right now and hands Nic over. He hadn’t realized it when they’d been trying to chose a name, he’d agreed with Veronica after hearing about Jake’s professional relationship with Slider, despite thinking it was a mouthful. Then he’d heard Jake calling her Nic and Nicole and he’d realized that there was his dad’s name hidden alongside Slider’s, and in calling her Nicole it’s a combination of both his parents’ names.

            It makes him feel… it makes him feel.

…         …         …

            It’s probably the biggest argument they’ve had. Jake insisting he go alone, and Bradley insisting the complete opposite. Held in hissed whispers while the kids were sleeping he’d finally asked Jake if he’d let Bradley go alone if it was him. That had made Jake waver and Bradley knew then he’d be coming. Bradley doesn’t want to go to the actual funeral, but he wants to be there, waiting for Jake, to wrap his arms around him and remind him that he’s not alone anymore.

            He hears the knock on the motel door, loud, and he’s glad both kids are already awake. He answers it, Nic tucked up under his chest while she gums on her fist while her bottle warms up. Standing there is a woman who has to be Jake’s mother, the family resemblance is striking. With her is a younger man and woman. They also look related but Jake has never mentioned siblings and he feels uneasy.

            “Can I help you?”

            “Oh. I’m sorry. I was looking for…”

            Well fuck. She clearly thought Jake had come to Texas alone. He knows Jake told her he was getting married, because she’d hung up on him and then not answered his calls for weeks.

            “If you’re looking for Jake he should be back shortly.”

            “Who are you?”

            Well. He’s not going to lie. And if she’s here for Jake she can take everything that comes with him.

            “I’m Jake’s husband.”

            He can tell the words hit like blows, the older woman almost staggering back and he jiggles Nic a little. He’s torn between indignation that she dare come here, but also the other two are simply looking a little confused.

            “Daddy… I’m firsty…”

            “Is your water bottle empty?” Bradley asks, looking down at Mitchell and he can see her looking. Wants to step to block her view. Mitchell has Jake’s wide green eyes and blonde hair, there is no mistaking that Jake is his father.

            “Juice?” Mitchell asks, hopeful, and Bradley shakes his head, hides a smile.

            “I’ll get you some apple slices,” Bradley says to him, compromising. He resists all his internal manners to not apologize to the woman watching them. “Would you like to wait for Jake?”

            “Who’re you?” Mitchell asks, staring up at the now shocked looking woman.

            She can’t just hang up on this, pretend this doesn’t exist. She might want to try, if she turns and walks away now, lets Bradley close the door on her. But she is still Jake’s mom and this is the first time he’s met her, dressed in stained sweat pants, baby spit-up on his shoulder. He doesn’t care, he doesn’t feel any need to try and impress her.

            “I’m… I’m your Grandma?”

            “Like Nanny Sarah and Granma ’lissa?”

            Bradley bites his lips between his teeth, eyes narrowed and she’s looking between Mitchell and him with some sort of hope and sadness and he sucks in a breath and lets it out slowly. He might want to snap and snarl but Mitchell is right there.

            “Yeah. Just like that darling. She’s Daddy’s mom.”

            “Oh. Can I meet your mommy too?”

            Bradley’s heart feels like it’s being squeezed tight in his chest.

            “No sweetheart, she died a long time ago.”

            Mitchell is frowning, and Bradley knows death isn’t a concept he’ll understand yet, vaguely remembers from firsthand experience.

            “Oh. Okay. Maybe later?”

            “No sweetheart. You can’t meet dead people…”

            He really wishes he wasn’t having such a wrought conversation with his son in front of an estranged family member.

            “Oh. Okay. Apple juice?”

            “Apple slices,” Bradley corrects. “But you can have a glass of water to dip them in, okay?”

            “Okay!”

            Bradley wishes everyone was as easy to please, turns back to his audience standing just outside the doorway.

            “I… look. I need to look after the kids. If you want to see Jake you can wait for him,” it’s June in Texas, and he hates that he’s about to do this. “Come in.”

            “Sorry, I missed you name…”

            Bradley uncharitably thinks I didn’t tell you my name but he smiles blandly, doesn’t offer to shake hands, uses Nic as a convenient excuse.

            “I’m Bradley Bradshaw.”

            “Bradshaw… that’s…”

            “Mmm. Jake took my name. He doesn’t have a particularly strong attachment to Seresin.”

            “Oh. And… the children?”

            “How about you tell me your names first,” Bradley offers, glad that for once Mitchell hasn’t decided to interject his name into the conversation, is happily dipping his apple slices in the cup of water and sucking the water off.

            “Jake hasn’t talked about us?” the young woman asks, and he thinks she’s maybe a little older than Tamsin.

            “Should he have?” Bradley asks, lets a little callousness bleed through into his tone, lets his eyes narrow toward Jake’s mom again.

            “We’re his cousins…” the guy says, and he seems annoyed at the idea of Jake not mentioning him. Bradley doesn’t care for their feelings at all. He pulls the bottle from the warmer and checks the temperature. One-handed he does up a bib around Nic’s neck and then settles her back into the crook of his arm, offering her the bottle which she sucks on with gusto.

            “Great. Jake’s never mentioned you. I think he was granting you all the same courtesy we were granted. Jake was told he wasn’t allowed to let anyone else in the family know he was gay…”

            “What? That’s ridiculous. Who would tell him that?” the man scoffs and Bradley looks at Jake’s mom.

            “Mrs Seresin, would you like to explain? Share where Jake heard that?”

            Bradley feels a little meanspirited as he listens to her stutter out her reasons, and he supposes twenty years ago in rural Texas, with a staunch church-going community it would have been shameful if you cared more about public opinion than your own child. But it wasn’t a community the forbid him from telling, it was his family. Jake’s cousins are looking more and more horrified, and he still doesn’t know their names. And he can’t remember Jake’s mom’s name either. She’s fallen silent and her hands are shaking.

            “I can’t make you anything right now, but please help yourselves to tea and coffee…” Bradley offers, nodding his head toward the kitchen. It’s all basic stuff, it’s not like this is their home, otherwise he’s fairly certain he wouldn’t have invited any of them in. Doesn’t know if he’ll ever want to invite her into his home. None of them move though.

            “Babe, I’m back. I got the –” Jake starts, but he stops mid stride upon seeing everyone there. Bradley watches as Jake’s face shutters and he feels bad that he’s been ambushed, should have maybe called him and given him a heads up. “Mom. What are you doing here?” Bradley steps in close to Jake, leans in and gives him a kiss to the cheek all while continuing to give Nic her bottle. He refuses to make anyone in this room comfortable except for his husband and kids.

            “You… you left the funeral before I could talk to you.”

            “You don’t want to talk to me mom. You don’t want to hear about what’s going on in my life. You made that very clear when you hung up on me each time I said Bradley’s name…”

            “What the actual… uh. Sorry.”

            Jake’s eyes swing to his cousins and Bradley wonders what tales have been getting told about Jake’s apparent refusal to visit. What kind of character do they think Jake has to not let his mom come here alone.

            “I think you should go. My number hasn’t changed. You can pick up the phone and call me just as easily as all the times I called you. I… I’m happy. I have an amazing family that all love me just as I am. If… if you want to try and be a part of that then… then you need to put in the work.”

            Bradley feels so proud of him, can see his mom accepting his words and nodding and Bradley wonders what Jake’s life would have looked like if things had been a bit different. She’s making her way towards the door and Jake’s cousins are looking between her and Jake.

            “It was nice to meet you Bradley.”

            “Hopefully next time we can meet under nicer circumstances,” Bradley offers, because that isn’t actually a lie, and he still doesn’t know her fucking name.

            “Hey man, sorry about the attitude earlier. I just… had heard shit. Not accurate shit. I’m Jackson. Nice to meet you and I’d say welcome to the family but… holy shit.”

            That makes Bradley and Jake both huff, Jake shaking his head and Bradley shifts Veronica back to upright, passing Jake the bottle before deciding to switch and give Jake the baby. He can probably do with the touch and comfort and Bradley will save wrapping him in his arms for when everyone has gone.

            “Yeah, wasn’t exactly going to roll out the red carpet…” Bradley mutters.

            “Nah man, I get it. It’s sweet. Everyone just thinks Jake’s this asshole leaving his parents behind and doesn’t call. Most people didn’t think he was going to show for the funeral. Don’t think anyone is going to be prepared for the truth…”

            “Can we tell people? Family I mean? Explain your side? I’m Joanne by the way… I… we’d… some of us would really like to get to know you. All of you.”

            “That’s honest at least,” Jake says with a sigh. “Yeah, go ahead and tell people. No worse than them thinking I’m a neglectful son I guess.”

            “We don’t care. Uh. We do care. But. Not about the whole… gay thing,” Joanne says awkwardly and Bradley wonders if Jake’s mom brought two younger cousins that she thought might be more accepting. A question for another day. Or maybe never. They’ll have to see how it goes.

2028

            He blinks, certain he’s seeing things but the view doesn’t change. Petra and Tamsin, both curled up on the sofa, curled against each other just like they used to do when they were small. A different house. A different sofa. But it’s definitely them. There are dozens of used tissues strewn all over the table and floor and he moves quietly, needs to tidy them up otherwise Ducati will wreak havoc and it’ll look like a snowstorm inside. He isn’t surprised about Petra, she’s staying with them. However Tamsin and Bob are meant to staying with Melissa and Sarah, all gathered for Veronica’s first birthday party which is meant to be tomorrow. Or rather later today. Well. There’s nothing for it.

