civanguneri

[civanguneri]

Not that Alara needed the encouragement, but Civan extended a hand out in gesture towards the kitchen out of habit. His strides fell in step behind her, any remnants of his previous mid-day nap vanished. A fresh quiet uneasy concern in its place. "This feels a bit like Kader." He mused, a step taken around her to grab them glasses and pull out a pitcher from the fridge. "I was asking Sel for advice that night." He'd tack on, "Not about you." Admittedly, they had talked about Alara a bit but it'd clearly been before whatever happened. "Not sure I'm the best at all this, but I'm all ears." Civan came around the kitchen island to occupy a stool and pour himself a glass of the fresh juice he'd pulled out. Stormy blues had been cast over the pastry options, hand mid-air, when Alara offered her offense aloud and he froze. Hand still mid-air, his head snapped aside towards Alara. "You what?" Oh shit. The lot of them struggled at times with being openly emotional, vulnerability turning into defensive curt remarks but Civan couldn't help the grimace at this particular turn of events. "You went all out, Canım." He whistled, doing his very best to not let the slightest hint of amusement seep into his expression. Civan couldn't help but sit there trying to picture everyone's faces in the moment. "I'll be honest, I don't know how you're standing here to tell the tale." Sel had to have been on a warpath. "But, alright... have you talked at all since?" He doubted it. If Alara had been avoiding him after their minor row, he imagined Selin was much more intimidating to approach.

She stood there, waiting for his response, her heart tightening — but then his lips curved into one of his infamous smirks. The sight of it unraveled something inside her. Alara let out a breathless laugh, rolling her eyes as he tugged her into his arms.

"Ulan seni kerata," she whispered, voice thick with affection as she wrapped her arms around his waist, her tension melting with the warmth of his embrace, the familiar scent of him. She sank into him, as if his arms could hold not just her body but the weight she’d been carrying for so long. "I could never look pathetic," she murmured against his shoulder, but even the defiance in her words was soft, colored with relief.

Civan was home. Not a place — never a place — but a steady, unshakeable presence. And knowing there was no anger between them, no bitterness, filled her with a gratitude so fierce it made her throat tighten.

Reluctantly, she pulled back, her fingertips lingering on his side before finally stepping away. The weight of everything she still had to face settled heavily on her shoulders again. She lifted the box of pastries she’d picked up from the halal bakery in town, offering it like a fragile peace offering.

"I figured we could eat our feelings while you help me figure out how to fix things with Sel," she said, her voice softening, the vulnerability slipping through. "Because Allah bilir, I need all the help I can get."

And with that, she made her way into his kitchen, helping herself to two plates and two forks before settling at his table. She knew better than to attempt eating a flaky pastry on his couch, he probably would have thrown her out the second she tried. As she busied herself selecting one, she kept her gaze fixed anywhere but on Civan and confessed what she’d done to her cousin.

“I flirted with Wes at New Year’s.”

Civan knew enough about her cousin's history to know the weight of such a transgression. The shame of that night still kept her from setting foot in The Rusty Spur.

“At first, it wasn’t even about Selin — he was just there and I wanted someone to chase away the pain. But then Sel saw us and I don’t know what was wrong with me. I was so desperate to push away anyone I cared about before they could hurt me and I—" she broke off, swallowing against the guilt rising in her throat. "I may or may not have said something like… he should call me if he ever actually wanted to move on from the past.”

[civanguneri]

His face pinched into a grimace, but he'd slowly nod. "Yes. She's one of the only people I know who'd understand my particular brand of... I don't know what to call it." Civan rolled his eyes, mostly at himself. Admitting fault wasn't easy and Sel was probably one of the most equally guarded people he knew. She'd looked as regretful telling him he'd have to apologize as he felt hearing it. "Ah, well, Sel probably knows me a little too well to suggest that." That earned a low, gravely chuckle. A sound that sat to linger in his chest. "Too stubborn." Civan would argue being best friends with Alara and close to Selin meant he was particularly resilient against women with sharp tongues and a stubborn streak of their own. Tanvi was the icing on the cake of outspoken personalities he'd spent years surrounded with. "Love Island?" Civan echoed the show's title with a mix of confusion and a dash of horror. "Is that another reality show?" Admittedly, his protests aside, Civan had found himself a little swept up in the drama. Making his own grumbled commentary every now and then. Though, he still wasn't quite sure how it was deemed a 'comfort' show for anyone. The full weight of Holly's words sunk in belatedly and a second wave of relief washed over the man, tension alleviated in his shoulders. "Sel also let me know that comment about your dress was not a compliment."

Holly blinked, admittedly amused by the fact that he'd gone as far asking for advice. And from her brother's ex-girlfriend at that. “Hold on, you asked Selin for advice?” the red head questioned, lifting her brows. “Then again, she knows me pretty well, so that was probably a good call. Though I am pretty shocked she didn’t tell you to run for the hills.”

The woman's mouth twitched into a half-smile, the comment about Nate causing a quiet laugh to escape her lips. “Oh, I know about the cardigans and puzzles. I always teased him that he was prepared for the nursing home, but I have to admit, I started getting a little invested in them myself.” Her smile shifted as she recalled the bittersweet memory. It was kind of annoying how charming Nate had once made the hobby look.

"Just wait, I think there's a new season of Love Island and if she hasn't gotten you into that show already, she will soon. Maybe we both will." If that offer wasn't enough to confirm that she'd forgiven him, Holly was hoping her smile would seal the deal. At the end of the day, she could understand where Civan was coming from, no matter how much it had hurt her at the time. If she could find it in her heart to make peace with Nate, then there had to be enough room for him as well.

