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imagineaworlds · 4 years

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I Love You (Part Forty-Five) -- Aaron Hotchner

Written By: @desperately-bisexual

Request: None.

Warnings: SMUT!! Cursing. Dom/sub relationship. Sir kink. Sex toy. Brat taming. Bondage (ropes). Forced orgasms. Overstimulation. Oral sex (male receiving). Dom dropping.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Word Count: 11,148

Timeline: Season 6 Episode 24. Three months after part forty-four.

Hotch was always gone nowadays. Between work and running errands for the three of us always stuck at home, he was just too busy to sit and relax. I missed him. I missed us, specifically, and how we used to spend every second together, and how good we were together at work. I missed work. I missed driving to Quantico every day or getting on the jet for a thousand different cases. I missed the bullpen, the roundtable room, Garcia’s office, my desk, throwing papers at Morgan’s head as he worked across from me, or teasing Reid, whose desk was across the aisle from mine. Everyone knew that I was anxious to get back— Hotch most of all. I loved our daughter more than anything in the world, but I loved work just as much. I understood now how Hotch felt about Jack.

“Elle was antsy to get back to work after Garner,” Hotch would always tell me whenever I would sneak into the office to look at some of the cases sitting on his desk. I jumped in my own skin as he caught me snooping. “You Greenaways are all the same.” He laughed and snatched me away from the office, practically carrying me down to the bedroom so that we could cuddle while watching Emily sleep in her crib.

At least we got those moments. They were scarce, but we tried to make as much time as possible, even if most of that time was spent sleeping. When he wasn��t around, though, I still tried to include him as much as possible. It was hard for him to talk on the phone whenever he was gone on cases, but I still sent him pictures and videos of the kids to keep him updated, like when Jack held Emily in his arms the other day and he was making fart noises in her face in order to get her to laugh. He called me immediately after I sent the first video. His voice was shaking on the other end, and I knew that something was wrong, so I asked, and he told me that Haley never sent him videos of Jack when he was young. She sent him one, and after that, they stopped altogether. I realized in that moment that he was terrified that I was going to stop sending him videos of Jack and Emily, and he would end up missing out on everything in their lives, and then I would leave him the same way Haley left him. So, I kept sending them. Every chance I got, I was recording one or both of the kids and sending them straight to Hotch’s phone.

It had only been three months since Emily was born. Sometimes it felt like an eternity, other times it felt like time was passing by too fast. When Hotch wasn’t around, it felt like time was moving at a turtle-like pace where I spent every waking moment counting the seconds until he would come home; but then, when he would be there, holding me in my arms, it felt like it came and went with a snap of my fingers. I wished I could have switched time. I wished that I could have just spent an eternity in his arms, not worrying about when I would see him next or if he would even come home.

I suddenly jolted awake when I heard Emily crying in her crib. “Shit.”

Hotch had called last night to tell me that they were finishing up a case and that he would be home soon, but his side of the bed was empty, and all of his stuff was untouched, which meant that he was going to be later than expected. So, that meant that I had to grab Emily and try to calm her down.

I sighed and sat upright. Emily continued to cry and shriek in her cradle until I leaned in to pick her up. As I cradled her in my arms, leaning back against the headboard so that I could close my eyes and rest for a little longer, I hummed a toon for her. Hotch’s favorite song was Blackbird by The Beatles. Since Emily had been born, he had been singing her to sleep with that very song every chance he could get. It seemed like it was the only way she could fall asleep now. I worried that the tradition and schedule was going to ruin her sleep patterns—and I guess I was right since she kept waking up throughout the night whenever he wasn’t there to sing to her. I kept trying to hum for her, despite that.

I was half asleep when she started calming down. I decided that putting her back down in the cradle wasn’t going to help—and even if it would, I was too tired to move. Having a baby was exhausting. With Hotch gone so often, I was having to endure these long nights alone, and the house was so quiet during the day that it sent a shiver up my spine, not to mention I was so bored whenever Emily would be put down for a nap in the middle of the day and I couldn’t call Hotch because he was busy. I couldn’t wait to get back to work. I knew that it didn’t make sense to do it just yet, but I was practically dying to get back. If anything, I’d ask to go back in a week or two. Hotch wouldn’t like the idea, but I was sick of sitting around with a sleeping baby all day while I was just drained. I needed a case. I needed something to keep my mind busy besides my daughter. As much as I loved her, I needed work, too.

“I could get used to this,” Hotch said. I opened my eyes while perking up to see him standing in the doorway, holding his go-bag in one hand and a bag of chocolates in the other. “Coming home to my gorgeous wife and our perfect daughter…” He set down his bag and hurried over to me on the bed so that he could kiss my forehead. He smelled like the jet. “I brought you your favorite chocolates from Seattle.”

“Mmm… Gimme.”

Just as I said it—not having even reached for them or anything along those lines—Emily started squirming and crying in my arms. There it was. Every time there was a bit of peace with Emily, she suddenly started losing it again. I couldn’t win. So, I sighed and slumped back again, ignoring the pleasant surprise Hotch had for me just so that I could try to focus a little more energy into dealing with my precious, perfect, miracle—No. The truth was, she was all of that, but she was also a little screamer, whiner, and… Oh, I loved her… I just had to remember that.

“Here, you take the candy, I take the baby,” Hotch said. He set the bag down between us, then reached to take Emily. “Oh, listen to our little singer.” He adjusted her in his arms with a bounce while standing up again so that he could bounce on his toes.

I opened the bag and took one piece of chocolate before setting the rest of them on my bedside table. “For the past four days,” which was how long he was gone for, “all I’ve done is change diapers and sit around, waiting for her to start crying again. Nothing helps.” Within an instant, Emily stopped crying, instead opting to start cooing and laughing at him. I rolled my eyes. “I hate you.”

“Mhm. I’m sure.” He shook his head at me and sat back down. “Listen, Jack used to cry every time I held him. No matter what I did, I just couldn’t seem to get him to calm down and love being in my arms. Even when he was already asleep and I’d pick him up just to hold him and admire him, he would suddenly wake up, as if he could tell that it was me, and he would immediately start crying. I hated it. The worst part was, every time Haley or Jessica would take him, he wouldn’t fuss a bit. I didn’t understand why. But now I’m on the other end of that deal, and I can tell you, Y/N, it’s nothing you’re doing or not doing. She’s just…” He smiled down at her. “I don’t know… But it’s nothing you can control, baby. I promise.”

I sighed. “One would think after carrying her around for nine months and then staying with her for the last three while you’ve been off at work, she would warm up to me, but nope.”

“She will eventually. We’ve got the next eighteen years at least with her. We’re going to be just fine.”

I smiled and snuggled up against his side, hiding my cold hands under his soft, warm shirt. His abs flexed against my freezing touch for a short moment before he relaxed and shuffled down on the bed somewhat so that I could rest my head on his shoulder, and he could kiss my hair. He inhaled deeply. Despite the fact that Emily didn’t like settling down in my arms anymore, at least we could afford to have little moments like these.

“Are you going to fall asleep again?” he inquired quietly, trying not to disturb me if I really was. I shook my head, though. “There’s something I need to tell you, then.” I hummed a question against him. “Cody and I had a meeting today.”

Uh oh. Personal meetings with the Director were never good during work hours. We had a friendly relationship with Cody, which allowed us to invite him over for dinner occasionally, and for our wedding ten months ago. But meetings during work were never good. Cody meant business while we were at Quantico, and him and Hotch liked challenging each other’s alpha personalities like it was fun for them or something.

“They’re making changes to the department again.”

I groaned, “I swear—”

“It’s okay. They’re just going to be contacting different people in the unit with different offers in order to consolidate their forces into other departments.”

“One of these days, I’m going to storm in there and ask why the hell he keeps sticking his nose in our business when we’ve been his best unit for at least the last ten years—or since you took over.”

“He’s getting pressure from the higher ups, baby. He’s doing his job, the same way we are. I’m just telling you this because if you’re approached by another department, you should tell me immediately.”

“I’m not going to leave the BAU, Aaron. I don’t care what deal it is someone has for me, I’m not leaving the one place that feels like home away from home. For the first time since I graduated high school, I feel like I have a purpose. People care what to hear what I have to say, people trust me, people love me, and people consider me family there. No offer can make me abandon my family.”

Hotch tensed in response to my words. “I think you should consider taking an offer in another department that doesn’t require you to travel as much,” he said quietly. I turned my cheek to look at him. “With Emily and Jack, our hands are so full, but we’ve been making it work because you’ve been at home. What happens when you’re back in the field?”

“Would you take the same job, if you were offered it?”

“Probably not.”

“Why?”

“Because I love the field.”

“Exactly.”

“Y/N…” he whispered in my ear, reaching over to lift my chin with his fingers. “You should really consider it. I don’t want you to get hurt out in the field.”

I put my hand over his. “Aaron, if there’s no pressure on you to stay home with the kids, and you just get to stay with the BAU because you love it, then I should be shown the same consideration.”

He kissed my cheek. “You’re right.”

“I know.”

He chuckled lightly. “I love you.”

“I love you.” I turned to look at him and kiss his lips slowly and passionately. And then his phone started ringing, making Emily squirm before letting out a cry that practically said: “Why have you awoken me from my slumber?!” I sighed. “Aaron—”

“I know, I know.” He passed Emily over to me gently before he started rolling off the bed so that he could answer the call in the hallway. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“I’ll be back in a sec.”

As he left the bedroom, I adjusted Emily in my arms, bouncing her lightly while cooing against her nose that everything would be alright. I was so done with the shrieking. Someday, I was going to give her a lot of shit for all of this yelling, crying, and pooping. She was going to hate the way I would inevitably tease her about it endlessly, but she was my daughter… my perfect baby girl… I wanted to remember her like this forever and always. When she was big, and maybe expecting a kid of her own one day, I’d tell her about how she kept me up night and day with her shrieking. This would all be a distant memory before I would even know it. I felt my heart break somewhat. I didn’t want her to get any bigger than this. Growing up meant that she would want to explore the world, and I knew just how cruel other people and places could be, and especially to innocent, precious little rays of sunshine like her. I didn’t want her to get hurt. Ever. I wanted to just keep her safe in my arms until the end of the time. I could do that, right? No… But I could cherish this for a little longer, at least.

“They need me in the office for something,” Hotch whispered to me while walking back in. I let my eyes fall shut in order to hide my disappointment. “Here…” He reached out for Emily, offering to help calm her down and put her in bed before he would leave. I let him. As he lifted her and rested her tiny torso against his shoulder, giving him a chance to pat her back while bouncing on his toes slowly, he started humming Black Bird for her. I smiled and slumped against the pillows. “I’ll call Jessica to see if she can stop by later to watch the kids so that you can rest for a bit,” he said after noticing how I was already out of it.

I nodded with my eyes still closed. “Thank you.”

Emily started calming down. Her cries and shrieks slowly turned into pants that turned into coos before she fell asleep in his arms. “And like that…” he whispered, “she’s out like a light.” I heard him shuffle to the crib so that he could set her down. Our bed shifted as he sat next to me. “Baby,” he put a hand on my thigh, “call me if she starts fussing again and your humming doesn’t work.” I nodded. “Y/N, I’ll stay, if you need.”

“No,” I insisted weakly. “Go. I’ll be fine. I just need to sleep.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Just… Aaron…” I opened my eyes to look at him. “Promise you’ll let me come back for the next case?”

He stared at me for a moment while registering what I said. When it dawned on him, he shook his head. “I can’t promise that.” He grabbed my hand and kissed my knuckles. “I’ll see you later tonight. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” I whispered, my eyes falling shut again.

Not even an hour later, however, Emily started crying again, and Hotch was already long gone again, leaving me to roll out of bed and lift her up into my arms. I didn’t bother trying to sing to her again. Apparently, that was Hotch’s thing, and I was stepping on his toes by making the futile attempt. So, I just sat there and cooed to her while heading downstairs to make some food for myself and also Jack who would be waking up in a few minutes to start playing video games and watching movies for the entire day. I smiled when she managed to fall asleep after feeding, giving me a chance to make myself a lazy breakfast.

When Jack woke up, he came running downstairs in his pajamas, he begged for me to grab the Cocoa Puffs from the top shelf in the pantry. Hotch and I had to put them up there because Jack was getting addicted to them. He was eating them 24/7. But, on occasion, especially when Hotch wasn’t around, I would let Jack have some. So, I carefully handed Emily over to him so that I could grab the box from the top shelf and pour a fair portion into a bowl for him.

Afterwards, when he had shoveled every single pebble into his mouth and then proceeded to slurp down all of the chocolate-y milk, he put the dish in the sink for me, like I asked, then scurried off to watch TV, like I assumed he would. Only, this time, I decided to join him. With Emily in my arms, I dragged my feet all the way from the kitchen to the living room, where I crashed on the couch. Jack turned on something from Cartoon Network. You know, Saturday morning cartoons. I had Emily sitting on my stomach, letting her little hands play with my fingers up until the point where she started trying to chew on them. I shook my head and kissed her cheeks. At least she wasn’t teething yet. JJ warned me that if I thought Emily’s cries and shrieks were bad now, I just had to wait and see how bad it would get within the next few months or so when Em would start teething. Shit. I was hardly getting sleep as it was, I couldn’t imagine it getting any worse.

Halfway through a cartoon, Emily fell asleep against me. Her little breaths slowly turned into hiccups, which made me laugh. JJ used to warn me all the time when I was pregnant that Emily could hiccup in the night, which would keep me up. I guess I got lucky, though, because she only hiccupped once, and it was while I was at work with Garcia. We were sitting in her office, waiting for the team to call for help or with an update. We were ridiculously bored. At some point, Garcia revealed that she had a huge tub of Twizzlers hiding under her desk. Together, we went through all of it, and I supposed that was the trigger for Em to start hiccupping non-stop. It wasn’t annoying, like JJ said it would be. No, it was funny. When it started, I jumped, thinking that something was wrong, but then Garcia started laughing when it kept happening, at which point we realized what was happening. That was the only time she ever hiccupped, though. I almost wished that it would have happened again while Hotch was home, just so that he could have laughed with us.

Finally, when she stopped hiccupping during the cartoons, my smile faded and my eyelids started getting too heavy to keep open. So, I did what felt natural… I slowly fell asleep with the glow of the TV in the room and dumb cartoon sounds ringing in my ears.

----

I woke to the sound of the front door opening. The TV was off, Jack long gone to go play soccer outside, it seemed by the way I could hear the soccer ball hitting the side of the house over and over again as he practiced his passing. I rolled my eyes. At least Emily was still asleep on my chest, no sign of waking up any time soon. The drool soaking my shirt was a downside, though.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” Hotch whispered.

I shook my head. “It’s okay, baby.” But then I realized who it was that was standing there and why that was odd. I tilted my head in curiosity at him. “Wait…”

Since he had been called away so early and left in such a rush, I was sure that he was headed off on a case elsewhere in the states. Yet, there he was. Standing there in his suit—which he must have changed into either before leaving when I fell asleep, or maybe even when he got to the office if he didn’t want to disturb me—he smiled shortly at me. At first, I didn’t think anything about it. I figured that we were both just tired, and he was probably busy, so I didn’t ponder on his short, yet still sweet, smile that he sent me, and I reciprocated.

“You’re home early.”

“Yeah…” He sounded like his mind was elsewhere.

“Is everything alright, my love?”

“Has anyone called with an open position?”

I furrowed my brows. “No.” Why was he asking?

Hotch swallowed hard before moving to approach the couch and sit down beside me, offering to take Emily from my arms. I watched him curiously. He was being awfully quiet for someone who just got home and would usually shower me in kisses and a thousand different ways for him to tell me he loved me. But he seemed like something awful was weighing on his mind, which was so concerning to me.

“Baby, I’m gonna have to go,” he admitted quietly to me while looking down at Emily. “I’m so sorry.”

I shrugged and smiled with relief. “Okay, so you have another case. I’ll see you in a few days.”

Hotch didn’t say anything. He kept his gaze glued to Emily as she played with his finger using both of her tiny hands. Something wasn’t right. If Hotch was being sent on another case, he wouldn’t have come home, especially not early. He would have stayed at the office and he would’ve just called me to tell me that he wouldn’t be coming home for a few days. This was different. He was acting differently.

Emily kicked against his elbow as she continued to wrestle with his finger. I cooed her quiet before looking back up at Hotch. “What is it?”

He lifted his gaze to meet mine. “They’re sending me to the Middle East to lead a task force.”

My heart sank in my chest. I let out a breath of disbelief then hid my face in my hands. A task force in the Middle East? What was he talking about? The BAU didn’t handle things like this— especially if it were just him. He warned me that morning about the possibility of reassignments, but I didn’t think this was what he had in mind, and I thought that we were going to talk about it before either of us accepted or declined any kind of offer that would be thrown our way. We just had a baby, and now he was being sent on a mission that was going to leave me alone for months? I didn’t know how to do any of this on my own. I wanted to go back to the BAU desperately, but that was because I was confident that between Hotch, Jessica, and I, we could balance it all. Jessica was struggling to keep up with Jack and Emily as it was… I couldn’t imagine what would happen if Hotch left. There was a strong chance that I wouldn’t even get to go back to the BAU if this actually happened. That didn’t feel fair. Why did I have to give up my dream so that he could lead a task force that he didn’t even want anything to do with? Or… did he want this and he just never told me? If so, when did he decide that it was something he was interested in pursuing, and why the fuck did he not tell me? It suddenly all made sense to me why Haley always got so frustrated with him. Our family was right there in D.C. and Virginia, and he wanted to tuck tail and run off to who knew where in the Middle East.

“Don’t do this to me, Aaron… Please…” I lifted my head away from my hands so that I could look at him again. He seemed so sad to be leaving, but he wasn’t doing anything to prevent it. This was an opportunity, not an order. He could have turned it down whenever. “I can’t do this alone.”

“I’ve already talked to Jessica. She’s offered to move in until—”

I scoffed. “So, you’ve already made up your mind and talked to Jessica about it before you talked to your own wife.” I shook my head.

How could he do this? At first, I was distraught because I couldn’t bear the thought of being away from him for so long, especially while our daughter was only three months old, which wasn’t old enough for him to be away from her. He was the only one who could get her to sleep nowadays. The only one. No matter how much I tried, I just couldn’t get it to happen. I couldn’t do it all alone… I had never spent so much time away from him before Emily, but at least I knew that he was coming back to me every case. Now, I didn’t know anything.

I grabbed his face between my hands and turned his cheek to make him look right at me, though he was fighting to still look away. I was going to make him face this. If he was going to make a decision like this, he had to at least look me in the eye as we talked about it. I pouted at him. “Please stay,” I begged.

He let out a shaky breath. “I can’t.”

“Please.” Shouldn’t that have been enough? Shouldn’t his wife begging him to stay with his family been enough to convince him to never leave again?

“I can’t… The decision’s already been made. I’m leaving in a week…”

I hit at his shoulders roughly, a choked back sob finally escaping me. A fucking week. I was going to lose my everything in a week, and there seemed to be nothing I could do to stop it. Was this fate? Were we always destined to fall apart like this? The worst thought I had in that moment was, what would Haley have done if she were still around and in my shoes? Maybe she would have taken this chance to leave him. Honestly, if she were still alive, I probably would have run to her, of all people, and asked what to do; even though I already assumed that she would tell me that it was time to leave him. But I didn’t want to. I loved him more than anything, and I didn’t want to have to leave him just because he was leaving us. That didn’t seem entirely fair.

“How long will you be gone?”

“I’m unsure.”

“What will you be doing there?”

“It’s classified.”

I chuckled. “Of course it is.”

“Baby, you know that I wouldn’t be doing this if it wasn’t absolutely necessary.”

“Is that what you told Haley before you left for that last case before she decided to leave you?”

“Y/N,” he growled with a bitter tone.

“I’m sorry,” I apologized.

I knew that was wrong of me. I knew that bringing that up was unfair. Hotch and I always promised to fight for each other, even if it meant fighting with each other from time to time. Haley never gave Hotch the same courtesy. That was why she left and why I wouldn’t. Maybe Hotch should have thought about that before taking this offer in the first place. This offer… How could he beg me to tell him if someone called me with an offer, but he didn’t tell me first when he got an offer and before accepting it? I was so pissed… I couldn’t even bear to sit with him any longer. I knew that if I stayed on that couch with him, my anger was only going to grow, and I was inevitably going to hate him. Not on my watch, though. I just needed time to let this blow over so that I could try talking him out of it again later.

I took Emily from him without asking. Hotch hesitated for a moment, practically reaching out for her again before she was even out of his arms. I shook my head at him. “Maybe you should go talk to your son about why he won’t have a dad for a while.” I stood and left the room with that last stinging line.

----

The next morning, I was still angry. I think yesterday was spent sprinting between depression and denial over and over again while trying to find some kind of acceptance in between, but there was none. So, I woke up in the morning to find Hotch still resting peacefully, as if nothing were wrong, and I was mad. I was fucking pissed. He had fucked up a handful of times in the past—just like everyone else—but this was probably the worst. It felt like we were approaching the end. With our newborn in the cradle next to our bed and our son just down the hallway, I knew that it couldn’t be the end. It just couldn’t. But how was I supposed to believe that when he was going to be gone? We were going to both be alone on opposite sides of the world…

Perhaps there was one thing, however, that could remind him of why he married me. Maybe it would even be enough to convince him to stay. But I couldn’t do it while Jack was around. Saturdays were Jack’s relaxing days, then Sundays were his homework days, which meant that he was going to be working down in the dining room all day, which was too open for us. So, it had to wait until Monday. The good news was, that on Monday morning, I was still just as pissed as I was on Sunday. In fact, probably more so now. Yesterday, while I was sitting with Jack to help him with his homework, Hotch didn’t ever approach us. He didn’t ask to talk to me, he didn’t talk to Jack, and he didn’t even sit down to spend time with us or eat meals with us. Fucking ridiculous.

So, while Hotch was dropping Jack off at school, I started preparing my plan. At least, the first half of it, because the rest of it required Hotch to actually be there. When I was ready, I carefully lifted Emily out of her cradle and carried her to her own room to sleep, just in case. Then, I heard the door open. I rolled my shoulders back to fix my posture, as if I were suddenly dawning a new persona, and then I headed downstairs.

“Jessica called, Y/N,” Hotch said from the front door, meanwhile I was still on the stairs, “she said she’s going to be traveling next month, so she won’t be able to look after the kids. We might have to think about getting a nanny since you’re going to be heading back to—” He stopped when he saw me turn the corner. “I…” He chuckled to himself. “What’s this for?”

“Not you.” I turned away from him, the short skirt of my dress flaring up somewhat, revealing how I wasn’t wearing any panties.

I spent most of the morning walking around in that dress, bending down in front of him every chance I got, reaching up for things like the clean towels in the closet or a book up on the highest shelf in the living room. Hotch was silent about it at first. Then, he started testing the waters to see if I was really being bratty or just obvious. He learned quick that I was being bratty. When he asked if I could grab the laundry, I simply said, “No.” When he asked if I wanted any breakfast, I said, “No,” and walked away. Around ten, he asked me if I wanted him to pick up Jack from school later, and all I said was, “I don’t care.”

Next thing I knew, Hotch stormed across the room, held his hand out, and then he pressed his grip against my neck as he pushed me and against the wall. I gasped for air. It didn’t seem to matter, though, because Hotch only squeezed tighter, and he pressed his thigh between my legs. He glared at me. His eyes searching mine, I could see the hints of anger and lust brewing inside of him, something that she was trying to hide, to no avail.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he growled.

“Nothing.”

“Nothing? Nothing, what?”

“Nothing, Aaron.” I was testing him. He huffed before moving his grip around the back of my neck so that he could start leading me towards the bedroom. “No, wait— Aaron—” I started playfully struggling against him because I didn’t really want to escape from him. At least, not yet. “Baby, I’m sorry!”

Hotch didn’t respond to me. He just opened the door angrily, then led me to the bed with him, still careful to ensure that I wouldn’t trip or hurt myself on my way there. As we approached the end of the bed, Hotch pressed on the back of my neck with his palm, forcing my face down onto the mattress. I hissed at the feeling. When I tried to stand up straight, Hotch increased his strength, pinning me down. I finally gave in, my knees buckling in response to the way his aggressiveness made me embarrassingly wet. But before I could get too comfortable, Hotch made another move. While he grabbed my wrists in order to spread my wingspan across the width of the bed, he also kicked his foot between my ankles with a short and stern demand to spread my legs.

When he was sure that I wasn’t going to budge, he carefully stepped away from me, then moved towards the closet. Shit. Shit, fuck, shit, shit, fuck—Hotch had been so careful with me since we found out that I was pregnant. We hadn’t used the black box since the honeymoon. Of course, since having Emily, it was hard to find time here and there to actually get to all of the fun stuff in the box. I mean, there was hardly any time for us to fuck at all—but we managed to find time since it was an important part of our lives and our relationship, and we knew it. But this… I didn��t think he was going to snap like this.

“Do honorifics mean nothing to you now, brat?” he hissed while pulling out two length of ropes.

“I said I’m sorry!”

He leaned down to whisper in my ear, “Stop speaking out of turn,” as he took my left wrist and looped the rope around it. “Got it?” I nodded. He chuckled at how I caught sight of the trap before it could catch me. He kissed my shoulders. “We’ll use Colors.” I nodded again, knowing that he was probably on edge, too, considering this was the first time we were using ropes in a long time. After roughly tying my left wrist to one of the bedposts, he said, “Color, baby girl.”

“Green.”

“You’ll tell me if it’s Red?”

“Yes, Sir.”

With the reassurance, Hotch moved towards my other wrist, which he tied to the other bedpost. “Maybe you’ll learn your lesson this way.” Suddenly, he flicked the skirt of my dress up, leaving me entirely exposed to him. I gulped. “Stay like that.”

He stepped away from me to grab something else from the black box, but I couldn’t hear what it was until it was too late. He pressed a vibrator right against my clit. My legs buckled again, the mattress and the ropes barely catching me. When I tried to close my thighs around the toy to try and grind against it, or maybe even to escape it, Hotch pressed his legs between my knees to make sure that I wasn’t going anywhere.

“Don’t even think about cumming, slut.”

“Fuck,” I cursed under my breath while hiding my face in the covers.

“Brats don’t get to cum.” He started moving the toy up and down my slit, making sure that every sensitive part of me felt the full force of the vibrations. “I’m gonna keep it right here,” he pressed it directly against my clit again, “and if you cum, things will only get worse. Got it?” I whimpered. He grabbed my hair and pulled me up roughly. “I asked you a question.”

“Yes, Sir.”

He let go of me and turned up the speed of the toy. I cried out somewhat and tugged at my restraints as hard as I could, as if it would help make him stop. Even if I escaped, he wasn’t going to stop. He would inevitably just pin me down himself and make sure that I stayed there the way he wanted, taking what he had to give me. Fuck. My stomach was already twisting into a knot. I felt so out of practice with all of this. My stamina was suffering the most, which meant that my orgasm was already approaching, and it was going to be damn near impossible to hold back.

