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After the violence, John's having a little meltdown (and I promise chapter 17 is coming, there's 4 more scenes)

“I should just fucking quit,” he says, face buried in his hands, fingertips pressing hard against his eyelids to keep himself from crying.

Curt goes rigid by his side, the hand still on John’s arm tightening its grip. “What the fuck did you just say?” He asks, quietly, like he’s afraid mentioning it at all might make it come true.

“Not the play, no,” John reassures him. “Nor the company. It’s just- I never should’ve mixed work and pleasure, I get it now. Because now every time I see him I just wanna go there and fucking kiss him, or punch him, or shout at him, I don’t know. I want him to beg for my forgiveness and I don’t want to talk to him ever again. I don’t want to see his face anymore but every time I enter the Abbotts I find myself fearing he won’t be there. I just need some fucking time to think about it, to understand what I wanna do and he doesn’t fucking give it to me! He texted me earlier to tell me I was good at rehearsals and I was so fucking happy he liked it, I feel like a fucking idiot. I love him, I love him so much but he broke my fucking heart and when he’s around I cannot fucking think.”

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to the point of invention, ch. 2

Buck Cleven @cowboycleven

I'm thrilled to announce that my novel The Shadow of the Glass Tree will be adapted into a full length movie by Thorpe Abbotts Studios. It's an honor beyond words to know my characters will see the light of day on the big screen, and I know it wouldn't have been possible without you all. So, thank you; I promise you won't be disappointed. For more info, click on the link in bio.

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Since you reblogged <3

🎭 🎭🎭🎭🎭🎭

21 sentences coming right up!

(As I was saying, John's choosing violence)

The people around them are all now staring at them, some guys even look like they’re ready to intervene; which is exactly what John was aiming at, witnesses.

“I’m gonna fucking sue you for all you have!” George threatens, still on the ground, not threatening in the slightest.

That’s not much, buddy, John thinks. “Yeah? How about I fucking sue you for assault, uh? I can count at least ten people who will testify you punched me first, and I’m pretty sure the pub also has security cameras here outside. You wanna bet who wins this?”

George opens his mouth to rebuke and immediately shuts it back, seething. John offers him a hand, very much enjoying the way George visibly flinches before grabbing it, and pulls him up with more force than needed to make him stumble on his feet. Even under the fluorescent lights of the pub John can see that the punch is gonna bruise, and badly. He wishes he could be happier about it, maybe celebrate it with Buck.

“One last thing,” he says, and squeezes George’s hand tighter when the other tries to break free. “You gotta go to Gale at the bookstore, he works there most afternoons, and you better apologize for the shit you put him through. That’s clear?”

Lips in a thin, pale line, George nods stiffly. John lets him go, without a word of goodbye, and the other scrambles back into the pub like a beaten dog.

John takes a second to savor the moment — the punch, the fear in George’s eyes, the delirious feeling of being Buck’s savior. He doesn’t even need a second beer, he might just walk all the way home for how light he feels.

“What the fuck was that?”

John jumps a foot in the air when someone speaks behind his back. He whirls around, ready to throw another punch if one of George’s friends has decided to avenge him, but he’s only met with the set line of Curt’s jaw, a stern, worried look in his eyes. “What the fuck was that, Bucky?”

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🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬 😚

...

🎭

<3

darling dearest Ali, as privately discussed here's the 45 lines you requested from the next chapter of to the point of invention 🥰

you'll get the rest soon ♡

John's gonna be free for at least a couple weeks, which gives him both time and reason to ask Lil about the Glass Tree movie. She's at the party as well, sipping dry Martinis and laughing with producers and other agents at the grownups table, as Curt has christened it. 

She's wearing her hair pinned up in something of a vintage hairdo and her red lipstick is impeccable as always. John ponders for a few minutes wether to approach her with a compliment or two, to sweeten her. In the end he goes for a different approach, more direct.

“Listen, I don't care whose dick I gotta suck to get an audition, but I will. You just point me in the right direction and I'll go.”

Lil raises one eyebrow at him, amused. “As much as I appreciate you won't demand me to go suck dicks for you-”

“I would never, I'm a gentleman!”