[civanguneri]

The knit of his brow only deepened, concern still plainly written across his otherwise stoic features. Some days Tanvi found new ways to leave him speechless and for a moment Civan just kind of stood there, taking the emotional undercut of her words on the chin. "Okay..." whatever he was going to try to say next was stopped short by a sudden, irritating third wheel in the form of the nurse the pair both apparently now had a grudge with. "Yeah, yeah I could recite all this in my sleep." Civan unhelpfully bemoaned through Tabitha's spiel, actively trying to rush her through the process and looking entirely put out by her presence. Still a little irritated by her phone call etiquette. Was it all by the book, and the same thing he'd do in her place? Yes. Did that make him any less annoyed with the woman? No. Tabitha's 'look' was met with a glare that followed her back through the doorway, but any lingering edge melted away the second Tanvi latched willingingly onto his side. Civan breathed an audible sigh of relief and gingerly tugged her into place, pressed protectively into his side. Silently grateful she'd at least temporarily caved. Though the nagging thought something was off still lingered, paperwork in tow Civan guided them out of the emergency room. A pointed glare tossed over his shoulder when they passed by the nurse's station, again. For good measure. "Have you eaten?" Was the first thing he said after their departure, the passenger's side door of his car held open for her. A little overly fussed a hand stayed steady at the small of her back as Tanvi ducked into the vehicle. "I can stop somewhere on the way," he offered after having made it around to the driver's side and the door thuded shut in his wake.

Her eyes narrowed slightly at his question, hands coming to rest on her hips in pure defiance. "Of course I didn't alert the mark in the process. I am a professional, after all." Was that actually true? Probably not. Tanvi's spill had been quite the spectacle and harsh enough that even Cem's attention had been pulled from the mark and to her prone body. Luckily, she'd gotten most of the dirt and flowers from the offending obstruction out of her hair before they'd gotten to the hospital, but the scene she'd made was hard to ignore. But she hadn't heard from Cem after he'd dropped her off, so she assumed that he'd been able to get back on the tail pretty easily.

When he accused her of being off, Tanvi couldn't help the flash of shame that rushed through her. She'd thought she'd been holding herself together better, working through her own insecurities without tipping him off that something was wrong. But she should have known better. Civan knew her better than anyone else and could read her in a way that was infuriatingly accurate. She should have known she couldn't keep anything from him. "I'm getting released from the ER and I apparently have a head injury- isn't that one of the symptoms? Acting off?" She questioned, knowing full well she was deflecting. But she needed to buy herself more time, unable to fully face him with the truth just yet- her head already hurt she didn't want to add full blown embarrassment and vulnerability to the mix. Not yet at least. Not in a room that smelled of disinfectant.

Letting out a sigh as her shoulder sagged, Tanvi simply nodded. She was tired in more ways than one, her head hurt, and all she really wanted was to take a step forward and wrap herself in Civan's warm embrace. She was tired of fighting it, of arguing with him when he was offering her everything she needed. And she had to lower herself back onto the hospital bed when his voice softened in a way that it only ever did with her. He was here, he was showing up and he was concerned- he wanted to take care of her. It was everything she wanted and she needed to get over herself. They could talk later, when they were home and comfortable and she'd maybe gotten a little bit of the sleep that'd been tugging at her consciousness since the fall.

"Okay." She relented quietly, wanting to reach out to him and pull him to her but stopping when the elderly charge nurse came back into the room. Tabitha quickly went over her discharge paperwork and instructions before shooting Civan a pointed look and exiting as abruptly as she came. It was then that Tanvi slid off of the bed and made her way over to him, her arm linking through his as she leaned her head down against him. "Let's get out of here. I think the smell of disinfectant is hurting my head more than the concussion." Pausing, she lifted her head to look up at him. "We'll talk when we get home, okay? Maybe after a nap."

[civanguneri]

"I'm aware of at least that much, thus the warning." A shrug decorated his broad shoulders, unfazed by Holly's commentary. She wasn't wrong. His two randomly assigned counterparts were better suited to aesthetics hands down. "Are you going for a garden?" Civan asked, unsure if that was merely an exaggeration or an actual guidepost. If so, a rich brown basket seemed like a natural choice. Trying to pick something realistic to work with felt a little more manageable. He straightened out to look down and take in the table again in full, warring silently with the idea of having to dress up as The Tin Man. Unsure if he could answer the call the way Cameron had. Civan seemed stuck on Holly's mention of fake flowers, "Do we have glue? Maybe you two could pick a basket and I can get started... putting some Hershey kisses into the center of flowers or something." Civan shot a look at the scattered groups around them, "I trust your judgment." His normal inclination to go with black or white as a base was probably entirely unhelpful. None of the baskets he saw delivered to the hospital were ever those colors either. Though, for a housewarming gift, it was always his pick. ( @camercnbishop )

Cameron let out a low laugh, hands sliding into his pockets as he took in the chaos on the table. "Marshmallow Peeps, huh?" he said with a grin, eyeing the glittery nameplate. "Well, if nothing else, we’ve already got the most aggressively festive team name.”

He gave Holly a polite nod, then offered his hand. “Nice to meet you too, Holly. I’ve heard the Easter fair gets a little cutthroat, so I’ll try to bring my A-game. Especially if bragging rights are on the line.”

Turning to Civan, he smirked. “Secret creative genius? No. But I do have a seven-year-old who thinks glitter is a personality trait and once made me bedazzle a shoebox for a class project. So... I’ve got more hands-on experience with googly eyes and craft glue than I care to admit.”

He glanced around them at the other tables, as if surveying the competition, before stuffing his hands in his pockets. “I did once dress up as the Tin Man from Wizard of Oz for Halloween at my daughter’s request, face paint and everything, so I’m fully prepared to go all in on this, if you guys want to.”