“Sir, may I cum, please?” I begged before I could get too close to the edge.

“No.”

I cried against the comforter. “Please.”

“I said, no.”

I tensed my stomach as much as I could in an attempt to stop myself from getting any closer to cumming than I already was. “Please, please, please…” the plea kept escaping me without thinking. I knew that it wasn’t going to do any good. I knew that he was probably grinning behind me while watching me struggle against the ropes that were keeping my arms spread, and at how I was wiggling my hips in protest—even though it was probably just making the stimulation worse. “Sir,” I choked out, “I can’t—”

“Hold it.”

But I couldn’t hold it back any longer. My legs shook as I tipped over the edge, my orgasm washing through me ten times harder than I had anticipated, making me scream into the mattress. Before I even came down, though, Hotch shoved two of his fingers into me and curled them right into my g-spot. I struggled again. It was too painful to keep going, but Hotch didn’t care. I had cum without permission, especially after being a brat all day, and that was a big no-no. Not that he didn’t expect this outcome. He knew exactly what game it was that he was playing by denying my orgasm and then proceeding to force it out of me, anyhow. He was hoping that I would break the rule. He was counting on my broken down stamina betraying me during the one scene where I needed it to help me out the most; because no he had every reason in the world to make my life a living hell.

“Did that feel good? Hmm?” he asked.

“Yes, Sir.”

“It felt good to break my rule and cum without permission?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“It won’t feel good in a few minutes.”

My eyes widened as I glanced back up at the wall. “No, please, wait—”

“Color.”

“Green,” I answered reluctantly. As much as I hated the thought of what was in store, Hotch hadn’t actually crossed a line with me yet.

Hotch kept the vibrator pressed against me, ignoring the way I was still trying to close my legs and pull against the ropes, and that was when his fingers started thrusting in and out of me at an unrelenting pace. “You want to cum, huh? Fine… Cum. I’m not going to stop.”

My knuckles turned white against the ropes as I kept pulling as hard as I could. “I’m sorry, Sir. Please.”

“Are you sorry? Walking around in this dress all day… Teasing me… How did you think this was going to end?”

“I— Fuck—” I stopped myself when he added another finger inside of me. “Please, I’m so sorry.”

“I don’t believe you.”

I made an attempt to buck my hips away from the touch of the toy and his fingers, but he moved with me and then pressed harder to make sure I wouldn’t budge. I was too sensitive to keep going. I probably had another orgasm in me, but that was all, considering how out of practice we were with this stuff. If he tried to go any longer than that—

“Fuck!” I cried, shaking against his touch. “Please!”

“Cum,” he demanded when he felt me tighten my walls around him. I shook my head. “Do it. You said it felt good, so do it again.” I kept shaking my head in protest, but my body had decided that his words were enough to convince me to tip over the edge, so I came again, this time with a little less force considering how tired I was getting. “Poor baby…” he cooed when he saw me shaking helplessly.

“Please…” I whispered. “I can’t…”

“You don’t get to tease me and think that there won’t be a punishment in store for you, slut. You know the rules.”

“I was just mad…” I croaked. Hotch slowed his fingers and turned down the toy somewhat. “I just wanted to keep you here. I’m sorry…”

He turned the toy off and carefully slid his fingers out of my wet entrance. “Are you dropping?”

I shook my head, but Hotch was already working on untying me. “I was just mad,” I repeated. I was just mad and thought that I had to do something to make him mad, too… I was just mad…

----

Despite what we had done, I still wasn’t over Hotch’s decision, or the arguments that we were having. I was sore from straining my muscles, and my mind was exhausted. So, I was really just done with being around him constantly. I needed a break, and I figured that the best way to do so was by texting Morgan to see if he wanted to grab some lunch with me, and when I got the go ahead from him, I slid out of bed, got dressed into something more appropriate, and headed out without saying anything to Hotch.

When I arrived at the restaurant, I turned off my phone so that I could give Morgan all of my attention. I approached the hostess’ table to tell them that I was meeting someone. They grabbed a menu for me before leading me through the dining room and to the back door where the patio was open since it was such a nice day out.

“They live!” Morgan cheered from the table across the patio. I smiled and hurried over to him, my arms out to catch him in a hug after he stood. “It’s so good to see you, baby cakes.”

I squeezed his neck as tight as I could. “Freedom’s nice.”

He laughed and released me. “I’m sure.” He pulled a chair at the table out for me, then pushed it in under me slowly as I sat down. “How’s my goddaughter?”

“Always crying.”

“I told you I’d take her today.”

“You had her yesterday.”

“For an hour.”

“You know what, next time, she can just sleepover at your house with you and Clooney, and you can get up every time she throws a fit,” I joked.

“Deal.”

I squinted at him before glancing down at the menu to consider what I wanted. The thought struck me that if Hotch were really leaving, then we were probably going to have to get a nanny, like Hotch said when he came home from dropping Jack off at school, but it would also be nice to have Derek’s help. He always offered, after all. There were a handful of times over the past few months where he kept asking to take Emily to the park, or to introduce her to Clooney—which was a big no-no with me right now since he was such a big dog—and so on. Maybe it wasn’t too far out for me to ask if he’d be willing to help out just a bit. I mean, I didn’t mean that he had to constantly be there or answer my calls every time, but… Since she had been born, Morgan had been hanging out with Emily every Sunday that he was in town, so maybe he’d be interested in hanging out with her more often than just Sundays. Then again, he had his own life. He was still in his playboy phase, so it was unlikely that he wanted to carry a baby around all the time. Though, babies were chick magnets… Hmm…

“Something’s on your mind,” he finally said.

I looked at him. “What?”

“You’ve been staring at the menu.”

“Yeah, ‘cause I’m thinking about what I’m going to get.”

“Mhm. Hey, remember that conversation we had when we talked about how I always know when something’s wrong with you? Yeah… I remember. And it’s still true. So, tell me.”

I sighed angrily, slamming the menu shut, and set it on the table while rolling my eyes. Not at him, of course, but just in general. “Did Hotch tell you that the Director is trying to rearrange the BAU’s funds again?”

“Yeah. He warned the team that we might get offers.”

“Did you?”

“I was offered Kate’s spot at the New York Field Office again.”

“Are you gonna take it?”

Derek immediately shook his head. “No. I love where we are too much. Besides, NYC is too dirty and smelly for me.” Yeah, well, the Middle East was all dirt and sand… Maybe Hotch should have considered that aspect, too. “Y/N,” he began warily, “did you take an offer?”

“No…” I croaked, looking down at the napkin on my lap.

“Did Hotch?”

My lip quivered as I nodded.

Morgan sighed. “What is he—” He stopped when the waiter came over with our drinks. “Thanks.” When the waiter was gone, Morgan continued, “What was the offer?”

“A task force in the Middle East. The rest of it is ‘classified’, apparently.” I shook my head in disappointment while picking up my drink.

Morgan eyed me carefully but didn’t say anything yet. He was waiting for me to find the words to describe how it was that I was feeling about the whole situation, but the truth was that there were no words. I knew that I was angry, I knew that I was depressed, and I knew that I was going to be very lonely for a while because of how this was making me feel and react. I was lashing out at Hotch, and that wasn’t the right thing to do. Some part of me understood that. Some tiny, little piece of my mind was screaming at me to do better, to support Hotch like I normally would because I didn’t want to turn into Haley; but reality took the wheel instead of reason. The reality was that Hotch was leaving his family at a time when he needed to be around more. I just had a baby, our daughter was so young that she still needed her father around, and Jack needed reassurance from his father that he wasn’t being forgotten. But Hotch had decided to run from all of that. He made the choice to leave, and so I got angry, and I wanted him to fucking know it. Not that it would help.

“I don’t know what to do,” I admitted. “Is it weird that I just want to go numb?”

“No.”

“Then, why can’t I?”

“Because you know in your heart that you have to solve this—if not for your relationship, then for yourself. I know you, Greenaway, and you don’t like leaving pieces of your life unresolved. Whatever the decision ends up being, I know that you’ll at least end up feeling at peace with it eventually because you’ll know that you did all you could.”

“I want him to stay.”

“What does your life look like if he doesn’t?”

“Dark.”

“No. I mean, really, what would your life look like? How would you make it work, because I know for damn sure that you’re not going to give up on him.”

I hated it when he got all wise on me because that was when he started to make the most sense. “I—”

“Alright. What can I get for you two?” the waiter said while speeding over to our table and flipping his notepad open.

After we ordered and turned in our menus, he hurried away, and I looked at Morgan again.

“Realistically, Jessica would have to help out more, which isn’t fair of me to ask of her, even though, apparently, she’s offered to move in with us while he’s gone. I just don’t want to do that to her. But Hotch was right when we talked on Saturday about it. He’s going to be gone and I’m going to be busy with work. There’s no one around who can rush home if Jack or Emily suddenly need something important. Like, I can’t just drop a case because of it, you know? When Hotch and I were working together, it was easy because one of us could stay at work while the other ran home. But now… That’s not an option anymore. So, realistically, my life is going to boil down to family or work, not family and work.”

“And you don’t want to have to make that choice.”

“Of fucking course not. I’ve been dying to get back to work, Derek. I can’t stay holed up in the house any longer, I swear.”

“So, you need an extra pair of hands,” he said, almost like he was alluding to something.

My eyes widened at the realization. “No—”

“—Yes—”

“—Absolutely not!”

“Why not, pudding?”

I squinted at the nickname. “Because you have a dog, a line of girls waiting to fuck you, and your own life to worry about.”

“Well, Clooney can either stay downstairs all the time because you guys got those godforsaken baby gates—” Yeah, we all hated those because we kept forgetting that they were there, so we kept tripping, but then it was also ridiculously hard to open them while juggling a baby in one hand and trying to get the lock undone with the other— “Or, he can stay with a friend.”

“So, we do musical chairs, but with our babies. You get Emily, and your friend gets Clooney?”

“Why not?”

I shook my head. “I can’t believe…” I started laughing.

“Listen, Y/N, I really want to help out. You’re my best friend, and Hotch means a lot to me—and I know how much this opportunity means to him—and Emily’s my goddaughter, so, of course, I want to help out as much as I can. It’s not a big deal. Please, let me help.”

I stopped laughing long enough to gauge just how serious he was. His posture was still straight and unchanged, his eyes were soft like he was pleading, and his breathing was steady, which meant that there was no hint of an act or a lie. He was being serious. When I thought about asking him to help out here and there earlier, I didn’t anticipate this would be the outcome. But how could I say no? I mean, even if I did, it wouldn’t have made a difference. Derek Morgan was going to jump every obstacle between him and Emily until I would inevitably just give in to his offer; so, why not just make it easy for him?

“Okay.”

He smiled. “Okay.”

----

When I arrived home, a smile still on my face as I recalled a stupid joke Morgan cracked during lunch, I set my stuff on the table next to the door and hung up my jacket on the coat rack. The house was dark, which was… peculiar. It was Monday evening, which meant that Jack should have been running around or doing his homework downstairs. And there was no hint of Emily crying. Peculiar. Where had everyone gone?

That was when I turned into the living room to see Hotch sitting there, facing the TV, which was off. Odd. I carefully approached him in case he was holding Emily in his arms and she managed to fall asleep. But once I got close enough, I realized that he was just sitting there. He was staring at the wall.

“Hi,” I welcomed cautiously. He didn’t say anything. “Aaron?” He looked at me shortly, anger washing over him before he turned back to face the wall. “Where’s Jack?”

“A friend’s house,” he answered shortly.

“Emily?”

“Sleeping upstairs.”

“And you?”

He didn’t answer.

“What’s wrong?”

“Where were you today?” he asked quietly and calmly, even though there was a bite behind his words that insinuated that he was secretly boiling with rage. I sighed and shifted to take his hands. He moved away from me. “I dropped today.”

I stopped. “What?”

“I Dom dropped, and you weren’t there. I called you three times, and you didn’t pick up. I’ve just been sitting here all day, freaking out, thinking that I actually hurt you this time around, and that maybe that was why you were avoiding me… and that…” He took in a deep breath and looked away from me. “Where were you?”

“Baby, I didn’t know—”

“Where were you, Y/N?” he repeated, this time his anger breaking through.

I swallowed hard, then sucked in a shaky breath, none of which was helping me calm down for his sake. Hotch had never Dom dropped. Ever. I should have known that the one time I would disappear after a scene without a trace and without talking to him, it would take a toll. I should have known. And, yet, I didn’t do anything to prevent this because I was so caught up in the idea of escaping him and our stifling home long enough to just feel my legs again. Realistically, what I should have done was told him initially how I was feeling. I should have told him that I liked all the attention, and I liked what we were doing, and I was okay with the punishment I received for being a brat, but that I needed a break from all of it. I should have told him that I was mad at him. I was mad because he was leaving, and not even the sex was going to keep him home with me.

He would have understood. He would have cared for me and made sure that I didn’t drop, which would have been enough aftercare for him to not drop. But I wanted to see my friend, and I didn’t take my partner’s feelings into consideration. That wasn’t right. Not only did I fail in that moment as his submissive, but as his wife, and as his partner for nearly four long, blissful years. We were more open than this. We didn’t abandon each other’s feelings like this. All I could think was that I was sorry, but I knew that wouldn’t fly in this situation. I needed to do more.

“I was with Morgan, getting lunch.”

Hotch buried his face in his hands. “You could have told me that.”

“I had to turn off my phone so that I could focus on him. I’m so sorry, baby.” I tried reaching out for him again, and this time he let me. I put my hands on his shoulders, then slowly started squeezing, massaging away his tension, releasing all of the anger that was building up inside of him. “How long have you been dropping?”

“Since you left.”

“Okay…” I kissed his bicep. “Okay. I’m sorry. Did you have lunch?” He shook his head. “You need to eat. Do you want a sandwich or a salad or something?”

He moved to put his hands over mine. He brought them over his shoulders, moving me so that I was sitting on my knees behind him, my chest pressed against his back. “Can we just…” He let out a sigh after kissing the back of my left palm. “There’s some leftover pizza in the fridge. I’ll have that.”

I kissed the back of his head. “Alright.” I let him kiss my hand again before I shifted off of the couch and headed to the kitchen.

Once I had the pizza reheated for Hotch, I carefully balanced the plate and a cup of iced tea for him out to the living room. I slowly handed it to him while sitting down. He silently thanked me before setting the glass down, then settling his grip around one of the piece’s curst. I scooted closer to him so that I could rub my hand over his back as a comfort. He melted somewhat. He continued to eat through the two separate pieces before drinking the iced tea. Then, when he was done, he relaxed against my touch, letting me run my fingers through his hair over and over again.

“Baby, if I knew, I would have stayed. If I knew, I would have come back. I am so sorry, I wasn’t here, Aaron. You’ve never dropped, so it didn’t cross my mind.”

He sniffled. “I don’t know why it happened. I’ve just been so fucked up since I found out that I’m leaving, and I’ve been taking it out on you, and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t’ve gone that far with you this morning.”

“It’s okay. I was fine with it, Aaron, I swear. I know you think you hurt me, but you didn’t—you never have, and I doubt that you ever could.” I carefully grabbed his hand, but he reached around to hug me. I kissed his neck. “Look at me.” He did so. “How do we handle this in the future? Tell me what I need to do, and I’ll make sure this never, ever happens to you again.” When I offered getting him some food, I had just guessed that was what he needed, but everyone handled dropping differently.

“I don’t… I don’t know,” he admitted. I brushed my fingers through his hair. “I wouldn’t know what would help…”

“Well, there’s a handful of things. You know me, I like physical touch. Being held by you and loved by you is enough to help me not drop or to stop dropping entirely. But some people like service—like food, or clean, warm clothes or sheets; others like distractions, like movies or exercising; I’ve been with someone who always needed sexual release when she Dom dropped.”

Hotch squinted at me. It wasn’t that he disliked hearing about past partners, but he didn’t like being compared to them. That wasn’t even my intention. I only brought it up because it was hard to tell him that it was okay if he wanted to cum while he was upset. That didn’t make him a bad guy. Even though it was a long time ago, and she and I were young, I could remember vividly how she’d tell me if she felt off after a scene, and I would just know what to do, and she’d immediately feel better. That was how we worked. But I never thought that Hotch would need it, too. I hadn’t seen this coming—which was very much my fault—and so now I needed to find out how to prevent this in the future. His job as my Dominant was to make sure I was in a safe environment before, during, and after play scenes. I neglected my job as his submissive to show the same courtesy. She would have never let that happen because she knew herself well enough to warn me, but Hotch hadn’t seen this coming.

“Just,” I patted his chest, “whatever you feel like you need, tell me. I don’t want you to ever have to go through this again—especially alone. Okay?”

He nodded. “Yeah.” He stayed quiet in order to consider all of his options. I continued to brush his hair back out of his face. A thought that was hitting me was that Hotch hadn’t cum before I left, which could have been part of the problem in the first place. He was so caught up in the idea of punishing me that he hadn’t even taken the chance to fuck me, or even use my mouth. And then, like he was reading my mind, he said, “Could you…” He gulped and rolled his hips instinctively. I smiled lightly. “I’m sorry… That’s stupid…”

“No, it’s not,” I insisted, shaking my head. “Just relax.”

I slid off the couch and landed on my knees before crawling my way between his thighs. He was already hard in his pants from waiting with anticipation. The point wasn’t to tease and play with him. The point was to make him relax and have him release the stress and anxieties that came with dropping. So, I immediately fiddled with his belt, buttons, and zipper, then pulled his pants down—with the help of him lifting his hips up, of course. When he was just in his boxers, I grabbed onto his waistband, then looked up at him. His head was already thrown back against the cushions, his arms stretched out over the back of the couch. While sliding his underwear down, allowing his erection to spring free against his stomach, I asked if he was alright. He nodded shortly.

When I took his shaft in my dominant hand, he hissed and tensed. I shushed him quietly to make sure that he would relax again, and I didn’t move until he did so. As his thighs on either side of my body released the tension that had built up, and his hands turned from fists to laid out palms on his chest, I pumped my hand up and down a couple of times before moving to luck my tongue over his tip.

“Fuck, Y/N—” He stopped himself from moaning too loud because Emily was still asleep upstairs. “More…” He tangled his hands in my hair. “Please.” I let him push my mouth onto as much of his length that would fit—and then some. Rather than pulling on my hair, like he normally would, he instead opted to run his thumb over my cheek bone to encourage me. “So good,” he whispered when I started bobbing my head quickly. He held me as I hallowed my cheeks and used my tongue for extra stimulation. The goal was his release, that was all. There was no need to waste any kind of time. “Baby…” He was so breathless, and I could feel him tensing up again, so I snuck my hands under his shirt to feel up his loose abs, careful to avoid the scars that had been there for years and would be there for the rest of his life. He removed his hands from my hair. When I felt his fingers dance over mine through his shirt, I spread mine so that we could interlock. “I’m gonna—” His abs tightened against my touch, a thousand curses and breathless moans escaped him, and his hips bucked around slightly as he came. “Fuck, fuck, fuck— Shit—” He whimpered submissively as he rode out his orgasm. When I was sure that he was done, I slowly pulled off of him and swallowed, and I wiped my lips clean with my fingers. Hotch sat up to slide his pants on. “Come here.” I sat with him, but then he moved us so that we were spooning together. “Thank you.”

“Do you feel better?”

“Yes.”

I kissed his bicep that was against my cheek. “Good. I’m glad.”

Silence hung in the air for a few minutes as we both caught our breath, and I was thinking about how he didn’t want me to leave today, and I didn’t want him to leave in a few days… It was all so messy.

“We do have to think about getting a nanny,” Hotch whispered. I scoffed. “I’m serious. With me gone and you heading back to work, it just makes sense that we have someone here all the time with Emily who’s not Jessica.”

“Well, maybe if you stayed, we wouldn’t—”

“I’m not fucking staying, Y/N,” he hissed. “I’m sorry, baby, but I don’t know how much clearer I can be.”

“I’m not going to stop trying to keep you home with me, you know?”

He hummed a “yes” in my ear while pulling me closer. “I know.”

“Will it help?”

“Probably not.”

I screwed my eyes shut to stop myself from crying quietly against him. “I love you, Aaron. More than anything in the world. I just don’t want to lose you.”

“You always feel like you have to control everything around you, Y/N, I understand that—in fact, that’s a reason I fell in love with you in the first place. But sometimes you can’t control everything… And when that happens, you just have to admit it and try to move on with your day.”

“I can’t.”

“You’re going to have to try if you’re going to get through this.”

I brought his hands up to my face and kissed his knuckles while thinking about how I couldn’t bear the idea of having to get through anything without him by my side. He was going to be gone for who knew how long. He was going to be who knew where in the Middle East, doing who knew what, risking his life who knew how often. How was I supposed to survive that? How was I supposed to sit around in our home or at the office and do nothing? How was I supposed to trust that he wasn’t going to get himself killed out there? I just didn’t want to think about it anymore. For once, I just wanted to pretend like he wasn’t leaving at all and that I had nothing in the world to worry about.

“I love you,” he whispered in my ear. “More than anything in the world.”

A tear slid down my cheek. “I love you, too.”

-----

criminal minds family: @peggy1999 @gorgeousdarkangel @alex--awesome--22 @oceaneblu @brithedemonspawn @absolutemarveltrash @bshelley322 @rousethemouse @sunshinepower17 @weexinling @pettttyyyc @Braty-angel

#Criminal Minds #criminal minds fanfic #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine #aaron hotchner #Aaron Hotch Hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner smut

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dreamescapeswriting · 4 years

Text

Delivery Room ~ KTH [Request]

↬↬↬Word Count: 2K

↬↬↬Genre: Angst with fluffy ending, pregnancy AU

↬↬↬Pairing: Kim Taehyung x reader

↬↬↬A/n: Hope you like it hun

Taehyung groaned when he rolled over to face you your hands were clutching onto your stomach and you were panting heavily,

"What is it?" He questioned looking at the time and then back to you, his eyes filled with panic as he remembered that you were heavily pregnant and past your due date,

"It's time! Fuck!" You cried out clutching onto the sheets around you as another contraction hit you hard running up and down your spine and across your abdomen in one of the most painful cramps you'd ever experienced.

"I'll get the bag, don't move!" You wanted to scream something sarcastic back to him but couldn't find the words to. You were nine months pregnant and overdue by 10 days and the hospital was doing nothing to help you with it since it was natural and they couldn't induce labour for another four days but it was happening now and you were sure of it. There was no other pain like this and it was killing you. Tae come sprinting back into the room carrying the bag to find you sound asleep on the bed once again,

"Baby come on, the baby is coming." You grumbled at him for waking you up and told him it was just another Braxton hicks and he groaned sitting back down in the bed and looking at you. He pushed the sweaty hair away from your face and then laid his hand down on your bump,

"You have to come out sooner or later," He whispered to your son or daughter, you and your husband decided it would be nice for the gender of your baby to be a nice surprise when they came into the world.

"Tae can you get me some water please?" He walked away from the bedroom and headed down to the kitchen to get you what you had requested. You and Taehyung had been together for six years and married for the last two when you decided that you were finally ready to start your own family, but if he had known you were going to be like this he never would have done it. The mood swings were bad enough but now every night he was being woken up to you asking for something new, last night it was pickles with soy sauce and the night before it had been fish fingers with custard.

"Tae?!" He heard you yell for him and he grabbed a bottle of water before heading back up to the bedroom, he handed you the water and watched you drink it before laying back down on the bed.

"I hope they come out soon." You groaned looking down at your giant belly and poking it,

"They will, they just want a little extra time." You sighed as the baby kicked you in the bladder making you need to pee yet again,

"I'll be right back." You got up and left to go to the bathroom while Tae settled back down into the bed.

The next four nights were a nightmare you were constantly waking Taehyung up thinking you were going into labour but it turned out to be false labour pains or you would wake up asking for foods which you didn't have resulting in him driving around at 3 am looking for somewhere that would sell him the foods you happened to be craving and tonight was the last straw for him. It was 5 in the morning and you'd woken up craving strawberries with melted chocolate as well as jam on toast and Taehyung just lost it, it was probably from the lack of sleep that was making him cranky but he couldn't deal with it anymore.

"I'm not doing it! I'm sick of running around like an errand boy!" He snapped at you and you stumbled backwards when he turned around to yell in your face.

"I never said you were-"

"You're always asking me to do things! Why can't you just do it for yourself?!" He screamed at you and you felt your heartbreak as he continued to yell at you about things that were out of your control with the pregnancy,

"You're always getting 'labour' pains and then it's nothing?! I'm sick of waking up every five minutes to you whining and complaining about it too!" You stared down at the floor as you felt water dripping down your leg, it wasn't like it was in the movies or TV shows it wasn't a huge pool of water hitting the floor it was as if you'd just wet yourself.

"Tae-"

"No! I'm fucking sick of it! Do it yourself!" He cried out grabbing his car keys before leaving through the front door of your house and slamming the door behind him, you cried out clutching your stomach as you felt a real contraction hit you this time sending shock waves throughout your entire body. It felt like you were being ripped apart from the inside and you knew the baby was coming, you'd seen enough of videos in the birth classes.

"Tae!" You tried to call after him but he was already pulling out of the driveway and into the road as you reached the front door,

"Fuck." You whimpered going on the hunt for your phone while clutching your stomach trying to talk to the baby to stop them from being scared of their dad or from coming before you got to a hospital bed,

"I know he looks bad right now, but I promise he's a good guy don't be scared baby." You whispered to your stomach as you found your phone, you called the first person you could think of and Jimin told you he was on his way and that he would call Taehyung while he was coming to get you.

"Get out!" You screamed when Jimin came into the room with your husband close behind him, your legs were up on either side of the hospital bed as you tried to breathe through another contraction, Taehyung was sweating and panting behind Jimin. Jimin had been working on trying to find him since you got the hospital and he'd finally managed to find him in the studios hiding out.

"I said out! Both of you!" You shouted when another contraction hit you, you wanted Taehyung nowhere near you after what he had been saying in the kitchen to you. You were beyond hurt that he had started yelling at you and left you in the house alone when he knew how close you were to giving birth to your son or daughter.

"If he's the father he can stay." The nurse who was looking to see how dilated you were said but you shot her a glare, telling them both to get out and that you didn't want them in the room while you did this.

"I didn't mean to yell-" Taehyung tried to defend himself but you cut him off quickly,

"OUT!" You screamed throwing your head back against the pillow as the nurse told you that you were almost ready to start pushing you were in agony and nothing was going to make you feel any better until the baby was out if you.

"Are you sure you don't want him in the room?" Another nurse questioned after Taehyung and Jimin left to sit outside in the waiting area, she took hold of your hand and you nodded telling her you wanted him nowhere near the room yet.

"We're going to start pushing soon, okay?" She questioned wiping some sweat away from your head and then holding your hand tightly again.

"It's going to hurt but you have to keep pushing, on three I want you to push for ten seconds stop for five and push for another ten. Can you do that?" You nodded and they began counting to three for you.

"One...Two...Three, push for us Y/n."