“Yes, thank you. But I'm afraid I have no idea what auditions you're referring to, I still haven't sent you any new scripts.”

“Come on, Lil! Do I have to spell it out for you? It's all over the news, The Shadow of the Glass Tree is finally getting adapted and I want a shot at it. So, who do I have to go and please?” John insists, showing off his most charming grin even if he knows it'll have no effect on his agent. Lil looks suddenly uncomfortable, like she knew this moment was coming and was trying to delay it as much as possible. “Listen,” she tries but John won't have any of it.

“No, I'm not gonna sit here and listen as you tell me that Theodorion is not my role, that I should go for something in my comfort zone. I'm sick and tired of my fucking comfort zone!”

“Bucky, please. It's not the comfort zone, it's just...” She trails off, her brown eyes looking everywhere but at John. Despite the buzz his liquid courage gave him John begins to falter, worried that maybe the problem is not the one he thought but merely that he's not good enough for roles like that.

“Do you think I don't have it in me?” He asks, hoping to sound more provocative than unsure.

“Don't put words in my mouth, of course I know you have it in you,” Lil answers, offended. “But I'm afraid the casting directors might not think the same, and I want to save you a heartbreak.”

John inhales deeply. “I am being type-casted,” he says.

“Yes. But it's not necessarily a bad thing!”

“Like hell it isn't! Yeah it's good for now, it comes natural, and it's charming. But what happens when I get older? When it's not charming anymore, but creepy? I swear if all I'm left to play in twenty years are creepy old bastards I'm gonna kill myself, and no one will ever want you as an agent because of that,” John threatens her — he can already see it, with a cold shiver running down his spine, a lifetime of creepy characters, men unsatisfied with their lives who prey on young women that the main guy is gonna get at the end. 

Lil stares at him for a few seconds with a resigned look on her face like she's tired of his theatrics — she shouldn't be, it comes with the profession. Then she shrugs.

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My love, My love, My fearless love | Buck x Bucky

[beta-ed by the lovely, amazing, darlingest @soliloquy-dawn without whom this would've never seen the light of day ❤️🥹]

“A good pilot, uh?” This time, a genuine smile pulls at John’s lips and his eyes soften despite the worry still dancing in the blue. His hand closes more firmly around Gale’s arm, squeezing once, a thousand of unspoken words passing through them. “Best pilot I’ve ever met, Buck. One Engine Cleven, can fly circles around any of us.” --- OR Gale's first mission doesn't go as planned.

Link to AO3

Snippet under the cut

Soon, John is but a white dot, and Gale can only visualize his features from memory rather than make them out. His chest seizes with the urge to get out of the truck and run to him, card his fingers through John’s hair again, and press kisses to his face until the warmth of his skin is all Gale can taste. There’s a lump in his throat making each swallow painful, something Gale can only suppose is the unspoken potential goodbye they both refused to breathe. It’s stuck in his throat now, a stinging reminder that shall he die today, John will never hear it. He’d die without putting a period at the end of their sentence, leaving it incomplete for John to finish. Gale is no writer and neither is John, but it still seems cruel.

The bill is soft in his hand, the lines where  John folded and unfolded it showing up clear. When John shipped out, he did so with a white sheepskin jacket that always called to Gale to find his other half even across a landing field, and two rosaries hanging from his neck that Gale used to tug on to bring John in for a kiss. The bill is a new addition to John’s collection of trinkets he claims are for luck, but Gale suspects they hold a particularly sensitive aspect that John refuses to admit to. Not that Gale can blame him; he, too, has his own Things that he never flies without, though it has nothing to do with an illusionary sense of luck. There’s simply something comforting about bringing a piece of those you love with you 20,000 feet up in the air, where no one else has ever been.

His thumb lightly traces the “2” at the rounded, bitten corner of the wrinkled bill and Gale stifles a wet chuckle. Of course, John would claim a two-buck-bill to be his brand new lucky deuce. 

Buck&Bucky, always together, even back when one of them was stuck in the States. Even now, when the other is forced to stay on the ground.

Soon the truck jostles to a stop, and the weight in his stomach sinks lower. 

This is it.