[civanguneri]

A light of heart scoff settled in the air, his sharp blues having briefly rolled towards the ceiling. "I don't think Marie is the only contender for the title that'd be upset about being usurped by... me." If his ex-girlfriend wasn't the person in the lead, he felt pretty safe to assume a certain cheerful redhead was the next in line. He imagined he in actuality fell much further down the list in ranking. "—And, from the way I hear it, best friend is normally a role that goes both ways." Civan gave her a pointed look, "You're far too chipper to contend with those I have slotted in." He was far too much of a pain in the ass, Civan presumed, to be the full time responsibility of anyone less hard headed than Alara. With a final glance at the basket of groceries they'd put together, Civan gestured a hand towards the checkout. "I'll have a little more faith knowing your mother made it." Teasing, again, Civan made the quip while one hand moved to claim the basket into his own grasp and start walking towards the checkout counters. Of all the people he could have run into, and after the frustrating fiasco pre-Christmas, this particular trip wasn't too much of a hassle. Even if he'd entirely forgotten what all he had initially come into the store for. "I'll give you my address in Briar Hills then," he tacked on belatedly. Realizing that Lia hadn't been over before. "You can get the cake and I'll start cooking."

Some people would've seen the look on his face and stopped but for some reason, the only signal Lia got was to keep going. He hadn't walked off, screaming at her to shut up yet so maybe that was something. If there was one thing she could talk about, it was the housewives, considering how much she had binged it over the last 18 months.

With her jaw dropping slightly, Lia placed a hand on her chest. "Wait, Civvy.. Did you just crack a joke? Did we just become best friends?" She almost wanted to throw her arms up in the air, but she refrained as she looked at him. "I'm going to change your name in my phone to BFF, don't tell your ex."

She considered it for a second. She had seen people on TikTok setting up snack carts for delivery drivers, but even Lia could figure out that it wasn't the best idea to do her own with margaritas. "Drunk Lia would probably try, but I do agree." She wasn't sure which of her favourite desserts would have gelatin in, but as she thought about it, the idea popped into Lia's head. "I've got it! My mom made me an ice cream cake at the weekend, it's at home, I can grab it on the way. It's actually your 'get out of jail free' card, if you don't like it, we can't be friends."

[civanguneri]

Frankly, Civan was tired. It was a long day and his social battery was blinking on red. There was something in particular about large, shoulder to shoulder crowds that'd always made him uneasy far beyond just the usual baseline discomfort. Every bump lingered, stuck to him, and they added up slowly until it felt like he might drown in a sea of people. The light evening wind blowing in off the water was inexplicably necessary, so for the moment his irritability with Levi took somewhat of a backseat. "No... there's slim pickings, for things like this." Who the hell knew why everyone in town seemed so keen to throw events of this nature so often. Every season, every holiday, every remotely redeemable 'cause'. Civan wasn't anymore thrilled about today then he had been for the New Years Eve Bash, but the fresh air and open space helped some. "Are you..." the question started, then stopped. Hesitant. There was an awkward dryness to the way Civan was trying to make conversation. Absently at least a little curious, "—Obligated to attend?"

Not stuck within the confines of the Paradise Point for a change during a town-wide event was for the best. By the time New Year’s rolled around, Levi knew they were starting to substantially mess with his head. And not solely from an employee’s viewpoint, making sure all would go off smooth. The different surroundings, the clear air hinting at summer heat likely remedied a lot more than expected.

Unsure how he’d become lucky enough with finding a decent, open space near the pier’s end, shoulders resting themselves atop the wood railing, aimlessly peering outward over the horizon. The tranquil breeze whipped at his face, finding a certain solace in the breaking waves. Something different before browsing additional stalls. More specifically, he was awaiting a certain someone, not minding however long it took.

Hardly expecting company, another figure nevertheless approached closer. The familiar, deep voice had his gaze narrowing, shoulders squaring themselves defensively by default. Though truthfully, should he have publicly lashed out like he had during their last sour encounter? No…

“Well, not like you had much of a choice otherwise..” He and Guneri's similar prompted some restraint with his retaliation, heavily exhaling a breath. The resort grounds were no longer a valid excuse. “Probably should’ve known this spot would’ve been found out.” 

[civanguneri]

A grimace blanketed his features, the teasing moniker of Mr. Moneybags was just a smidgen too close for comfort to Sahra's unsettling Daddy Warbucks. "I don't send out all of my laundry," Civan amended with the pretense that made it completely normal. "Only when something needs to be pressed or has a mystery stain." The bright colored gulal went in the 'mystery' category as far as he was concerned, and they were both wearing one his white shirts. Under normal circumstances Civan would be inclined to pout. Tanvi wasn't wrong. It was just far too late now, and having escorted his anne he'd been doomed from the start. "Stealing my clothes is becoming a recurring theme, Canım. Clearly you weren't too worried about how I'd take the news." With her turned in his arms and their gaze locked, it was all too easy to forget the vibrant bustling crowd of the Spring Fling Festival. It didn't quite stifle the impulse to run a slow intentional glance over his shirt, draped over her frame and marred with brightly colored powder. Any chagrin quick to be washed away again by Tanvi's choice of outfit, one of his hands half unwound from her waist to tug lightly on the edge of the oversized material. "Really, my complaint is, it's disrupting the view a bit." A faint rumbling chuckle sat in his chest, sharp blues swift to snap back to her face. "It's still a good look," the mess included. His head dipped and Civan brushed a chaste kiss atop her color flecked hair. "Are you enjoying this carefully curated social event?" His tone was mocking, clearly as underwhelmed by the festivities as the man was by most town functions.