An hour later your baby girl was cleaned up and resting in your arms wrapped up in a late pink blanket, the nurses around you were all congratulating you and leaving the room.

"A doctor will be down in a minute to talk to you...Do you want to see your husband now?" You looked down at your sleeping daughter who was the spitting image of him which made your heartache for what you had done that day and you nodded slowly not tearing your eyes away from your daughter.

"Y/n...I'm sorry-" You shook your head at Taehyung and he walked over to your side looking down at your daughter who was now starting to stir awake,

"She looks just like you." You whispered your voice cracking a little as you realised you'd just kept Taehyung from one of the most important stages in his daughters live.

"Hold her." You slid the baby into his arms and he began bouncing her gently side to side as he looked at her,

"Hi baby," He greeted in a soothing manner when she woke up, you smiled at the sight of them together and looked at Taehyung.

"I'm sorry I stopped you from coming in." He shook his head at you and looked up to your eyes, you were crying once again and he leant over to give you a kiss on the head.

"I'm sorry I yelled at you, you were just as tired and stressed as me I shouldn't have taken it out on you." You hissed as you tried to move in the bed and Taehyung grew worried but you told him it was fine,

"The doctor said I'll be fine in a couple of days." He sat down beside you on the bed and you both stared down at your daughter,

"I don't think I'll ever look away from her," You whispered laying your head down on Taehyung's shoulder, you were beyond tired and he knew that you were going to need resting up.

"She's so beautiful," You whispered again and he agreed with you,

"Might even give Jin a run for his money." He chuckled trying to lighten the room up a little. There was a small knock at the door and Jimin walked into the room holding a stuffed bear with a pink bow on its head.

"We thought it might be safe to come and see you." You looked back up again and all six of them were walking into the room carrying small gift boxes,

"I told you it would be a girl," Yoongi smirked standing to your left and looking down at your daughter who was once again asleep,

"She's the quietest baby on the ward, I don't know where she gets it from because it's not from me or Tae." You giggled looking up at Namjoon who was almost crying at the sight of you and Taehyung with your family.

"She's so pretty," Jungkook whispered when he came to Taehyung's right side, Taehyung slipped her into his arms and Jungkook almost began crying at the fact that he was bouncing your child up and down in your arms.

"Congratulations, you guys did amazing." Jin laughed when he stood behind Jungkook, they all took it in turns holding her and bouncing her around in their arms.

"She's going to have to get used to our scents if we're going to be babysitting her." You stared at Hoseok with a raised eyebrow at him and he stared at you all,

"She's not a wolf Hobi." You giggled at him and he continued to bounce her around while you and Taehyung snuggled together on the bed,

"I love you." You whispered to him as he linked your fingers together with his,

"I love you too." He whispered back kissing the top of your head and watching as the boys all started to fight over what you were going to name your daughter, you all had a huge list to go through and decided to go with whatever suit her the most.

"Why don't we just name her after me?" Jimin asked looking at you as you began shaking your head at him,

"And that's the thanks I get for driving you here." You groaned at him knowing you were never going to hear the end of it until the day you died.

Tagline:

@writingdreamsnottragedies @yoongisdumplingcheeks @snowy-meowl @lynnthevirgo @jooniesdarlingdimples @chimchims-stories-and-tales @fan-ati--c @lyoongx @mitzwinchester @callingmyangel @btsiguess-kpop @rjsmochii

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confused-stars · 3 years

Note

actually do you think kurogiri's bar has a "It's been [ ] days since Tomura decayed something on accident" sign? this would be a nice fic prompt actually. probably worth a coffee or two. ;) ;)

the blatant bribery of this... and the fact that it’s working... (also this is just way cute and i just got home from being around my nephew so i’m very in the mood for baby Tomura shenanigans)

It comes from one of the parenting books Kurogiri was forced to pick up. He never criticizes All for One out loud, but dumping a child on him and making said child’s wellbeing his sole responsibility when Kurogiri barely knows how to take care of himself and his own needs was... not a choice expected from a man who claims to be the greatest villain mastermind in history.

Tomura’s quirk is an additional problem. He’s not allowed to wear gloves that would keep him from touching things with all five fingers, because All for One says he shouldn’t have to ‘shackle’ his quirk. Kurogiri doesn’t agree, but keeps silent as always. Accidents happen a lot. Tomura gets upset in the beginning, and Kurogiri distracts him with sugary snacks and video games - a stroke of luck, discovering video games as a sure way to capture Tomura’s attention and make him forget about the world for a while. They’re useful in keeping him busy when Kurogiri has to run other errands, and he barely ever has to pause to scratch at his neck and face when he’s playing.

Then, eventually, as he grows older and less terrified and more demanding, he stops getting upset. He knows Kurogiri will just replace what he destroys and clean up the dust every time with no fail. Game controllers, books, playing cards, chess pieces, glasses, utensils, plates, shoes, clothes in general - once, he decays his toothbrush fully on purpose because he hates brushing his teeth before bed.

So Kurogiri comes up with a strategy.

Tomura blinks up at the board hanging up on the wall beside the bar, right next to the screen All for One uses to speak to them. “What’s this?” Kurogiri doesn’t bother answering that question. Tomura can read. He’s made sure the writing is very easily legible. ‘It has been [ ] days since Tomura decayed something on accident’ is what it says. The blank in the middle leaves more than enough room for what Kurogiri has planned. He reaches into his pocket and calmly places a single, sparkly star sticker into the empty field. “This stands for one day,” he explains. He’s fully aware that not that much of Tomura’s destruction is accidental anymore, otherwise this strategy probably wouldn’t work and only stress him out more, but if a reward system can be used to counter his growing carelessness, then that will only benefit him in the future.

Tomura cocks his head. Attentive. Kurogiri feels something like smug satisfaction, though muted as most of his emotions are. It’s easiest to get through to Tomura with praise. Kurogiri refuses to be just the mindless servant who cleans up after him and feeds him. No, he’ll have a part in raising the boy, too.

“What happens when I break something again?” he asks.

Kurogiri shrugs. “The sticker goes away. And you have to start over.”

Tomura rounds on him, glaring. It would be intimidating if he wasn’t so small. “That’s not fair!”

“If you can make it to ten stars,” Kurogiri continues, undeterred, “There is going to be a surprise for you.”

That makes Tomura reconsider. Children really are all the same, even if they are in unique situations. “... what kind of surprise?”

Kurogiri puts a juice box on the counter. “A good one. Something fun. Perhaps a new game you’ve been wanting. Or a night without a bedtime. Or a trip to someplace fun.” He has a list of ideas already, and Tomura’s eyes light up a little.

He still says: “I could make you do all that anyway.”

Kurogiri turns away, acting nonchalant. “You could, but then it wouldn’t be a surprise anymore, would it?”

Tomura is silent for a long moment. “... fine.”

He makes it fourteen days on the first try.

___

The board comes out again under the worst circumstances, Tomura thinks. Because he’s twenty years old and doesn’t need stickers anymore, thank you very much. Not that he doesn’t still decay things when he doesn’t mean to, sometimes. Mainly in the mornings or too late at night, or when he’s aggravated.

He still balks at the sight of it hanging in its old spot on the wall where it was taken down from when he was twelve or so.

Kurogiri raises his hands in an attempt to signal his innocence, though he seems far too amused.

“Look what we found, Tomura!” Toga grins and bounces on her heels, pointing at the board. “It’s so cute, with the stickers and all! Sparkly!”

“Yeah, it’s adorable,” Dabi drawls, for once present in the back of the bar, a shit-eating grin on his face.

Tomura wants to hide. Or kill all of them. “... why do we even still have that thing?”

Kurogiri makes a noncommittal noise, and Tomura scoffs.

“We’re making more of them!” Toga says, gesturing over to where Twice is sitting on the floor, working on a cardboard sign that says ‘It has been [ ] days since Dabi set someone on fire.’ Next to that one ‘It has been [ ] days since Spinner talked about Stain.’ and ‘It has been [ ] days since Mr. Compress called himself ‘old’.’

Tomura glances at Dabi. He’s entirely sure that particular sign will end up burned to ash within a night.

It doesn’t.

But it also never ends up collecting more than two stickers at most, and when he peels them off, Dabi always flicks them at Tomura over the bar.

It’s long after the bar is lost, and the signs with them that they all manage to reach ten days in their individual categories, and that’s only because Dabi’s been sick for a while and hasn’t left the quarry safehouse for two weeks.

So they get pizza, and they eat it in Dabi’s room, and he pretends to be grumpy about it, and Tomura pretends to be grumpy about having to spend time with them, but when they end up passing out all around the room and Tomura is still awake, he leans his back against the bed and thinks about Kurogiri. He’ll tell him about their progress when they see each other again.

#i love momgiri a normal amount #fun fact my nephew actually had something like this #because he'd constantly wake up in the middle of the night and go bother his parents #so they set up a sticker and reward system #also for other stuff it just works really well kids go nuts for stickers #i can see dabi actually lying about having burned someone because he thinks the whole thing is dumb #actually why don't we as adults do this?#i should reward myself with stickers for good habits!#audaciousanonj

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youbloodymadgenius · 5 years

Text

The Viking King and the Pancakes (Ivar x reader)

A/N: Modern AU but not exactly Modern!Ivar, you’ll see.

This is not the second part of Pancakes in Bed again? But if you haven't read it, it would be better to read it first. Here

Thanks to @inforapound, without whom I couldn’t do anything 💖 And thanks to @ivaraddict for this precious gif 💖

Summary: the reader wakes up and finds out that she is not alone in bed. When she realizes who is lying next to her, the shock is even greater.

Warnings: None besides my wacky ideas ; shaggy dog story. Ah yes, swearings too.

Words: 2136

Lazily opening your eyes, you startle when the sound of snoring wakes you completely.

Snoring?? How could this be?? You have been sleeping alone for… for… weeks? Months? So long that you actually aren’t sure… It could even be years…

Immediately you are wide awake and screaming as you realize that a man is lying next to you. In your bed! Under your sheets! A wave of panic hits you. What did you do last night? Had you been drinking? Eating mushrooms?

Where did he come from? How did he get there? And more importantly, who is he?? And… did you have…? Oh, no, no, no, no! Looking under the sheets, you see that you are still wearing your pajamas. Phew!!

Releasing a loud sigh of relief, you hear the stranger growl as he shifts in the bed. Looking at him carefully, you are frightened – there's a man you don't know anything about in your bed! – and also fascinated – from what you can see, his muscles are… impressive…

It's highly inappropriate, but you are drooling.

Move a little more so I can see your face, you urge him silently.

It worked! Rolling onto his side, the man slowly faces you and…

FUUUUUUUUUUCK!!!!!

"By the gods, who are you?"

From his thick accent you know he's not fluent in English. But you still understand. Which is good, as your knowledge of Old Norse is limited to "Du kan ikke drepe meg!" Although, thinking about it, telling him he can't kill you might not be totally stupid.

"I..I.." You pathetically babble. Fuck. Fuck! You must be dreaming, right? You pinch your arm, bite the inside of your cheek and end up slapping yourself in front of a dumbfounded Iv… No! It can't be him! It can? Noooo! Fuck, even after five slaps, he's still there.

"I'm Y/N," you finally say and are rewarded with a puzzled look.

"Strange name."

A man of few words, no doubt about it. Rolling your eyes, you sigh. Maybe you like it better when he doesn't say anything.

"And you?" Your question is somehow rhetorical as you already know who he is. But you need to hear it, clearly, from him.

"Ivar the Boneless, son of Ragnar Lothbrok and Aslaug Sigurdsdottir, king of Kattegat and leader of the great heathen army."

It sounds like he's reciting his service record.

Wow, wow, wow! The guy is slightly showing off, isn't he? You'd like to put him down and hesitate to remind him that unless you're mistaken, Bjorn overthrew him and he's not really king anymore. But it doesn't seem particularly wise, so you choose to keep quiet.

Not him.

"Are you my new slave? A gift from Ubbe, my silly brother, as a sign of his repentance and total allegiance?"

A slave??? You are in my fucking house, man!! And in my bed!!!

Six months later

You hurry up, eager to get home, looking forward to finding your man, Ivar the Boneless; the ruthless king. The bloodthirsty, fierce, cruel Viking. Your lover. Your Ivar.

Pushing back the door with your foot, you hastily lock it behind.

"Ivar?"

Not getting an answer, you put down your bag and take off your shoes before walking through the apartment. Putting your phone on the kitchen table, you inhale deeply, enjoying the delicious smell of a lamb stew that has certainly been simmering for hours.

Eventually, you find your great warrior asleep on the couch, the old wheelchair you unearthed in a second-hand shop right next to him. Smiling, you take your time, admiring his features. His facial structure, so perfect. He's astonishing, breathtaking. Painfully handsome.

He belongs perfectly in your living room and simultaneously seems completely out of place. You can't help but smile seeing the contrast of his hairstyle – "Never without my braids, woman!" – and his outfit, sweatpants and white T-shirt.

"Hi, my love!" Blinking, he almost purrs as you kiss his forehead.

Using his powerful arms to draw you close, he flashes you a broad grin as you carefully straddle him. With modern drugs working wonders, you taught him to rate his pain on a scale of one to ten and he's rarely over two. Yet, you haven't found a way to prevent him from breaking a bone at the drop of a hat.

"My queen!"

Your laughter fills the room. No matter how much you tell him you are not the queen of anything, he seems hell-bent on it so you let him, amused and surely flattered to be loved by a real king.

"Dinner is almost ready." You shiver as he kisses your temple, your cheek and eventually your neck. "And then…,” his voice is suddenly hoarse, "… you and I will make love."

Six months earlier

"Tell me again??"

The frightening Viking glares at you, threateningly, driving your heart rate crazy. Fortunately, you confirmed he came unarmed in your bed and then you took care, before inviting him to sit at the kitchen table, to lock up all the knives and sharp or pointed tools.

"I say…,” ashamed, you know you're blushing, "… that I have called the gods, yours as well as the Christian god."

"And for what purpose?" His piercing blue eyes are scanning you, his features harsh.

"I….” Your voice is shaky. "I have already told you."

Before you realize what's going on, his hand is on your throat, and he's squeezing. The little bastard!

"I said," he roars, "For. What. Purpose?"

Freaking out, it's hard for you to breathe and you can hardly speak, your face red, your eyes bulging and begging him for air.

His eyes demanding an answer, he barely releases his grip. You're sure he won't hesitate to strangle you if you don't say anything.

"I have… I begged the gods because I wanted… I wanted you in… my bed… Well, not you…" Suddenly your words are rushing out. "I wanted the other Ivar, the Ivar of the TV show, this TV show that you don't know but in which you play the lead role. And yes, I'm aware that you don't know what a TV show is, I'll explain later, but that's it, it's you I wanted, that's why I called the gods and I don't know why but apparently it seems they heard me."

Ivar's hand doesn't move but he doesn't squeeze anymore, allowing you to breathe freely. You can see a slight change in his eyes, and his face softens.

"You… You wanted me in your bed? …..Why?"

Suddenly, there's no longer a frightening warrior in front of you but the terrified little boy from the eleventh episode of season four. His huge, wide eyes screaming all his insecurities. You are dying to tell him that Margrethe is nothing more than a stupid girl who did everything wrong. After all, you'd only be telling the truth!

But because he's unpredictable and because you don't know him well, you choose to say something more simple. "Because you are extremely attractive.”

Pleased by your words, he puffs his chest, flashing you a cocky grin. "And what did you want to do in bed with me?"

His rapid mood swings are fascinating, even more impressive in real life than on TV. Weighing the pros and cons, you eventually decide to be honest. "I wanted to have sex with you.”

Six months later

"I'll take care of everything, just go chill."

Nodding gratefully, you watch Ivar, who's setting the table while stirring the stew and keeping an eye on the cooking pasta. Smiling, you can't help but assess the progress made.

In six months, Ivar had become a perfect househusband.

Neither you nor he were able to explain by what miracle, sorry, by what magic, the word miracle made your proud pagan throw up, had him get there. But you didn't complain.

Neither did he – he who confessed that the last thing he remembered was fleeing Kattegat, alone, abandoned by all, hiding in the back of a stinking cattle cart.

Of course, you had to teach him everything and at first, it hadn't been easy. But he quickly got his bearings, at least in your apartment. Outside was harder. He was afraid of everything. Too much noise, too many colors, too many stimuli all the time.

That's why he spent most of his time inside. Running errands was terribly worrisome for him. Eating out too. At most, you forced him to go out sometimes late at night to get fresh air, and three weeks ago you managed to take him to the mountains. He loved it.

On a daily basis, you two didn't get out much, but you didn't mind. In your home, your cocoon, you were able to forget more and more that Ivar was more than a thousand years old. Forget that he was a character from history books as well as one of your favorite TV show. And the fucking fictive guy you've been fantasizing about for months!

He had adapted quickly enough to modern technologies, had discovered running water with delight and had been fascinated, almost mesmerized, by the Internet. It was so he could use it, he asked you to teach him how to read.

Learning in record time, you realized that the show had some truth: Ivar was certainly a brilliant and intelligent person.

Since he could read, he'd devoured every book he could find. He read all your books, even burning one that described the point of view of a Saxon monk during the Lindisfarne raid. The best thing about this interest was that he was always looking for new recipes on the web. "Helga would have been crazy with such a tool!", he told you after explaining that it was Floki's wife who had secretly taught him how to cook.

"Take your seat, my queen.”

Wheeling towards you, Ivar hands you a glass of wine. "For you." You thank him and then you both raise your glasses before clinking them. "Enjoy your meal!"

Bringing your fork to your mouth – Ivar, your stubborn Viking, still eats everything with a spoon – your eyes shoot wide as you let the flavors spread through your mouth. Once again, his meal is excellent, a true feast for the palate.

"Ivar!" Talking with a full mouth, you're slightly ashamed but know he won't hold it against you. "It's simply a pure wonder! Exquisite and perfect!"

Smiling proudly, your Viking king is sincerely happy. He doesn't need much. What he told to that bitch Freydis was the truth: all he wanted was to be loved. And in truth, he doesn't care about being king. For the first time in his life, he can be himself. With you. And that's enough for him.

"I'm glad you like it." Waving his spoon in front of you, he furrows his brows. "Are you working tomorrow?"

You can't hide the small smile curling the corner of your mouth up. Ivar still has trouble with some concepts. "No, my love, tomorrow is Sunday. I never work on Sundays." Seeing that his face lights up, you know he has an idea in mind. "Why?"

"Nothing… I was just thinking… I could try to prepare… pancakes. And we could eat them in bed."

You are sure you've never mentioned pancakes and wonder when he heard about them. But whatever, you're in. "That's a great idea! I'm sure you'll do well."

Now, Ivar's biting his lower lip suggestively and you wonder what he’s up to.

Putting his spoon on the edge of his plate, he wheels towards you. "I'll prepare toast, eggs, and bacon too."

You can't help but feel aroused by his hoarse voice, even if it's ridiculous. Who would have thought that breakfast could be a turn on?

Wait. Wait. Fucking wait. Pancakes. Toast. Eggs. Bacon. Seriously???

"Why?!" You startle, slightly distressed. "I mean, what are you talking about? Why are you talking about that? Why do… Why do you want to eat that tomorrow? I mean, exactly that?" You know you're pathetic, but Ivar only smiles at you lovingly.

"Because I want to.” Stroking your breast, he leans forward and his mouth meet yours, giving you shivers. "And once I've eaten all this…,” backing up just enough to look you in the eye, his hand brushes your crotch, making you shutter, "… I'll enjoy my dessert."

Standing, you take a few steps back, panic setting in while you try to put the puzzle together. Your heartbeat becomes frantic when you eventually understand what it means. What he means.

"Ivar… You…?" Blushing, a lump forms in your throat, you can’t speak anymore.

Nodding at you, again and again, a broad smile on his face and his gaze almost naughty, he’s obviously having fun. Fucking pompous asshole!

"Yes, my queen. I found your Tumblr blog. And I read your fanfictions."

OH!! FUUUUUUUUUCK!!!

🛡⚔️🛡

@waiting4inspiration @saldelys @lisinfleur @honestsycrets @gearhead66

#vikings #vikings imagine #ivar #ivar the boneless #ivar ragnarsson #ivar vikings #ivar imagine #ivar x reader #modern au

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emospritelet · 5 years

Text

Twisted Fate - chapter 16

22: “Have you lost your damn mind?”

[AO3 link]

After Belle had gone to bed, Gold stayed awake, drinking coffee and scouring websites for disability aids that he thought might be helpful. Having made his purchases, he checked his emails, finding one from Ella reminding him that they were supposed to be meeting at some point to sign the remaining paperwork for the transfer of the apartment and the agreement between he and Belle. He sent off a quick reply, explaining what had happened and suggesting that the meeting be postponed for a week or so.

He was surprised to find that he felt a little better for telling Belle about Bae. It had been years since he had spoken his name aloud, since he had discussed his existence with another person, and there was a certain catharsis in telling Belle about him. It didn’t make his loss any less painful, of course, but sharing his pain reminded him that Bae was alive, and out there in the world, and that someday, against all the odds, he might just find him.

By the time he had finished with his emails, it was approaching eight. The sun was up, although hidden by iron-grey clouds, and he put on some coffee as he watched rainwater streak down the windows. His eyes were grainy with tiredness, and although he figured he could use some sleep, there was too much he wanted to do before he could rest. He decided to plan what he would cook over the next few days, and went to the fridge to go through the contents again. Belle would want something she could eat one-handed, of course, so he began flicking through his mental file of dishes to make up some meal plans. Once he was done with the fridge, he inspected the contents of the cupboards, making a list of anything further he needed to pick up. Belle would be alright for an hour or so while he went grocery shopping.

It was strange, having someone to care for, and if he thought about it too much it made him nervous. He hadn’t had to look after anyone but himself in decades, not since he had lost Bae, and he wasn’t sure how much Belle would want him to do for her. No doubt she would tell him if he overstepped, but in the meantime he would carry on with preparing food, cleaning up after himself and being as useful as possible.

A knock at the apartment door made him glance around, and he hurried over, casting a glance towards Belle’s bedroom as he passed. There was no sound from within, and he presumed she was still sleeping. He opened the door to find Emma on the other side with her fist raised, prepared to knock again, and she rocked back on her heels, eyes widening.

“Uh - hey,” she said.

“Good morning,” he said, and she looked him up and down, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m - not disturbing you guys, am I?”

“Belle’s still in bed,” he said, jerking his head in the direction of the bedrooms. “I’m just thinking about making a start on breakfast. You can join us, if you like.”

“Oh, I don’t want to push in if she’s still - uh - sleeping,” she said hastily, and Gold shook his head.

“She asked me to wake her at ten if she wasn’t up,” he said. “Come on in, have some coffee. I’m making French toast.”

“Oh, well in that case…”

She winked at him, stepping through, and he shut the door behind her.

“How’s she doing?” she asked, and Gold pulled a face.

“She was up around five, but went back to bed again once I’d made her some tea,” he said. “Still in a lot of pain, obviously.”

“I bet.”

Gold gestured towards the kitchen, and Emma walked ahead of him, shrugging out of her coat. She draped it over the back of one of the kitchen chairs, and he poured the coffee, setting a cup down for her and receiving a nod of thanks. He took a small jug of cream from the fridge, putting it down on the table next to her cup.

“It’s good of you to come over,” he said. “I’m sure Belle will be pleased to see you.”

“I figured she could use a hand, if you’ll excuse the obvious pun,” she said, reaching for the cream. “Didn’t realise you’d be here.”

“Yes.” He poured coffee for himself, and leaned back against the counter. “She’s asked me to move in temporarily to help her out.”

“That right?” Emma took a slow sip of her coffee, eyeing him. “Well. I guess she’ll need all hands on deck when the baby gets here.”

“Precisely.”

There was silence for a moment. Gold could sense that she had something to say, and suspected that she wasn’t the sort of woman to hold onto her opinions. He was proven correct when Emma put down her coffee cup and put her fists on her hips, raising her chin.

“You know she’s my best friend, right?” she said.

“I know,” he said dryly. “Is this where you make some subtle threat to my physical safety if I ever hurt her?”

“Pretty much,” she said. “Except for the subtle part. Break her heart and I’ll punch you so hard in the dick you’ll need scaffolding to get it up again.”

Gold’s eyebrows shot up, and he could feel amusement bubble up within him, his mouth twitching as he tried not to smile.

“That’s very - visual.”

“You think I’m kidding?”

“Oh, I believe you,” he said.

“Good.”

“Belle is fortunate to have such a good friend,” he added. “I assure you I have no intention of hurting her.”

“Intentions don’t mean shit, excuse my French.”

She tossed back her hair, looking at him defiantly, and Gold nodded.

“You’re right,” he said. “I’m aware that I’ve behaved appallingly where Belle is concerned, and you have every right not to trust me.”

“But?”

“But,” he went on. “We’re to have a child together, and I want us to have a good relationship. I promise you that I’ll do what I can to make that work.”

“Yeah, well, given that the first time I met her, she was crouched in a toilet stall crying her eyes out over you, I’m not holding my breath,” she said flatly, and Gold gave her a thin smile.

“Then I suppose we’ll have to take things one day at a time, won’t we?” he said, in the overly-pleasant tone he reserved for his most irritating tenants, and she nodded, reaching for her coffee.

“Thanks for giving me your coat yesterday, by the way,” she said. “I think I’d have frozen to death otherwise.”

Gold nodded, recognising the drop in hostilities now that she had made her stance clear.

“It was good of you to spend so long at the hospital,” he said. “I hope Henry wasn’t too put out.”

“Neal gave him dinner and put him to bed,” she said. “We kind of take it in turns, depending on how work and study evens out.”

“Sounds like you make a good team.”

“Yeah, well, we met when we were kids,” she said. “Had to look out for each other, so I guess we’re used to it.”

“Does that mean you’ll be able to keep Belle company when I’m not here?” he asked, and she shrugged.

“Depends when that’s gonna be. I thought you said you were moving in.”

“Yes, but I have business in Storybrooke, and I’ll have to go back once a week to tend to that,” he said. “Specifically Friday. I have an appointment to keep, and I may as well do some errands while I’m there.”

“So you’ll be gone the whole day, I guess.”

“I’ll leave early and return in the evening,” he agreed. “Can’t promise what time I’ll be back, but it won’t run into Saturday.”

“In that case, I can look in on her at lunchtime, and spend a few hours after class in the evening,” she said, and he nodded.

“Thank you.”

“Not a problem. We usually get together on Fridays anyhow.”

“Good.” He sipped at his coffee. “The Fridays in Maine are probably going to be a regular thing, and it would put my mind at rest if I know you’re going to be able to come over for at least part of the day.”

“What about when the baby’s born?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “We haven’t technically agreed anything yet.”

There was a thump from Belle’s bedroom, and a muffled curse, making them both look round.

“I’ll go,” said Emma, putting down her cup. “Sounds like she’s awake.”

“I’ll make a start on breakfast, in that case.”

“Okay,” she said, heading for the bedroom. “I’m holding you to that French toast suggestion, by the way.”