Read more on AO3

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Paddy, with anyone else : Snarls if you bump into him, swears, will punch you, only tries to be polite with Eve because he's been broughy up with manners but he clearly wants this conversation to End and is out of his depth with not being able to punch his way out of it

Paddy, two seconds later, with Eoin : Will you.. come with me.. to Burma? 👉🏻👈🏻🥹 Love of my life 🥹😍

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💰 also. If I send 💰💰💰💰 does that mean you'll write 15 :Idcuteeyes:

Make me write

I hate you both deeply 🫶

Anyways, like the other one i did this just chucks yall in in the middle of a scene.

“Gale. John. I am so unbelievably happy for you both. I see the way that you look at each other and I see a long, happy future ahead of you.”

“Thank you, Mama.”

——————

Later, when the sun has gone down and Gale is sitting with John and Virginia on the fire escape, the siblings passing a cigarette between them, he finally starts to feel that nervous knot in his stomach start to untangle. It’s chilly, but it’s better than being inside, in the living room with their parents.

Gale feels a little bit like a teenager again.

“You know, Gale,” Virginia looks at him, breaking the companionable silence. “Your mom thought you were never going to get married.”

He blinks at her as the words process in his head.

“What?”

“You never really dated, never even seemed interested in anyone, just followed Johnny around like a puppy,” She shrugs, blowing a ring of smoke into the night. “I guess now that makes sense, given the circumstances.”

“How do you even know that?” John asks, nudging her leg with the toe of his shoe.

“Once I had a kid, I hit that level of adulthood where other, older adults stopped censoring themselves. I’ve learned so many weird family secrets. It’s a blessing and a curse.”

To Gale, that sounds far more like a curse than a blessing.

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to the point of invention, ch. 1

That's bold,” John comments in admiration. He likes the weird, extremely private Buck Cleven, with his impressive debut novel, his private Instagram profile that follows John's and accepted him back, his pictures of horses and literary conventions, and his indisputably good looks — blond hair, blue eyes, an air of seriousness about him that made John inexplicably smile every time.

a brand new WonderGinia fic

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Stalag AU (BB Buckies)

@hogans-heroes’ last fic (So it goes) as well as our little chat 🥰 reminded me of how we talked about an au of our bb buckies au with @alienoresimagines 😘 a while ago

While the main au is meant to be full of fluff and cute moments between baby buckies, chick and the 100th, the stalag version was more … angsty (too much fluff required angst to balance it out 😉)

In the original au, both Buckies became children (7 and 4), but here it's only Gale.

(also known as How the 100th POWs learn about Gale's very bad childhood)

Gale becomes a 4-year-old child after his fight with Bucky (to make the situation even more angsty).

After the fight, they're directly called away and haven't had time to talk about what just happened, and so neither of them knows how the fight affected the other.

You can imagine everyone's surprise when the next day, instead of their Major Cleven, they find a young child hiding under the covers, tears in his eyes.

After a moment of panic because “how did a child get in here?”, “what are they going to do? ”, “and... and... and....”, Bucky approaches and asks him his name.

The answer is a shy little “My name is Gale 🥺”

It only takes 30 seconds for everyone in the barracks to adopt him on the spot (it could have taken less time, but they blue-screened at the information)

After that, you've got a baby!Gale who imprints on Bucky like a duckling and follows him around, stars in his eyes and all shy.

Baby!Gale who sees Bucky's broken nose and shyly asks him with his cute kitten eyes if Bucky “wants him to kiss it better? because Marge's mom says it makes everything better”

Mainly, it's about baby!Gale, who's good as gold all day, never complains and helps everyone (4 dead and 10 injured with his cute little face).

That's the fluff, now let's move on to the angst

Even if they think it's cute and are happy baby!Gale doesn't misbehave (especially in the stalag), there's also something rather unsettling about it

Baby!Gale is too well-behaved. He doesn't cry (too much) or make a scene when he's handed over to strangers (and they're aware that they don't look the most welcoming in this situation and would normally make kids cry more than they'd make them want to be around them, they're POWs, for heaven's sake). He didn't say anything about waking up in an unfamiliar place. He didn't cry at all. Oh yes, he had tears in his eyes, but he didn't scream or make a scene. He didn't say anything about the lack of food or the cold. There's something wrong with how he behaves

At the end of the day, when Gale has been sweet and helpful all day, they ask him if he wants a little something. They expected him to ask for some chocolate (they don't have any but will have negotiated it with another bunkhouse) or the small meatball figurine (the one he spent all day looking at) like kid would normally do.