            “Girls… you need to wake up…”

            “Dad?”

            “Yeah… It’s after midnight. Time for bed. The spare room is made up as well.”

            “Thanks.”

            “You’re welcome sweetheart. Everything okay?”

            “Yeah. Nothing a good cry didn’t fix.” He frowns at that, because crying has never equated itself to feeling better in his book, but Tamsin isn’t looking sad, instead she looks calm and relaxed, and he supposes she has been asleep. “You’re going to be a grandfather again. I was just… freaking out a little. Petra talked me through it.”

            “Oh. Oh sweetheart, congratulations,” he murmurs quietly, because he knows they’ve been trying for over a year, hugs her close and then holds his arm open for Petra to join in.

…         …         …

            Jake is promoted to Captain and Pete grips him in a tight hug, can’t begin to tell him what it means to see Captain Bradshaw adorn his name plate.

…         …         …

            Catherine Seresin is joining them for Thanksgiving.

            It’s taken over a year of careful phone conversations, some video calls and Bradley can concede that she has been trying. However neither he nor Jake want her staying with them, and he’s glad Jake said that first. They know she’s likely motivated by the fact that there are grandchildren in the picture, and he’s spoken to her on the phone a couple of times, when Jake’s asked him to answer.

            She is standing there now, looking at the photos on the walls and nearly every ledge and shelf above three foot. There are professional family portraits and promotion shots mixed with more candid family moments. They all tell a story and everyone they love is there, including his parents. He can see her studying them, likely trying to make sense and put faces to names. They’ve shared photos of themselves and Mitchell and Veronica.

            He has listened to Jake’s conversations with her, he’s also held Jake in his arms as he cried afterward. Wonders if she is aware of just how much hurt and damage she causes with her thoughtless comments. He knows he’s caused some of Jake’s past hurts, but he hopes like hell that they are indeed all in the past. He’s grateful that Jake trusts him enough to let himself cry and be vulnerable when he needs to be. Right now though Jake seems cautiously optimistic.

            Thanksgiving is going to be big. The first time everyone has been able to gather together since Tamsin and Bob’s wedding two years ago. Javy, Natasha and their twins are staying with them, and he’s glad it’s only for a few nights, although Mitchell is having a blast with his younger cousins staying. Having them as guests gives them a plausible excuse to offer Catherine Seresin a room at Ice and Mav’s place, which she’d accepted with grace

            “Trial by fire…” Bradley had muttered, because he doesn’t think Mav and Ice are difficult, but he grew up with them. He’s never thought about them from an outsider point of view before, let alone one who is sort-of homophobic. Ice and Mav both are incredibly protective though, won’t put up with any nonsense. Petra is also staying, along with Slider. Bob and Tamsin are staying with Melissa and Sarah, along with their newborn daughter, Natalie. The meal is going to be complete and utter chaos, but it will be full of laughter and love. The fact that Jake’s mom is going to be there is just something he’s going to have to deal with. Endure. Maybe it won’t be as bad as he thinks.

            Mitchell and Petra are coloring at the table, pictures of racecars because they’re both obsessed. Petra has already taken Mitchell for a ride on a skateboard, much to Bradley’s horror and Mav’s cackling glee. Bradley wonders if he’ll go bald or grey first. Nic has fallen asleep on Slider’s chest as he sits back in his recliner, both of them content and Ceccato has joined the pile. Ice is making dinner, insisting that he doesn’t need help.

            “You both look so handsome…”

            “Back when they knew what a solid night of sleep felt like,” Mav jokes and Bradley rolls his eyes but doesn’t disagree. Sleep has become a hot commodity. “That was Tamsin’s wedding, so they were already experiencing sleepless nights with Mitchell.”

            Catherine continues to look, asking questions of both Jake and Maverick and Bradley lets himself relax a little, knows he’s unlikely to relax completely until they’re back home.

…         …         …

            Tom stands in the kitchen and waits for the coffee to finish. He makes a large pot when Petra is staying, certain she drinks directly from the pot. It’s also his habit to make two cups of coffee and then take them back to bed when Pete isn’t staying at the hangar. He hears footsteps, turns, half expecting to see Mav or may Petra. Instead, it’s Catherine, looking tired.

            “Coffee?”

            “I… yes please.”

            “Happy Thanksgiving,” Tom says, passing her a mug and gesturing toward the creamer and sugar.

            “Thank you. Happy Thanksgiving…”

            It’s awkward, but he’s aware that she is trying. Has been trying. He knows Bradley doesn’t trust her, but his conversations with Jake about the matter make him think she’s simply been ignorant rather than malicious. They drink in silence for a few moments and he wonders what topics of conversation might be safe. Then Pete stumbles in and he feels relieved, given something to do. He pours another mug, directs his sleepy husband to a chair and presses a kiss to his forehead, well aware that he has an audience. Then Slider is staggering in looking grumpy and Tom sighs, pours another mug and sets the pot to refill.

            “Mitchell, I swear you have all the grace of a herd of elephants…”

            Pete simply grunts and Tom isn’t sure the other two are aware they have company.

            “Mitchell? I thought your name was Peter?”

            “Pete. Mitchell is my last name. Oh. Good morning Catherine…”

            “Oh. Morning. I… I didn’t realize Mitchell was named after you.”

            “Petra named him. Was her choice…”

            “And a very good choice she made too,” Tom says.

            “Petra… your daughter?” Catherine asks him, and Tom knows his surprise shows on his face. She hasn’t met Sarah yet, or Tamsin. Has no idea how much Petra looks like Pete. And how it’s very likely Jake hasn’t shared this information with her, either by simple omission or by choice.

            “Yes. Our youngest. She offered to be Bradley and Jake’s surrogate.”

            “Oh… I. I didn’t realize. Jake didn’t tell me.”

            “He likely has his reasons. She… she knew Jake and Bradley would make very good parents. Wanted to make that possible for them.”

            “That’s… very generous of her.”

            “Yes. Her mother’s influence I suspect,” Tom says quietly, because of course Petra had been able to talk with her about it in depth.

            “I look forward to meeting them both.”

2029

            He wraps his arms around Jake, presses a kiss to the back of his neck as he looks out at the back yard, no doubt thinking about work rather than the yard work which they’d talked about needing to do. He presses another kiss, runs his hands over Jake’s ass, hums appreciatively. Glad it’s early in the morning and they’ve had a good night’s rest and have until lunch tomorrow to spend time together.

            “Hey…”

            “Hey. You trying to start something Bradshaw?”

            “Maybe.”

            “Ah. So you did have ulterior motives by arranging for the kids to spend the weekend at their grandparents…”

            “It’s our anniversary…”

            “No it fucking isn’t,” Jake counters, turning around to face him and frowning.

            “Oh. No. Not wedding anniversary. I mean… today’s the day I saw you in the club, dancing.”

            “You remember the date?”

            Jake sounds skeptical and he guesses that's fair. Bradley would love to say that he does, that the date is seared into his mind. But that wouldn’t be true. He knew it was coming up through, and he has a record of all his stations and deployments, so he’d been able to look it up, so he can say with certainty that it is today. He kisses along Jake’s jaw as he explains, saying that he thinks twenty years is worth celebrating. That he feels lucky that he can pinpoint to almost the hour when he saw Jake.

            “Bet you didn’t think you’d end up married to me…” Jake says, and he sounds a little breathless already.

            “No. Didn’t think I’d ever get that lucky. Didn’t know DADT was going to be repealed so soon after. Had sort of resigned myself to a fairly solitary future…”

            “Surrounded by your loving family. Very solitary,” Jake says dryly and Bradley shakes his head, presses Jake against the kitchen bench, grinding against him.

            “You can be surrounded by people and still feel alone. I don’t though, not when you’re with me.”

            “I haven’t felt like that since we sorted our shit out…”

            “Which is coming up ten years now. Still an anniversary…”

            “Such a sap.”

            “Yep. I love you.”

            “Mmm. Love you too.”

THE END

[honeyvettel]

hidden in plain sight | alex/franky, first time, smut, virgin!alex, [3.4k]

2017

“c’mon. stop looking at that.”

it’s late. alex can tell by the soft orange cast of the streetlamps outside, the paddock emptied out to a quiet lull, and franky’s voice pulling at the edge of his concentration like a loose thread. it hadn’t been dark when he sat down—just a little after dinner, telemetry sheets laid down in front of him, jaw tight with frustration.

friday’s data still doesn’t tell him anything, though. not about the way the rear had snapped out this afternoon, let him tumble in the gravel, bike smacking the barriers. “you won’t find anything in those sheets, anyway,” franky echoes, spooning another bite of mcflurry into his mouth. alex wants to tell him to shut up. easy for you to say , he thinks, since franky went on winning while alex had to spend his time apologising around the garage. but then franky nudges his foot under the table, presses the side of his sneaker against his calf, and alex deflates, like a popped balloon. “don’t you have someone else to bother?” he mutters. it comes out lacking a real bite and he knows it, and franky knows it too; especially when alex looks up and sees the spoonful of mcflurry suspended an inch from his mouth. franky’s grin is irritatingly smug, and alex can feel the heat creeping up his neck, settling under his skin. franky has always been like this—casual, offhanded, untouchable, and alex has never figured out how to handle him when it’s just them. almost two years of being teammates and it still catches him off-guard, the way franky toes the line between easy and intimate like he doesn’t know he’s doing it. or maybe he does. alex opens his mouth before it gets worse, before someone walks in and sees him like this—cheeks red, stomach fluttering.