Belle had been awake for a little while, groggy and pain-ridden and wishing she could get more than an hour’s sleep at a time. She could hear voices in the apartment: Gold’s low murmur and a higher, female tone which she thought was Emma’s. It was probably time to get up. She struggled out of bed, scowling at her cast as it got in the way for what felt like the thousandth time. Getting dressed for bed had been tricky with only one arm, but she had managed to put on a nightdress with only a little difficulty, and she thought she could manage to get her robe on over the cast. She knocked a book onto the floor with a loud thud and swore under her breath, mouth twisting in vexation as she realised that even turning the pages was going to be difficult with only one hand.

“Hey.” Emma put her head around the door. “Can I come in?”

Belle smiled, still struggling with the robe.

“I thought I heard your voice,” she said.

“Uh-huh.” Emma was looking her over. “God, you look terrible!”

“Thanks,” said Belle, in a wry tone.

“Sorry, I just mean you’re covered in bruises.”

“Yeah, I noticed every time I tried to roll over.” She winced, arm flapping in the sleeve of the robe, and Emma started forward.

“Here, let me.”

Between them, they managed to get the robe on Belle and tied at the waist, and she flopped onto the bed with a sigh of relief. Emma sat down next to her.

“Bad night?” she asked sympathetically.

“I got a little sleep,” said Belle. “Wouldn’t say no to more, though.”

“How’s your arm?”

“Doesn’t seem to hurt as much as the bruises do, which is weird,” said Belle. “It’s more the fact that I can’t even dress myself that’s getting to me right now.”

“There’s a silver fox in silk PJs making you breakfast,” said Emma. “Could be worse.”

“Want me to tell Alex you called him a silver fox?” teased Belle, and Emma winced.

“If you do, it’ll really take the sting out of my threat to punch him in the dick,” she said. “So no.”

Belle giggled.

“Please don’t punch him in the dick.”

“What’s the matter, did you call dibs on it or something?”

“No no,” said Belle hastily. “I just meant that if he’s going to help me out around here, it would probably help if he could walk.”

“Uh-huh.” Emma tilted her head, looking curious. “So. You asked him to move in.”

“Yeah.” Belle fidgeted a little. “Well, it seemed to make sense. I can’t expect to rely on you and Neal to be around to help out twenty-four-seven. Especially when the baby gets here.”

“I guess,” said Emma. “He’s asked me if I can come over Friday, though. I said no problem, so it looks as though we’re on for girls’ night. Or at least girls’ after-class hangout.”

“He can’t do Friday?” said Belle. “How come?”

“Said he had to go back to Maine,” said Emma. “Oh, but he’ll be back in the evening,”

“I suppose he has business stuff to attend to,” said Belle absently. “Friday afternoon girly hangout sounds good.”

“Play your cards right and there’ll be brownies,” said Emma, and Belle smiled.

“Sounds great.”

There was a moment of silence, and Emma nudged her gently.

“How are things going between you two?”

Belle hesitated. She badly wanted to tell Emma how Gold had started to open up a little, but she wasn’t sure she was comfortable revealing the secret pain he had carried with him for decades, and certainly didn’t think she had the right to share the details of that pain with Emma. His confession had left her with a myriad of conflicting thoughts and emotions that she wasn’t ready to process on so little sleep and whilst doped up on painkillers.

“Fine,” she said, instead. “He’s been very - attentive.”

“That a euphemism?”

Emma was grinning, and Belle sent her a flat look.

“I did not have sex with him.”

“Never said you did.”

“You thought it.”

“Oh, like you didn’t?”

“No!” insisted Belle. “Have you lost your damn mind? We’re still only barely on speaking terms!”

“You don’t need to talk to have sex.”

“I did not have sex with him!”

“I know that,” Emma assured her.

“Good.”

“Although it’s pretty obvious you want to.”

“I do not!” Belle objected.

“Lies.”

“Emma!”

“Fine, but five bucks says he goes down on you for some apology oral at least once in the next fortnight.”

“Oh my God…”

Belle pushed to her feet with a huff and stomped off towards the kitchen, leaving Emma chuckling behind her.

Emma stayed long enough to eat breakfast and help Belle change into something other than a nightdress and bathrobe, then left for college with a cheerful goodbye and a promise to return the next day. Belle spent the rest of the morning alternating between calls to the university to explain her situation, arranging an extension on a piece of work that was almost due, and muttering under her breath about the whole thing. Gold had been cleaning up, and came through to the lounge drying his hands on a towel as she was whispering curse words and trying to type one-handed.

“If you wanted to dictate the paper to me, I don’t mind typing it for you,” he said, and Belle sat back with a sigh.

“I’m not sure my brain works that way,” she said. “Typing helps me think. Writing even more so, but that’s definitely out.”

“The offer’s there, nonetheless.”

“Thank you.” She smiled to show him that she meant it. “What are you planning on doing for the rest of the day?”

“Is there anything you need?”

“Not right now,” she said. “And you don’t have to spend all your time looking after me, you know. You have your own life to lead.”

“And right now I choose to spend it looking after you,” he said. “Although I might go and do some grocery shopping. There are some ingredients I need to get if I’m to make the dishes I want.”

“I’m not expecting gourmet meals every night,” she warned, and he showed his teeth.

“Well, that’s unfortunate.”

Belle tapped the fingers of her good hand on the keyboard, secretly amused.

“I think you and Dr Jekyll arranged all this so you could feed me up,” she said, and Gold sucked his breath in over his teeth.

“You caught me.”

“In that case, you’d better go out and get your ingredients, hadn’t you?” she said, and his grin widened.

“I’ll be back in an hour.”

While he was out, Belle shuffled to the kitchen to make herself a cup of tea, still swearing under her breath about the difficulties having only one arm was causing. It seemed to take her at least twice as long to do things, if she could do them at all. The university had been understanding and an extension agreed for her paper, but she could still foresee difficulties in getting it completed to a standard she would be happy with. She was debating whether to put everything on hold until after the baby was born and her arm was healed, and decided to delay making a decision on that front for a day or two. Perhaps she’d get used to typing with one hand.

Looking in the mirror made her wince. Her bruises had turned a deep shade of purple, and there was swelling on her cheek where it had hit the corner of a step. She supposed she was lucky not to have knocked a tooth out. At least the baby was fine; fear over hurting it had consumed her thoughts until she had been given the all-clear. But she had seen it on the scan, safe inside, tiny fingers twitching. Gold’s reaction to feeling it kick had perhaps been the most emotion she had seen from him since their break-up. It made her more certain that he would love their child, however differently he might choose to show it. However he might feel about her.

Once Gold returned, he made her another cup of tea, served up with a crisp, buttery cinnamon pastry which made her mouth water. She nibbled at it, curled in her chair and licking crumbs from her fingers as she listened to him clattering about in the kitchen. Soon the air was filled with delicious scents, and she tried to guess what he was making. Something with garlic, she knew that.

Having finished her pastry, she got up to take her plate back to the kitchen. Gold had rolled up his shirtsleeves and put on one of her aprons, and was stirring a thick, glossy white sauce. Another pan held a rich, dark stew that bubbled gently, and Belle felt her stomach growl in anticipation.

“Smells good,” she said. “What are you making?”

Gold looked around, smiling a little.

“Beef in red wine there,” he said, gesturing at the pan. “And this is a cheese sauce for a pasta dish I’m planning. I thought if I portioned up things you can eat with one hand, it would be easier for you to heat them through and feed yourself when I’m not around.”

“Are you going away?” she asked, Emma’s casual mention of his going to Storybrooke coming back to her.

“I’m spending Friday in Storybrooke,” he said, looking back at the sauce he was stirring. “I’ll be back in the evening, but I can’t say what time, which is why I thought I’d make something for you to heat through.”

“Well, Emma’s gonna come over,” she said. “I guess I’ll have something to feed her.”

“Is there anything else you want me to make?” he asked. “I could bake some cookies or something?”

“You don’t have to spend all your time in the kitchen,” she said, and he shrugged.

“I like cooking,” he said. “It’s actually nice to have someone to cook for.”

“That’s great, but - but don’t feel that you can’t do your own thing,” she said, feeling awkward. “I know I asked you to move in to help me out, but I’m not expecting you to be there around the clock.”

Gold gave the sauce a final stir, and turned off the heat beneath it, wiping his hands on a dishtowel and turning to face her.

“Do you want me to leave you alone?” he asked quietly. “Is this - too much?”

Belle hesitated.

“No,” she said. “No, it’s not that.”

“It’s just that you said it was hard,” he reminded her. “Having me around.”

“I know.” She shifted a little. “I know what I said.”

“So - so if you need me to leave you alone,” he added. “I can do that.”

“No,” she said. “No, I don’t need you to leave me alone. I’ll get used to it.”

“Oh,” he said. “Right.”

“It’s getting easier,” she added. “Having you around.”

He smiled slightly.

“Good.”

“In fact,” she said. “It would be great if you could help me out with something.”

“Name it.”

“I really want to take a bath,” she said. “I feel all icky after lying around in hospital, and I can’t really wash my hair one-handed.”

“I can wash your hair, no problem.”

“Good,” she said. “Are you free now?”

“Let me just clean up in here a little.”

“Okay, I’ll go and turn on the water,” she said. “Is there something we can wrap around my cast? I’m not supposed to get it wet.”

“I’m sure we can work something out,” he said. “Do you want me to wash your hair before or after the bath?”

“I was thinking during would be the obvious choice,” she said, and he blinked at her.

“You want me to wash your hair while you’re in the bath?”

“Yes…” she said slowly. “The place where we have easy access to hot water and shampoo does seem logical.”

“But you’ll be in the bath,” he said, as though the reason for his objection was obvious. Belle raised an eyebrow.

“Would that make you uncomfortable?”

“I thought it would make you uncomfortable.”

Belle sighed.

“I asked you to take off my bra last night.”

“Yes, well, that was just undoing the clasp, that wasn’t me seeing you completely naked.”

“Alex,” she said patiently. “You must have seen me naked a hundred times, why would I care?”

“Yes, but we weren’t - like this - then,” he said, gesturing between them.

“So it would make you uncomfortable.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You do realise you’re gonna see a lot more than my boobs when we’re in the delivery room, right?” she said flatly. “I’m reconciled to the fact that I’m gonna be lying with my legs spread probably for hours in front of you and a bunch of strangers while I push out a new human.”

His mouth opened and closed, as though he was trying to think of a response, and Belle sighed again.

“Okay,” she said. “Just - just close your eyes until I get in, in that case. The bubbles should cover everything, right?”

His eyes flicked from left to right, as though he was trying to see a handy escape chute out of the apartment, but he nodded.

“Alright.”

“I’ll go change into my robe,” she said. “Can you find something to cover my cast?”

Gold swallowed.

“Alright.”

“Five minutes, then.”

Gold watched her wander off towards the bathroom, and stood for a moment, thinking. Belle didn’t seem to care that she was about to be naked in front of him, and he couldn’t tell if he was relieved or not. She was right about one thing; if he was to be with her in the delivery room, there was no need to be weird over helping her bathe. He told himself to get a bloody grip. Admittedly it would be the first time seeing her naked since their break-up, but there was no reason that should bother him if it didn’t bother her. Besides, she needed his help, so his own discomfort would have to wait.

Hunting around in the kitchen drawers, he found a plastic bag which he thought would keep her cast dry. He took off the apron he had been wearing, tossing it onto the table, and removed his tie. The waistcoat went next; he figured that the less he was wearing, the less that would get wet. He could the bath water running, and headed for the bathroom, heart thumping behind his ribs.

Belle wasn’t there when he opened the door, but he could hear her moving around in her bedroom. Hot water was running, sending up the scent of rose and geranium from the bath foam she had added. He looked around for a moment, trying to work out the best and most comfortable way to undertake hair-washing. If he brought in a chair and sat at the head of the bath, he should be able to get it done without too much difficulty.

By the time Belle entered, snug in her bathrobe, he thought he was ready. The water was steaming gently, a froth of fragrant bubbles lying thick on its surface, and he had brought a chair from the kitchen and set out bottles of shampoo and conditioner alongside a wide-toothed comb, each equidistant from the other. Belle stuck a hand into the bathwater, and nodded.

“Feels great,” she said. “Did you find anything to cover my cast?”

“Oh, right.”

Getting the plastic bag over the cast meant that she had to shrug out of one sleeve of her robe, and he caught glimpses of her body, full breasts and rounded belly. It was impossible to get the bloody thing on without seeing her, but he tried to work as quickly as possible, tucking the plastic around the cast and tying it loosely to stop it falling off.

“Should be okay as long as we don’t go crazy with the shower head,” he said, and Belle nodded.

“Well, you’re in charge of that,” she said. “I’m getting in.”

He closed his eyes, holding out a hand for her to take, and listened to the sound of her taking off her robe, the soft rustle of clothing and the tiny sigh of frustration she let out as she struggled with it. Eventually there was a low thump of cloth hitting the floor, and he flinched a little as Belle grasped his hand. There was a light splashing noise, the sound of water rippling, and the gentle squeak of skin against porcelain. She let go of his hand.

“Okay, I’m in,” she said.

Gold opened his eyes, feeling them dart around rather than fix on Belle. She was sitting up, propped against the back of the bath with the bubbles just below her breasts, watching him curiously, and he moved out of her line of sight, hearing the splash of water as she settled down with a sigh.

“Feels like ages since I took a bath,” she said. “This is nice. Relaxing.”

Speak for yourself.

“Can you wash my back after you’ve done my hair?”

“Alright.” He ran a hand through his hair, feeling awkward, eyes flicking from the shampoo bottles to the shower head on its woven chrome cord and back again.

“This could get messy,” he said. “Do you mind if I take my shirt off?”

“I’m naked.”

“I know, but - oh, never mind.”

Gold plucked at the buttons of his shirt with hands that shook a little. It was strange; being unclothed never usually fazed him, and being half-naked certainly shouldn’t, but it was somehow different now, with Belle. He had turned his back, but he was facing the mirror, steam starting to condense on it and blur their reflections. He watched her free hand scoop up water and let it run over pale, bare shoulders. Her eyes were closed, her lips a little parted, and he swallowed hard as the water washed away the bubbles that coated her left breast, exposing the deep pink nipple. He had tried not to notice the way her body had changed with pregnancy, her breasts larger, her belly full and heavy with his child. She had always been beautiful, but now she was breathtaking. He realised he was staring, and hastily looked down at his shirt buttons, getting the last of them open and shrugging out of his shirt.

“You don’t need too much shampoo,” she said, making him jump.

“Right.”

Calling himself the biggest of morons, he took a seat on the chair behind her and snatched up the shower head. Getting her hair wet was the first step, and he concentrated on separating the dark curls with his fingers, saturating every strand. Copper tints showed through as it wrapped around his fingers, and he turned off the water.

“Shampoo,” he said thickly.

He began working the shampoo into a lather, and Belle let out a sigh, letting her head roll back as his fingers kneaded her curls, thick white foam running over his fingers.

“That feels good,” she whispered. “God, I needed this.”

Gold stayed silent, concentrating on the push and pull of his hands in her hair, trying to ignore the way she moved, wet thighs rubbing together, bubbles coursing over hot skin. His mind scurried away to a time when they had shared a bath at his house, Belle lying back against his chest in the hot water. He had kissed her bare shoulders, one hand sliding down beneath the water to reach between her legs. Belle let out a tiny moan, bringing him back to the present, and he swallowed hard, feeling his cock begin to swell in his pants.

“Shower head,” he said, his voice sounding a little hoarse, and Belle passed it back to him, sitting forward so that he could rinse the shampoo from her hair.

Working in the conditioner did nothing to quell his rising lust, the liquid slippery on his fingers, Belle making low, contented sounds as he massaged her scalp. He had worried about hurting her, his fingers finding a bruise he couldn’t see, and so he had felt his way gradually, fingertips sliding over her skin, listening carefully for any indication that he should stop. Belle moaned, rolling her shoulders and relaxing into his touch. His heart was thumping hard, the heat and dampness of the room sinking into him, and he pulled back and snatched up the comb, fumbling and almost dropping it. Belle sat forward again, and he carefully combed the hair, working out tiny knots and tangles until it spread down her back in wet, glossy tendrils.

“Uh - how long do you leave this in?” he asked, wishing he didn’t feel as though his tongue was too big for his mouth.

“Couple of minutes,” she said. “Can you wash my back and my arm?”

He swept the hair over her shoulder, reaching silently for the sponge she gave him and dipping it in the bathwater. He gave her back a gentle scrub, rose-scented bubbles slipping slowly down to mingle with those in the water. Belle held up her free arm, and he stood, working the sponge down her arm to the ends of her fingers. The bubbles were disappearing rapidly, and the curve of her belly was visible. God, she was incredible! Lush and beautiful as a goddess, and just as indifferent to his presence.

“I can do the rest.”

Gold almost dropped the sponge, pulling back a little. Belle was looking at him with a steady gaze, and he licked his lips nervously. She had turned her hand, palm upward, and he pressed the sponge into it, water running over their fingers.

“Right,” he said. “Uh - I’ll rinse your hair.”

He returned to his chair, his breathing unsteady, and sat down with a thump, reaching for the shower head again. Rinsing out the conditioner gave him something to concentrate on other than how good she looked and his now painfully insistent erection, and he took deep, even breaths as he raked the water through her hair. Belle was using the sponge on her breasts and belly, and he kept his eyes fixed on what he was doing. It was important to do the job properly, after all.

“I - uh - I think I’m done,” he said, and Belle glanced over her shoulder.

“Thank you,” she said. “That felt amazing. Could you wrap it in a towel?”

He moved wordlessly, snatching a towel from the heated rail and wrapping it around her head, tucking the ends in before standing back with his eyes averted. The bubbles were almost completely gone, a thin layer of foam on top of the water, and Belle was using the sponge to wet her shoulders again. He moved around to the side, where he could see less of her, and she glanced at him, eyes wide and a warm smile curving her mouth.

“You want to get out?” he asked, and she shook her head.

“Could you give me five minutes? I just want to soak for a little while.”

“Of course,” he said. “Um - call when you need me. I’ll make some tea.”

“Sounds perfect.”

Gold nodded, and Belle’s smile widened.

“Thank you,” she added. “I could never have managed that myself.”

“My pleasure.” He wanted to bite his tongue. Pleasure? That was fucking excruciating, you moron!

“Excuse me,” he muttered, and snatched up his shirt, striding from the room as quickly as his ruined leg and his straining cock would allow. Five minutes? Five minutes would be enough.

#fic: twisted fate #rumbelle fic #rumbelle #my fic

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chickensarentcheap · 4 years

Text

Sanctuary - Chapter 8

Warnings: slight language, domestic Tyler (is that really a bad thing?)

Tagging: @valkyrie-of-the-light, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @alievans007, @innerpaperexpertcloud

“You know, sometimes it is still weird seeing you like this,” Ovi remarks, as he sits at the kitchen table with Declan standing on his lap; tiny hands tightly gripping his shoulders as surprisingly strong little legs dig into his thighs as the baby bounces up and down.

“Like what?” Tyler’s at the stove, making lunch for himself, Ovi, and the twins. The girls have gone out for the day; hair cuts, manicures and pedicures, lunch. Millie was in one of her ‘ girly girl’ moods when she woke up. Pulling on a princess dress over her pyjamas, donning that plastic tiara, ordering her brothers to refer to her as ‘your highness’.

“Extra,” Esme had said. “She’s a little bit extra today.”

After five years he’d thought he’d have the being a girl dad gig under control. He’d (somewhat) mastered the pig tails and braids and the ridiculously small elastics used to hold them together, gotten used to the splashes of pink in every room and the glitter that seemed to magically appear on rugs and couches and nearly every other available surface. But the moods. And the sass. Going from sweet and loving to she devil in the blink of an eye. Boys are easier. He can relate to them. They didn’t have the up and down emotional swings and weren’t nearly as mouthy. They were either running at full speed ahead or were down and out. There was none of this guessing what would set them off. Was the good-natured teasing going to make them cry or laugh hysterically? They didn’t come to the breakfast table with the biggest bitch vibe because they felt as if someone spoke too harshly or looked at them the wrong way.

Testosterone was running rampant in that house, but there were days the women clearly had the upper hand and the guys just had to tow the line or there’d be hell to pay. He’d long ago learned to pick his battles. Especially with his wife. A well placed ‘yes, babe’ or a smile and a nod during an argument over stupid shit could avoid being banished to the couch for an indeterminate amount of time.

And that was ninety percent of their fights. Dumb shit that just escalates into something bigger; both ferociously stubborn and neither willing to admit defeat. The other ten percent was over the job. Other his growing obsession with feeling as if he had to prove something to other people. And to himself. Nearly losing his life in Dhaka and the months of recovery had taken their toll. Especially on his mental health. He saw his struggles as a sign of weakness. He hated that she’d seen him at his most vulnerable. That he’d had to surrender his control over his life and everything in it. In turn, she thought he was being ridiculous.

“That’s what people do when they love each other, Tyler. They take care of one another. No matter what that entails. You don’t abandon someone because they need you to help with things. Who cares if I had to help you get to the bathroom some days? I’d do it again. In a heartbeat. What’s going to happen if I ever get sick? Or if when I’m old and gray you have to do things like that for me? Are you just going to say fuck you and the past forty years and just walk away?”

He had tried arguing that that was different. She was his wife. And it was his job as a husband to take care of. Not the other way around.

“Fuck your stereotypes, Tyler. Can you not just stow your damn stupid foolish pride long enough to let me love you?”

They’d never had that argument again.

“This side of you,” Ovi says, as the baby grabs at his ears and nose. “The domestic one. Sometimes I just remember the other side, know what I mean?”

“That’s a side no one should have to remember, mate.”

It was a side he didn’t even like to think about at times. While the brutality and the killings were for the most part justified, there were times he’d come home after a mission and look at himself in the mirror and the reality of what he’d done would hit him. And he’d feel sick; disgusted with the knowledge that he was capable of doing the things he could and not even think twice about it.

“It just seems weird,” Ovi says. “To see you one way and then you see this way.”

Tyler smirks. “What? You didn’t think I knew how to cook or do laundry? I wasn’t always a bachelor living in a shack. I did have a wife before the one I have now. And now I’ve got four little humans to help keep alive, so I best be doing my part,” he loudly wraps his knuckles against the widow above the sink, waving the twins inside when they glance towards the house. Having to help strip them of muddy rain boots and dirty jackets, scrubbing hands and faces in the kitchen sink before they can even think about sitting down. Arguments ensuing over who gets to sit beside Ovi; he is their older brother in their eyes, and they’ve been seeing him less and less now that he has a woman in his life.

“I like when it’s just us,” TJ announces, after everyone is settled and digging into their plates of food. “All boys!”

“I miss mommy though,” Tanner admits. He definitely is a momma’s boy. He wears his enormous heart on his sleeve when it comes to his mother; sticking close by her side at all times, always willing to help her out when she is doing things around the house, requesting to tag along whenever she went into town to run errands. As far as he’s concerned, mommy can do no wrong and is the one who hung the moon and the stars. Even now he has tears in his eyes, not liking the realization that she isn’t close by. “Maybe I can call her.”

“She’s out with your sister,” Tyler reaches out and tousles his son’s hair. “Girls day. Give Millie a chance to spend some alone time with her, okay?”

He totally understands where the kid is coming from. There’s not a second that goes by when he’s on the job that he isn’t missing home and wishing he could be there. Where he’s missing the way she smiles at him, or the way she runs her hands through his hair, or even just the sound of her voice. Or how when he’d lie awake beside her and watch her as she slept; listening to her breathe and thinking about how much he’d miss her if suddenly she wasn’t there anymore.

Those were the thoughts he hated the most. That what if’s. What if something happened and he was left alone with four children to raise? What if she got tired of him always being away and being addicted to the job and she took off with the kids? What if she woke up one day and realized all along what a mistake it was to get mixed up with him in Dhaka? He never brought those things up to her. Most of his demons she was aware of and helped him battle. Others he kept to himself.

“Why do you care so much?” he can hear Gaspar’s voice plain as day. “Why are you holding on so tight to some girl you just met? Save yourself, Tyler. Get rid of the kid, take your part of the ten million, and just ditch the girl in the street. Save yourself a lot of heartache.”

He’d thought of attempting to explain it to him. How that ‘girl’ had come into his life when he’d least expected it and had shown him what it was like to feel alive again. That she’d managed to begin the dismantling of the walls he’d built up around himself and was reminding him what it felt like to be wanted. That she didn’t give a fuck about his past and vice versa and he was feeling confident that things would lead to something more.

There was no way he was just leaving her in the goddamn street.

Instead he’d just told his old friend that it was none of his business. He didn’t need to know what was going on and Tyler sure as hell didn’t owe him an explanation.

“Just don’t come crying to me when she destroys you. Because she will. You’re already putting your all into this and for what? Because you like getting your dick wet and keeping your bed warm? This won’t end well, Tyler. Trust me. Two broken people can not and do not make a whole. They just make a mess of things.”

Five years have come and gone since that conversation. Since Gaspar had betrayed him and tried to kill him. And since Ovi turned the tables on the man and took his life. Sometimes Tyler wishes that Gaspar was still around solely so he could spite him, that he could sit him down at the kitchen table and make him look at the beautiful little faces gathered there. See how their eyes sparkle when they smile and hear their laughs. These tiny beings made up from the very best parts of their mother and father. Who know they’re loved without question and live in a house where they see love and respect between the two people who’d come together and created them.

Maybe things had started out in a less than perfect way.

But what they had now was perfect for them.

****

“So this girl…” he address Ovi, as they lounge together on the front porch; the baby spread along his thighs as he drinks a bottle of milk, an eye on the twins as they play together on an old tire swing dangling from the branch of a towering willow. “...you see her again last night?”

The kid nods.

“You spend the night or…?”

“No. I came home. This time I didn’t lose my key. I still feel horrible about that. I didn’t mean to scare anyone.”

“You realize how close I came to shooting you, yeah? I thought someone broke into the house. My wife and my kids were there. And I’ll do anything to protect them. You know that. Definitely wasn’t your smartest moment. But this girl…whatever you said her name is…”

“Chloe,” he sighs it with a long, content sigh and Tyler is tempted to slap the shit out of him. But he knows what it’s like to get caught up in a whirlwind; to be unable to catch your breath or even think straight.

“What’s the deal with you two? You seeing each other or sleeping together or…?”

“I guess we’re seeing each other. We like to spend time together. But we haven’t slept together. I already told you about that. That I wasn’t ready for that.”

“And what about her? Is she ready for that?”

Ovi shrugs.

“I can’t believe I’m even having this conversation right now. Part of me wants to avoid it altogether and another part of me is just surprised we haven’t had it sooner.” And yet another part is grateful his own sons are at least eleven or twelve years away from needing the same talk. “So you know to be careful, right? You know how to be careful?” Fuck. It sounded lame even to his own ears.

Ovi looks offended. “I know what condoms are. And how to use them. I did take health class in school.”