The way his breath hissed through his teeth and his voice hitched when he spoke didn't go unnoticed by Tanvi, and there was a large part of her that wanted to shimmy again. Things between them had been so tense lately, which she knew was fully her own doing, but having his arms around her and being able to affect him the way she had (albeit unintentionally) made everything feel normal. Like they were getting back to being them. And unidentified, unlabeled 'us' that she'd missed despite the fact that she'd been the one to put the distance between them. But they were at a family event, kids were still running around, and her mother and her friends were right at the top of the hill- the two of them standing directly in their eyesight should the older women choose to look. So she chose to behave... for now.

Instead, she relaxed further into his embrace and basked in the warmth of his body against hers. "Yeah, baby?" She mused, head tilting back to look up at him with an amused smirk. Though, at his pointed remark about the laundry she couldn't help but to laugh, her eyes rolling affectionately as she shook her head. "I forgot you were Mister Moneybags." She teased, one of her hands shifting beneath his before she sifted her fingers through the spaces between his. "Too rich and busy to do your own laundry like us plebians." Her tone remained teasing, her back pressing tighter his chest for good measure- ensuring the color that stained her clothes would stay stamped onto his. Not that the closeness it brought her was any kind of downside.

Once again, her eyes flitted to the table containing her mother and the aunties, and this time her eyes met the shining eyes of one of the women. However, it didn't let her ruin the moment between her and Civan, and she chose to ignore the blatant stare and the gossip she knew would be coming. Instead she added a little fuel to the fire as she turned her head and pressed a ghost of a kiss against Civan's jaw. "Too good, hm?" She asked, turning in his arms so they were facing each other and bringing her arms up to drape over his shoulders. "I knew this outfit was a good idea. It's the shorts, isn't it?" Her tone was teasing as she smiled up at him. "And here I thought you'd be upset with me for ruining one of your shirts." She'd taken one of his many white button downs to use as her cover up for the evening, keeping a little part of him with her despite their paths not having crossed until that evening.

[civanguneri]

Civan tipped his head aside, observing in a lingering silence as the last hint of sleep was rubbed from the corner of one eye. The door shut behind her and he leaned against the wall idly, arms crossed. A slow growing grin made its way across his features, an annoying bit smug. Silently amused because none of 'them' in their close circle really struck Civan as good at any sort of apologizing. Allah knew he'd tried his hand at it recently too and the whole thing made him feel like an absolute clown. It was easier with Alara, there was some unspoken knowledge between them that it didn't really matter— they'd always be forgiven. "I know." Civan answered her explanation with a slow nod. "Sel?" He found himself inquiring, pressing curiously. "Did you say something to her that night as well?" That concerned him far more than her one off-hand remark to him. That was easy to forgive. "Alara..." he said her name with bemused exasperation, "Quit looking so damn pathetic in my doorway," with a gruff chuckle he stepped forward and wrapped an arm around her in an easy, short-lived hug. "I wasn't mad. I appreciate you trying to mend fences, but I wasn't that bothered. Just worried." It was difficult to see her in pain, to watch her try to drown herself in alcohol and pull away from Civan into the crowd. It sucked. Knowing he couldn't really do anything for her was what hurt, everything else was water under the bridge. "What kind of bribery did you bring?"

Alara winced at her best friend's gruff greeting, if it could even be called that. But she knew Civan as well as, if not better than, she knew herself. The second she got a good look at him, it became wildly apparent that she'd woken him up and she let out a sigh. So much for getting off on the right foot.

But she forged ahead anyways, moving past him and into his place after nodding her thanks for holding the door for her. "No, I didn't text. Once I made the decision to come over here, I knew if I delayed I'd come up with some excuse to change my mind." she explained as she turned to face him.

It wasn't like Alara to get straight to the point. She preferred talking around the issue, weaving her way in and out of it until she found a way to act like it wasn't that big of a deal. But she wouldn't do that with Civan this time. He was too important to her. Standing in his entryway, she braced herself before finally starting.

"You know I'm bad at this kind of stuff, so I didn't want to give myself a chance to back out. But I wanted to apologize. For New Year's Eve." she began, doing her best to meet his gaze, but failing miserably and looking at her hands instead, focusing on the ring she was fidgeting with. "I was in a- well, a really dark place. It just hit me that my baba really was gone, that my anne was gone as well, and I was just struggling with feeling like I was all alone." At that, her gaze finally flew up so that she could look him in the eye, hoping he'd see the sincerity with which she said this next part. "But I know that's not true. I have you, and Selin, and even though we fight all the time, Leyla. You guys have been there for me always and I- I took that for granted that night." She brushed a strand of hair behind her ear nervously. "I took you for granted and was too deep in my pity party to realize I wasn't taking your feelings into account. And I'm sorry, canım. Really, really sorry."

[civanguneri]

None of this was easy, but... honestly, Holly had sat through his feeble explanation with a lot more kindness or grace then he'd expect or imagine himself capable of. "I do not pretend to not care..," Civan huffed. Half pouting. "I don't, I just... I was never social. I struggled a lot here as a teengaer, with a language barrier and everyone else knowing one another since they could walk." Luckily, his family wasn't alone and they'd formed their own little cultural community in the town. It made him less homesick, that was until his baba passed away and he was quickly the man of the house. He flicked a hand, brushing the topic off. "I would not be sitting here saying any of this if I didn't mean it. I will admit, I did need a little advice first. I asked Selin. I don't normally find myself in situations like this." A raspy, semi-awkward wisp of a laugh caught and lingered in his chest. "To think I was guffawing at Nate for calling Lia intimidating, and then I got on your wrong side..." which, he decidedly wasn't a fan of. "I already could picture him managing a hedge fund. You know he sits in my house in a cardigan and does puzzles, yes?" Of course, that indicted him as well for his old man ways. "Which, yes, I do prefer over Lia trying to teach me about... The Housewives."