“and who exactly should i bother at this hour of the night?” franky asks, a laugh stitched between the words. they pass the spoon between them like it’s nothing—routine, thoughtless. alex takes another mouthful without thinking, even though the sweetness clings to his tongue in a bad way. “i don’t know. shouldn’t you be out celebrating? i heard migno promised to get you drunk.” it lands wrong as soon as the words leave his mouth, bitter like biting down on something he didn’t mean to chew. he shouldn’t have brought up migno. he shouldn’t have said it like he’s—

“jealous or something?” franky raises an eyebrow, crunching around a smartie that leaves crumbs of chocolate all over his lips. alex huffs, trying not to react when franky’s foot deliberately curls around his calf— warm and unapologetic. he shoves the spoon back into the cup. “i don’t know how you can eat things like this. tastes like chemicals.” he’s not jealous. it’s just—migno is always there. always the first to throw his arms around franky in parc fermé. talking fast in the garage, laughing louder, saying things in rolling italian alex can’t quite keep up with. and there’s the video review coach thing. whatever that means. first time franky mentioned it, alex had blinked stupidly and assumed it was some kind of inside joke. like maybe boyfriend would’ve been easier to say. but no, it’s real; apparently it’s a job. go figure. 

franky finishes the last of the mcflurry, scraping the bottom of the cup with all the bits that got trapped into the paper seals. “i’ve got a movie queued up in the motorhome. do you want to come?” he asks, even though alex can sense the little tremor that runs through his words. “or we could just sit there and do nothing. i’m good at that too.” alex stares at the telemetry sheets as an excuse to keep his eyes down, all the red and green sectors blurring before his eyes. the crash still plays in loops to the back of his head—highside, gravel, the world turning upside down inside his helmet. he hadn’t watched the rest of the race; not until the broadcast in vds hospitality had flicked back to parc fermé—franky standing on the top step, golden trophy glitching under the sun. be amicable, marc had said once, not looking at him, busy taping up his gloves. you can joke around in the garage, maybe. but friends? you start thinking they’re on your side. then they’re not. alex was seventeen then, wide-eyed and still believing marc knew everything. he grips the sheets in his lap without meaning to, paper crumpling between his fingers. then he blinks and loosens his hold.

“yeah. okay.” 

franky leads him two rows down to his motorhome, the evening light sliding across the pavement and casting their long elongated shadows on the tarmac. he opens the door with a click and then steps aside, ushering alex in first with a quiet nod, all gentleman-like. he doesn’t know why, but alex had almost imagined the whole place would have been decked out in rossi’s piss-yellow, a blow-up of his face on the wall, along with some candles and a shrine. but no—it’s cream-white and dark wood when he looks around, just like his. more lived-in, though, like he’d expected franky’s space to be. “please, sit down,” franky signs toward the leather couch, before turning toward the fridge with an easy stride. “d’you want a beer or something?” “we just had ice cream,” alex rebutes, but acquiesces just for the sake of having something to do with his hands, needing the distraction. everything looks too sharp now, under the fluorescent lights—the edges of the table, the gleam off the kitchen sink, the clean lines of franky’s silhouette—and his head is starting to throb like it's working too hard to hold it all in. he sits down before his legs can give out, a strange sense of shakiness in his limbs he can't really make sense of. franky plops beside him a moment after, with two beers in hand. it’s march, but it feels like summer, close and stifling and thick. 

“thanks,” alex murmurs, barely above the hum of the room, and he takes a gulp of the estrella galicia. he can feel franky’s gaze on him when he swallows, sitting hot and heavy against the side of his face. franky hasn’t even opened his own beer yet. “so, what about that movie?” he offers, trying for casual. “i wanted to go for some classic, but maybe i can find something more chill on netflix.” alex shifts, suddenly hyper-aware of the narrow space they’re sharing— their bodies so close on the couch, knees brushing, the fabric of franky’s shorts grazing the denim on alex’s thigh. the condensation slides from his bottle and pools into his palms, but he doesn’t care to wipe it away. he can feel his pulse against the bottleneck, fast and thudding like it’s trying to get out. 

“ franky ,” alex says, throat tight. “what are we doing here?”

franky slides a little on the couch, taking an inch away from alex’s body, and the world seems to tilt.

“i just– wanted to do something nice with you.”

the tone—careful, bruised—makes something in alex almost recoil. it makes him want to get up and leave, put a continent between himself and this ache that’s blooming hot in his chest. because this—this isn’t what they do. they’re not strictly what you’d call friends; not the way franky is with mig, bagnaia, marini. that sort of friendship has structure. history. clarity. the kind of rhythm that makes sense when you look at it from the outside. him and franky— they’d bonded, sure, but only in the quiet, incremental ways that matter when you’ve spent years orbiting the same team, a mutual respect that had started small and steady, and then grown roots even if alex still had marquez etched as his last name.  and he hadn’t meant for this to happen—the way his feelings had slowly started to grow around his heart without warning. franky had just—folded himself into his days, seamlessly, until suddenly the sound of his laugh had carved out a place in alex’s brain, the sight of him in his race suit made something knock loose around his chest. (but friends? you start thinking they’re on your side. then they’re not) still. they don’t hang. not like that. not like this. this is—

“alex.”

it’s quiet, gentle, like franky is trying to keep him from spiraling further. he sets his bottle down on the table with a thud, and then his hand is there, curling around alex’s side, right where the bruises from the crash still ache under his shirt. “i don’t know what—” franky begins, then falters. his throat works as he swallows. “i just wanted to spend some time with you. that’s all.”   alex goes still, breath caught somewhere high in his chest. he can’t help but meet franky’s eyes, and when he looks up there’s no mockery there; no smug grin or teasing lilt. just– franky, open and calm; offering . alex settles his bottle down; he thinks how it would feel to carry this moment into the hollow of his chest for years. turn it over again and again with nothing to do about it. 

and so he leans in. slowly, like he’s moving through water. his shoulder brushes franky’s, then his cheek, and when their lips finally meet it’s hesitant, a little off-center. franky responds with caution, tilting his head, just before he deepens the kiss with the smallest sound in his throat, like relief. his hand on alex’s side slides around to his back, steadying, anchoring, and their knees bump again, skin against fabric. alex leans forward, suddenly bold, and licks into the taste left on franky’s palate; the faint, artificial sweetness of mcflurry still clings—vanilla and cheap chocolate—and his brain sparks with the thought of their spit mixing, indistinguishable now. they kiss, and kiss, until their lungs burn, mouths swollen and damp. “we should— i mean, we can—” franky pants, breath catching halfway through the thought. “yeah. yeah,” and alex is already standing up in the direction of the bed, with a kind of urgency he can’t disguise. soon his legs knock against the edge of a mattress, and then he’s sinking down, the world narrowing to franky’s body following his and covering him like a second layer. god . this could’ve happened sooner, alex thinks; that twists the knife a little. it could’ve happened weeks ago— months , even—when they had all the stillness of the winter break ahead of them. 

he hadn’t imagined it, though—he knows that now . that he was never alone in this want. it’s here, written in the way franky’s fingers tighten at the back of his neck, clinging, as he presses another bruising kiss along his mouth. “tell me you have lube,” franky mutters, voice low and a little frayed at the edges. he peels alex’s shirt off in one fluid motion, fingers skimming over the bruises blooming purple. alex wishes he’d just press down, hard—give him something to replace the disappointment. “yeah,” alex breathes; he feels his pulse thudding everywhere at once—neck, chest, cock. it’s already flushed, heavy against his stomach, and franky hasn’t even really touched him yet. “yeah, one—one second.” he nearly stumbles over himself on the way to the bathroom, rifling through his dopp kit with shaking fingers and dragging out a small, half-forgotten plastic bottle along with a strip of condoms shoved all the way to the back. when he’d packed them, it felt almost stupid; optimistic, in a way. not that he’d ever—well. he’d taken them out of hope more than reason, really. 

when alex returns, he finds franky waiting at the edge of the bed, stripped down to nothing but a pair of black boxers. his skin glows gold in the low light, all warm angles and smooth, sun-soaked lines of muscle. he looks—god, alex doesn’t even have a better word than stunning , like someone carved him out of sun and heat.  by contrast, he is like more of a sketch someone gave up on halfway through; his skin too pale, chest marked with uneven hair, ribs still bruised and mottled. he feels young in the worst possible way. “hey.” franky closes the space between them as soon as he notices the shift in the room, taking the lube and condoms from alex’s grasp without a word. “okay?” he murmurs, mouth brushing the side of alex’s neck. it looks like the urgency of before has dissipated to a simmer, and franky has understood everything, even if alex doesn’t know how to say any of it, throat thick with nerves and want. he just nods, slow, and slides his hand up into franky’s hair, threading his fingers through the thick curls.

“you haven’t done this before,” franky says—not a question.

“not like—” alex exhales, eyes darting somewhere near franky’s collarbone. “not like this.” he can feel his cheeks blooming with heat, his dick pulsating against franky’s thigh, demanding attention. 

“we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” he says. “you can stop me anytime. you can tell me to slow down. you can tell me if something doesn’t feel good.”