“Well just make sure you use them. If it comes down to needing them. Use them no matter what. Even if she says she’s on the pill. Unless you want to get the burn. Do you want to get the burn?”

“The burn? What?”

“It’s just a nickname for a STD. You know what those are right?”

“I learned about those the first year here.”

“Well make sure you don’t get any. Be safe. All the time. Take responsibility for wrapping your shit up.” He feels like a hypocrite for even saying it. Seeing as he and Esme had never used a damn thing during those five days in Dhaka and she ended up pregnant. “Look what I’m about to say, don’t take it the wrong way. Because I love my daughter. You know that. But she wasn’t exactly planned, know what I’m saying? Things just happened between Esme and I. We barely even knew each other. And in hindsight, we should have been more careful. But we weren’t. And Millie is the result of that. She wasn’t made out of love. It was two strangers who couldn’t and wouldn’t stop fucking each other. Understand what I’m saying?”

“But if it didn’t happen, she wouldn’t be here,” Ovi points out.

“I’m just saying that we should have known better and been more careful. What would have happened if I got Esme pregnant and in the end it turned out we couldn’t stand one another? It would have been a big fucking mess. Don’t get yourself into a big fucking mess. That’s all I’m saying. Understand?”

The kids.

“Just take your time and get to know her. Really know her. That’s my best advice. Other than wrapping shit up. And if you want to bring her here, that’s fine. But she doesn’t spend the night under my roof. I don’t want that shit going on with my kids in the house. Probably sounds old fashioned, but I’d just rather you didn’t do shit like that. Okay?”

“So everything came back fine? All her background checks?”

“Other than an uncle that likes to beat up women, things are clean. Now that’s not an invitation to just go crazy and propose to her and all that shit. Just take your time. You have your whole life ahead of you. You’re way too young to be thinking about marriage and keeping a wife happy and having kids.”

“Do you ever regret it? Marrying someone so soon? Having a baby so quickly?”

“Do I regret it? No. Hard to regret it when you end up loving someone as much as I love my wife. I’d die for her. In a heartbeat. And I have an incredible little girl. So no. I don’t regret it. I wouldn’t go back and change things if that’s what you mean. But I’m lucky. Things worked out. How many people do things like this happen to where it doesn’t work out? Don’t be one of those people.”

****

The sound of tires on the gravel driveway brings their conversation to a halt. Tyler gets to his feet and checks his watch; way too early for Esme and Millie to be returning from their girls day. Very few know where they live; all mail rerouted to a post office box, all deliveries picked up at the outlet at the pharmacy. His clients for his side business only have a cell number to contact. Extra measures that had to be taken considering the job and the many toes he’s trampled on in the nearly ten years he’s been in the game. And he frowns at the first sight of the unfamiliar vehicle; a Lexus SUV with tinted windows and all terrain tires.

“Who is that?” Ovi asks.

“Take the kids out back,” Tyler hands him the baby, puts two fingers in his mouth and issues a shrill whistle to capture the twins’ attention. “Boys…come here..”

“Who is that, daddy?” Tanner inquires, watching over his shoulder as the Lexus glides to a stop alongside their own vehicle and the driver kills the ignition.

“Go out back with Ovi,” he instructs. “Stay back there until I either come to you guys or I call for you. Understand?”

The twins both nod and he tousles their hair and presses a kiss to the top of their heads.

“Maybe I should stay here,” Ovi nervously suggests.

“Everything’s fine. I doubt a guy driving a car like that can do much manage. Just take them out back. Keep them busy. I won’t be long.”

Ovi reluctantly agrees, carrying the baby on his hip, a twin on either side, holding onto his shorts by the side pockets. Tyler watches them go, making sure they’re well out of ear shot before stepping down of the porch, hitting the middle of the front walkway just as the driver throws open the door and steps up. Fairly tall and quite stocky, with pushed back brown hair that’s graying at the temples and receding slightly at the crown. Glasses, dressed conservatively in a blue blazer, white golf shirt and khaki pants.

“Nice piece of property you have back in here,” he says, as he shuts the driver’s side door. “Hard to find. Beautiful though.”

“That’s how we like it. Lots of privacy. No one just coming back in here unannounced. Well, until now anyway.”

“How many acres?”

“Little over five.”

The stranger gives a nod of approval. “Very nice. Esme always wanted a place like this. In the middle of nowhere. Where she could have a whole bunch of goats running around. Whole bunch of kids. You must be Tyler,” he offers a hand.

“I am,” he confirms. “Who are you?”

“I’m Mark. Esme’s…”

“Ex husband,” Tyler finishes for him. “Yeah, I heard my mother in law told you where we are. I’m just surprised you actually showed up. That something told you it was a good idea.”

“Michelle said that there shouldn’t be a problem. That neither of you would mind.”

Tyler smirks. “We mind. What are you doing here? Just one day woke up and decided you weren’t quite done tormenting your ex wife?”

He sighs. “I seen you’ve heard the stories.”

“I have. Which makes you being here a really bad idea. You shouldn’t be here. I don’t appreciate people just showing up out of the blue. Especially when my kids are here. And especially when I do know all the stories. So it’s probably best you just get back in the car and leave. You won’t find what you’re looking for here.”

“She said that you’d probably be combative. That you’re a tad possessive.”

“Protective,” he corrects. “I’m protective. Of my kids. Of my wife.” He stresses the word ‘my’, noticing how it instantly unnerves the other man. “Why are you even here? It’s been what? Seven years? Eight? And suddenly you just decide you want to see her again?”

“Is she home?” Mark attempts to step by him.

Tyler moves to block him. An easy feat considering he’s wider. Broad and solid and definitely not a push over. “She’s not.”

“Are you just saying that because you don’t want me talking to her, or…”

“I’m saying that because she’s not here. And because you shouldn’t be here either. I don’t know what game you’re playing, but you’ve got the wrong guy to try and play it with. She’s out. With our daughter. So just get back in your car and…”

“Ex army, right?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Marine,” Mark boasts.

Tyler smirks. “Mate, I honestly don’t give a shit. Navy, Air Force, Army, Marines. I don’t give a fuck. So don’t try that bullshit with me. I’m going to ask you again. Why are you here?”

“I’m here to talk to Esme.”

“Why?”

“Well to be quite honest, that’s business that is between her and I.”

“Your business became my business when she became my wife. You show up at me house, where my kids are, wanting to see my wife and I’m supposed to be okay with it? What do you want? I’m not going to ask you again. I won’t think twice about dragging your ass down the driveway and throwing your ass in the road.”

Sighing heavily, Mark removes his sunglasses and slips into the inside pocket of his jacket. “I was warned you might be a little…hostile.”

“You don’t want to see me when I get hostile. So unless you want me dropping you on your ass..”

“I’m in a program. A twelve step one. I’ve just gotten to the step where it comes to making amends for the wrongs we’ve committed. That’s why I’m here. I know some of the blame can be placed on me when it comes to Esme and I splitting up.”

“Some? Because from what I heard, it was pretty one sided.”

“I wasn’t the best husband, I agree. I had my faults. But you probably know for yourself that she’s not exactly the easiest person to live with.”

“It must have been something to do with you. Because I haven’t had any problems living with her at all.”

“You know how she can get. She’s moody. Irrational. She likes to pick fights. Nothing is ever good enough for her. I’d even go as far as unstable but…”

“That’s my wife you’re talking about,” Tyler interjects, attempting to keep his cool. “So I’d stop while you’re ahead. Just admit that you were a fuck head, mate. That you cheated on her. Multiple times. That you bullied her. Put your hands on her. Make it easier on yourself and just admit it.”

“Like I said, I know I’m partly to blame. But she wasn’t one hundred percent innocent.”

Tyler smirks. “We’re done here. I don’t need to hear anything else. You might have gotten away with gaslighting her, but you won’t get away with it with me. I’ve dealt with bigger and better, mate. I don’t care about your twelve step program. I don’t give a shit that you’re looking for absolution. Esme owes you nothing. She never deserved what you did. No one deserves that. So you need to just leave. Because I’m just about out of fucking patience.”

“Daddy,” TJ is at his side, tugging at the bottom of his t-shirt. “Ovi said to come and check on you.”

‘Yeah? Well I told Ovi to keep you in the backyard. So go on. I’ll be back in a minute.”

“Hey there, little man,” Mark greets, and crouches down so he is eye level with the child.

Tyler puts a hand on the top of his son’s head, moving him away from the unwelcome guest.

“Hi,” TJ says in return. “Who are you?”

“An old friend of your mom’s. Which one are you? Tanner or Tyler?”

“I’m Tyler. Like daddy. That’s his name too.”

“And you’re how old? Three?”

“Almost four,” TJ confirms. “I have another brother too. Not just Tanner. A baby brother. Declan. And a big sister. Amelia. We call her Millie though.”

“Alright, that’s enough,” Tyler runs a hand over his son’s hair and gently nudges him towards the backyard. “Go back to Ovi and the others. I’ll be there in a few minutes. Okay?”

“Okay,” he reluctantly agrees, then adds a cheerful ‘bye!’ in Mark’s direction before running off.”

“He’s a cutie, huh?” Mark grins as he stands up. “Twins. And two other ones. She always wanted a big family. Wasn’t in the cards for us, though. We weren’t on the same page when it came to wanting a family. I’m honestly glad she found someone that wanted it as much as she did. I bet she’s a great mom.”

“She’s an amazing mom. And wife. Are we just about done here? Because I really need to get back to my kids.”

“It really did a number on her when she lost the baby. She was never quite the same after that.”

Tyler frowns. “Baby?”

“She was only a couple of months. We’d just found out. Didn’t really have a chance to get used to the idea. You didn’t know about that? That there’d been a baby?”

“First I’m hearing about it.”

“I wonder why she wouldn’t tell you. Maybe it didn’t bother her as much as she let on it did. If she didn’t even tell you about it, maybe it wasn’t that big of a deal after all. Look, I’m not here to cause problems with the two of you. I’m not here to try and win her back. That ship sailed a long time ago. I just want to talk to her. I just want to apologize and make amends for the things I did. The things I said. I’m sure even you can understand that.”

Tyler nods.

“Can you at least ask her to give me a call? I don’t have to come back here. I know when I’m not welcome. But it’s really important that I do this. And I think she deserves to hear the things I have to say. Can you do that for me at least? Get her to contact me?” he pulls a business card from one of the pockets on his blazers and offers it. “I really am happy for her. That she moved on. That she found someone that’s crazy about her and was able to give her what she wanted. She’s a great girl.”

“Yeah,” he plucks the card from Mark’s hand. “She really is. Your loss is my gain.”

“It definitely is. When she loves, she loves with her whole heart. You’re a lucky man. I hope you realize that.”

“Sometimes I have to be reminded,” Tyler admits, and this time when Mark offers a hand, he shakes it.

“You’ve got a beautiful family,” Mark says, as he heads for his SUV. “I hope you and Esme are happy. She deserves to be happy. That’s all I want for her.”

“That’s all I want for her too,” Tyler responds, then shoves the business card into the back pocket of his jeans. Hands on hips as he watches the other man climb into the SUV and drive away.

***

“Daddy!” Millie bellows the moment she steps through the front door, hastily kicking off her sandals and then scurrying down the hallway that leads to the back of the house. “Daddy! You have to see! Daddeeeeee!”

He’s at the kitchen sink, up to the forearms is water and dish soap, and he dries his ands on the thighs of his jeans just as she races into the room and hurls herself towards him. Effortlessly catching that little body in large, strong arms and scooping her up.

Esme drops her purse on the counter and watches them together; a precious, trusting five year old and a tall, strong man who is capable of inflicting so much pain and punishment. His entire demeanour changes when he’s in ‘daddy mode’; features and smile softening, eyes sparkling, tone gentle and patient. It’s phenomenally sexy; a man that big and powerful with these innocent, precious lives who idolize him so much. Two very different sides in one person; one is merciless and savage and takes lives if he needs to. The other nurtures and loves and helps create life.

Millie proudly and excitedly shows off the pampering that she’d received: sparkly pink and purple polish on her fingers and toes –“Just like mommy’s”- and her hair curled into tight ringlets.

“Why does it sparkle?” Tyler asks. “Why is there glitter in your hair?”

“Daddy…” she sighs dramatically. “…it’s not glitter. It’s unicorn dust.”

“Unicorn dust? What’s that? Is that what comes out of a unicorn’s butt when they fart?”

“Maybe…” she sing songs, and then giggles when he nuzzles his face against hers; effectively and purposefully tickling her with his beard.

“Why don’t you go outside and show Ovi,” he suggests, pressing a kiss to her cheek and setting her down. ”He’d like to hear about a unicorn farting all over your head.”

“It’s not farts, daddy!” she argues, as she skips towards the sliding door and throws it open. “It’s unicorn dust!” And then she’s gone, bounding across the deck and jumping from the top step without a single stitch of fear. Hitting the ground running; shrieking about painted nails and glittery hair and elbowing anyone in the face that dares try to mess her curls up.

“And you say I’m the one giving you the gray hair,” Esme smirks. “It’s definitely her.”

“You’re the gray hair. She’s the ulcer,” he places his hands on her hips, and kisses her in greeting. “Hi.”

“Hi,” she runs her hands up the back of his t-shirt, then rakes her newly done nails down his back.

“What the fuck? Like fucking talons.”

“They’re not that sharp. And you’re the one that always says it’s a turn on when I do things like that.”

Many a time he’s woken up the next day with his entire back, shoulders, and even rib cage carved to shit; long, bright red gouges that mar the skin and sting like a bitch.

“I wasn’t complaining. I’m just saying they’re…” he winces when she gets him right in the middle of the spine. One lonesome finger nail dragging all the way down to just under waist of his jeans. “…fucking sharp. You need to stop…” he kisses her once more and then backs away. “…quit trying to seduce me all the time.”

“Like I have to try,” she snorts, as he goes back to the sink full of dishes and she plucks a bottle of water from the fridge. “I think you’re the one that’s doing the seducing,” she says, as she leans back against the counter next to him. “Doing housework while I’m watching? There’s nothing sexier than that. Seeing you all domestic and shit. What’s next? Laundry and vacuuming?”

“Already did the vacuuming and the last load of laundry is in the wash.”

“Baby, you are making me so wet right now. I might actually jump you right here and right now if you tell me that you remembered to take something out of the freezer for supper.”

“I did remember. But as much as I wouldn’t object to being jumped in all the right ways right now, it is definitely not a good time. Too many little people running around. And Ovi is still traumatized from almost being shot the other night. Seeing us fucking? That would be years of extremely expensive therapy.”

“Or, it would be great experience for him to take back to Christine or Cathy or whatever her name is.”

“Chloe. And he says they haven’t had sex. Actually, he says he’s never had sex at all.”

Her eyes widen, bottle of water pressed to her lips. “Get out of here. Seriously?”

“That’s what he says. He’s told me that twice now. And I had to have the ‘talk’ with him today.”

“I can only imagine how that went,” she gathers up a dish towel and steps alongside of him. “I love you, but open communication is not one of your strong suits.”

“What are you talking about? We communicate fine.”

“That’s different. You and I know each other intimately. Once you start seeing one another naked and doing the things we do together and to each other, I think it means we can pretty much talk about anything. I mean, we’re at the stage where I can pee while you’re brushing your teeth and you don’t think about it. But you talking to a teenage boy about sex? That doesn’t seem awkward at all.”

He frowns. “I’m not exactly a rookie when it comes to sex, you know.”

“Baby, you are so far from being a rookie it isn’t even funny. But I mean talking about it. With someone who isn’t me. Someone who is practically your kid. And Ovi’s shy and sort of awkward so he was probably mortified that you were talking about whatever you were talking about.”

“I just told him to be careful and wrap his shit up. That the last thing he wanted was knocking her up or getting an STD.”

“Kind of ironic,” she grins. “You talking about condoms considering…”

“Yeah, I thought about that too. Kind of makes me a hypocrite.

“Well in all fairness, we were adults who knew exactly what we were getting into. It’s not that we didn’t know the risks. It’s just that we didn’t seem to give a shit about them. Which just means my blow job game is strong enough to temporarily wipe you of all your brain cells.”

Tyler smirks. “Temporarily? It’s five years later and we’re married with four kids. That’s a permanent loss of brain cells.”

Frowning, she smacks in across the ass with the towel. When she tries it a second time, he grabs a hold of the fabric and pulls her into him, covering her mouth with his in a long, slow kiss. The kind that has her standing on her tiptoes and her arms sneaking around his waist as her body curves into his. And she breaks out of the kiss with a laugh when he slides one of his soaking wet hands down the back of her shorts. Struggling against him as he chuckles and holds her body against the counter with the full weight of his and proceeds to suck and nibble at the side of her neck.

“And you talk about me trying to seduce you?” she laughs, trying to use her elbows in his chest to push him away. “You’re like a fifteen year old. Nothing but raging hormones and pent up sexual frustration. Which makes no sense considering how much you actually manage to get laid on a regular basis. Oh shit!” she curses, when his teeth grab a hold of that sensitive spot between her neck and shoulder. “That’s going to leave a mark. What’s wrong with you?”

“Like you said. Nothing but raging hormones and pent up sexual frustration,” his palm slides down do her ass; tightly squeezing it through her shorts as his tongue soothes the bite mark he’d left on her skin.

“If this is your version of a midlife crisis, I’m totally okay with it,” she says, her hands pushing their way into his hair as his mouth moves across the neckline of her t-shirt. “By the way, I bought one of those test things today. You know the ones that tell you when the best time to get pregnant is? You know, just in case I give in to your idiotic idea of another baby.”

“Just one more.”

“What if one turns into another two at once?”

“We’ll deal with it. And why do we need a test to tell us that? We just keep fucking like we do and it’ll just happen.”

“It will tell us which days are best. You know, the days where we have to put a little…extra…into it…”

He grins against her neck, beard scratching the tender skin. “I think I have extra I could put into it.”

“That’s the spirit. You never disappoint me.”

“Ever?” his lips travel along the side of her throat, his breath warm, tip of his nose tickling the skin as he moves up to just below her ear.

“Ever. I had high expectations you know. Of what you’d look like naked.”

“You actually thought of what I looked like naked before I got naked? When did you think about that?”

“My dirty little fantasies pretty much started when I walked into your place. Hard not to have sex dreams about a guy that looks like you do. I wasn’t even put off by the fact you had a chicken as a significant other. I think it was the eyes. And the big arms.”

“And the voice.”

“Yeah…” she sighs, fingernails digging into his scalp as he places a trail of kisses along the outer edge of her ear. “…that too….”

“So you thought of me naked? When?”

“Of you know, when a girl is lonely and horny in bed at night.”

He chuckles. “That’s a turn on. Knowing you actually thought about me when…”

“I still do. When you’re away. Just so you know.”

“That’s pretty fucking hot. Not gonna lie.”

“I would have been so disappointed if you’d dropped your pants in that hotel room and you were a short dick man. That would have been it. I would not have let you anywhere near me. The disappointment would have been too great.”

“Well it’s a good thing for both of us that I lived up to your expectations.”

“Oh you did. And then some. The thing about a man having a big hands and feet is very much true.”

Both his hands find her ass now, drawing her tightly against him as he kisses her. Long. Deep. Slow. His tongue pushing its way into her mouth and finding hers. And she willingly reciprocates, both hands sliding down to his shoulders.

“Okay…” she pushes him away, fanning her face with her hand. “…you need to stop and take about five steps back or I honestly will jump you and not care who comes in and sees it.”

“They all have to learn sooner than later,” he reasons, and puts a hand on the back of her head and pulls her into another toe curling kiss. Feeling her hands slide down his back and then in between them, hands slipping under the front of his t-shirt, finding the buckle on his belt. One of her fingers slipping just under the waist of his jeans and teasing the skin there.

The sound of the sliding door being drawn open causes both of them to jump.

“Sorry,” a bashful Ovi says from the doorway. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your baby making but…”

“We weren’t making babies,” Esme says, as she clears her throat noisily and moves to grab her bottle of water. “You stopped that before it could happen.”

“In the kitchen?” Ovi sounds horrified.

Tyler returns to the task of washing dishes. “Kid, there isn’t a place in this house that hasn’t been christened already. Might want to think about it every time you sit down somewhere.”

“Or not think about it because I know how distressing the thought of Tyler being naked can be,” Esme teases. “ Trust me, don’t think about it. It’s really disturbing.”

Her husband smirks.

“The kids just wanted something to drink,” Ovi says. “They were thirsty, so…”

She fetches a sleeve of juice boxes from the fridge and hands it to him.

“Did Tyler tell you?” he asks. “About who came to visit you today?”

“No, Tyler did not,” Tyler replies for her. “Because Tyler was busy trying to get laid first before telling her the bad news.”

“Who came to visit?” she glances between the two of them.

“You can go back outside now,” Tyler says to Ovi, who blinks at the force in his eyes and then gives an apologetic smile before slinking back through the sliding door.

“Who came to visit?” Esme asks again. “Oh God, please tell me it wasn’t my mother. Yesterday she called you a tall, cool, drink of water and I haven’t been the same since.”

“It wasn’t your mother. I would have actually preferred if it was your mother. As fucked as it is that I’d admit that.” Unplugging the sink, he dries his hands on the dish towel and then reaches into the back pocket of his jeans in order to pull out the business card that her ex had given him. “He wants you to call him.”

Arching and eyebrow, she plucks the card from his hand. Immediately frowning when she sees who it belongs to. “He actually gave you a business card? Who the hell does that? And why does he have business cards? He’s retired for Christ sakes.”

“He likes to throw it around that he was a Marine. Expected me to be impressed.”

“He thinks it’s some kind of power move,” she rolls her eyes. “No one actually gives a shit. Did you kick the shit out of him?”

“No. But not because I didn’t want to. He’s kind of an arrogant prick, yeah? Thinks pretty highly of himself. You didn’t tell me he was that much older than you.”

“Eleven years is not that much older.”

“Older enough. So what was it? Daddy issues?”

Her eyes narrow. “Please tell me you’re joking and not being serious when you say that. Because you know about my father and what happened and I will kick you in the nuts. We’re not going to fight over this. Over my ex husband.”

“I don’t want to fight,” he assures her. “But he is a fucking asshole. You weren’t wrong about that. He definitely doesn’t understand that what he did was wrong. Kept trying to tell me all this bullshit that you had your own role to play in it and you were partly to blame to.”

“And you believe that?”

“I told him it didn’t matter what you may have said or did. He didn’t have a reason to do the things he did or say the things he said. There’s no fucking excuse for any of that.”

“He’ a narcissistic. I told you that. He loves to gaslight people.”

“What I don’t understand is why you never told me that you were having a baby with him.”

She blinks. “What?”

“He told me that you guys were having a baby. Which I was kind of surprised to hear about because you never once mentioned it yourself in the past five years.”

“There was no reason to tell you about that.”

“I’m your husband. How much more of a reason do you need?”

She taps the edge of the business card against the counter top. “It was way before you. Before I even knew you existed. You would have been still been married to your first wife at the time. Austin would have been a baby. Why would I bring up something from that long ago?”

“I talk about my life from that long ago,” he points out, as he leans back against the counter, arms crossed over his chest.

“That’s totally different and you know it. You lost a child. You have every right and reason to talk about him. Why wouldn’t you tell me about him? He’s still very much an important part of your life.”

“And this baby wasn’t? The one you were having with your ex?”

“It was never a baby, Tyler. Not in the true sense of the word. I’d only known for a week when I lost it. There’s no comparison between that and what you went through. I didn’t see a reason to tell you about it because it wasn’t that serious.”

“So my wife, almost has a baby with her first husband but there’s no reason for me to know about?” he scoffs, and shakes his head. “That makes no sense.”

“Why are you making a big deal about this? It was a long time ago. And I didn’t almost have a baby. I didn’t even come close. It wasn’t meant to be obviously. Could you imagine having a kid with that guy? It would have been a fucking nightmare. Things happen for a reason. You say that all the time.”

“You just would think it would come up in a conversation, yeah? You’ve been pregnant three times and not once did you think of bringing it up? Like maybe you were worried it might happen again?”

“I was worried. I just kept it to myself. All pregnant women worry about things like that.”

“Sure. And they probably tell their husbands about it. And you know why? Because they weren’t the only ones who made the goddamn baby in the first place. Last time I checked, it took the two of us.”

“Don’t be so goddamn condescending,” she huffs, and tosses the business card onto the counter. “I hate when you get that way. That fucking tone you get when you think you’re somehow morally superior.”

“I have never…ever…thought that.”

‘Bullshit. You do it all the time. You don’t even realize you’re doing it. Every time you don’t like something I have to say. Or you don’t agree with some decision I made back in a time where you didn’t even exist in my life yet. I may not agree with all the decisions you’ve made, but at least I support you. I don’t have this fucking chip on my shoulder.”

“I don’t have a chip on my shoulder. I…”

“I didn’t tell you because that part of my life didn’t matter any more. Because I just wanted to forget about it and put it behind me. Because once you came into my life, everyone and everything before you ceased to exist. I didn’t want to remember all of that. And then Millie came along and I had everything I wanted. I had this amazing guy and a beautiful baby and all that other bullshit was left in the past where it belonged. So I wasn’t intentionally keeping anything from you. I was keeping it from myself.”

He grabs a hold of her wrist as she tries to stomp off. “Don’t do that,” he says. “You do that every time we get in fight.”

“Only because I’m this close…” she holds her thumb and forefinger an inch apart. “…to punching you in the face. You know I hate when you pull that self righteous bullshit with me.”

She struggles against his grip, but he only tightens his hold on her.

“Not everything is about you, Tyler. My past is just that. You didn’t need to know. And I’m sorry if that pisses you off or hurts your ego or…”

“Stop,” his voice is surprisingly tender despite the power in his grasp. “…just stop.” And when she opens her mouth to speak, he pulls her into him, speaking in between pecks to her lips. “…just…fucking…stop…”

“You fucking stop,” she retorts. “Stop it with those stupid eyes and your stupidly good-looking face and that stupid voice of yours.”

“I’m sorry,” it’s the first time he’s ever surrendered first. There’s been arguments that have gone on for days because neither of them wanted to admit defeat. “I didn’t mean to be a condescending asshole. I don’t mean to be that way and you know it.”

She reaches up and runs her hands along his beard, cradling his face in her hands, thumbs brushing over his lips. “Sometimes I worry we’re not doing this marriage thing very well.”

“Why? Because we fight? All couples fight. We don’t fight over things that can’t be fixed.”

“I worry I’m a shitty wife. That I’m just like you’re ex.”

“You are far from being anything like my ex. Trust me. And you’re not a shitty wife. You’re an amazing wife. And an amazing mother. I’m not the easiest person to live with. I know that. Why do you think the chicken shit everywhere? It was definitely out of spite.”

She can’t help but laugh at that.

“But I love you. And I love our life together. Fights and all.”

“You just like the making up.”

He grins. “I’m not going to deny that.” His eyes never leave hers as her fingers gently trace the various scars that mar his face. Her touch is soft, soothing. And he feels it to his very soul.