For a long moment, Holly said nothing. Instead, her fingers toyed with the corner of her napkin, folding it into sharp little creases as she processed his words. It was strange—jarring, even—to hear someone refer to him Nathaniel. That name never fit quite right in her mouth. Too formal, too distant.

“It wasn’t just that he left,” Holly said, voice quieter now, but firm. “I knew he was leaving. He was supposed to be gone for a week or two to visit family. It was that he didn’t say anything after that. No goodbye. No ‘I’m sorry.’ Just… gone. Like I didn’t even matter enough to deserve an explanation.” She wet her bottom lip, pressing it between her teeth before continuing. “And I get it—maybe you thought you were protecting him. Or doing the right thing by keeping that information to yourself.”

Her gaze dropped again, not out of weakness, but because it was easier to say hard things when you didn’t have to look someone in the eye. “I needed a friend back then. Not someone to fix it, not someone to explain it, just… someone who saw me. And that’s what hurt most.”

She stopped folding the napkin. It was a warped little triangle now, barely holding its shape. With a sigh, Holly pushed it aside and leaned back in her chair, shoulders loosening ever so slightly. “I appreciate the apology. I do. And the gift was thoughtful. Too thoughtful for someone who supposedly doesn’t care as much as he pretends not to.” That last part came with a hint of a smile, crooked and tired, but real.

She looked back at him then, blue eyes still cool, but no longer iced over. “You can’t undo it. But… you can show up now. If you mean what you said." Pausing for a moment, Holly spoke again. This time with a hint of amusement in her voice. "Starting with never calling him Nathaniel in front of me again. Makes it sound like he wears a three-piece suit and manages a hedge fund.”

[civanguneri]

Allah was gracious, because there were a lot of people in this town that could've made this whole thing a nightmare very quickly. He'd lucked out. Not that any aspect of decorating an Easter basket really appealed to Civan, but alas, it was part of attendance this year. "Seriously?" Was the first word out of his mouth, just hearing their team name gave the man a toothache. "Isn't that redundant?" His gaze followed in the direction of the nameplate, unknowing why, it wasn't like he didn't believe Holly and seeing it scrawled in glitter glue somehow only made it sound worse. He took an additional long legged stride forward to lean against the table and idly scan its contents. "I'm a surgeon." Civan scoffed, "Of course i'm good under pressure." The clearly high-strung, competitive energy vibrating off of the redhead was admittedly amusing. Bragging rights were something he could get behind. "I have to warn you though, my home is... modern minimalistic." All the bright pastel spring colors laid out on the table were lost on him. Not to mention, he was seriously regretting having not bought an oral hygiene set to bring with him and sneak into the basket. Civan's attention snapped up to find Cameron, rolling his eyes. "She's not serious. It's not unfortunate at all." Having his neighbor present was another boone, and given the man was a father there was a solid chance he might be better suited to all this. "Any chance of you being a secret creative genius Cameron?" He'd ask with a faint smirk. @camercnbishop

closed starter for @civanguneri / @camercnbishop location: spring festival / easter basket station

The folding table wobbled under the weight of the supplies, baskets piled high, stuffed rabbits, pastel ribbons, and a dizzying array of chocolate bunnies all scattered about. But it was the names scrawled on the clipboard that gave Holly pause. Her eyes skimmed the list once, then again, slower this time. Of course. Of course the universe would stick her with two men who probably didn't give a rats ass about aesthetics.

With an unmistakeable sigh, Holly glanced up just in time to spot Civan’s unmistakable silhouette cutting through the crowd—tall, composed, somehow both casual and infuriatingly put together. And right beside him, Cameron Bishop, looking every bit the clean-cut, put-together dad she’d heard about in town. Well. This ought to be fun.

“Hey,” Holly greeted, glancing down at the clipboard once more, as if she might finally realize she was standing at the wrong table. “Looks like we’re Team... uh, Marshmallow Peeps?” She raised a brow, nodding toward the little nameplate stuck to the edge of the table and decorated with glitter glue.

"Try not to feel intimidated." She gestured toward the items with a crooked grin, hands already busy sorting things into piles. “I hope you boys are good under pressure. This is a high-stakes basket we’re building here. For the kids, obviously. But also for bragging rights.” Her tone was light and playful, but while most of Holly was kidding, she would be lying if she said she wasn't at least a tad bit competitive. With many years of her family's ugly Christmas sweater contests under her belt, the woman wasn't about to go down easily. "It's nice to finally meet you, by the way," the redhead turned toward Cameron. "I'm Holly. Civan here, on the other hand, is rather familiar with me. Unfortunately for him."

[civanguneri]

"Mhmmm," Civan hummed, the faint hint of amusement lingered in the sound. Relief of running into someone whose company he actually wanted solidified, thankful to avoid a blow. "You—" whatever he'd initially intended to say died on the tip of his tongue. A sharp breath sucked in through his teeth. Though it certainly wasn't the inevitable ruin of his otherwise crisp, clean attire on his mind. Tanvi was pressed enough against his towering frame to tease, intentional or not. Her playful shimmy elicited a few too many hot-blooded thoughts, pulse racing. "Canım," despite whatever smug retort was about to fall into the air between them, there was still a little catch in his throat. His tongue briefly wetted his lips. "What makes you think i'll be doing laundry? This is exactly what sending things off to the dry cleaner is for." Civan didn't love that he would look ridiculous, smeared with remnants of colorful powder, but it was mostly survivable. It didn't quite make his skin crawl like some other texture might. He attempted to firmly cage Tanvi in against him, utterly oblivious that they might have an audience nearby. "I knew what I was getting myself into..." color wise, at least. "You look too good to steer clear." A fact. Not that he was in the habit of trying to avoid her to begin with. It was just a happy coincidence he'd found her there, as he let his feet absently guide him towards the lanterns. Internally wrestling with the sentiment until he laid eyes on her. A very welcome distraction.