“i know,” alex huffs, feeling too raw under franky’s gentleness. “i know, i just—” he swallows hard. “i want to. i want you. i’m just—” 

“okay. you’re okay.” franky moves down, pressing another kiss to the line of his throat, like he’s trying to soothe the words from his skin. he latches onto a spot behind his earlobe, and he bites, just barely, a drag of teeth followed by the sweep of his tongue. alex groans, and his hips buck upward without thinking, pushing against franky’s side. “gonna take care of you, now.”

they slowly make it to the bed again, with franky’s body pressing alex into the cushions, the heat of his thighs bracketing his hips. then a hand slips past the waistband of his briefs, and alex lets out a soft, broken sound. the strokes around his cock are unhurried—slow in that maddening, devastating way that feels both grounding and impossible to bear, his tip already wet with precum, fabric of his boxers clinging damp. under any other circumstance, he might've gone red with shame, but then he feels franky too, hard and hot against him, breath heavier now, his hips rolling slightly, and that alone unravels another string of molten heat from the bottom of his belly.

there’s a beat, and then alex is bare—his skin prickling with goosebumps the moment it meets the warm, sticky air of the night. he hears the soft clack of a cap being flicked open to his left, the wet, obscene sound of lube being poured. “tell me if it’s too much,” franky says. alex nods, mouth parted, but no sound comes out. his whole body feels wound tight, every nerve reaching toward where franky’s about to touch. there’s a pause—just long enough to let him breathe—and then a cold finger glides down, teasing lightly around the ring of his hole. alex clenches reflexively, and franky stills, shushing him softly, thumb rubbing soothing circles into his thigh. “you’re doing so good,” franky whispers. “just breathe.”

alex throws an arm over his eyes, breath catching in his throat as he tries to adjust to the pressure blooming inside him, franky’s words looping in his head and making his cock throb even more against his stomach. franky moves in slow, steady rhythms—up and down, up and down, easing him open, coaxing him gently, until the tension melt into something bearable. shortly after, another finger slides in beside the first, still measured, and alex can’t help but moan this time, loud and unguarded when franky seems to curl around a particular spot. he grinds down instinctively, needing friction, needing something. 

“ franky . c’mon—” it’s half a plea, half a sob, and franky just breathes out, low and shaky. when alex dares to peek from under his arm, he finds him there—hovering just above, eyes dark with heat, pupils blown wide. “yeah,” he murmurs, shifting closer, nosing along alex’s jaw. “yeah. you’re ready. okay.” he takes a moment to tear open the foil, roll the condom on with careful hands, before lining himself up with alex’s hips. the first press is slow, careful— so careful —hands anchoring at alex’s waist like he’s afraid he might fly apart. alex hiccups; the stretch is sharp—sharp and bright and dizzying—but franky is there, hand splayed across his chest, thumb brushing lazy circles over the center of his sternum. “it’s okay,” he murmurs, barely audible, mouth brushing over his cheekbone, his temple, the corner of his mouth. “i got you.” he moves again—deeper this time—and alex feel it all, all of franky’s cock reaching places he didn’t even know could hold sensation. franky is so big—just like he had let himself imagine in flickers- but he’s also so unbearably tender about all of it that it makes an ache rise behind alex's eyes. he turns his face into the crook of franky’s shoulder, tries to swallow it back before it all spills out— too much kindness, too much feeling. they find a rhythm that is deliberate, steady, building from the base of alex’s spine and spreading outward, washing over him in waves. franky’s mouth stays busy kissing over his throat, breathing into the hollow of his collarbone, and then his hand wraps again around alex’s cock, stroking him with an uptempo. alex’s back arches against the pillows, eyes turned toward the ceiling but seeing nothing at all. “god,” he breathes out. “franky— fuck.” he turns his head, finds franky’s mouth, and kisses him hard—teeth and lips and spit. he is so terribly drunk on the sound of their skin slapping together, how franky feels just right buried inches inside him, like they’ve folded into each other entirely. one, two strokes, from tip to base, and that’s it. the orgasm hits alex fast, world turning white-hot around the edges, a strangled sound ripped from his throat like the one of a dying animal. it’s a moment, and then franky follows, burying himself deeper one last time as he comes.

they both pant against each other’s skin, body collapsed on the bed. alex can only but hear a soft high ring at the back of his skull, just like after hitting the asphalt. sensations return in patches, as his body reels itself back in; there’s cum cooling on his stomach, the leftover slick already drying uncomfortably around his hole when franky slides out, slow. he misses the feeling of fullness almost immediately. “sorry.” alex turns his head just in time to see franky sitting back on his heels, wiping his right hand against the corner of the sheet. he then rolls the condom off, diligently wraps it in a tissue, walks it to the bin across the small room. alex smirks, equal parts affection and exhaustion; franky moves like he’s more embarrassed about being clumsy now than being inside him just minutes ago. “leave it,” he rasps, voice scratchy. alex shifts just enough to reach, fingers curling around franky’s wrist as he comes back to the bed. “c’mere.” franky hesitates for only a beat, then lets himself be pulled back down. alex tugs him close until he’s pressed along his side, skin damp and warm, chest still rising a little too fast. there’s a soft exhale against his collarbone as franky settles, one leg hooking over his thoughtlessly, hand gently resting at his waist. 

alex stares up at the ceiling; the shadows move slow and quiet, the twinkling light of the stars spilling through the blinds. there’s still this—this pressure lodged between his ribs, this stupid aching fondness. the way franky had looked at him. how his body had fit against his like he was meant to be there. he lets his fingers find the curve of franky’s back, tracing slow aimless pattern along the slope of his spine.

“you good?” franky tilts his face up a little, eyes catching the faint starlight filtering into the room. alex ignores how the sight is making his stomach roll with something unpleasant. like love .

“yeah,” he nods. “yeah. just… stay?”

franky hums, curling in closer until their legs tangle. tomorrow, they’ll board their flight, head back to their own corners of the world, and in seven days time they’ll line up on the grid again like nothing’s changed. alex breathes; he threads a hand between franky’s long curls and burn the feeling somewhere deep where he won’t lose it.

[vestaignis]

Все краски неба над русским севером - местом, незатронутым глобализацией, землей спокойствия и прошлого, Кенозерьем. 

All the colors of the sky over the Russian north - a place untouched globalization, the land of tranquility and the past, Kenozerie.

Источник:/argonavt.narod.ru/Prionezhje.html,/kizhi.karelia.ru/info/about/pressrelease/2017/10769.html,/35awards.com/direct/1160/,/www.drive2.ru/l/451922369833861379/,//ru.35photo.pro/photo_5170555/,://malaninphoto.ru/kenozero1,loveopium.ru/priroda/kenozerskij-nacionalnyj-park.html,//loveopium.ru/priroda/kenozerskij-nacionalnyj-park.html, //www.fiesta.ru/spb/places/kenozerskiy-natsionalnyy-park/.

[fourmula1]

heyy! just wonder how baby omega max is doing...has he figured out/accepted his feelings for daniel yet?

1,797 words. oops.

-

Max should be looking forward to winter break but all he can think about is Daniel being a world away in Australia.

Max hasn’t been apart from Daniel since he’s presented as an omega and Daniel’s always been his safe, comforting, warm place to go when he’s stressed and anxious and hiding from the sniffs and stares that linger wherever he goes.

He’s on suppressants now that he’s had his first heat but that doesn’t stop people knowing. That he’s newly presented and untouched and it’s not like anyone’s actually tried to get to close to him but that isn’t the point. The point is with presentation came the horribly annoying ability to be so acutely aware of the emotions and pheromones of alphas in close proximity and Max, now, knows all to well what hunger smells like.

Tangy, sharp, bitter; cloying and overbearing and awful.

Daniel smells like sunshine on warm, sandy beaches. He smells like Max feels when Daniel barks a laugh at something Max has said – bursting with warmth and fond happiness. It’s so deeply satisfying to make Daniel laugh and smile at him, like that. As good as when he stood on the top step in Spain.

Max knows he shouldn’t feel as upset as he does about winter break and going home to Holland. He should be excited to be in his home, with his family, and his friends, celebrating the season and having his first win, and a few more podiums besides, and a promising 2017 ahead.

All he can think about is how cold it feels knowing he won’t be around Daniel for a good month, while Daniel’s living it up in the Australian summer.

Meeting up with his friends and partying and probably letting other omegas tuck up in Max’s place underneath Daniel’s arm and.

Max flushes at the thought of what else Daniel might be doing with other omegas over break.

He hasn’t been able to smell other omegas on Daniel, or in Daniel’s hotel rooms, all season and Max frowns a little when he thinks about the lengths Daniel must be going to to neutralize other omegas’ scents in Max’s presence.

He’s not sure what upsets him more – Daniel spending time with other omegas, or the lengths he’s gone to hide it from Max.

Because surely Daniel is doing both. Other omegas, and hiding them.

Daniel is beautiful, and funny, and kind, and handsome, and nice, and most certainly he’s got lots of omegas ready to be at his beck and call.

Max’s stomach rolls.

Eyebrows knitted together, Max makes up his mind to say goodbye to Daniel and let him know that Max will be fine. Just like Daniel’s told him. He’s going to be fine, without Daniel, and so what if Daniel’s going to be hanging out and doing all sorts of things with other omegas?