But instead he asked quite shyly as if expecting to hear them laugh and say no, if his Bucky can hold his hand (or if Gale can sit on his lap) 🥺

And Bucky makes sure to show him that it's not a problem at all and uses it as an excuse to always have him in his lap. The others don't know who likes it more (the answer is both 🤭🥰).

TW: child abuse

****

With Gale's dad being a bad parent and gambling a lot (in this au), it goes like this:

Just before going to sleep Buck asks Bucky, “How much did he sell me?”.

Bucky, completely lost, asks what Buck is talking about.

“Dad, he always said he'd sell me if I didn't behave...” he pauses before adding “but that's okay, I'd rather be with you Bucky”

While Bucky is completely shocked, doesn't know how to react or say and tries with all his might not to burst into tears.

Which also made everyone realize why Gale wasn't all that shocked to wake up surrounded by strangers (and it made everyone cry)

****

Baby!Gale dreaming of his adult life (and his fight with Bucky) 😭

“Are you mad at me Bucky?”

“Oh, baby, I could never be mad at you, why did you say that?”

“In my dream, you were angry and I hit you and I'm sorryyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy. I didn't mean to 😭😭😭” and Buck bursts into tears.

“Oh, no, no, no sweetie, I promise I'm not mad at you. I'm sorry if I scared you, baby. Come here.”

As they curl up on Bucky's bunk, baby!Buck carefully protected in his arms, Bucky can't help but think that he's never felt more alive in the last few months than during the last days when baby!Gale was looking at him as if he'd hung the stars.

After a moment, Gale softly adds “but it still hurts” and Bucky freezes and starts to panic because what does Gale mean when he says it still hurts? It shouldn't hurt because Buck isn't hurt, right? Bucky'd know if he was, right?

“Where does it hurt, Buck?”

“Here,” and when Bucky looks, he finds a big bruise on Buck's torso/ribs (and some others because of POW's life).

“Since when did it hurts baby?”

“When I arrived.” And that's when Bucky realizes that their fight has left more marks than he thought.

“Oh, Buck baby, why didn't you say something?”

“Daddy doesn't like when I complain.”

The whole bunkhouse tries to hold back their tears and fails miserably when they overhear the Buckies' conversation.

Bucky trying really hard to be strong for his little Buck when he doesn't know whether he wants to scream, hit someone or lock Buck up to protect him from all possible evils (in the end, he decides to hold him tight and carefully).

Also the stress of hiding baby!Buck from the guards (their little sunshine in need of comfort 🥹).

And for extra angst, if the de-ageing is caused by a lot of stress, Bucky would feel so guilty because it means Gale was suffering and he didn't see anything 😭😭😭😭

If you've been through the angst, here's a little more fluff for you

Baby!Buck beaming every time he's called Buck because it's like his Bucky 🥰

Can you imagine how many times the adults had to turn around to calm down after Buck did something because "he was so damn cute"? So many cuteness agressions

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Just watched Sinners and now plagued by thoughts of Vampire!Paddy and Eoin 🫠 Pls send help

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Our little life is rounded with a sleep, ch. 15

On another night in, they order Chinese and John makes Buck laugh so hard with one of his anecdotes about Kidd and his repair shop, one of the spicy noodles flies right out of Buck's nose.

He's mortified; John has never been more enamored of anyone else his entire life.

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several sentence sunday monday friday

thanks @amiserableseriesofevents <3 (i totally didn't forget that u tagged me in this i am so sorry)

Bucky knew that it was frustrating for Buck, being back and not being better. 

He caught him writing sometimes, in a little leather-bound journal that he had procured one day. He had asked him about it once or twice, but received decidedly clipped non-answers. Bucky was curious about it of course, even a little hurt – what could Buck possibly be writing about that he wasn’t willing to share with him, even after all they had been through together? 