Despite participating in nearly all of the events included in the Spring Fling Festival, and truly enjoying most of her time amongst the large crowds, Tanvi needed to find a quiet moment for herself. Her social battery had been quickly drained and she was left with rapidly depleting energy reserves, ones she knew she'd need when she came face to face with her mother and her friends when she went to pick the older woman up to take her home. She needed to ready herself to face the barrage of questions that came every time she was around the group. And honestly? She was already tired from the mere thought of it all.

So she found herself standing on the outskirts of the lantern lighting, watching people mill about as she debated between lighting one herself or simply sitting back and watching the glow of the lanterns as they were released into the night. Tangible hopes and wishes being sent off into the universe. It was a cute idea, but did she really want to get swept up into the emotions of it all after such a long day? She wasn't sure. Especially since she'd made a point since her high school days to put on a brave face in public. You can't let them know they're getting to you. That was her mantra, one she could probably let go of all these years later but she held on to like a crutch.

Needless to say, she was lost in her own thoughts when a pair of arms came to wrap around her frame, her body tensing, ready to strike, before the familiar sound of his voice and warmth only he seemed to be able to bring her washed over her in realization. Letting out a mix of a chuckle and a playfully annoyed sigh, Tanvi leaned back into Civan's embrace.

"Gracious, hm?" She teased, hands coming up to rest atop his as her body sagged within his arms. There was no one else who could simply relax her with their presence, not like Civan could. Head turning to glance back at her mother and the aunties she surrounded herself with, Tanvi was pleased to see they hadn't been paying her any attention. "I don't know how gracious you'll be thinking he is when you have to do laundry tonight." For good measure, Tanvi leaned further back into him and did a little shimmy, ensuring that the colorful powder currently dying her clothes would transfer to his.

[civanguneri]

@levibecker The Spring Fling

It was warm, there were people everywhere, and once again Civan wanted for little more than an exit strategy. With a fresh lemon twist sparkling soda in hand, he tried to weave through bodies and head for the quieter less occupied end of the pier. The other side of the stretch of vendors and booths promise a clear path and a view out over the ocean. Somewhere to regain composure. To catch his breath without the subtle press of people. However just when victory felt within his reach and he broke free to the more secluded, empty end of the pier his stormy blue gaze landed on another man perched along the banister and looking out over the water. If only a gruff turkish swear hadn't slipped from his parted lips, Civan might've been able to at least consider a retreat. Instead, he was stuck between multiple entirely undesirable outcomes. So, he supposed the least he might as well do was accomplish one small peace. Not getting swallowed back into the rukus of the Spring Festival crowd. 'He doesn't own the goddamn pier', Civan rationalized as he took slow purposeful steps towards the banister. He tried to steer clear of where Levi was perched, but it wasn't much space to work with. Banners and other festive decorations took up the sides and left them with only the very end of the boardwalk for room to really lean against the barrier. Against all better judgment, Civan spoke into the space between them. "Guess I wasn't the only one with an escape plan."

[civanguneri]

@tanvimvshra The Spring Fling Annoyed was often his default setting, big crowds like the one for today's local holiday festivities tended to increase that sentiment. The consistent occasional bump of a stranger's arm in passing left him on edge, skin crawling. Alas, his mother's mobility limits didn't seem to dull her affection for being drawn into social outings and Civan would be damned if she had to miss out just because she was confined to a wheelchair. So, once again, he had to bite the bullet and attend a Briar Ridge festival so that his Anne could do so without fretting over being a burden. His uncle had swooped in to direct her towards the gossip circle she was eager to catch up with, and while he had a moment to himself in the dwindling hours the man found his feet silently guiding him somewhere unexpected. A booth dedicated to passing out lanterns. Sunset was looming along the skyline, an end to a day of tiring smiles and obligated pleasantries. Any hesitance he might've still felt as he realized what he was doing vanished when among those littered nearby was a familiar face. Her outfit splotched with smeared bright colors, having clearly participated in the throw party from earlier on in the day. His own arms were flecked with a hint of having been caught in the crosshairs from attending his anne. Determined to sneak up on her, Civan kept his pace slow and purposeful as he closed the space between where he stood and where Tanvi was. "Allah can be gracious," he murmured. His arms came from behind, opting to accept that embracing the woman meant his clothes would inherently pick up more stains of color from her. The breath that accompanied his words ghosted over her right ear, and as he moved to pull her back against his sturdy frame his chin settled atop her head. He figured there was about a fifty-fifty shot he might take an elbow to the gut for his abrupt greeting, but it was a risk he was willing to take.

[civanguneri]

Once again, Civan did little to succeed in schooling his expression. A brow arched in quiet simmering amusement. "I see." The brief answer reiterated. "Does that mean you alerted the mark in the process?" The more combative Tanvi proved herself to be, the more alert, the less his inherent panic made his stomach do uneasy summersaults. The teasing just came secondary, almost involuntarily at that. "I'm not—" he cut off simultaneously, any ease evaporated in an instant as he took an unconscious step towards her. She'd put space between them enough times in their relatively brief encounter for him to notice and Civan had to somewhat metaphorically sit on his hands to keep himself from reaching out to steady her. "You're clearly not fine. You're in the emergency room, and you're acting off." More than purely in the medical, head injury sense.