Next year. Next year, Max isn’t going to need Daniel, he’s decided. Next year, he’s going to turn up at testing a new, confident omega who doesn’t need the warmth and safety and protective comfort of any alpha and certainly not Daniel, who no doubtedly will have some hot new supermodel omega girlfriend or something dumb and won’t be there for Max anyway.

The flutter of sadness at the thought washes over him but Max shakes it off as he crosses the hall to knock on Daniel’s hotel room door. They’re supposed to be packing for their flights home tomorrow but Max has it in his mind that he’s going to tell Daniel to have a good winter break and have lots of fun and Max doesn’t need Daniel to baby him or worry about him or look out for him anymore.

Maybe… maybe he’ll even find an alpha or two of his own to have fun with over winter break. Like Daniel will be doing with omegas in Australia.

The thought makes Max flinch, for a moment.

“Maximus!” Daniel is all smiles and opening the door wider to let Max in – like so many other nights in hotels this season – but the smile drops and Max can see his nostrils flare. He can smell Max’s bitter determination to make sure he knows Max doesn’t need him. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Max says, wills his voice to keep even as he slips past Daniel into the room. It’s the same as his. They all are. “I just came over to say goodbye before we go. I am sure you will have so many omegas ready for you now that you have so much time without looking after me.”

Max knows he’s word vomiting but he needs to make sure Daniel knows he’s not going to keep being the needy, anxious baby omega he’s been this year. He can’t bear the thought of Daniel being the one to put an end to it all, so it has to be him.

Max can smell, and then feel, the wave of surprised discomfort rolling off of Daniel.

“Whoa, Max, what?” He asks as he lets the hotel door close. They’re standing awkwardly in the little foyer to Daniel’s suite. Max can see Daniel hasn’t started packing literally at all – his clothes and shoes are everywhere as they are in every room. So much of Daniel all over the place. It’s comforting to Max that it’s… that Daniel’s always the same every place they go.

“You are of course going to be able to see all kinds of omegas without having to worry about hiding it from me, when you’re in Australia,” Max says, shrugging and trying so hard to be nonchalant about it. It sits so uncomfortable in his tummy, and he can’t pinpoint why, exactly. Daniel is his friend and has always been nice to him, but that’s all. He shouldn’t feel this upset about the idea of Daniel with other omegas.

“Hiding from you?” Daniel asks, and Max can’t look at him. He can sense Daniel’s changing emotions – confusion, to shock, to… hurt? Sadness. He’s sad. Max swallows the lump in his throat.

“I’m not stupid, Daniel, I know you of course spend time with omegas and you’ve been very good about not letting me smell anything on you but I am just saying you don’t have to do that, next season. I need to start growing up next season and you won’t have to look after me anymore.”

The room… Max could swear it turns cold as he chances a glance up at Daniel, who’s looking back at him with his stupid, sad, big, brown eyes that make Max want to squirm.

“I don’t… Max, I haven’t been… I spend all my fucking time with you,” Daniel says, and it’s sharp and. And hurt.

“Not all you time, surely you’re-“

“I’m not,” Daniel cuts him off, shaking his head. “Max, are you serious right now?”

“What?”

Daniel throws his hands up, incredulous and shaking his head as he reaches out to grab Max’s wrist and pull him in. In, to the safe, sunshine-beach-warm scent of his embrace. In, to tuck up under his arm wrapped around Max’s shoulders and forcing him into a hug. In, to the way he presses his lips to Max’s temple, and sighs.

He’s never done that before.

The lump in Max’s throat is back.

“You’re so stupid,” Daniel whispers into the quiet between them, lips grazing the shell of Max’s ear, but his words aren’t malicious. They’re… they’re fond and gentle and Max can hear Daniel’s smile.

Max closes his eyes, lets his arms curl up around Daniel’s waist to hold on, tucked under Daniel’s chin, trying his best not to tremble. He’d been so resolved in his decision to make a clean break so it didn’t hurt when Daniel came back to Europe for testing next year. He can’t speak. He was hear to be strong. Now all he is is exactly where he was trying not to be, anymore. Pressed up against Daniel, breathing him in, safe and warm and happy.

“I’m going home for Christmas but I’m coming back to be with you,” Daniel said. “No other omegas, okay?”

Max’s omega senses can feel Daniel’s earnest intentions and it makes something hot flicker in his chest.

“But,” Max starts, but Daniel cuts him off.

“I was going to come to your room before you knocked,” Daniel says as he gently pulls back enough to make Max look at him, his hand coming up to cup the side of Max’s neck. “Tell you I’d miss you over break and I’d worry about you and it scared me so much to leave. Maxy. It’s just you I want to be with.”

Max stares. Daniel’s sincerity is almost too much to bear. Daniel laughs, and Max is warmed up inside by the sound.

“Oh god, Maxy, you’re so much, you know?” He asks, and Max doesn’t know. Daniel cuddles him back into a hug and presses a real kiss to Max’s cheekbone and Max’s heart thuds. “I don’t see other omegas, Max. Just waiting around for you.”

Daniel is maybe right. Max is stupid.

The season flashes through Max’s mind like a movie; presenting as an omega and Daniel being so immediately protective of him, so gentle and re-assuring, so patient and kind and warm and patient, so willing to comfort Max and let him work out his anxieties about his presentation and his woes about how alphas saw and looked at him now, and. And Daniel never once did any of that.

“Oh,” he says. He’s definitely stupid. Daniel laughs.

“I want to kiss you so bad but if I do I won’t be able to leave you and Mum will kill me if I don’t come home for Christmas,” Daniel says and Max shivers in his arms. He wants that. He clings a little tighter to Daniel, pressed up against him and unable to help the way he rubs his cheek gentle against Daniel’s shoulder. He wants to be washed in the sunshine happy smell of Daniel.

“But when you come back?” Max wonders, heartbeat kicking in his chest. This is so not how he thought tonight was going to go.

“Will you let me court you?” Daniel asks and Max shivers. Yes. “Do it real proper. An alpha has to earn an omega’s affections, you know,” he says, cheeky as if he hasn’t done that – whether Max knew it or not – all along.

“Don’t go,” Max whispers, selfishly. He’d come here tonight with the intentions of making it known that he didn’t need Daniel’s laugh and warmth and touch all along.

“I’ll come back,” Daniel says as he cuddles Max tighter in his embrace. “To you.”

His scent is warm and rich and sunshine and golden.

All for Max.

Always, for Max.

[theseshipsshallsail]

IN LEAVES NO STEP HAD TRODDEN BLACK

There’s an ungodly rendition of Tárrega’s Gran Vals stemming from the bathroom counter; his mobile, he realises, deliberately ignored within the double-breasted confines of his tuxedo jacket. An emerald-green cummerbund dangles accusingly below the overhead light fitting: a fate reminiscent of the silken boxers draped over the dresser mirror. His agent would be appalled at his lack of designer révérence, but Oliver’s pin-striped suit is likewise discarded on the Holiday Inn’s carpet, and Elio…

…well.

Elio couldn’t care less for wrinkled pocket squares when the other man’s clutching his sweat-slick waist like his life depends on it.

When the rhythmic creaks of the querulous mattress are all but smothered by his hiccupped moans.

When the searing heat gathered at the base of his spine is a sure-fire indicator he’s about to come untouched: the relentless drag of Oliver’s cock against his screaming prostate making his balls draw tight in preparation.

And perhaps he says some of that out loud, because Oliver surges upright with a shaky nod, a mottled flush extending from his hairline to his beautifully bare chest as he crushes their mouths together. Tongue delving rough and possessive: claiming him twice over.

It’s been weeks since the West Coast stretch of his album tour began. Since they found themselves in the same city, let alone the same bed. Elio needs him like he needs his next breath - juvenile as the thought may be - and starved of such contact by dint of their heavy schedules, a constant stream of inventive text messages and late night phone calls only served to fan the flames. 

The connection they forged that long-ago summer refuses to fade. Understandably so, when they’d both fallen irrevocably: hard and heedless; regardless of the pain. They were a part of each other, no doubt. Yet strived to be the best part, also. And here and now nothing remains to stand between them. Nothing else beyond magnolia-painted walls and generic prints of the Seattle skyline. 

Elio’s entire world hinges on the salty tang of Oliver’s collarbone - the scratchy stubble tickling his temple - the dizzying gallop of blood hurtling through his racetrack veins, and for all that he finds himself drowning in the full-spectrum intimacy, it in no way prevents him from craving more. 

It never does.

Never will.

That said, a musician’s lot is one of flexibility: adapting to the changing tides. Inspiration strikes on a dime, and flashing a rakish grin Elio reaches behind him, snagging the crisp, cotton Oxford he’d stripped from Oliver’s body not twenty minutes earlier; sighing in bone-deep contentment when the lingering scent of Sandalwood shampoo and Acqua Di Gio envelopes his arms and shoulders in a familiar, homely embrace.

Saccharine, maybe, but when Oliver shook his hand in the villa’s gravel driveway - straw hat, sunglasses, a frayed pair of espadrilles on his size fifteen feet - the quirks and insecurities he’d spent years repressing soon blossomed into being. 

Free. 

Accepted. 

Valued and explored. 

Half the pleasure is knowing what this does to you. Knowing you like seeing what it does to me, Oliver told him once - drunk on the build more so than the wine - so it’s no surprise when his amante simply smirks in return: brows knit in fond amusement as he straightens his star of David amidst the shapeless collar.