She stands on her tip toes and kisses him. Short and sweet. Yet powerful all at the same time. Feeling so much love and trust and forgiveness in the simple press of her lips against his.

“Sometimes I wish I didn’t love you as much as I do,” she admits. “So it would be easier to be angry with you. And I know I’m not easy to live with either. That I test your patience. A lot. I’m not perfect. Far from it.”

“Neither am I. But you’re still here.”

She smiles, presses her lips against his forehead. “There’s no place I’d rather be.”

And it’s the truth. He’s her happy place. Where she feels safe. Protected. All the things she’s never even known she’d been desperate for until she’d walked into that little shack in the Australian outback.

#tyler rake #tyler rake fan fiction #tyler rake fan fic #extraction #chris hemsworth character #sanctuary

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experimentalmadness · 4 years

Text

Visitation

More Harvey Dent and OC nonsense featuring my trash-fire of a character, Jacky Ripley. This is still set prior to any villain shenanigans on Harvey’s part, but only just. Jacky tries to sneak into the hospital to see him after the attack, but things go...wrong.

No real warnings, but a content check that an unstable character does refer to herself in less than great mental health terms.

---

It was late. It was raining—as usual. And she was making stupid choices on purpose.

The hospital looked like something out of a nightmare. Stark, backlit with a glowing fluorescent from the ER driveway. Jacky was soaked through her jeans and sweater. Her hair was plastered to her face even with the hoodie up.

Cop cars littered the parking lot, lights flaring without sirens making it look like even more surreal.

Jacky couldn’t feel her feet, couldn’t feel her legs. Didn’t really notice as she approached the building. She couldn’t go inside. That clarity kept her grounded in only mild stupidity instead of outright suicidal idiocy. Scaling a building at 1am in the rain was not her favorite task, but she had done it countless times before for work.

She’d have to mount the ledges and sidle along the entire circumference.

She couldn’t ask which room he was in.

Miri told her she shouldn’t go. Couldn’t go.

Gilda had left ten messages on her phone since last week.

Jacky, I know I can’t ask…

Jacky, he would want….

Jacky, please answer….

Jacky rushed over to the bushes to vomit. Hands and knees, stomach cramping so hard and so sudden her back arched in pain. Her throat burned, her eyes watered. It tasted like the bottle of whiskey she had downed in earnest. Funny, she didn’t feel drunk. She felt more sober than she had in her entire life.

Climbing the hospital felt even more impossible now with her limbs shaking every which way. She could barely see through the rain. Just as she was psyching herself up to make the first jump even thought she’d probably miss, fall, and break even bone in her stupid body; she was hoisted off the ground by one leg. With a grunt that gave way to a dull scream, Jacky went flying upwards through the rain, shooting straight up to the roof. She bobbed precariously over the edge of the building, headfirst. Her first thought was this was certainly odd, the second was that if she died right now it would be quick.

“I’m surprised it took this long for Moroni to send someone to finish the job,” a grating voice growled at her in the darkness.

“I...who…?” she couldn’t see through the rain and shadow, and being held upside down certainly did not help. “I don’t work for Moroni.”

Something pushed her, causing her to spin round, facing the skylights. “Falcone then.” A shadow moved past the lights, and the voice spoke with authority. Whoever it was it knew her old boss. Age-old reflex made her anxious until Jacky remembered everyone in Gotham knew her boss now, and knew exactly who she really was. Three months out of prison was not long enough for people to forget the Ripper case.

But whoever this was, was no cop.

Jacky had an inkling. It did not comfort her.

“I’m not here to hurt anyone.”

“The string of dismemberments at Flannigan’s begs to differ.”

How did he know about that? No one should know about that for the next five hours by her own calculations. She kept her mouth shut. He had no proof. Moroni’s men deserved it. She’d killed her career and put a price on her head in the same stroke, and she’d do it again. Jacky felt wild in a way she knew wasn’t the whiskey. She kept the crazy all shut in, but tonight it just had to come out. She’d made it hurt. She’d done it special; crazy only came out when Falcone wanted a message sent. This one was the first time she’d done a message all of her own.

“I wanted to see Harvey.” Crazy went right back into its box as she heard his name out of her own mouth, desperate, raspy, pathetic.

“Why?” The Batman jerked on the line keeping her suspended.

Because if she hadn’t told Harvey to stay away from her after her release from Blackgate she’d have known how in deep he was in going after Moroni. Because if she hadn’t bought into Harvey convincing her she still had a chance, that she could be a better woman, she wouldn’t have stopped working for Falcone and she could have heard about the hit. Because if she hadn’t lied in the first place she’d be a normal woman inside the hospital taking care of her friend. Because if she just had minded her own business the first day that stupid man had come into her shop she wouldn’t be here right now….

“I just wanna know how he is.”

“That line might have worked on the nurses, it won’t on me.”

“It’s the only line I got.”

Jacky was exhausted. She swung out and back from the roof to the abyss, her head going numb from being upside down so long. That was it then. Her grand plan to sneak into Harvey’s room, no muss no fuss, and back out was a bust. Batman didn’t make a move to haul in the line. She was sure he was going to drop her off in one of the cop cars below and tell the others to arrest her on trespassing, and hell, why not add murder to the list of offenses. No sense in being coy now.

“Is he dying?” Saying the fear out loud made her stomach cramp up again.

Silence from the Batman. He still thought she worked for Falcone. He still thought this was some play for ulterior information. He wasn’t going to believe her and he was right! He shouldn’t. She’d spent so much time lying and playing innocent shop girl no one should believe her ever again. And here was a fitting punishment. For the first time Jacky struggled on the line. The drop of crazy made her dizzy. It was only to be used for Miri’s sake, for the family, for money when she could make it work for them. “If he’s dying I just wanted to see him before...you don’t have to trust me. You can arrest me. I just need to know. Tell me...TELL ME, OR I’LL…”

“Or you’ll do what, Jacqueline?”

The sound of her full name gave her pause. Batman finally lowered her to the roof, cutting the cable and letting her fall in a shivering heap. She pulled herself to her feet, balling her cold hands into fists. “I’ll make it hurt.” Now that, assuredly, was the whiskey talking.

But it was going to hurt. She hoped it did. She deserved it.

Jacky winced when, instead of a punch, a hand descended on her shoulder. The strength of the grip was frightening. It rooted her in place, but offered no violence. “He’s not dying, Jacquline.”

“Oh, that’s good,” was all she managed before she burst into tears.

The hand on her shoulder was all that prevented her from giving way and sinking to the floor. Harvey wasn’t going to die. Things could still be okay. She’d be going back to Blackgate, but that was where she belonged anyway, no point in running from it. She could write to him in prison, but she wouldn’t. Because she was a coward in her core.

“S-sorry. Thank you. You can arrest me now,” she sniffed, straightening, looking up directly into the masked eyes of the Batman.

“Come with me.”

The hand never moved from her shoulder as she was shoved along. Batman booted open the roof access hatch and forced her down into the stairwell. Everything echoed inside. The rain falling off her clothes, her skin, plinking onto the metal stairs. The thick boots the Batman was wearing in lock step with her own, softer, sneakered tred. And he never said another word, just marched her down flight after flight. Around and around.

Back to prison. Miri would be so upset. She had forgiven her once, Jacky doubted she would a second time. She had tried to be a good sister, the little double act she had between their shared bakery and her night errands for Falcone had only been for her sake. But this city beat most people down eventually and Jacky knew at some point the killing hadn’t really ever been just a paycheck had it?

At least Gotham hadn’t claimed Harvey. It had tried. He’d still show them. That was enough to live with. She hoped Gilda would be alright. Maybe she could sneak one quick phone call to at least tell her how sorry she was she had stayed away. The DA and his wife shouldn’t be seen in the company of a convicted killer. She had just been trying to help. She’d only ever just wanted to help.

The white light of the hospital blinded Jacky for a moment, but Batman kept her moving. Nurses and doctors parted in quiet shock as they made their way through. No one was going to argue with the Batman, especially not when he was holding a perp. The brand of killers he brought in were on another level far beyond her. Maybe she should feel flattered. Mostly she just felt tired.

They stopped at a door, that grip tightening to levels that made Jacky grind her teeth. “If you try to make a break for the window,” he growled. “You’ll be caught before you hit the ground.”

“What?”

He opened the door, shoving her inside, releasing her. She could feel him still in the darkened room. This was not an arrest. There were no cops in here. Just the steady beep of a heart monitor and…

“Harvey?”

For a man who always made life feel so much larger than it actually was it was so much harder to see him lying in the small hospital bed than Jacky had anticipated. She waited for some trick from the Batman, turning back to face him. He only stood in the shadows, watching. She allowed herself to move towards the bed.

Gauze and mesh covered the left half of his face, his neck, and his arm. She knew the extent of the attack from the news. There would be scars. And that was the best news ever, because scars meant he’d be alive.

She jumped when he shifted on the bed. Jacky hadn’t counted on him being awake. She didn’t want him to see her! She backed up into the dark. “Jacky?”

His voice was not his own. Maybe the acid had damaged his vocal chords.

Caught, she stood in limbo between the bedside and the door. “Hey.”

“How did...you get...in?”

“Light breaking and entering. I...I didn’t mean to disturb you. I know I shouldn’t have come, but…” If she cried again, warning or no warning, she was going to throw herself out that window.

“Shut up,” he snapped, grabbing her hand. “I’m glad to...see...you.”

“Yeah,” she nodded. “I don’t think I can stay long, my escort won’t let me,” she gestured back to the moving shadows behind her. “But you’re gonna heal up fine.” This was the part where she was supposed to say she was grateful he wasn’t dying, or dead. Where she said because he was the most important friend in her life and losing him was unfathomable. But she didn’t.

“Doctors...won’t let me see. It’s...not good...is it?”

“Think how intimidating you’re gonna look in court. You’ll win by default.”

A gurgling, raspy, laugh was her only reward. “Think you can...stay?” His hand gripped her tighter and Jacky almost wanted to tear herself in half.

“Don’t think my escort is gonna let me, Harv. I...I did something bad tonight. I’ll probably be back in Blackgate by the time you get out of here. And I’m sorry. I let you down.” She could feel him staring at her. His one good eye, searching hers, that grip pulling her closer.

“What did you do?”

The grip on her hand turned into a claw, nails digging into flesh so hard it hurt. He didn’t sound angry, and she didn’t stop him. “Got some of Moroni’s guys. It was worse than what you brought me up for. I’m sorry, Harvey, but they deserved it. I only wanted—”

“Payback.”

The pain medication was what made him sound so cold. Just the drugs making him a little confused. Even in the dark she could see the outline of a smile that was and was not his.

“Jacky, we always knew...there was a reason...we liked you.”

#Harvey Dent #Two Face #Jacky Ripley #More adventures with an OC that refuses to confess her FEELINGS

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cakesunflower · 5 years

Text

The Viridian [C.H. One Shot]

sooo this is over 20k words of something i really enjoyed writing omg. if you’ve seen Good Trouble, the spin off of The Fosters, this may remind you of it based on the communal living situation. but yeah. i hope y’all enjoy it omg. happy reading!!

“It’s a glorified dorm. That is what you’re subjecting yourself to.”

Parker Hayden rolled her eyes at the words of her best friend, Sage, who had just dropped a box of Parker’s medical books on the wooden floor with a loud thud. Focusing on her task of hanging her clothes in the closet, Parker responded, “There’s nothing wrong with communal living, Sage.”

There was a scoff from behind her as the metal of the hanger clinked on the rod she was hanging them on, the closet space slowly but surely filling up with each additional hanger. “Maybe when you’re in college,” came her best friend’s unconvinced response. “Not when you’re a prodigal, badass trauma surgeon in one of the top hospitals in the country.”

Parker’s lips quirked up at the compliment, ignoring the prodigal part of the sentence. She was quite young for someone in their third year of residency, only at twenty-five when most people graduated medical school at twenty-six. But Parker was smart and made her way fast by herself, without coming from a family lineage of doctors, and had the sociable personality to never let anyone doubt her. Turning around to raise an eyebrow at Sage, who was getting ready to put the sheets on the bed, Parker walked over to help and teased, “I thought I already was a badass trauma surgeon? Have you been lying to me this whole time?”

Sage rolled her eyes as she grabbed onto the edge before letting the rest of the sheet fly across the mattress so Parker could grab onto it. As they tucked the teal colored sheets in, Sage retorted with a small smirk, “You’re a trauma surgeon living in a commune. That’s not entirely badass. Or very prodigal of you.”

“You’re just jealous I get a pool.”

Sage’s movements stopped, straightening as she stared at Parker with dark eyes narrowed in disbelief. “This place has a pool?!” she demanded, hands finding her hips indignantly as her lips parted at the newfound fact.

This time Parker smirked, continuing to fit the sheet on the mattress before snickering, “Not so subjecting now, is it?”

With a dismissive scoff, Sage went back to making the bed as she grumbled, “Whatever. Almost everyone in L.A. has a pool.”

Parker’s blue eyes sparkled against the sunlight streaming through the large window panes behind Sage, whose dark skin was practically glowing against the late afternoon golden rays. They put the pillows on the bed, and Parker grinned. “Everyone but you.”

Sage was quick to toss a decorative pillow at Parker’s face, their laughter ringing through the surprisingly open space of her bedroom. Despite all of Sage’s teasing and comments, Parker was looking forward to living The Viridian. She never really had a problem with living with strangers; she dormed with strangers all throughout college and then in a shared apartment through med school where she met Sage. The two of them lived together during their intern year, but the more Sage and her boyfriend got serious, the quicker Parker realized she was going to have to find another place to live because the apartment they shared was under Sage’s name. The neuro surgeon would never kick Parker out, would’ve forced her boyfriend, Xavier, to be okay with the fact that he would have to live with his girlfriend and best friend. But Parker wanted them to have their own space, would’ve felt like she was intruding despite Sage’s protests, so she found The Viridian, and was excited to stay.

Part of Parker knew that Sage’s comments stemmed from her desire of hopefully getting Parker to move back in with her, but Parker wasn’t going to budge. She was happy for Sage and Xavier for taking that big step forward in their relationship, and she didn’t want to put herself in a happy time that Sage should just have with her boyfriend. Plus, Parker loved meeting new people, had to do so every day at work, and while she understood that living in a place like this meant sharing it with a bunch of complete strangers she’d have to see every day, she was still excited.

The rent was cheap, and the place was quite spacious. The gated elevator would come up to a hallway, glass doors right across that opened up into a wide foyer with grayish-blue walls with a coat closet on the right along with the doorway to the communal bathrooms. There was a row of sinks in the middle of the bricked room with mirrors, the left side where the showers were—sealed only by curtains—and the right side with toilet stalls—though those were actually sealed by proper doors. Parker was used to sharing bathrooms with men when she lived in the apartment during med school, though she knew she would have to get used to stepping out of the shower in her towel and having to see one of her male housemates standing at the sink brushing his teeth or something.

Then again, she was a surgeon. The human body didn’t really leave her flustered.

“Oh, hi! You’re here already, good!” Parker and Sage paused in their way towards the main doors leading to the elevators in the hall, watching as Roslyn, the building manager and just a few years older than Parker, entered with hands carrying bags filled with clinking bottles of alcohol. Lots of alcohol. She offered a friendly smile to Parker, green eyes bright yet apologetic. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t here, I had to run some errands and—”

“Oh, no, it’s fine, really,” Parker immediately placated with a light laugh, waving her off with a smile. “One of the guys let me in—uh, Luke, I think?” she tried to recall with a furrow of her eyebrows, recalling the exceptionally tall blonde that had greeted her downstairs with blonde hair tied back into a bun and blue eyes that put her own to shame. He’d been startlingly handsome, rendering Parker dumbly speechless for a moment before remembering her ability to speak.

“Good, good, Luke’s a sweetie,” Roslyn smiled in relief, blowing a lock of dark hair away from her face. She reminded Parker of a cute cartoon character, animated in the way she spoke and acted, a happy glimmer in her emerald colored eyes. “Have you had the chance to meet the others?”

Parker remembered the pretty Italian girl with the dirty blonde hair who had greeted her in a hurry as she ran past Parker’s new room, stopping to say hello before running off to a work function she’d been running late for. “Carina,” she answered, laughing lightly as she thought of their brief meeting.

Roslyn nodded along, curls bouncing as she did so. “Well, you’ll meet the others tomorrow night at the party. Calum and Ashton should be back from their trip by then.”

Sage raised an eyebrow, bumping Parker’s hip with hers as she crossed her arms over her chest. “You’re having a party and didn’t tell me?”

Shaking her head, Parker parted her lips to deny her knowledge of any party, which she truly had no idea about, before Roslyn cut in with a laugh. “Oh, sorry, I forgot to mention it! We throw a party at The Viridian on every first Friday of the month, it’s kind of a tradition.” With a smile at Sage, she said, “You’re more than welcome to come! It’ll also be a housewarming party for Parker! Invite as many friends as you want. There’ll be plenty of liquor,” she assured with a giggle, holding up the bags that were weighed down by the bottles inside. Her grin widened, moving around the two other girls to go into the kitchen as she chirped, “Prepare your livers!”

Sage exchanged a look with Parker, her smirk returning as an approving look flashed across her face—the first one since she’d stepped foot into The Viridian. “I like her.”

*****

When Parker shut the glass door of the foyer behind her later that same night, it was around two in the morning. A couple of hours after completely moving into her new place, she had to go into the hospital because there had been a ten car pile up, so her presence was demanded in the E.R., which was her area of specialty, with the Head of Trauma. They’d been lucky; no lives were lost in the accident, but the E.R. had been crazy and there hadn’t been a moment’s rest, and no matter how many times Parker thought she was used to being on her feet all the time, the thought was thrown out the window by the end of the day when all she wanted to do was chop off her legs.

It was quiet in the loft, almost eerily so, the only light being on was the one above the stove in the kitchen, providing a soft and dull glow while most of the living room was shadowed pieces of furniture. The large window panes on the opposite side of the foyer in the living room showed the darkened city of downtown Los Angeles, some lights scattered about to showcase a bit of life that still remained awake at this hour.

Silently, Parker wandered into her bedroom, clicking the door shut behind her as she switched on the light and toed off her shoes by the door. As she approached her bed while undoing the button and zipper of her jeans, Parker caught sight of a bottle of Sutter Home white Moscato sitting on her bedside table, her eyebrows shooting up at her favorite wine that she most definitely hadn’t bought, picking up the little card that was leaning against it.

Just a little housewarming gift for you. Welcome to The Viridian, Parker! We’re so happy to add you to the family!—Roslyn

A smile quirked at the surgeon’s lips at Roslyn’s loopy handwriting, perfectly fitting her personality. Parker felt touched at the warm gesture, vaguely recalling how Roslyn had asked her about her favorite kind of drink when Parker had met up with her for the first time about the empty space she was hoping to rent. The fact that Roslyn went out of her way to buy the wine for her as a gift was so sweet, and only strengthening Parker’s resolve of wanting to live her—as if she’d even doubted it.

After changing into a pair of night shorts and an oversized Stanford shirt, Parker found herself not really too tired to fall asleep. She sat on the edge of her bed, eyeing the bottle with a thoughtful twist of her lips. She wasn’t as tired as she thought she’d be, but she was thirsty.

So with her phone in one hand and the bottle in the other, Parker slipped into her flip flops and left her room, walking into the kitchen to pull out a wine glass, rinsing it in the sink before her eyes drifted to the stairs. There was no second floor, with all the rooms on the same level as hers, but the stairs led to the roof she’d only gotten to see when she first met with Roslyn to check out the place. It was spacious and open up there, with a pool in the middle and chairs around it, as well as a space that had turned into a makeshift bedroom with three glass walls anyone could look into.

Parker recalled Roslyn saying that was Calum’s bedroom, one of the two guys she had yet to meet, and seeing as he wasn’t here, Parker quietly made her way up the twisting stairs that led to the door.

It was beautiful out, warm with a calming breeze, as Parker stepped outside, eyes going to the buildings towering around the one she lived in. They provided optimal light for her to navigate her way around the roof, as did the lights in the pool, as she walked around it towards the bricked railing to lean against it, setting the glass on top of it as she poured some of the wine into it.

There was a sense of tranquility that washed over her as she sipped at her drink, arms folded on top of the cool brick as she gazed out at the city, the buzz of cars driving around incessant and never ending. Everything seemed so alive around her, even at this late hour, the occasional blaring of horns reminding her of the millions of hearts beating around the city. She was always around death, trying her hardest to save lives instead of lose them, that the strangest reminder of the life around her was always welcomed. It eased the somewhat erratic rate of her heart after a trying day and steadied her trembling fingers, reminding herself that not everyone’s life was in her control. That she was going to lose people despite her best efforts.

Parker took a sip of the wine before closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, inhaling the dull smoke of the city and the chlorine of the pool, her lack of sight making her aware of the sounds around her. Like the gentle rattling of the fairy lights hung around the roof, unlit. Or the distant bark of a dog somewhere below.

And then there was a splash.

A startled gasp escaped Parker, grip on her glass tightening as she swiveled around jerkily, widened blue eyes on pool where the previously undisturbed water were rippling violently, watching as a warbled figure moved underwater. Her pulse was racing, she could acutely feel it, eyebrows shot up and breath still as she waited for whoever the hell it was to show their face. She hadn’t heard anyone else step out onto the roof, too lost in her thoughts, and frankly assuming that everyone was asleep to join her out here.

A few moments passed, with Parker impatiently watching with furrowed eyebrows, not wanting to look away from the pool just yet as a light breeze tickled at her skin. She chewed at the corner of her lip, breath hitching when the person finally decided to break through the surface—right in her direction.

A dark head raised from the water, soaked and sticking to glistening brown skin. It was a man, whose eyes Parker couldn’t see since they were closed, but could make out tattoos marking the skin on his collarbones and arm, water splashing and dripping as he raised his hands push back the hair that matted his forehead. Parker couldn’t tear her eyes away, admiring the way the lights in the pool reflected against him animatedly, watching as his eyes finally opened and she caught sight of dark brown irises and full lips with water dripping from them.

He was probably one of the most gorgeous men she’d ever laid eyes on, she decided then and there, unable to look away even when she was aware of the confused, almost glaring, frown furrowing at his thick eyebrows when he noticed her presence. Two strangers watching each other, lost in thought and confusion and admirance, yet neither daring to just yet break the silence existing between them. For a moment, Parker imagined how he’d glow under the fairy lights if they were on, if his brown skin would appear more golden in the warm yellows.

“Who are you?”

His voice was deep, not uncomfortably so, carrying a bit of a rasp and a hint of an accent in the cautiously curious tone he spoke with. He eyed her suspiciously, dark eyes taking her in, from her mint painted toes to up the length of her exposed legs to the top of her blonde head. Yet somehow, Parker didn’t find herself bristling under his scrutinizing gaze, despite feeling the intensity roll off of it in heated waves, nor did she find it leering. He looked at her as if she couldn’t be trusted, floating away from her slightly, as if the already existing space of water between them wasn’t providing enough distance.

Parker tried not to be offended, not entirely used to people not trusting her right away; as a surgeon, gaining her patients’ trust was always something she excelled at. She swallowed, feeling the remnants of the wine in her throat, as she answered, “Parker Hayden. I, uh, just moved in today.”

A vague recognition flashed across the guy’s face, lifting his chin as droplets of water raced down his neck and collarbones before disappearing back into the pool. Parker did her best not to follow them. “You’re the one who moved into Mike’s room,” he stated, more to himself than to her, his words not entirely having an effect on her. She didn’t know who Mike was, didn’t really care to ask when she found the availability for the room. A place to live popped up and she’d grabbed it. Though, judging by the disenchanted way the guy spoke, it seemed as though he’d rather she hadn’t.

She offered a single, slow nod, grip on her glass tight as her gaze remained fixed on the man in the pool. Parker wasn’t sure if it was the shadows of the lights of the buildings and the pool, but she could make out some definition in his arms, the left one tattooed, biceps glistening with water. “Guess that’s me,” she confirmed, raising her glass to her mouth, taking a sip after questioning, “Who’re you?”

Instead of answering right away, the dark haired man swam towards the far end of the pool before using the steps to climb out, and Parker’s traitorous eyes followed his every movement. They took in the way the muscles on his back rippled as he went, the water melodically dripping down his body as the black trunks stuck to his strong flexing thighs with each step. Parker held her breath, watching as he picked up a towel from a nearby chair and wiped at his face and rubbed it through his hair, dark eyes finding her blue from the distance as he rubbed himself down.

All the while, Parker was forcing herself not to let her gaze linger on his body. His tattooed, brown skinned body with a delicious amount of muscles in all the right places as his dark hair stuck up in places haphazardly. He took her in, as if he was memorizing every part of her, and for the first time Parker found herself flushing under his gaze, wondering what he was thinking as he took in her legs and beach wave hair and makeup free face that showed off the hundreds of freckles decorating her. She refused to shift her weight on her feet, only ever wanting to feel judged by her teachers at the hospital, not by some half naked guy who was making her feel more warm than the wine she was drinking.

And as scrutinizing as his gaze was, it was also lazy, hooded eyes and full lips parted ever so slightly in thought as he regarded her. For the few moments he was staring at her—though, they felt like hours—Parker hated that he was so easily, so effortlessly, driving her crazy in wondering what he was thinking as he looked at her.

Then, he wrapped the towel around his neck, holding onto the ends with both hands before he turned around. Parker blinked at him, affronted that he wasn’t even going to bother introducing himself after she had given him that courtesy. But then she took a soft breath as he took a step up on the platform that led to the only bedroom on the roof, realization striking her a second before he opened the door and answered with a name that sounded like a goodbye to end the night, “Calum Hood.”

*****

The Viridian was flooding with people by the time Parker arrived with Sage and Xavier. She’d known she’d get back when the party was already started, having stopped at Sage’s place after work to change into more appropriate wear consisting of heeled boots, a tight black leather skirt and a royal purple colored bodysuit with spaghetti straps and tight to accentuate her breasts in all the right ways. They had heard the music blaring halfway up the elevator ride, the sound louder and clearer as they stepped out in the hallway where a few people were lingering before entering the large loft.

The smell of booze and weed hit almost instantly, and Parker raised her eyebrows at the amount of people gathered, dancing to a remixed version of Sicko Mode playing throughout the loft. But before letting herself get lost in the party, Parker quickly went over to her room, smiling in relief that the door was locked before pulling out her key to unlock it, toss her bag inside, and pocket her key with her phone after locking the door behind her so no one would enter.

She heard an excited squeal over the music as she found Sage and Xavier in the kitchen, pouring themselves some drinks. “The guest of honor has arrived!”

Parker turned to look at a grinning Roslyn, her cheeks flushed which told the surgeon that the green eyed girl was already slightly drunk, letting out a laugh. “No, no, I’m not the guest of honor. Please don’t say that.”

Roslyn clicked her tongue, waving her off with her free hand as the other held a cup, before gesturing to a guy that she’d pulled along with her. Parker looked up at him, just now noticing the tall man who had a dimpled smile and red hair that put her lipstick color to shame. “This is Ashton!” Roslyn introduced loudly, hugging the man sideways as he chuckled and draped his arm around her shoulders. “His room’s the one next to yours. Ash, this is Parker, our new roomie.”