"Tanvi." Her name came out in a soft exasperated huff, not frustrated just concerned and a little confused. "When have I ever volunteered to do anything I consider an inconvenience?" Unless it was for work or his mother, the answer was almost never. "I'm saying I would prefer if you came home with me. I want you to, I want to know you're okay." Civan swallowed the brief irritability that surged at the mention of calling someone else again. "I'm already here. Why the hell would you call an Uber, or someone else?" Even if she refused to go home with him, there was no reason he couldn't at least drive her. Drop her home. "I have nothing better to do." Civan stopped himself from rolling his eyes, hearing his own words aloud and knowing there was little reassurance in the too matter of fact phrasing. "Aşkım, please..." his voice softened considerably and hitched in the way it only every seemed to for her, "I'm here because i'm concerned. If I go home on my own, I will just be pacing and paranoid — calling you every hour to make sure you didn't black out. There's no rest in that." He might've been slightly amused by the 'how' but that didn't mean he was taking her condition any less serious. If given the opportunity, he'd fret about her infinitely.

Despite the last time they'd seen each other, with Civan quite literally jerking away from her touch, Tanvi couldn't help the way she reveled in the feeling of his skin on hers in this moment. But the memory of the way he'd recoiled away from her was still very much present and stung more than she'd like to admit. She knew it hadn't been personal, the logical part of her brain telling her that they'd been in his workplace, she'd been impersonating a doctor. Should he have gotten caught in any kind of compromising position with her it could have looked bad on both of them, but she wasn't the respected surgeon. She hadn't been in her actual workplace. But despite all of that knowledge the actions still felt like a rejection, one that brought forth real insecurities that she'd been fighting with since her teenage years. So she'd done the mature thing and avoided the man she usually spent most of her free time with.

However, all of her avoidances led them here. In the hospital, her with stitches and an apparent 'mild concussion', though Tanvi wasn't quite sure she agreed with that since she felt fine. And while she'd gotten lost in her thoughts for a moment, his voice brought her back to their present as her head tilted back to look up at him. "Carful, Civan. You're going to let your colleagues figure out you know how to care if you're not careful." Her tone was light, teasing, even; but the words carried a bit of bite all the same. She knew letting her feelings fester the way they did instead of telling him what was going on in her head wasn't they way they did things- if there was anyone she could be brutally honest with it was him- but Tanvi was, well, embarrassed. So she'd kept it all in and iced him out. Something she may or may not be regretting in the moment.

"Wait a minute," She began to defend herself, recognizing the look in his eyes as he replied simply to her own simple explanation. "It wasn't like I was just walking and tripped over the planter. I was working. Cem and I were following this high profile mark and I may have gotten a little too into trying to remain inconspicuous and wasn't paying enough attention to where I was going. But in my defense this is an important job!" The explanation came out quickly and while she was holding onto him for support. She only realized they were still touching when his gaze flicked to the door and she stepped away from him, far enough for his hand to drop from the small of her back. She wanted to end the connection herself before he realized where they were and who could see and did it himself.

His words, though, caused her gaze to lift from their spot on the wall and back to him. "Why? Are you afraid of Tabitha? I swear..." Trailing off, she shook her head. A mistake, because it caused a small jolt of pain to cause her to close her eyes and a quiet hiss to escape her lips unbidden. "You don't have to waste your day off with me, I'll be fine." She wanted to reach for him, place her hand on his cheek like she'd done so many times before, but she didn't. She wasn't about to embarrass herself with him jerking himself away from her touch once more, so instead she placed her hands on the railing of the hospital bed. "Once the paperwork's done you can go, I'll catch an Uber or call Raj to come and get me. I don't want to be any more of an inconvenience." She offered him an attempt at a warm smile, though it didn't reach her eyes. "I'm sure you have better things to do than fuss over me... like get some sleep. You work too hard, priye. You need your rest."

[civanguneri]

His face remained in a consistent state of confused distaste as Lia continued to explain, he did not expect there to be so many shows based around... housewives? Admittedly, that alone did manage to peek his curiosity. For science. Civan needed to see what exactly went on in these shows, and why there was enough of an audience they had one in seemingly every major city. "No." He answered in earnest with a loud, gracless huff of a laugh. "You wouldn't be able to order takeout in a bootcamp." The man's tone was still sandpaper dry, but the slight upturn of his mouth hinted to his teasing. "I doubt you can give the delivery guy a margarita." He'd input, but opted to spare his company from another round of his quiet health professional outrage at her lacking dietary sustenance. Civan internally prayed she at least put some vegetables on her pizza from time to time. "If you say so." Not that Civan minded, or else he wouldn't have offered, but the man also wasn't in the habit of fussing over small details. Lia said she was fine without it, so he dropped it. Taking her at her word. "Yes?" The follow-up question garnished a bit of a startled laugh. "Just, no gelatin. Too hard to tell the source unless I make something myself."

"The housewives. I personally prefer the housewives of Beverley Hills but since leaving the circus of LA, I am partial to ones of Salt Lake City. Although the ones of Atlanta aren't bad either." There had been a time where nothing had been more fascinating to her than the ins and outs of Lisa Vanderpump's friendships, but now she couldn't stand keeping up with the people that lived in her former city. It became a lot less of an escape when she knew a lot of the people involved. "I watch the ones with the ex military people and they train. I got asked to do the celebrity version once and I laughed so hard. Can we imagine me in commando training?"

Her face lit up as he confirmed the invitation for dinner. For someone who wouldn't rest until someone liked her, the confirmation that she hadn't scared Civan off during their chat in the store was enough to make her day. "I'm honoured, I'm very excited to see this kitchen." She wasn't expecting him to be overjoyed at the idea of watching some reality television with her, but he had at least agreed to try. That she could work with. Her eyes widened slightly as she thought of how to answer. There had been nights, a few too many really, where she and Sahra had forsaken dinner because they forgot to make anything before they got started on making frozen margaritas, but it wasn't every night at least. "No? I mean, not deliberately. Generally after a couple, I'm good with a bag of chips. If not, I make the margs and the delivery man brings dinner, it's a great relationship."