“Don’t think I’m complaining,” he murmurs, the raw, post-concert urgency of before notably absent. “But what happened to pants off, mon chéri: no clothes ‘til checkout?” 

He has a point. 

A damned good one, at that. 

Yet -

“I want to feel you surround me, even when you’re inside me,” Elio replies, leaning forward to kiss him for all the times he couldn’t. “I want to smell you on my skin, even when we’re apart...”

“Fuck…”

“You’re mine,” Elio says, wrapping the unbuttoned cuff around his sensitive glans. “And I’m yours,” he declares, turning it translucent with the sticky beads of excitement. 

Oliver’s eyes grow glassy as he clocks his intent, and keeping him pinned by cock and stare alike, Elio proceeds to pick up the pace; the onyx engagement band adorning his ring finger glinting handsomely in the gossamer strokes of moonlight. 

[acute-crashout-jeyuso]

Sacrifices/ BTR Book 2: a Jhea Fanfic.

Chapter 15: Siri… play Metalingus by Alter Bridge

Flashback February 3rd, 2025

The florescent lights buzzed overhead as Detective Samuel Hart stepped into the Pensacola Police Department. His leather shoes clicked against the tiled floor, and a folder rested under his arm. The officers at the front desk barely glanced up; they’d been expecting him.

“Detective Hart from Stamford,” he introduced himself, flashing his badge.

“Right this way,” an officer said, leading him down a sterile hallway to the interrogation room.

Inside, Matthew Addams sat handcuffed to a steel table, his head slightly tilted back, a smug grin plastered on his face. The years of manipulation and violence seemed etched into his features, yet he looked oddly composed. Hart stepped in, placing the folder on the table with a heavy thud.

“Mr. Addams,” Hart said coolly, taking a seat across from him. “Long trip for me, so let’s skip the pleasantries.”

He pulled three photos from the folder and spread them across the table: one of Damian Priest, his face bruised and battered, posing for injury documentation; another of Jon and Trinity’s cars, nothing but charred metal husks; and the last, a grainy CCTV image of a figure in a police uniform outside the gas station where Liv and Dom had sought out help.

Matthew’s smirk widened as his eyes scanned the photos. “Nice collage. What’s the occasion?”

Hart leaned forward, tapping on the image of the unidentified man. “Three incidents. All in a 24-hour window. We know you didn’t act alone. So, who’s this? He’s not one of ours, and I’m guessing he’s not just playing dress-up.”

Matthew chuckled, his shoulders shaking slightly. “Detective, you do realize I’m already facing trial for attempted murder for my wife’s friend, right? Why would I help you now?”

Hart didn’t flinch. “Because you’re not as untouchable as you think. And let’s get one thing clear—your ex-wife is no longer ‘Mrs. Addams.’ She’s well on her way to becoming Mrs. Fatu.”

At the mention of Rhea’s impending new life, Matthew’s smirk faltered. In a flash, he lunged forward, only to be yanked back by the restraints. The chains rattled as Hart remained unfazed, a slight smirk of his own forming.

“That hit a nerve?” Hart taunted. “You must hate that she’s moving on while you rot in here.”

Matthew leaned back, regaining his composure. “You think I’m stupid?” he said, his voice low and taunting. “I’m not giving you anything, Hart. I’ve got nothing to lose.”

Hart tapped on the table, his gaze sharp. “You’ve got partners, Matt. You talk, and we work out a deal. Keep quiet, and you’ll take the fall alone.”

Matthew leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You don’t get it, do you? They’re always watching.”

Hart’s eyes narrowed. “Who’s ‘they,’ Matt?”

Matthew chuckled darkly. “Ask Demi.”

Hart froze, his expression momentarily cracking. “What does Demi have to do with this?”

Matthew smiled, his voice dripping with malice. “She’s a murderer you know..”

Hart’s fist clenched, but he forced himself to remain calm. “You’re bluffing.”

Matthew shook his head, the smile never leaving his face. “You’re out of your depth, detective. Demi’s past is far more interesting than you realize.”

—

October 13th, 2017 - Flashback

Liv practically bounced down the hall, her excitement contagious and inviting. She’d been looking forward to this night for weeks, and her energy was infectious. Reaching a familiar door, she gave it a rapid knock.

The door swung open, revealing Tegan Nox. She smiled but shook her head. “The birthday girl can’t decide what to wear,” she said, exasperated.

Liv sighed dramatically, stepping inside. “Rhea, come on! We don’t have all night!”

Rhea stood in the middle of the room, her hair freshly styled, staring at the two outfits laid out on the bed. One was a sleek black mini-dress with leather accents, the other a more casual but equally bold crop top and ripped jeans combo.

“I don’t know!” Rhea groaned, crossing her arms. “Do I go full badass or chill but hot?”

Liv exchanged a look with Tegan, then marched over. “Rhea, it’s your 21st birthday. We’re going out to drink, dance, and make bad decisions. You wear the dress.”

Rhea frowned, picking up the mini-dress. “You think?”

Tegan chimed in, “Absolutely. You’ll turn heads the second you walk in.”

Liv grinned. “And if you don’t like it, I’ll buy the first round to make up for it.”

Rhea laughed, her tension easing. “Alright, alright. Let’s do this.”

She grabbed the dress and headed to the bathroom to change. Liv plopped onto the bed, grabbing her phone to snap a quick selfie. “Tonight’s gonna be legendary,” she said, her voice giddy with anticipation.

Tegan smiled, leaning against the dresser. “You think she’s ready for the chaos we’re about to unleash?”

Liv smirked. “Rhea was born for chaos. Let’s just make sure we survive it.”

Minutes later, Rhea emerged, rocking the mini-dress with confidence. Liv let out a low whistle. “Damn, girl! You’re gonna own the night.”

Rhea laughed, grabbing her jacket. “Let’s make it a night to remember.”

Tegan grabbed her purse, and the trio headed out, ready to take on whatever the night had in store.

—

Rhea sat down at the bar, her eyes scanning the crowded club as the thumping bass of the music vibrated through the room. She spotted Liv and Tegan already hammered, laughing hysterically as they clumsily danced with each other in the center of the floor.

She sighed, a small smile tugging at her lips, when a voice interrupted her thoughts.

“Can I make something for the birthday girl?”

Rhea turned her head and was met with the sight of a handsome man, probably in his mid-20s, leaning slightly over the bar. His dark hair was neatly styled, and his warm brown eyes locked onto hers with an easy confidence.

Rhea smirked. “Make me something nice.”

The bartender chuckled and got to work, expertly mixing a series of colorful liquids. A minute later, he placed a perfectly crafted Bahama Mama in front of her.

Rhea reached for her wallet, but before she could pull out her debit card, he gently placed a hand over hers.

“No charge for the birthday girl,” he said with a charming smile.

Rhea felt a small blush rise to her cheeks. “What’s your name, sweet cheeks?”

The bartender chuckled, a light blush coloring his own face. “Demetri,” he replied, leaning slightly on the bar.

Rhea raised her eyebrow, smirking. “Demetri, huh? Well, Demetri, you just made my night a whole lot better.”

She took a sip of the drink, the sweet and tangy flavors mixing perfectly on her tongue.

Demetri tilted his head, his gaze never leaving hers. “So, birthday girl, how’s your night going so far?”

Rhea gestured toward Liv and Tegan, who were now attempting some ridiculous dance moves that drew laughter from the surrounding crowd. “It’s been… interesting. My friends are a disaster, but hey, it’s their job to embarrass me tonight.”

Demetri chuckled, his eyes sparkling. “Looks like they’re having a blast. What about you? You don’t seem like the type to let loose on the dance floor.”

Rhea shrugged, swirling her drink. “Depends on the mood and the company.” She shot him a playful look. “You offering to change that?”

Demetri grinned, leaning in just slightly. “Maybe. But only if the birthday girl can keep up.”

Rhea laughed, feeling the tension of the night slowly melt away. “Oh, I think I can handle you, Demetri.”

—

Rhea stood under the dim glow of the streetlights, the cool night air brushing against her skin as she watched the taxi carrying Liv and Tegan disappear down the street. Liv leaned out of the window, her voice carrying over the city’s hum.

“Let us know how fire his dick is!” Liv slurred with a mischievous laugh.

Rhea felt her cheeks flush, her thoughts interrupted by the warmth of a hand gently placed on her lower back. She gasped softly, spinning around to see Demetri standing behind her with a smirk.

“So,” he began, his voice low and smooth, “is the birthday girl up for heading to my place?”

Rhea hesitated for only a second before nodding. “I’m down,” she said, her voice filled with a mixture of excitement and nerves.

Demetri’s smile widened, but then he added, “I’ve gotta make a run first, though. You cool with that?”

Rhea blinked, tilting her head. “What’s a run?”

Demetri chuckled, his demeanor shifting slightly. “Rhea… maybe you should just head home, baby.”

“What?” Rhea asked, frowning in confusion. “I don’t know what a run is, but—”

“You’re too green, babygirl,” Demetri said, his tone soft but firm, like he was letting her in on some unspoken truth.

Rhea’s frustration bubbled up. “Come on! You’re really gonna leave me to spend my birthday alone?”

Demetri’s eyes softened, but he kept his distance. “It’s not like that, Rhea. You seem like a good girl, and I don’t want you getting mixed up in things you don’t understand.”