For Bucky, the true worrying began when, just days before they were scheduled to fly back home, Buck pulled him aside after breakfast with a quiet “need to talk to you about something.” Bucky went along with him with no question, like he always did and always would. They hopped into a borrowed jeep together and headed to the outskirts of the base where there was nothing but equipment storage and the sound of wind blowing through the overgrown grass.

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Our little life is rounded with a sleep, ch.13

Love ya, John told him. He never does, his father’s not the affectionate type — he isn’t with anyone, never has been — but those words that his father probably didn’t ever hear are now turning sour with hypocrisy on his tongue, making him grimace. It’s not that he doesn’t love his dad, of course he does, but saying it like that, it’s almost like John was trying to placate him somehow. I love you, don’t be mad. I love you, don’t criticize my passion. I love you, don’t ask me where all my money went. I love you, I’m not sorry I tore my ATL, not anymore. I love you, please come see my play.

I love you, don’t make it something painful

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🧍🏻‍♀️

I am here to demand crumbs since I was rudely turned away 🫥

You wished for it, you got it! Here's Johnny caught in a crisis.

“Christmas is over,” Johnny says. “My mother couldn’t keep me any longer.” “Story of your life,” Bucky mumbles and then winces, but he does it so slowly Johnny feels like he’s watching him move through jelly. He doesn’t even feel the sting of the misplaced joke that would’ve made him furious in any other circumstance, just a very peculiar kind of icy fear at the pit of his stomach.

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Those drunk confessions are so good for clegan. What do you think of #17?

Hiii, I hope you're well <3 It's been SO long but here it is, finally, 8.9k words of Buck and Bucky yearning for each other :)

Clegan Masterlist

17 : "I’m not drunk. Can a drunk person do this?" "You’re not doing anything." "But… I sent you my love. Did you… did you not get it?" by @creativepromptsforwriting here

Are there some aces up your sleeve? (Have you no idea that you're in deep?) | Buck x Bucky (Link to AO3)

“You’re so pretty, Buck.” John’s gaze flicks up and down his face before his face softens in a way that has Gale’s knees weak and his heart kicking up. One of John’s hands comes up to his face, slow like John’s expecting him to bolt but he stays frozen in place. His breathing is ragged, and he might be on fire but then the tip of John’s forefinger gently traces a line on his cheekbone, where Gale knows his skin is dotted with beauty marks he’s never paid much attention to before this moment. They seem like the most important thing now, and something twirls in his stomach as Gale struggles to keep his gaze on John’s face without flushing bright red. John giggles gently then, his voice breathy with what can only be wonder. “You even got stars lovin’ you.” Or A night out featuring an arrogant lieutenant and a drunk Bucky might just shift Gale and John's friendship forever.

Snippet under the cut ;)

For someone for whom anger has always been the greatest fear, Gale should not feel so warm at the evidence of John being so angry on his behalf but he can’t help it. As he rises to his feet, John looks up at him with a frown etched on his face, blue eyes sharp and worried. Not reaching out to soothe the lines on his forehead with his fingers is a battle Gale worries he’ll lose, so he squeezes John’s shoulder instead as he shimmies over him out of the booth. Before he can leave though, John reaches out to loosely hold his wrist, eyebrows pinched together as his eyes flicker all over Gale’s face, drunkenness seemingly forgotten. 

“Buck, you sure about this? I’ll punch the bastard, you don’t-”

“It’s fine, Bucky. I’ve been sittin’ in this booth for so long anyway, I was starting to get restless.” John still doesn’t look convinced, halfway to a full standing position.

“Besides,” Gale grins again, feeling the wild thump of his heart and the adrenaline already flowing through his veins, “I’ve had a very good baseball teacher, and his honor being sullied just won’t do.” 

John blinks, eyes wide and searching, and Gale feels too exposed, like a dog presenting its belly. But then, just as his palms start to sweat and his shoulders tense, John makes a sound caught between a laugh and a scoff.

“You fell asleep the only time I tried teaching you the rules.” John’s mouth quirks in a soft smile, and embarrassment creeps up his neck but Gale can’t bring himself to care, not when his chest feels so light he could be floating under John’s undivided attention.

“I did not.”

John raises an eyebrow teasingly and a genuine smile pulls at Gale’s lips. 