Waving her hand through the air, Lia shook her head. She might fire up the slushie machine at home too often and her recycling may have a few too many alcohol bottles in, but she definitely need to drink at Civan's. "I'm good, I'll drink whatever you have at home. Your house is dry and I respect that. Shall I buy a dessert? Do you eat dessert?"

[civanguneri]

Pride was such a fickle thing, there with bells on one moment and absent in others. It took a lot to talk himself into this. Sending the gift was easy, of course, but he couldn't get Selin's grave declaration out of his head. It wouldn't be enough. If he cared, then he would have to do something he loathed — apologize. Which did not come with the guarantee that whatever he had to say was enough to soothe Holly's upset. The whole thing still made his skin crawl. It was not a facet of social relationships Civan often had to stand toe-to-toe with, or cared enough to try. "It's tropical," a shrug decorated his broad shoulders as his frame fell back into his seat. "I... like to experiment," it seemed better than just having a glass of water. The casual side-track was short lived. A fact he'd normally appreciate, but in this particular case a moment of small talk might've been a solace. "Right." Civan knew exactly what had caused his insensitive rebuttal on New Years Eve, but that hardly seemed relevant. Explaining that didn't undo the hole he dug himself into. Instead, he took a breath and focused on the root of the problem. He'd chosen Nathaniel. His ignorance that Holly would see it that way didn't undo the impact. "Some of what I said on New Years was earnest." To help steel himself, Civan reached to take a drink of his carbonated mocktail. "Everyone experiences a situation from a different perspective. Mine at the time was influenced by Nathaniel." An awkward, helpless sort of stiff shrug decorated his shoulders. "I cannot undo that. I did not see things as him leaving you. I saw it as him going home and dealing with a personal issue that he wasn't comfortable disclosing to you, and that was not my right to speak on for him." That was the part he'd somewhat already touched on, "but — I can see now that was short sighted. I didn't fully take into consideration how hard it had to be for you. Especially, not knowing." It took a lot to not interject there, to not rebut her accusation from the night of their argument, to clarify that did not mean he didn't care. "There was a lot of... other ways I could have probably handled it all back then, and I regret that I hurt you."

Holly lingered in the doorway a moment longer than she needed to, almost as though she were grounding herself before whatever happened next. Catching sight of Civan across the room, the redhead took a deep breath as the heels of her boots clicked at a steady rhythm across the polished concrete floor.

“Hey. That's fine.” Holly's voice was more cautious than cold as she eyed the menus laid out before them. Seating herself across from her old friend, the woman gave him a faint, almost amused look as she gestured toward the concoction before him. It was nearly impossible not to note the bartender's choice of a yellow cocktail umbrella, or its unmistakeable tropical scent. “That looks… fruity,” Holly snickered, her lips curving into a near smile.

For a beat, the woman's icy blue eyes studied Civan's features, waiting to see if her words would be enough to piss the man off, as well as who would be the first to get down to business. “For the record, I didn’t come here just because you sent me that stethoscope. Even if I do appreciate it." Holly paused, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “I came because I want to hear what you have to say. For real this time. Not whatever that was on New Years.”

[civanguneri]

For a brief moment Civan allowed the conversation to veer into unfamiliar territory, a distraction. "Antalya, Turkey." Another aspect of his inherent privilege in life, his father had been a long-standing name in the cities booming tourist industry. It made making connections outside of their extended family when moving to America financially viable, with little disruptions to the lifestyle Civan had been raised in. Fathers always had a way of softening the surgeon a bit. Regret ate away silently at his stomach, "I was young when we moved but not so much so that I don't... remember it all a great deal." Miss it, more like, but that seemed like a more emotionally vulnerable response than he was willing to offer her. "Don't think about that too much yet," he found himself amending, though he was silently thankful she clearly had somewhat of a built-in support system. Civan had brought it up, but the way tension retook the line of the woman's slender shoulders made him feel a hint of immediate remorse. The talk of after-care could wait. "Nothing to thank me for." He dismissed, but a faint smile betrayed his features. Thankful for the small gesture of her clarifying his name. "Güneri," with emphasis on the u, he repeated his family name. "You don't have to stay here for the night," he tried to offer after an elongated beat of silence. "If you want to leave the car in the parking lot for someone else," her mother perhaps. "Myself or one of the nurses can call you a cab." Vanna's family was peppered around, surely able to offer a ride as well, but he could understand that may not be quite so appealing after a long emotionally raw day.

Her gaze softened, her attention pulling towards the rambunctious mutters of her family members on the other side of the room. Energies settled, and people were eating. There was some gossiping on the side, and a few of the kids did their homework while sitting on the floor, placing their paperwork on the chairs. In the midst of her circumstances, Vanna realized she had failed to see her family this way, at least for a while. It was easy to get swept in old wounds. Vanna, even in her mid-thirties, felt like a misunderstood teenager at times now that she was back at home. She felt her shoulders ease up a little, turning back to him with a grateful look in her eye. She clears her throat. "I suppose you're right."

She listened to his answer, an awe of sorts escaping her to learn that she had just unlocked personal information about her father's doctor. A soft smile escaped her, humming to show she understood. "And where are you from?" she can't help but ask, curious about a place that favors sweets. Then, his next question earned him a raised brow, her head tilting with her full attention. Learning that their trip to the ER was due to poor choices felt like an understatement, and just imagining trying to get her father to be any other way brought that heavy weight back down on her again.

She let out a heavy sigh, looking away for a moment. "Yeah," she manages to say, turning back to face him. "I figured." There's already a feeling of internal dread churning within her when Vanna hears her aunties laughing in the corner of the room. Her brows creased, and she let out a heavy sigh. "It'll be a community effort," she says with a shrug, waving a hand as if to say 'maybe, probably.' "Thank you, Dr. Gu—" Vanna's brows knit together, pausing. "How do you pronounce your last name?" she asks, gesturing to his ID.