Rhea folded her arms defiantly. “I’m not a kid, Demetri. Whatever it is, I can handle it.”

Demetri sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not about age, Rhea. It’s about the life. You don’t want this kind of trouble, trust me.”

Rhea felt a pang of disappointment, but she refused to back down. “Maybe I don’t care about the trouble. Maybe I just want to have fun tonight.”

Demetri studied her for a long moment, his gaze searching hers. Finally, he shook his head with a small smile. “You’re stubborn, huh?”

Rhea smirked. “You have no idea.”

Demetri laughed quietly, his hand lingering at her side. “Alright, fine. Let’s go. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

—-

October 28th, 2018

Hunter sat behind his desk, his expression grim as Rhea walked into his office. She moved slowly, her shoulders hunched, and quietly took a seat across from him. The air was heavy with unspoken tension.

Hunter cleared his throat. “Rhea… I need you to explain what this is.” He slid a photograph across the desk toward her.

Rhea’s stomach dropped as her eyes fell on the image: her mugshot, unbelievable and undeniable. She exhaled slowly, trying to keep her composure.

“My NXT UK Women’s Champion doesn’t get arrested for Conspiracy to Distribute,” Hunter continued, his tone laced with disappointment. “So, what’s going on?”

Rhea hesitated, her fingers trembling slightly as she pushed the photo away. “It’s not what it looks like,” she muttered.

Hunter stood from his chair and rounded the desk, stopping directly in front of her. His sharp eyes searched her face. “Take off your jacket,” he ordered quietly.

Rhea’s head snapped up, her eyes wide. “No,” she said quickly.

“Demi,” Hunter said, using her real name. His voice softened, but there was still authority in his tone. “Take off your jacket. Please.”

Rhea’s hands hesitated at the zipper, but she knew there was no getting out of this. Slowly, she peeled the jacket off her shoulders, revealing the deep bruise on her neck, faintly covered with concealer. Hunter’s jaw tightened as he took in the sight.

“Who did this?” he asked, his voice low, almost a growl. “And don’t tell me it was Liv, Tegan, or Dakota. I’m not buying it.”

Rhea’s eyes dropped to the floor, her lips pressing into a thin line. She didn’t say a word.

Hunter let out a frustrated sigh, stepping back to give her space. “Do you want me to fire you?” he asked pointedly.

Rhea’s head shot up, panic flashing across her face. “No,” she said firmly.

“Then let me help you,” Hunter said, his tone softer but still serious. “Whatever you’re caught up in, it’s not worth your career. It’s not worth you.”

Rhea blinked rapidly, trying to hold back tears. “It’s complicated,” she whispered.

“I’m sure it is,” Hunter replied. “But you don’t have to face it alone. We can fix this, Rhea. But you’ve got to trust me.”

Rhea let a tear slide down her cheek, her voice breaking. “I deserve this,” she whispered.

Hunter felt a pang in his chest. Seeing Rhea—his fierce, unstoppable NXT UK Women’s Champion—reduced to this, broken and vulnerable, was jarring. It wasn’t like her to be anything but strong.

“Is it that boyfriend of yours?” Hunter asked cautiously.

Rhea nodded silently, her shoulders trembling. Through her tears, she managed, “I made a stupid comment about his brother… and I got corrected.”

Hunter’s jaw clenched, his hands curling into fists at his sides. He stepped closer, pulling her into a firm but gentle embrace. Rhea sank into the comfort, her sobs muffled against his shoulder. After a moment, he pulled back, his hands resting on her shoulders.

“Listen to me,” Hunter said, his tone firm but filled with care. “I can move you safely. You’ve got so much momentum right now—I could recommend you for the main roster.”

Rhea shook her head, her eyes filled with desperation. “I can’t.”

“Why?” Hunter asked, his voice tinged with frustration. “You don’t have to stay in this.”

Rhea’s voice was broken. “Because I love him so much.”

Hunter’s heart sank. She was defending him—the man who’d bruised her, who’d broken her spirit. He took a deep breath, trying to keep his own emotions in check. “Rhea,” he said carefully, “love shouldn’t hurt like this… let me call the proper authorities.”

“Don’t..” Rhea whispered, tears streaming down her face. “I know he’ll change. I just need to handle it.”

Hunter felt his resolve weakening as she pleaded with him. “Rhea,” he said gently but firmly, “I can’t ignore this. You’re asking me not to call the police, but I don’t want to get a call someday saying you’re—”

“Don’t say it,” Rhea cut him off, her voice trembling. “Please, Hunter. Let me handle it.”

Hunter stared at her, his heart breaking further. He wanted to shake her, to make her see the danger she was in. But he also knew pushing too hard might drive her further away. He sighed deeply. “Rhea… I can’t have you looking like this. Not on my roster.”

“I’ll fix it,” Rhea promised, her voice desperate. “I’ll cover it better, I’ll—”

“That’s not what I mean,” Hunter interrupted, his voice stern. “I want you safe. That’s all I care about.”

Rhea nodded, but her eyes didn’t meet his. Hunter could see the battle waging inside her, and he hated that she felt trapped.

A/N I know it’s short but I have some things I have to catch up on before I write a full chapter. 👌👌

[black-salt-cage]

no one could prepare me for the jumpscare of seeing an untouched relic blog from 2017 centered purely on aspec exclusionism

[fanfictionalraven]

Reno

Title: Reno

Summary: The reader and Dean were best friends until one fateful night. Now she needs his help on a particularly difficult case but can they work together?

Characters: Reader, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Bobby Singer

Word Count: 2,928

Warnings: Angst

Author’s Note: This story was originally posted by myself under the account Winchestersgirl92. It was published in 2017.

You sigh, running your hands over your face, as you lean back in the chair of yet another dusty, old motel room. A couple of takeout boxes sit next to your laptop on the table, untouched. You weren’t hungry anymore. A fourth victim had just been found.

You had rolled into town two days ago, confident you had a case on your hands. An easy case at that. Three victims, all weird, unexplainable deaths. At the morgue, you’d discovered a hex bag with each of the bodies. So, you returned to your room and settled into your research, trying to connect the dots. You’d spent the last two days retracing every step the three victims had taken but nothing panned out. Every lead you found was a dead end and, because of you, another person was dead.

You grab your phone and quickly find the contact you need. DEAN. Your finger hesitates before you change your mind and scroll back up to BOBBY. You press his name and put the phone to your ear, closing your eyes as it rings. 

“Yea,” Bobby says. You can’t help but smile at the gruff voice on the other end of the line. You had known Bobby Singer for most of your life. He’d been a close friend of your father’s which practically made him your uncle.

“Hey, Bobby,” you say into the phone. You can almost hear the smile in his voice when he answers you.

“Y/N. How’ve you been?” He asks. You sigh and shake your head, knowing he can’t see you but your silence speaks volumes. “What’s wrong?”

“I’ve got a case I can’t crack. Need some help,” you tell him. “A witch in Hastings, Nebraska. Should be easy enough but I can’t figure out who it is and someone else just died. I was gonna call Dean but I don’t think he’ll answer.”

“Well…I got him and Sam here now. I’ll send them out your way,” he tells you. You frown slightly, confused.

“Sam? But I thought –”

“Long story, kid. You’re about four hours away right now. Dean can make that in about two and a half,” he says. You thank him and set the phone back down, leaning back in your chair again.

Sam Winchester had died. Bobby had told you himself just a couple months ago. Sam had been like a brother to you and hearing of his death had hit you hard. But you knew it was nothing compared to what Dean was going through. His whole life had been dedicated to making sure his little brother was safe and taken care of. You had tried to call Dean then but all your calls went unanswered. You had been worried but you knew Bobby would keep an eye on him.

Now Sam was alive. You were overjoyed, of course, but a piece of you was anxious. You hoped it had all been a misunderstanding. Sam had never really died. He’d just slipped far enough away that everyone thought he had died. But you knew better. You’d been in the life long enough to know that there are ways. Dean knew these ways and would stop at nothing to get his little brother back.

You sigh again and close your laptop. You had a couple of hours before Sam and Dean would arrive and you were beat. The bed was calling your name loud and clear so you answered, falling face first onto it. Sleep overtakes you quickly, as do the nightmares.

You jolt awake, a few hours later, sitting upright immediately. You squeeze your eyes closed, trying to catch your breath. Just a nightmare. It was just a nightmare. It wasn’t real. 

“Alright there, Y/N?” A voice asks from across the room. Your eyes shoot open and you reach for your gun before freezing as your Y/E/C eyes meet green ones. Eyes you hadn’t seen in years. You swallow hard as your hand slowly withdraws from the gun.

“How the hell did you get in here?” You ask, never tearing your eyes away from him. He shrugs.

“Saw your car outside. Told the man at the desk I was meeting with the girl in room 12 and he gave me a key. You should probably start staying at more reputable places,” he tells you. The two of you stare at each other in silence for another minute before the door opens, drawing your attention. Sam steps in through the door, three cups of coffee and a white bag in his hands. He smiles widely when he sees you awake.

“Hey!!” He says, setting everything down on the table. You jump up from the bed and rush over to him, throwing your arms around him tight. He laughs lightly and returns your embrace, squeezing you slightly. “Haven’t seen you since –,” he stops, thinking, and you let him go, looking up at him.