“It’s great to meet you,” Ashton smiled, shaking Parker’s hand as she returned the friendly grin. “I was hoping to meet you this morning but Rose said you were already out.”

Smile turning slightly apologetic, Parker let out a short chuckle. “Yeah, sorry—I’m a surgical resident over at St. Ambrose so I’m always running out at odd hours,” she informed him, leaning her hip against the stoned counter where all of the bottles and cups were laid about for people to help themselves to.

At her words, Ashton’s eyebrows shot up as he tilted his head. “Oh, really? That’s cool as shit,” he grinned in admiration. “What’s your, uh, specialty?”

“She’s a kickass trauma surgeon,” Sage’s proud voice cut in, widening Parker’s grin with a scoff as she felt Sage’s arm drape around her shoulders. Ashton and Roslyn both looked at her with smiles quirking at their lips while Sage held her cup, not so humbly adding in, “And I’m neuro. Saving people’s lives—it’s what we do.”

Parker rolled her eyes, laughing out a muttered, “Oh, God,” as Sage introduced herself and Xavier. The two of them then conversed with Ashton, while Roslyn looked around before huffing to Parker, “I want you to meet Calum too, but I don’t know where he is.”

“Oh, that’s fine,” Parker shook her head, turning to the counter to grab a clear plastic cup to make herself a margarita as she spotted the ingredients around. “I, uh, met him last night, actually,” she added, feeling her throat dry just a little bit at the image of the shirtless, soaked man that flashed through her mind.

“Mm, really?” Roslyn questioned excitedly after swallowing a sip of her drink, stepping up next to Parker as she made her drink. The high volume of the music practically made the stone counter vibrate under her touch. “What’d you think of him?”

Intense. Hot. Drop dead gorgeous. “Uh, we didn’t really get to talk much but he seems. . .”

A small, knowing smirk quirked at Roslyn’s lips as she raised her eyebrows, tilting her head slightly. “Quiet? Broody? Like he would rather get hit in the head twice over than have a conversation?” Her quick words had a startled yet amused laugh escaping from Parker, eyebrows shooting up as she glanced at the building manager, catching the grin spreading on Roslyn’s lips. At least Parker wasn’t the only one who got that kind of vibe from Calum. He did seem like the type to keep to himself, but she just figured that was because they were literally meeting for the first time at two in the morning, when neither of them were too in the mood to hold a proper conversation. “Trust me, he’s a real nice guy once you get to know him. He just keeps to himself most of the time.”

Parker nodded along as she brought her cup up to her mouth, taking a sip of the margarita and enjoying the perfectly bittersweet taste of it as her gaze just happened to look over Roslyn’s head. What she caught sight of, through the dancing people, had her eyebrows raising as she chuckled to Roslyn, “He definitely looks like the type to keep to himself.”

Roslyn’s eyebrows furrowed at her statement, turning around to follow Parker’s gaze. When she caught sight of what Parker saw, Rosyln let out a snort of a chuckle. They were both currently looking at Calum, seated on the couch with a cup in one hand while his left arm was wrapped around the shoulders of a leggy dark blonde, a flirtatious smile on her lips while he talked into her ear, whatever he was saying only making her grin widen and lean into him more.

“He is,” Roslyn responded with a dismissive roll of her eyes, looking back at Parker with a shrug of her shoulders. “That’s just Violet, his flavor of the month. By the time the next party rolls around, it’ll be a different girl.”

Lips pressing together, Parker nudged them downwards at the information, acknowledging it with a thoughtful hum. But when her eyes flickered back to the sight across the room, all the way on the other side, she felt the faintest twists in her stomach as she watched Calum’s finger graze up and down Violet’s arm, still speaking into her ear as if he was sharing a deep secret. They looked comfortably lost in their own bubble, no acknowledgment to the party around them as her right hand reached up to touch the side of his face as his lips remained by her ear.

Parker blamed the fact that the guy was so ridiculously attractive, because there was no other justifiable reason as to why she recognized that twist in her stomach as jealousy.

She felt her heart stop as Calum pulled away from Violet and, through the people moving between them, his dark eyes met her blue. Their gazes locked, and Parker felt the breath catch in her throat as he leaned back where he sat, Violet occupied by talking to some girl, and Calum’s attention seemingly focused on Parker.

She tried to look away, to tune into whatever conversation Roslyn and Ashton were having with Sage and Xavier, but she felt herself freeze in place, like Calum’s dark eyed gaze was rendering her unable to move. The music was pounding in her ears, her focused attention on Calum making everything sound muffled, like cotton was stuffed in her ears, fighting to take a breath as she watched Calum raise his cup and take a sip of his drink—all the while staring at her over the rim.

Parker didn’t know him well enough, and it was driving her crazy that she couldn’t tell what he was thinking as he looked at her. Was he even thinking of her, or were his thoughts occupied by something else while his eyes decided to settle on something mundane in the meantime? It was unnerving, her body’s reaction to just his gaze, akin to what she had felt the night before when he just stared at her. Silent and observing and intense. And as he lowered the cup, lips parted ever so slightly as his jaw worked, still fucking looking, Parker forced herself to look away. To sip on her margarita and join in on the conversation going on right next to her. Anything to distract herself from the weighted stare of a man sitting across the room.

There was a party going on around her. That should be enough of a distraction.

So Parker drank and danced with her friends and housemates, meeting their friends and new people—including Michael, the guy who used to live at The Viridian and whose old room was now Parker’s, and his girlfriend Crystal, both of whom were sweet and friendly and down to take shots whenever anyone suggested them.

“Viridian fam! Gather ’round!” Roslyn’s voice shouted over the music at some point during the night, her loud voice clear and effective as while everyone else at the party did their own thing, the current residence of The Viridian gravitated towards her in the kitchen. Parker stood between Carina and Luke, just slightly tipsy, as she saw Calum approach leisurely, standing opposite of her as they all looked at Roslyn. Parker tore her gaze away from the dark haired man, looking at the dark haired girl, who was balancing a tray of shots despite not being completely sober. Some club remix was playing through the loft, screwing with Parker’s ears, as she watched Roslyn grin. “Alright! We’re gonna toast to the newest member of our lil’ family here, to welcome Parker to The Viridian. Grab a shot!”

Both Ashton and Luke let out boyish whoops, and Parker felt her face flush slightly at the unnecessary but sweet gesture as she grabbed one of the shot glasses, filled to the brim with some kind of vodka she knew would burn her throat. Everybody was all smiles, grabbing a glass and standing in a circle, and Parker’s gaze happened to flicker towards Calum once more as his ring clad fingers grabbed a glass.

Unlike everyone else, he wasn’t wearing much of a smile, and Parker’s analyzing mind couldn’t help but wonder if it had something to do with her—something personal that Calum held against her. He stood tall, in an all black ensemble complete with a leather jacket on top—she didn’t understand how he could wear that, since her entire body felt flushed with heat—but he just looked so good. And unlike when she first met him getting out of the pool, his dark hair was set perfectly atop his head in curls that brushed along his forehead, and not for the first time that night did Parker feel the desire to run her fingers through them.

He stood there, effortlessly stunning, his mere presence capable of catching everyone’s attention. It had been difficult, trying to avoid him throughout the night, seeing as he demanded to be noticed and everywhere Parker looked her eyes seemed to find him. And sometimes, she’d catch him staring back, face clean of any type of expression that would give away his thoughts, that only left Parker tightly frustrated. His lack of reactions only made her feel as though he didn’t want her there. And while the thought was discomforting—she didn’t even know why she cared what he thought—she tried not to let it get to her. Too much.

Even as everyone raised their glasses in the middle to cheers, Calum didn’t even bother with a smile, looking perfectly stoic. And even when everyone exclaimed, “To Parker!” Calum’s lips barely moved, his eyes remaining on the glasses as a way of making sure his gaze didn’t wander. His mouth was pressed together, jaw tight and the muscles moving, with eyes looking void of any emotion that she couldn’t help but think was too intense of a non-reaction than the situation called for.

Parker tried not to let it get to her. Tried not to feel too affected to some guy’s indifference towards her because it didn’t matter—no matter how confusing and annoying and nagging it was. Instead, she clinked her glass with an appreciative smile on her face for everyone else around her, swallowed down the vodka that burned her throat, and tried to have a good time.

Even if one of her housemates was making it painfully obvious she wasn’t entirely welcomed.

*****

Calum rinsed out his mouth, spitting out the water after brushing his teeth as he stood straight in front of the mirror, eyes on his reflection. His cheeks were ever so slightly flushed from the hot shower he took, dark strands messily sitting on his head as he reached up to fix them as best as he could. One of the showers behind him was still running, though the sound was almost calming, being the only thing he could hear in the quiet of The Viridian. Almost everyone was already out for the day, Calum was sure, save for whoever was in the shower. No matter how long he lived here, he never made it a point to converse with anyone while in the shower or toilet—some moments were just meant to be private.

But then the shower cut off as Calum rubbed his hand down his face, scratching at his stubbly chin as he considered shaving. However, his thoughts only last a second, because the shower curtain right behind him slid open, the rings on the rod zinging in the quiet of the bathroom, and Calum felt his heart stop before feeling it drop to the pit of his stomach when he caught sight of the woman in the reflection.

Throat drying, Calum remained perfectly rigid where he stood, watching as Parker froze with one arm still holding the curtain when her eyes landed on the only other person in the room. The blue of her eyes was bright under the lights of the bathroom, blonde hair appearing darker as the wet strands fell just a little bit past her shoulders, and Calum felt an unknown lurch in his chest when he took in the freckles that decorated her prettily flushed face. So many all over, and he didn’t understand where the sudden urge to take his time and count every single one of them came from.

Parker stood there, just in a peach colored towel wrapped around her, showing off the milky, freckled skin of her collarbones and neck, just as unmoving as Calum was, yet the overhead light still glinted against the thin silver nose ring she had pierced. But she could notice the way his dark eyes trailed the length of her figure just through the reflection, noticed the clench of his jaw as he did so, and Parker felt her cheeks flush even more than they already were from her hot shower. Not because she was shy about a guy so openly checking her out—but because she was pretty sure her and Calum were at some type of odds yet the look in his eye said the opposite.

Swallowing the dryness from her throat, Parker approached the sink to Calum’s left, two already in between them as she grabbed the bottle of lotion she had kept there before hopping into the shower. She kept her gaze from drifting over to him, standing in front of the mirror with pursed lips and hyper aware of the man to her right as she rubbed the floral scented lotion on her arms. It was difficult to ignore him; not when he stood tall with straightened shoulders and tattoos inking his golden skin while the only thing both of them were wearing were towels.

But above all else, what was bothering Parker the most was his attitude towards her. She hadn’t been able to shake away the image of him looking at her during the party, like he didn’t want to welcome her the way everyone else living here did, and it kind of stung. Parker didn’t care if people didn’t like her—as a surgeon, she implemented the belief that as long as she saved a life, she didn’t care too much for the patient’s opinion of her—but most people did return a smile when she offered one. Most people didn’t just seemingly dislike her for no reason. And that’s exactly what Calum, in her opinion, was doing.

“What’s your problem with me?” Clearly, she didn’t care much for having a filter in this moment, turning to face Calum as she crossed her arms over her chest, mindful of the towel tightly wrapped around her. Calum merely glanced at her from his peripheral, not even a proper look. Parker’s jaw tightened briefly, eyebrows drawing together. “I barely know you and have rarely seen you in the two days I’ve been here, but whenever I do, you look like I’m some kind of intruder here. What’s the issue?”

She had a bit of a habit of being straightforward and blunt. Right now, though, Parker wasn’t entirely sure if that was a trait she was proud of.

The muscle in Calum’s strong jaw worked as he looked down to put on a silver bracelet on his left wrist before picking up a necklace resting on the sink and putting it around his neck without needing to unclasp it. “The issue here, sweetheart,” Calum spoke up, clear and condescending as he finally turned to face Parker, unimpressed and bored. “Is that you basically are an intruder. Everyone can welcome you with open arms and say you’re part of the family, but just because you occupy a room, doesn’t mean you are. You’ve got to earn your place.”

His words brought a frown to Parker’s face, insulted and hurt. She understood the people who already lived here being close, they obviously knew each other a lot longer, but it wasn’t like Parker arrived with the motive of trying to break into their group. All she wanted was a place to live, that’s it. They were a tight knit group, she got that, but Calum’s indifferent hostility didn’t seem warranted in Parker’s eyes.

“Earn it?” she repeated, letting her own irritation seep into the mild disbelief in her voice, scoffing as she raised an eyebrow. She almost laughed. She couldn’t help but think how ridiculous and juvenile this was. It wasn’t even that serious if everyone else who lived at The Viridian had given her a warm and friendly welcome—it was just Calum who had a problem. And she didn’t see why. The mocking tone slipped into her voice as she gave a tilt of her head. “Would you like me to complete some kind of rite of passage?”

Something changed in Calum’s dark eyes, just then. She saw it in the way he narrowed them ever so slightly at her, his tense posture relaxing ever so slightly as his chin lifted. And just like that, the air in the room shifted, a different kind of tension mixing in with the slight humidity as Parker felt a delicious kind of twist in her stomach as she kept her gaze fixed on Calum. On the way his tattoos were in bare view for her to admire, on his damp dark hair that he had tried to push back but left a few haphazard strands to do their own thing, and on the faint trail of hair going from his belly button and disappearing under the dark blue towel wrapped around him.

Parker’s skin suddenly felt hot, knowing that he was watching her exactly in the way she was watching him, eyes drinking in everything they could, and as smart as she was, she couldn’t figure out how quickly the air in the room changed.

Especially when Calum’s raspy, taunting voice hummed back, “That’s exactly what you need to do.”

Her heart jumped, his words stirring something right in the pit of her stomach as her throat worked, trying to quickly adjust herself to the heat in the room that no longer emitted from the hot showers they’d taken. “Which would be what?”

The suggestive tone Parker’s voice took wasn’t lost on either of them, only serving to add to the newfound tension in the room. Her words were accompanied by her taking a few steps towards Calum, slow yet purposeful and laced with intent. Her blue eyes never left Calum’s brown, and the intensity and fire she could see in them so clearly only fueled the desire running through her veins. It was dizzying how the aura around them changed, how the clench in Calum’s jaw went from seemingly being aggravated with her to something so much more animalistic. The same kind of pining that was incessantly drawing Parker closer and closer to him as the distance between them decreased.

He gazed down at her, dark eyes eating her up as his figure loomed over her. It was just them, right here, right now. And neither were ready to walk out of the room without getting what they both suddenly, so intensely, wanted.

Calum’s lips quirked in the subtlest of smirks, gaze flickering to her mouth suggestively. “Surprise me.”

Oh, she didn’t even hesitate.

Her lips met his heatedly, pouring every bit of intensity her body was tight with yet it still didn’t ease as Calum instantly kissed her back, their lips moving together frantically, desperately. Parker’s hands found Calum’s face, pulling him into her as the sharp lines of his jaw pressed into her palms and his hands tightly gripped her hips through the obstructive material of the towel, chests pressed together as Calum didn’t hesitate in slightly biting down on her lower lip. He drew a quiet moan out of her, just like he wanted, using it to his advantage to allow his tongue to deepen the kiss.

Hearts were beating wildly within chests to keep up with the fiery desire they kissed and grabbed at each other with, and Calum could already feel his head spinning in the best of ways at the floral scent of Parker’s lotion washing over him. They weren’t close enough, his lust driven mind decided, and knowing the layout of the bathroom like the back of his hand, Calum used his grip on Parker’s hips to walk her backwards. She easily complied, trusting him to guide her, gasping slightly when the towel around her body was roughly pulled away and her exposed back was being pressed against the cool tiles of the shower wall, bare chest against Calum’s own warm one.

She gasped against his mouth, arching her back off the wall slightly as she quietly hissed, “Too cold.”

Calum chuckled against her, the sound low and throaty, though he kissed her fervently, one hand leaving her now bare hips and Parker heard the zing of the shower curtain closing. And then, a moment later, the beginning hiss of the shower before pleasantly hot water cascaded down on them, a surprised breath hitching Parker’s throat as she was, once again, under the shower. A soft moan muffled against Calum’s lips as his fingers dug into her skin, their bodies impossibly close, feeling the lack of his own towel against her as the hot water instantly, gloriously, warmed her up more than she already was. Parker’s hands greedily ran across his body; up his arms and sides and back, feeling his smooth wet skin against hers as the soft yet greedy touch of his lips on hers left her dizzy.

The spray of the shower drowned out the sounds of their gasps and groans, Calum’s lips leaving Parker’s as he trailed hot kisses down her jaw, her eyes remaining closed at the sensation of his stubble scratching at her skin. She preferred the burn of that over the burn of the water as Calum’s lips worked on her neck, feeling his smirk on her skin when he felt her racing pulse under his mouth.

When his lips found hers once again, the water heating up their bodies, Calum brushed his lips over her kiss swollen ones, right hand teasingly sliding up the inside of her left thigh and slowly getting close to where Parker needed him desperately. “Your heart racin’ for me, doll?” Calum whispered, lips brushing against hers with each word, watching her with hooded eyes as she leaned her head back against the tiled wall.

Parker’s blue eyes, dark with desire for him, remained on Calum’s lips, chest moving steadily, quickly, at each drag of his fingers towards her anticipating entrance, other hand gripping her hip and keeping her against the wall. The rasp in his voice twisted Parker’s stomach, gaze flickering up only slightly to see the way his dark hair stuck to his forehead under the water, noticing droplets run down the curve of his sharp jaw and glitter against his supple lips.

She was reminded, in that moment, of the first night she saw Calum, getting out of the pool and soaked to the bone. In front of her right now, just as soaked, but completely naked and bare, had electricity sparking in her veins once more, had her fighting for air because of how ridiculously gorgeous she was. So Parker raised her right hand, index and middle fingers wrapping around the necklace he wore before using her grip on the chain to pull him even closer than he was.

Lips curling into a smirk, Parker murmured, “My heart’s racing because it’s not pumping enough blood.” Her words were quick to register in Calum’s head, his previous expression melting into one of understanding amusement, the mirth dancing in his eyes as he let out a scoff through his own smirk. Parker’s nose brushed against his, unable to keep her smirk from transforming into a grin, the surgeon in her jumping out just to tease. “Tachycardia is no joke.”

Calum’s chest sank with the heavy, amused breath he let out, giving a shake of his head as he breathed, “Shut up, doc,” before silencing her mouth with his.

All jokes flew out of Parker’s head as his tongue met hers, moaning into Calum and nails digging into his shoulders when his finger slid inside her without warning. Calum groaned against her, whether it was because of the way her nails were marking his skin or feeling her around his digit, Parker didn’t know, her heart stuttering when added another one while continuing his motions. The drag of his fingers was enough to curl Parker’s toes, breath shallowing as she was hyper aware of only Calum; the minty taste of him, his wet skin against hers, long fingers intimately grazing her to entice her closer to the edge.

“Not yet, doll,” Calum muttered against her lips, minutes later, when he could just feel Parker beginning to lose any sense of control. He enjoyed the complaining whine that left her as she felt him remove his fingers, breath stuttering as she watched him lick them clean and taste her mixed in with the water. The sight was sinful, with his tongue making an appearance between plump lips and eyes never leaving hers as he enjoyed the taste of her, and Parker’s desperate breathing was replaced by a choked gasp when his fingers swiftly grabbed the back of her thighs to lift her, the excited not in her stomach never ceasing. His movements were quick yet careful, not wanting to slip under the spray of water, as Calum wrapped Parker’s legs around his hips and moved her so her back was against the back corner of the shower. His eyes met hers just then, questioning as he tried to restrain himself long enough to breathlessly ask, “Can I—”

Parker’s hands gripped his biceps, finally being able to feel the muscles under her touch as she responded, breath just as stolen as Calum’s, “On the pill.” She let out a blissed out laugh, the sound easing Calum’s heart more than he cared to admit as she added, “I’m a doctor. I’m prepared. Please.”

She was driving him crazy in the best way.

They were still under the water, slightly so, as the sounds of their satisfied groans mixed in together sinfully when Calum eagerly slid in. Parker’s eyes squeezed shut, head tilted back as Calum admired the part of her pretty lips and the droplets of water running down the column of her throat and line of her jaw. He stilled, giving her a moment to adjust, to get used to the delicious stretch of his cock as he felt her left hand dig her nails into his shoulder. She felt good, so fucking good, and Calum could’ve collapsed from the aching need to move if she hadn’t finally let out a needy, breathy hiss of, “Please, fuck, do something.”

He needed to feel her lips again, mouth slanting over hers in a sloppy kiss as his hips snapped into hers, finally being able to fuck the frustration that burned him into her. The frustration of thinking about the softness of her lips and the blue of her eyes and the smoothness of her skin and how fucking good she must feel against, around, on him. And he was finally feeling it because he couldn’t fucking keep it together. Because he’d let himself give into the instant attraction he’d felt for Parker despite his decision of rejecting it, rejecting her, harshly.

Her teeth teasingly, greedily, bit into his lower lip and Calum could feel himself losing it. He was losing himself in her and for now, he let it happen.

Right hand still holding her up with the support of the wall behind her, Calum never ceased the movements of his hips, each drag of his cock between her walls throwing him further and further into the thought of Parker. And so his left hand grabbed her right, pulling it up above their heads, fingers lacing together, grips tight, as he held her arm up against the cold wall, feeling his bracelet slide a little lower on his wrist, and completely gave himself to her, just like she was doing with him. For now, he lost himself in her intoxicating kisses, in the sounds she made that were prettier than any song he’s ever heard, and in the way her skin deliciously burned against his that made him tighten his grip on her hand and made him frantically want more.

The aftermath was something he’d concern himself with later.

*****

“Hey!” Parker’s gaze wandered to the kitchen where Carina’s voice sounded, rounding the counter to get a better look at Parker, who just entered through the foyer. She noticed the green eyed girl was dressed in a cute baby blue colored bathing suit, in her hand a bag of Lays. “If you’re not too tired, everyone’s hanging out on the roof. You should join us. We’ve got drinks and snacks,” she added in a melodic tone as a way of enticing Parker, both girls letting out a few giggles at that.

A dip in the pool actually did sound like an amazing idea, the mere thought of the cool water on her overworked body seeming heavenly. Her shift had been long, though Parker had managed to sneak in a nap in one of the on call rooms between surgeries after making sure her interns were on top of things, so she wasn’t that tired to crash into bed. Besides, the sun was high up in the sky and it was warm out, perfect for a swim that she couldn’t pass up.

“I’ll be up in a few,” Parker smiled at Carina, who let out a cute “yay!” before running up the stairs to head back out. Entering her room, Parker put away her things and used the bathroom before changing into a bathing suit of her own, throwing a cover up over the black bikini before going up the stairs. The closer she got to the top, the clearer she could hear music playing, mixed in with the sounds of everyone talking.

Stepping onto the roof, Parker grinned when she heard a chorus of greetings, waving back at her housemates who were either lounging on chairs or the ledge of the roof or in the pool. Settling herself on the edge of the pool after kicking her slippers off, Parker dipped her feet into the cool water as Ashton, who stood by a makeshift bar, called out to her, “Do you want a margarita, Parker?”

She looked at him over her shoulder, grinning, “How can I ever say no to that?”

He giggled in response, a sound Parker didn’t think she’d ever get tired off, as she moved her feet around in the water. The sun felt nice on her skin, the music playing through a speaker drowning out the sounds of L.A. traffic from below as Parker watched Michael, his girlfriend Crystal, Roslyn and Luke play a round of volleyball with an inflatable ball in the pool. However, as she watched, Parker’s gaze wandered across the pool, right to the glass walled bedroom that was currently hidden from view because of the drawn curtains.

Calum’s absence was something Parker noticed almost immediately upon stepping out onto the roof, missing amongst her housemates. It was unnerving how, after that morning in the bathroom, she couldn’t stop herself from thinking about him. Only three days had passed, but Parker’s body was physically yearning for his touch once more. Aching to feel his lips against hers, on her skin, to taste him and feel the muscles of his body press against hers deliciously. His touch had burned into her, leaving imprints of where he’d been, of where she wanted him again.

Parker could barely focus, as if all she could think of was feeling him again. So instead she distracted herself with surgeries because in the O.R., the only thing she focused on was the patient. Nothing else. Especially not Calum Hood.

She’d only told Sage about what happened, about how she and Calum somehow lost every sense of control and could only think of losing themselves in each other. Her best friend had been proud of her antics even though Parker said it was only a one time thing. Sage very much doubted that, which only served to fluster Parker. She had no idea what Calum’s mindset was; spending most of her time at the hospital provided Parker some distance from Calum, though she wasn’t too sure if she was grateful for that or not. She yearned for his touch and it was unsettling how much of an effect he had on her after just one time.

He was mesmerizing, addictive. Parker had gotten a taste and she craved for more; she missed the softness of his lips and scratch of his scruff and the delicious way he fit into her so perfectly. How was she expected to just not want more?

Tearing her gaze from Calum’s room with a deep breath, Parker smiled at Ashton as he walked over to where she was sitting and handed her the glass of margarita. The cold drink felt good as she listened to everyone around her chattering and watched the volleyball game in front of her. The bittersweet taste wonderfully tickled her throat, lightly kicking her feet in the water as the game ended and cheers erupted from Luke and Roslyn over their victory.

“You feel good, champ?” Parker grinned at Luke, who pushed himself out of the pool to sit on the edge next to her.

He laughed, dimples appearing as his body glistened and dripped with water. Pushing the blonde hair away from his face, Luke answered with a puffed chest, “Hell yeah. I’m the king of volleyball, you know.”

Michael, who’d heard Luke’s statement, scoffed loudly from where he still was in the pool. “Winning one game doesn’t make you the king!” he exclaimed through a bemused laugh, not even hesitating to call Luke out on his bullshit.

Luke kicked a leg out in hopes of splashing Michael, though the green eyed man was too far away by the other end of the pool as Parker snickered at the childish antics. She engaged in a conversation with the blonde then as he asked about her job and she told him about the last tie she was in charge of running the E.R., which he thought was pretty awesome. Which it was—but also intense and exhausting, especially if it was overrun with patients who needed immediate assistance.

It was easy talking to Luke; he was all smiles and bright eyes, and Parker mentally made it a point to talk to him and her other housemates more. Being a senior surgical resident kept her busy, spending most of her time at the hospital, and while she’d moved into the Viridian a week ago, there was still room for her to get to know the people she was living with more.

Just as her thoughts began trickling into the dangerous territory of reminding her of just how well she’d gotten to know a certain roommate a few days ago—as if she could ever forget—Parker noticed the door on the other side of the pool open and out stepped a familiar leggy dark blonde. An uncomfortable twist in the pit of Parker’s stomach hitched her throat at Violet’s lazy smile and marked up neck and bikini clad body, looking far too satisfied, looking just like Parker probably had the other day for the same delirious reason.