“It’d been a long week.” He protests half-heartedly, though he’s well aware his slumber at that time had more to do with how John had felt so warm and safe next to him. Gale hadn’t even realized he’d fallen asleep until he’d woken up with his head on John’s shoulder as the other desperately and valiantly tried to keep still.

You can find the rest here and my other Clegan fics here ! ❤️

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A sweeter timeline (Such stuff-verse Christmas chapter remix)

As I was writing the final part of the Christmas Chapter from John's POV I told @alienoresimagines that there was a sweeter timeline where it started snowing while John was at Buck's and Buck didn't let him drive in the snow at night, and Ali politely requested for me to write this non canon, sweeter timeline as congratulation for passing the semester; so, here we are.

1.4k of sweeter timeline, fluff, early happy ending under the cut ♥️

Buck stands up on shaky legs and all but runs to the other side of the house, leaving John alone and confused on the couch. A part of him wants to follow Buck, make sure he’s ok, that he liked what just happened just as much as John did, that he felt just as much as John felt. He wants to know if they’re ok, if this thing between them has grown from both sides. If he wants more. If he loves John, or at least thinks he can learn how to do it.

Nervously he glances out the window and his heart misses a beat when he sees that at some point between their walk with Meatball and, well, this, it’s started snowing. John stands up quickly, putting his clothes back on and walks to the window, drawing the curtain completely open to assess the situation: the white flakes are falling slowly but steadily and there’s already a thin layer of snow on the ground. John knows snow very well and by the looks of it, it’s not gonna stop any time soon, which leaves him with only two options: either he drives back now, quickly, or spends the night here, at Buck’s. That is, if Buck asks him to.

And he might. There’s an actual chance that he might.

“Buck?” he calls, voice not as steady as he’d like.

A sound of shuffling footsteps, and Buck emerges from the door leading to the bedrooms, blond hair all askew and cheeks flushed. He’s wearing a very soft looking pajama set, all blue and green tartan that really compliments his eyes, blue and shiny with something akin to hope. “Yeah?”

“It’s, ah, it’s snowing,” John says lamely, pointing out of the window as if to show Buck that he’s not making up an excuse. “And it’s coming slow now but I think it’s gonna snow all night so, ah, I should get going now. If- if I want to make it home, tonight.”

Silence stretches between them, tense like a violin string. It feels like the very last moment before a play starts, when the curtain’s still closed and everything is yet to be written — anything could happen, it could be a breakthrough or an immense flop and John is used to be an acrobat balancing over that tightrope, but tonight it feels more important. Tonight he thinks that if he falls, he’ll never get back up again.

Ask me to spend the night here, his brain screams so loud, Buck must hear him. Tell me to stay.

“You can’t go driving around in the snow,” Buck blurts out, eyes immediately widening as if he didn’t expect to say those words either. “I mean, it’s Christmas. The snowplows won’t be out tonight with no one else around, it might be dangerous. There might be ice, or you might get stuck. You cannot be driving tonight,” he concludes with an absolutely fake firm voice, but John doesn’t mind; not with an electric mix of relief and excitement bubbling on his tongue.

“No, you’re right,” he says — omitting that he’s used to drive in much worse circumstances than this light dusting of snow. “So, can I crash here?”

“Yes! Yes, of course,” Buck says, nodding enthusiastically then stopping abruptly, biting his lip as he blushes. John smiles, encouraging, feeling himself blush as well. “Thanks Buck,” he says. “I’ll take the couch,” he then offers chivalrously, hoping for Buck to tell him there’s no need to sleep on the couch when there’s a perfectly usable bed in his room, but willing to take the sofa as a win if he doesn’t.

“Well,” Buck starts, then stops.

John looks at him in silence, expectantly.

“The couch is not that comfortable, not with your knee,” Buck tries. “I mean, a bed would be better. And my bed is big enough for two people, I think. So you could sleep there. With me. If it’s something you might want, of course, if not there’s no problem, you can stay on the couch, or I can-”

“Buck,” John interrupts him taking a step forward, coming closer to him but still not touching him. “I’d rather sleep in a bed, thank you. And if you come with it, that’s even better,” he says trying not to sound alluding — not too much, at least.