“Since you left for Stanford,” you say. His face falls slightly and you reach up, putting your hands on his cheeks. You study his face and find it hasn’t changed much over the years. His hair is a little longer and his eyes a little sadder. You let him go then turn for the table, grabbing one of the cups. Sam opens the bag and pulls out a donut, handing it to you.

“Hope you still like jelly,” he says. You smile widely and kiss his cheek.

“God, I’ve missed you, Sam,” you tell him. He laughs as you walk over to the bed. You sit down and start on your breakfast, feeling Dean’s eyes still on you. Sam glances between the two of you as he picks up his own cup.

“When was the last time you two saw each other?” He asks. You open your mouth to answer when Dean cuts you off.

“August 15th, 2005. Reno,” he says. You frown at the memory and look up at him, his eyes boring into yours.

You had met the Winchester family through Bobby when you were about 18 and you and Dean had instantly clicked. It was like you had known each other your entire lives. He quickly became your best friend and you spent the next few years tagging along on hunts with them. As you’d grown older and Sam left for college, the two of you were inseparable. Partners on every hunt you took on and damn good at it too. And then…Reno. You hadn’t seen each other or spoken since.

You blink back tears and look back at your cup of coffee quickly, clearing your throat.

“Right, so, dunno what Bobby told you. Three vics when I got here. Hex bags. I can’t figure out who it is. Fourth victim was found early this morning. I haven’t actually checked out this body yet,” you explain before taking a long drink from your coffee. Sam nods and looks at Dean.

“You two wanna hit the morgue and I’ll see what I can dig up?” He asks. Dean looks at his brother and Sam frowns. “Or…Y/N and I can go to the morgue.” You stand, finishing off your donut, and look at Sam.

“Let me freshen up and change,” you tell him. He nods and watches you walk into the bathroom as Dean stares out the window.

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

You and Sam leave the motel in your car. You glance over at him as you drive through the town and he smiles at you.

“I was sorry to hear about John. Bobby told me what happened. I would have called but I didn’t have your number anymore,” you tell him. His smile falls slightly and he shrugs, looking out the window.

“That was a while ago. You adjust,” he says. “You could’ve called Dean.”

“Dean doesn’t answer when I call anymore,” you say, plainly. He looks back over and you feel him watch you, waiting for an explanation. You don’t offer one as you continue to drive in silence.

The two of you get to the morgue and you introduce Sam to the medical examiner as your partner. He takes the lead, asking the same questions you had about all the other victims. The ME gives you a small plastic bag containing the same hex bag you’d retrieved from the other three bodies. You go back out to the car and start towards the fourth victim’s house to speak with her husband. You glance over at Sam as he carefully takes apart the hex bag.

“You’re gonna make me ask, aren’t you?” You ask him. He looks up at you, confusion evident on his face. You sigh and look forward as you drive. “Bobby called a couple months back and told me you were dead, Sam.” You look over at him again and watch his confusion evaporate. Heartache takes its place and you look forward again quickly. “What did he do?” You ask, your voice quiet. Sam hesitates, seeming to debate whether or not he should tell you. “Sam. What did he do?” You ask again.

“Demon deal. He’s got a year. Less than now,” he tells you. You stare dead ahead, gripping the steering wheel tighter.

Of course he made a deal. You’d known deep down he’d done something but hearing the words seemed to take your breath away. Less than a year and he’d be dragged to Hell. Less than a year and the man you – your best – Dean would be gone forever. You tried to picture your world without Dean. Sure the last couple of years you hadn’t had him around, but you’d always known he was alive. You knew that if you decided to, you could find him. This would be completely different.

“What happened in Reno?” Sam asks suddenly, pulling you from your thoughts. You look over at him quickly then shake your head, looking at the road again. “Dean, doesn’t even talk about you anymore. I actually thought you were dead until Bobby mentioned you once.”

“It’s a long story,” you say quietly. You pull the car into the latest victim’s driveway and look up at the house. “Can you…”

“Yea, I’ve got this. Call you when I’m done,” he says before getting out of the car. As soon as he closes the door, you throw the car into reverse and peel out of the driveway. You drive straight back to the motel. You don’t know what you’re going to say or do but you can’t just do nothing.

You kill the engine and climb out of the car. You slam the door, suddenly very angry, as you march up to your room. Fighting the key with trembling hands, you finally manage to get the door open before stepping into the room. You slam that door as well and see Dean jump, exactly where you two had left him that morning. He watches you for a moment before closing the laptop calmly and leaning back.

“A year?” You ask, voice trembling. He shrugs, nonchalant.

“Ten months now,” he says. You shake your head, staring at him. You can feel the lump in your throat rising, bringing with it the tears you didn’t want him to see.

“How could you?” You ask plainly. He shrugs again. Is all he can do shrug??

“I couldn’t do it without Sammy,” he says. “I wouldn’t.”

“And what is he supposed to do?! Did you think about that?! What is watching you get drug to Hell going to do to him?! To Bobby?! T–to me?!” You ask. He lets out a laugh as he pushes way from the table, rising to his feet.

“I think you’ll make it just fine, Sweetheart,” he says, walking over to the mini fridge. You shake your head as you watch him.

“What does that mean?!” You ask. He slams the door to the fridge closed and turns to face you, anger on his face.

“You left me, Y/N. No note. No text. No phone call. I woke up one morning and you were gone,” he says. “I thought someone or something had taken you. Then Bobby calls me, demanding to know what the hell I did to you cause you told him you never wanted to see me again. Do you know what that did to me?!”

“You asked me to marry you, Dean!! What the hell was I supposed to do?!” You ask. He stares at you, bewildered.

“Giving me an answer would have been a damn good place to start. Instead, you sleep with me then run off in the middle of the night,” he says. You shake your head and wipe at your cheeks furiously, the tears finally falling freely.

“We’re hunters. This life is too dangerous to get involved with someone, you know that. That’s why we never crossed that line, Dean. And then suddenly you’re saying that we should get married and I just – we would have regretted it,” you say, looking at him. Immediately, you regret that decision. His heart breaks across his face and he shakes his head, stepping towards you.

“There’s a lot of things I regret in my life, Y/N. But you – you’re not one of them. You never could be,” he says, his voice suddenly soft and tender. He crosses the room and takes your hands in his, gently squeezing them. You watch as he brings your hands up to his lips and kisses your knuckles lightly.

“Dean,” you say, shaking your head. You attempt to pull your hands away but he tightens his grip and pulls you closer to him. He reaches up with one hand and brushes your hair back from your cheek.

“I’ve got 10 months. You gonna make me spend them alone?” He asks, quietly. You close your eyes, his breath washing over your face.

“That’s not fair. I get 10 months with you then I’m left alone. What am I supposed to do then?” You ask, looking back up at him. He runs his thumb over your cheek gently and shrugs.

“Whatever you’ve been doing the last two years,” he tells you. He leans in, pressing his forehead against yours. You reach up, taking his face in your hands. His hands find your waist and he pulls you flush against him. You slide your hands down his neck and to his chest where you grab two fistfuls of his shirt. He leans in, his nose just brushing against yours. 

“I can’t,” you whisper, pushing away from him abruptly. You turn away from him, running your hands over your face. He grabs you by the elbow and spins you back around to face him.

“Stop that! Stop pretending that we meant nothing!” He snaps. You jerk your arm away from him quickly and glare up at him.

“I’m not pretending, Dean! There never was a ‘we’! We were friends! Just friends!” You yell. He stares at you, wide eyed. “I am sorry, Dean. I shouldn’t have left you the way I did. I never meant to hurt you that way.”

“And I never meant to fall in love with you but clearly, we both made mistakes,” he spats, venom in his words. You stare at him then, certain that everything you’re feeling is written on your face. Shock. Dean loves me. Joy. Dean loves me! Heartache. He said it was a mistake. You swallow hard and wipe at your eyes, trying to reign your emotions back in. You look down, staring at the toe of his boots.

“I have never had any feelings for you, Dean,” you tell him. He snorts a laugh and shakes his head. You look back up at him quickly.

“When you can look me in the face and tell me that, I might actually believe it,” he says, walking back across the room to the mini fridge again. He opens it and grabs one of the beer bottles you’d put in there when you first got to the motel. You feel the anger begin to bubble up in your chest again as you watch him smugly take a drink from the bottle.

“How dare you. You’re going to stand there and try and tell me you love me when you’re asking me to do this? To watch you die? How is that love, Dean? That’s just – that’s selfish! If you loved me, you wouldn’t ask me to stay,” you snap. Dean’s face falls slightly, probably realizing you’re right, but you don’t care. You quickly make your way around the room grabbing your clothes and equipment. “I knew calling you was a mistake,” you mumble, shoving a sweater into your bag. You feel a hand on your elbow and you sigh, closing your eyes. “You and Sam can handle this, right?”

“Of course,” he says quietly. You nod and zip your bag up quickly. You throw it over your shoulder and turn, looking up a him. 

“I am sorry,” you tell him. He nods and reaches up, gently placing his hand against your cheek again. 

“Me too,” he says. Instinctively, you turn into his hand, squeezing your eyes closed. You place your hand over his then press a chaste kiss to his palm. 

“Bye, Dean,” you whisper, stepping out of his touch. You turn for the door quickly, not wanting to risk one last glance at him. Struggling to keep it together, you leave the room and get into your car. You throw it into gear and just like that you drive off, leaving the man you loved – your best friend – Dean Winchester, in your past again. 

Read Reno - Before here.