Buck sighs in relief, a hand combing through his hair. “Well, that’s settled. Come on, I’ll give you a pajama,” he says, gesturing for John to follow him and he does, trying and failing to hide his excitement.

Buck’s bedroom is so him, it makes John’s heart swell with tenderness. There are astronomy posters on the walls, books filling up every blank space, the tidiest desk John’s ever seen, and, well, Buck’s bed. Unmade, fluffed up pillows all askew, with a blue duvet and blue sheets — John wonders briefly if Buck color-coordinates his bedsheets with his pajama, but doesn’t dare asking.

“I’m sorry it’s a bit messy,” Buck tells him as he rummages through one of his drawers. “I, ah, wasn’t expecting any guests,” he adds, turning to John and offering him another sleeping set, this one red and blue. “It’s probably gonna be a bit small on you,” he starts but words die on his tongue when John, as a thank you, starts stripping off his outside clothes — looking much bolder than he actually feels, being more naked than usual in front of the other guy, but by the appreciative glint in Buck’s eyes he figures he made the right choice. The pajama shirt is tight on John’s shoulders, broader than Buck’s, and the pants reach halfway down his shins but John doesn’t feel uncomfortable or ridiculous — he feels cozy, he feels at home.

They brush their teeth next to each other in Buck’s small bathroom, John with a finger because Buck, much to his chagrin, didn’t have a spare toothbrush to give him. They exchange quick glances in the mirror, looking away the moment their eyes meet on the clean surface, laughing quietly and blushing. If it’s a dream, if he’s still asleep on the couch while Buck watches Christmas movies, then John doesn’t ever want to wake up.

In the bedroom, Buck takes the left side of the mattress, settles rigidly under the covers. John copies him, lays on his back under the thick duvet and breathes slow and deep, inhaling the familiar smell of Buck that surrounds him. He wants to turn on his side, gather Buck closer and kiss him, but he doesn’t know if it’s allowed.

“Good night,” Buck says after a few seconds, turning off the lights.

“Good night Buck.”

Silence, filling the space between them once again. Then, “John?”

John turns immediately. “Yeah?” He asks, heart thundering in his throat; Buck is on his side too, facing John, his eyes shiny in the half darkness, the warmth coming from his body intoxicating.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Buck tells him, voice shaking slightly like it’s a great effort saying those words, stepping out of the comfort of their unwritten rules. John reaches towards him, one arm outstretched on the mattress, the open palm facing up. “Me too, Buck. Thank you for asking me to stay,” he says.

Buck hesitates a split second then puts his palm on John’s, lithe fingers folding around his bones and pulling the hand to his mouth. He kisses John’s knuckles with such shy reverence, it melts John’s heart.

“Buck?” He asks, the other blinking at him in acknowledgment. John swallows dryly once, twice. “Is it still Christmas?” He asks, hoping Buck will understand — and by the way he tenses under his touch, he does.

“I think it can be Christmas until we wake up tomorrow,” Buck answers in a whisper and then he’s moving closer, or maybe it’s John who’s pulling him, it doesn’t matter: they meet halfway, lips parted, tongues searching. Buck’s hands in John’s hair, John’s on Buck’s waist to haul him closer, impossibly closer until there’s nothing between them, not even some air. Ever so gently John uses his weight as leverage to roll Buck on his back, laying half on top of him; Buck goes willingly, sighing softly when John presses him into the mattress, his lips curled in a smile.

“Buck,” John murmurs when they part, desperate because he needs to know. “Buck. Can it be Christmas tomorrow as well? Can we only have Christmases, from now on?”

Do you love me?

Buck looks at him, eyes wide and blinking slowly, like a cat. The rope beneath John’s feet tenses, trembles.

“I’d like that. I’d like that a lot,” he finally says, nodding.

I do.

That’s all John needs.

[alienoresimagines-archive]

Our little life is rounded with a sleep, ch. 12

“Didn’t they ever tell you that rules don’t work on Christmas?” Buck shoots back — a ready answer, but John sees through his bullshit like it’s clear glass: it’s an excuse, Buck just wants to kiss him because it feels normal, because it is. John doesn’t dare thinking it too loud, but his heart still somersaults when he realizes this might mean Buck is actually falling in love with him as well.