But the discomfort in her stomach didn’t compare to the breathtaking dread that clogged Parker’s throat when Calum walked out behind her, fingers running through unruly curly hair as the sun rays reflected against his skin in a heavenly glow, only dressed in swimming trunks as his necklaces rested against his chest. He nodded in greeting once, directed at everyone, bare feet padding on the ground as his dark eyes took in who all was there. Parker’s grasp on her glass tightened when his brown eyes met her blue, his already leisure pace slowing down just a fraction, so subtle, when their gazes locked.

Parker’s throat worked, deaf to the world like there was cotton in her ears, noticing how, even from this distance, Calum’s jaw worked. His expression was unreadable, blank, as he continued walking and broke their gaze, not even a polite smile as he followed Violet to the makeshift bar where Ashton was.

But then Calum walked past where she and Luke sat, his gaze sliding over her head as some of the blankness from his face erased, softening into one of casualness as he lifted his chin in a quick nod to Luke. The action was accompanied by a greeting, “Hey, man.”

Luke returned the greeting, and Parker watched as Calum’s gaze went from his friend before shifting ahead once more as he continued his pace. And she was left, staring after him in indignant surprise, because he wasn’t even going to acknowledge her? Just stare from a distance and then if he was near her, she ceased to exist? Parker had never been treated so rudely before, no ounce of respect thrown her way, and she hated that it hurt. Hated that it stung that she wasn’t given something she was desperately seeking against her better judgement.

She hated that she felt a suffocating weight settle on her twisting stomach at his reaction—or, as usual, lack thereof. Calum kept going, as if nothing had changed between them since she moved to the Viridian, as if he hadn’t had her pressed against the wall with lips muffling her moans as he drove himself deeper and deeper into her just a few days ago. With a tight throat, Parker forced herself to drink her beverage, fighting the urge to turn and follow Calum’s movements to the bar behind her, not wanting to appear as some kind of longing, kicked puppy.

The fact that his ignorance of her even stung bothered Parker. Perhaps she was justified—she would at least acknowledge the existence of someone she’d slept with, especially if they were living together. But then again, maybe she should’ve known better. There had already been some kind of tension existing between her and Calum—sleeping with him probably wasn’t the best and most effective of solutions. But it just happened. That’s all Parker could say to somehow justify it, if possible. What happened between her and Calum had just happened and it left her dizzy and wanting more—despite the fact that he continued to look at her the same way he had since she moved to the building.

“Kinda cold.”

Blinking back into reality, Parker turned her head to look at Luke, who’d been following Calum with his eyes before he looked down at Parker with an almost apologetic raise of his eyebrows. Parker blinked, her own eyebrows drawing together at that, realization coming slow yet not entirely sure if he meant what she was thinking. Hoping it wasn’t. “What?”

Luke ticked his head to where Calum was, eyes flickering to the brunette before looking back at Parker. “Him ignoring you like that after what happened. Not cool.”

Raising her eyebrow, for a second Parker considered Luke was maybe talking about something completely different, but she knew there wasn’t anything else. Honestly—she didn’t care who knew, although she didn’t want it to be made into a big deal. She had just moved into the Viridian and the last thing she wanted everyone to talk about was how she already hooked up with one of the guys. Knowing about it was one thing, but gossiping about it was completely different.

Luke didn’t look like he was judging her or anything, didn’t really look like he was viewing her in a different light. But that’s not what stuck to Parker—it was how he knew. She surely hadn’t said anything, and she knew no one else was in the loft when she and Calum hooked up, so there really was only one explanation.

Parker’s eyebrows shot up as she quickly put two and two together, glancing around briefly before leaning into Luke, her voice a quiet murmur as she asked in surprise, “He told you?”

He shrugged his broad shoulders while taking a sip of his beer, throat working as he swallowed and licked his lips before looking back at Parker, who was gazing up at him in taken aback confusion. For some reason, she didn’t think Calum would bring it up to anyone, unsure why she would think he’d keep quiet about it. Although, maybe it was because of just how much of a silent person he was. How he seemed to keep to himself—at least when Parker was around.

But they weren’t friends. And Parker didn’t really know him.

“He may have mentioned it,” Luke admitted with a nod, leaning back on his hands as his blue eyes remained on hers. When Parker’s eyes remained raised, nodding her head as if to get more out of him, Luke smiled apologetically. “That’s all he said, honestly. I would think he’d be more of a gentleman and not do it in the bathroom but I guess raging hormones were too powerful.”

Parker’s face flushed at this, pursing her lips together and hoping to suppress the flustered smile that threatened to tug at the corners. Part of her hoped that that’s all Calum said; that they hooked up, and that’s it. Maybe then it would justify why he’s just ignoring her at this moment. Even though Parker hated that she was even bothered in the first place that he was pretending as if it never happened. It was, annoyingly enough, kind of embarrassing.

Not to mention confusing. Utterly bewildering. She wasn’t even sure what to feel, what she was justified to feel. It had been a one time thing. And no matter how badly she wished for it to happen again, Parker would have to come to terms with the possible fact that Calum didn’t want the same thing. Not when he had Violet.

“It’s whatever,” Parker shrugged with a shake of her head, in that moment wanting to forget about everything. Her feelings were hurt, she understood, but it was her own fault for even having that seed of wonder of something more happening. They’d fucked, once, in the bathroom in a mess of breathless gasps and clinging fingers. Why would there be more after that? She offered a close mouthed smile to Luke, one she wouldn’t even believe if she saw, but Parker didn’t care enough to make it seem real. Or maybe she cared too much. She wasn’t sure. “Just a one time thing, honestly.”

Luke looked at her, blue eyes bright under the sun, a softness taking over his features that made him appear almost angelic. In a quiet voice, he asked, “Then why do you sound so disappointed?”

Parker pursed her lips, the smile diminishing as her gaze flickered past Luke and right to where Calum was. She didn’t understand why she felt so attached after a single fling, why it had to be Calum of all people she somehow couldn’t find herself moving past. She was a surgeon, for fuck’s sake; moving forward was what she was trained to do. But Parker’s eyes were on Calum, sitting at the end of a beach chair, legs spread so Violet could sit in between. The familiar twist tightened Parker’s stomach, watching as Violet’s hair was over her right shoulder and Calum, with one hand nursing a beer, mouthed at her neck as she leaned back into him with a lazy smile returning to her face.

It wasn’t normal, was it, to feel the burn of jealousy in her veins at the sight of a guy who she didn’t even think liked her, a guy who she hooked up with once, put his lips on the skin of someone that wasn’t her? It wasn’t normal to feel the yearning tightness in her chest at the desire of wanting him maybe once more, twice more? Why the hell was she so stuck on him?

Maybe because he was so outrageously handsome. Or that his lips were made for kissing. Or that the sex had been so mind blowingly fantastic that Parker had dreams about it, about the words he’d said and the sounds he made. Or that he was just so frustratingly intriguing that Parker couldn’t stop thinking about him.

Or maybe she was just an idiot of a masochist for feeling herself start to fall for someone she slept with once, who’d been an ass to her even after the fact, and she was doing nothing to stop it.

Suddenly dark brown eyes locked with Parker’s blue, and she felt the breath in her throat hitch sharply and a shiver from the cool water race up her spine at his blank, handsome face. She watched as Calum took a sip of his beer, eyes never leaving hers in the distance, watched as the ever so light breeze made the few curls across his forehead partake in a gentle dance. And then she watched, with blood frozen in her veins and a lump forming in her throat, the sight bothering Parker so much more than it should, as Calum slid one tattooed arm around Violet’s bare waist and pulled her even closer to him purposefully. His purposeful, daring eyes never left Parker’s.

Oh, wow. He was an asshole.

How he could go from being so attentive and giving like he had been in the bathroom and switching to an intentionally indifferent jerk was beyond Parker.

She looked at Luke, a soft scoff escaping her nose as a self deprecating smile tugged at her lips, lifting her near empty glass while answering his question with a defeated, “I have no fucking idea.”

*****

He kept looking towards the door. Or, at least, tried to since the view of it was a bit obscured from where he sat in the V.I.P. section of the club, booked by Carina’s parents in honor of her twenty-fifth birthday. He sat in the middle of the red half circle couch, left arm spread on the top while his right hand gripped his third glass of whiskey, holding it on his knee as he tried to look at the faces entering the club through the crowds of people and colorful flashes of light.

It was frustrating, how the moment he stepped into the club, Calum’s dark eyes were searching for Parker, hoping to catch sight of her eyes blues through the pleasant lighting of the club, grateful that it wasn’t too dark. The music was pounding in his ears and his chest, but Calum was too focused on trying to sense Parker’s presence to even acknowledge what song was playing that his friends were dancing and singing along to. So he just sat, feeling the alcohol course through his system and the warmth of the club stick to his skin, all the while waiting for Parker’s arrival.

“You’ve been sitting since we got here.” Violet’s pouting voice reluctantly dragged Calum out of his thoughts, forcing his gaze to break from the door to look at the girl sitting to his right. She wasn’t technically invited to Carina’s party, the birthday girl choosing only to bring close friends including her housemates, but Violet was there as Calum’s plus one. And for the first time, he was regretting her company. His eyes didn’t even take in the skin she was showing in her short tight dress which showed off her long legs and hugged her chest. Feelings for Violet never existed in Calum’s heart, but even so, the last thing on his mind was taking her home with him. That was different and unnerving. She gripped his arm, giving it a squeeze as she leaned into him and offered a smile. “Come on—let’s dance.”

He remained seated, teeth pressing together as his gaze dropped to Violet’s hand sliding down his arm towards his hand. Calum’s grip on the glass tightened as her fingers neared his wrist, knowing that she could feel his muscles tensing under touch. His breath was held in his lungs, almost painfully so, and it wasn’t until Violet’s fingers almost reached his around the glass did Calum force himself to his feet. The sudden action startled Violet, looking up at him with raised eyebrows, as Calum downed the rest of his beverage.

“I need another drink,” he excused gruffly, briefly wondering if his words were drowned out by the music, though not caring as he began walking to the bar on the other side of the dance floor. Calum didn’t even pause to hear what Violet said in response, taking a breath as he shouldered through people with pursed lips and a tense back.

He was basically running away from Violet and it was all because of Parker. Because for the past week, he couldn’t seem to get the blonde out of his mind, couldn’t seem to satiate the animalistic desire of wanting to press his skin against hers in any way. Violet was just a crutch, a familiar warm body in place of the one he’d been able to have once. Calum had thought maybe, if he eased whatever the fuck he felt for Parker just once, then it would be fine. That he’d be able to have a taste and that would be it.

The last thing he expected was to crave her even more.

Being unable to see Parker around the Viridian so much was both a blessing and a curse; whatever he felt for her seemed to calm when her presence wasn’t nearby, but as soon as she walked into view, it was like Calum couldn’t breathe because of the distance between them. The need to be near her, to hold her again and feel her lips on his was almost maddening, and it was fucking terrifying. Such an intense desire, need, yearning for someone had never been something Calum experienced before.

It was dizzying and perplexing and left Calum laying in bed staring at the grey ceiling of his bedroom at night, wondering just how Parker managed to get such an overwhelming grasp on his thoughts. How one moment—one tantalizing, blissful moment—had taken over Calum’s mind without warning. Work and sleeping with Violet didn’t do much to distract him, nothing did. And it was so damn frustrating.

He’d see her around the loft and he’d just. . . Lose his breath. It had happened right on the first night, right when he met her after getting out of the pool. Calum remembered the image perfectly, with Parker standing on the roof with a glass of wine in hand and blonde hair dancing in the light breeze, blue eyes bright just like the city lights around them. Part of him had hoped, in that moment, that she was some girl Luke had brought home and she’d just found her way to the roof. Because then, maybe, Calum wouldn’t feel the instant, snapping attraction that hit him so hard that he felt as though he was drowning in the very pool he’d just gotten out of.

Was that even possible? To take one look at someone and want them in that same moment?

With someone as beautiful as Parker, Calum didn’t doubt it.

Right hand splayed on the bar top, Calum waited for the bartender to give him his drink as he turned sideways, body involuntarily facing the door as his left hand ran through his dark curls, a heavy breath escaping him. He tugged at the curls at the back of his head, eyes washing over the faces all around him as they blurred together while hoping to find the one he’d been searching for.

What was he even supposed to do if he found it?

Mumbling a thanks to the bartender, Calum’s hand wrapped around the glass right when his eyes landed on exactly what he’d been looking for. He paused, the glass midway to his mouth, as he watched with a still heart Parker enter the club. Feeling his breath hitch in his throat, Calum’s eyes tracked her through the crowd, greedily drinking in the sight of the white crop top and leather skirt she wore, blonde hair tied up as her blue eyes searched for familiar faces in the busy club. Even from a distance, Calum’s throat dried at how gorgeous she looked, at the glow of her creamy skin against the lights, wanting to feel it under his fingers and lips.

Then those blue eyes met his brown, and Calum remained perfectly still. He watched the subtle raise of her shoulders as she took in a breath while looking at him, lips parting ever so slightly. Was she going to walk over? Did he want her to?

Why the hell did she confuse the shit out of him?

Parker walked from around one of the raised platforms where a couple of people were dancing and Calum watched as she headed in the opposite direction of where he stood. He knew he had no reason to be disappointed, that he’d been acting like a complete asshole to her and so why would she approach him? Yet still he felt his grip on the glass tighten, watching her go and feeling a discomforting twist in his stomach as she walked away from him. It was his own doing, Calum was aware, and not for the first time did Calum want to punch himself for it.

That desire got stronger throughout the night as Parker kept her distance from Calum, only staying with everyone else but him as she danced and drank and enjoyed her night without him. And all he could do was sit by and watch, letting the alcohol mix in with his blood while he stewed in a pit of irritation and jealousy because she was laughing and smiling with everyone else and it was his fault that she wasn’t doing that with him.

Calum found home against a support beam, using it to keep him upright as he sipped a beer in place of the liquor he’d been drinking throughout the night. He felt warm thanks to his drinks, head feeling heavy and eyes slightly hooded as he watched Parker like he had been throughout the night. It was creepy, he figured, to keep his eyes on her so intensely, but he couldn’t fucking help himself. But she was right in front of him, her hands holding Roslyn’s as the two girls danced together, hips moving to the beat of the music and a happy smile on her face. So easily gorgeous, and Calum probably fucked it up royally with her.

“Stop staring and just talk to her.” Rolling his head to the side against the pillar, Calum caught sight of Luke leaning against it on the other side, blue eyes trained on who Calum was looking at. His blonde curls were wild, cheeks flushed as he too kept himself upright. There was a furrow between his brows as he continued drunkenly, almost drowsily, “It’s obvious you like her. Why’re you acting like such a douche, man? Pushing her away isn’t going to push away your feelings for her.”

Blowing out a soft raspberry, Calum leaned his head back, eyes lifting to look at his taller best friend. He could acutely feel the music drumming in his chest, lazily gripping his drink. “I hate when you become all insightful when you’re drunk.”

Luke rolled his eyes, twisting his lips to the side before retorting, “I hate when you try to ruin things for yourself because you’re scared of your own feelings.”

Jaw slacking, Calum let out a scoff before turning so he could lean against the pillar on his shoulder to properly look at Luke. He felt affronted at the blonde’s statement, despite the truth even his drunken mind could pick up on. Luke was right, because Calum did self sabotage, particularly when it came to relationships. Becoming close with someone was never something Calum was too good at, the fear of letting someone else have a piece of him, a big piece, preventing him from giving anyone any part of himself. And he was fine with that. Hell, he was good at it—a professional, basically.

Which is why whatever he felt for Parker—this mess of desire and want and just as emotional as it was physical—overwhelmed him with confusion because how could it happen? One minute he was fine and the next she was taking over him without even trying. That never happened before and he just. . . Didn’t know how to deal with it. Why was it so hard? Why did he make things difficult for himself? Why couldn’t he just allow for himself a shot at potential happiness without trying to ruin something before it even had a chance of starting?

Calum hadn’t even responded to Luke’s words before the blonde commented, “That must’ve been some good sex if she caught feelings for you after one time.” Then he hummed thoughtfully after taking a sip of his drink. “Or maybe she just really wants to fuck again.”

For a moment Calum felt his thoughts freeze at Luke’s words, eyes widening ever so slightly as he finally choked out, “I—Feelings? What feelings? She’s got feelings? Did she tell you that?”

He sounded uncharacteristically needy, desperate, as the words tumbled out of his mouth and it irked Calum but, shit, he didn’t care in this moment. All he could care about was Luke’s words, the insinuation of Parker having feelings for him even after the shitty way he’d treated her, of that small spark of hope that jump started his heart and had him pushing off the pillar to look at Luke with shot up eyebrows and widened eyes. Feelings. Did Parker have feelings? Still, after how he’d treated her? His heart was pounding and, shit, when did he become someone who cared so much for this?

“No,” Luke scoffed, amusement dancing in his eyes as he looked at Calum, lips curling at the frown that took over the brunette’s face. Offering a shrug, Luke continued, “But it’s obvious. And it’s obvious that you like her too. You’re always making these eyes at each other and I can never tell if it’s because you wanna declare your love or jump each other’s bones.”

Calum’s lips clamped shut, pouting drunkenly and defiantly as he glared at Luke. He did not appreciate the observation, making him feel as though he was being watched. Like his friend was watching him continuously act like an idiot because he couldn’t get his shit together. Because both he and Parker knew there was something there but Calum was an asshole who was pushing her away and she was too good to allow herself that kind of treatment, so she kept her distance. He didn’t blame her. He just was so pissed off at himself for it.

Eventually he found himself at the bar once more, though this time he managed to order himself a club freaking soda rather than indulging himself in more alcohol. The dizziness from the alcohol had him leaning his temple against the palm of his hand, arm propped by his elbow as he kept his eyes closed and let the music drum through his mind.

It was close to two in the morning and Calum was tired, wanted his bed and wanted the girl, but he remained on the stool at the bar. His friends were enjoying their night and he didn’t want to leave them. So he stayed. And he watched Parker dance. And maybe even stewed in a bit of self deprecation and hatred.

“Hi, can I get a margarita, please?”

Opening his eyes, Calum blinked against the flashing lights before his gaze settled on the girl that came up next to him. Calum’s back straightened, watching Parker lean forward on the bar, hands rhythmically tapping on the bartop as she waited for the bartender to get her drink. There was the ever slightest, thin layer of sweat sheening her skin and she looked like she was glowing against the lights, cheeks flushed and just a few of her freckles surfacing across the bridge of her nose and speckled some on her cheeks.

He remembered the way his lips trailed the sharp line of her jaw, wanting so badly to do so again as he rolled his lower lip into his mouth. Calum’s throat worked, eyes drinking in the sight of hers, and then her eyes met his. And then, to Calum’s surprise, instead of frowning or scoffing or turning away, Parker smiled.

A breathtaking, pretty smile that showed off white teeth as she turned her body to face his. “You look like you’re having the time of your life,” she commented, a giggle in her voice as she leaned on the bartop with her arm while her left hand rested on her hip.

Hiding the way he felt off guard at her starting a conversation, Calum swiveled in the stool to face her. She was only a couple of inches taller than him in her heels as he sat, blue eyes looking down at him. “Waitin’ to go home,” Calum answered truthfully, slowly. Her eyes were so pretty. With a small shrug and smile, he added, “Don’t wanna ruin anyone else’s fun.”

Parker raised an eyebrow, tilting her head as she gazed at him. “So you choose to make yourself miserable instead?”

Calum took a soft breath, looking her over as if it was the first time. Because she was so gorgeous and he wanted to get to know her. Yeah. He wanted to know her instead of jumping into bed with her again. He wanted to know her and then go from there. “I tend to do that a lot,” Calum responded, his speech slow thanks to the alcohol. Was it possible for the sight of someone else to sober him up? Parker took a breath at his words and Calum found himself asking, “What took you so long? Getting here?”

“I had surgery,” Parker answered with a hum. “And then had to take care of post-ops. Busy, busy, busy-bee,” she added with a happy grin, thanking the bartender for her drink before lifting it to take a sip through the straw.

“What was it?” Calum asked, genuinely curious as he blinked away some of the drunk fogginess. “How’d it go?”

Her smile widened and Calum tried not to focus on the way her body seemed to move closer to his, to notice the way her thighs pressed against his jean clad knees. “Colon ischemia,” she told him, nodding along to her own words. “Had to remove dead tissue in a dude’s colon. He’s in recovery now.”

A small smile tugged at Calum’s lips as he looked at her, catching the glint in her eyes as she went into some detail about the surgery, the alcohol in her system not inhibiting her from talking about it excitedly. And he listened over the sound of the music, took in the excitement she felt when she talked about something she loved and was good at. It unloaded something in his heart, the smile easing as he looked at the amazing, pretty girl. “You’re kind of a badass, aren’t you?” Calum admired, smiling, truthful.

There was a pinkness in her cheeks, probably matching whatever warmth he was feeling in his own at the sight of her. Fuck. She even made him blush.

And then she leaned in, hand gripping her drink and lips curling into a smirk. Even through the lights, Calum could pick out the freckles on her face under the makeup, could enjoy the glimmer in her eyes and whatever fruity scented perfume she was wearing. His heart was pounding in his ears, muffling the music, as his legs parted without thinking and she stepped in the space between them. Parker’s nose brushed against his and Calum breathed her in, shaky and unsure, wondering what the hell she was doing and knowing he wasn’t going to stop.

Her lips parted, pink and inviting, and she murmured, “I’m a superhero. And one of my superpowers is knowing you’re only talking to me because you’re drunk. Tomorrow, you’re gonna go right back to ignoring my existence, so I’m gonna walk away before you can hurt me more.”

Calum’s eyes widened ever so slightly, throat drying at Parker’s words that made his stomach lurch unpleasantly. He looked into her eyes, blue framed with long lashes, and Calum could make out the disappointment and hurt the supposed truth behind her words that weighed on her and he desperately wanted to get rid of it. Loathed that it was because of him it was even present in the first place.

So when Parker made a move to lean back and away from Calum, his hand found hers, fingers gripping her own as he held her in place, though his grip wasn’t tight. Just enough to keep her there but also so she could break away if she so desired. Parker paused, gaze dropping to their hands before looking back at Calum, questioning and reluctant. He could tell she was fighting her instinctive response of pulling away, lips pursing as she looked at him with a conflicting gaze. He hurt her with his behavior and Calum was still kicking himself for it. If she walked away right now, he wouldn’t blame her.

“I’m a piece o’ shit, I know.” Calum’s words were hasty, like he wanted to quickly get them out before she walked away but not lose any of the genuinity he meant his apology with. He stood to his feet, feeling just the slightest bit dizzy, as Parker’s eyes remained on his while she had to tilt her head back to maintain the gaze. Her throat worked as he towered over her, the minimal space between the stools on the bar forcing them to stand close together as the heat on their skin went from being caused by the buzzing club to their proximity. Looking down at her, Calum licked his lips, trying to put together the right, honest string of words while trying not to think too much about her hand in his. They’d held hands before, in the bathroom against the tiled walls of the shower, but it’d been different. “I’ve been actin’ like a dick and I’m sorry ’bout that, Parker.” The alcohol was making his words sound drowsy and slurred even to him, but Calum hoped the sincerity didn’t get lost. “’M not the best when it comes to dealin’ with certain things and I just—”

Parker pulled her hand from Calum’s, just as he had feared, stumbling ever so slightly as she took a step to her left and back from him. Her right hand gripped her glass, watching the defeat and disappointment that washed over Calum’s face against the light colored flashes of the club. The knot in his chest tightened at the loss of her skin against his, at the slight furrow in her eyebrow as she shook her head. “You’re apologizing because you’re drunk,” she decided after releasing a breath. “And maybe because you wanna fuck again and fill me with disappointment before you start ignoring me again.” Calum’s breath hitched at her words, eyes widening at the sting they snapped through his body as his body leaned back ever so slightly, as if she’d pushed him. Parker gave another shake of her head, eyebrows drawn together as she gave him a once over, a look filled with dismay and despondency. “Just—leave me alone, Calum.”

Then she was turning and walking away, disappearing into the crowd of people, and Calum was left with the aching desire of exchanging his fucking club soda with the harshest whiskey the bar had.

*****

“Fuck!”

Calum’s fingers instantly froze over the strings of the guitar, eyes widened in confusion flickering up to look at the glass paned wall of his bedroom, though his view to the outside world was obscured thanks to the curtains he’d drawn. For a moment, he wondered if he’d imagined the shout, fluttering unexpectedly through his mind as he enjoyed a quiet night with his guitar. And he’d have believed it, if it weren’t for the unmistakable sound of glass shattering that followed it—the sound that occured right outside of his room.

Getting up from his bed, Calum rested the guitar on the stand by the bedside table before approaching the glass wall, eyebrows drawn together as he strained his ears in hopes of hearing something else that would give him a clue as to what the hell was happening. Parting the curtain ever so slightly, Calum peeked a look outside, gaze darting around the empty roof under the night sky, wondering what it was that he had heard.

But then his eyes landed on the sight of Parker, hard to miss with her blonde hair, since that’s all Calum could see. Because she sat on the ground, back against the raised brick railing of the roof, forehead against her knees with her legs brought up to her chest. Under furrowed eyebrows Calum’s eyes narrowed as he tried to get a better look over the bright lights of the pool, back straightening and the creases in his forehead smoothening when he made out the shaking of Parker’s shoulders, of her body. Like she was crying.

He took a breath, pausing for just a moment as he considered what to do. But another look at Parker, at the way her entire body was trembling and how he had definitely heard something break just moments ago had him coming to a decision before he even let any other thought run through his mind.

Quietly, swiftly, he parted the curtains and opened the glass door of his room, stepping out with his slides on his feet as he cautiously made his way towards Parker. And over the hum of the cars in the city below, Calum could make out the broken, shaky sounds of Parker’s sobs, of her sniffles and choked breathing the closer he got to her seated figure. His heart twisted at the knowledge of her crying, walking around the pool to where she was, eyes catching the glint of glass and when he looked over, just a few feet away from where she sat, were different sized broken pieces of what he could make out as a wine glass. Or what was remaining of one, being able to figure it was that due to part of the handle that remained intact to a half broken base.

It was a bit chilly that night, the cool breeze raising goosebumps on Calum’s arms and legs, exposed to his T-shirt and athletic shorts as he hurried over to where the crying blonde was. “Parker,” Calum breathed, feeling something inside him crack at the clear sounds of her cries, crouching down to her right with his left hand against the brick wall and his right wanting to reach out to her, but unsure if he was allowed. Her hands were gripping knees, head bent and face out of his view, but visibly shaking. A bubble of panic started expanding in the pit of Calum’s stomach at the sight of her, unsure of what happened, unsure of what to do. “Parker, sweetheart, what’s wrong? What’s—” He shook his head, lost and wanting to help. “What’s happened?”

She kept crying. Kept sobbing into herself, either ignoring Calum or not even registering his presence. And that bubble of panic kept growing, a lump forming in his throat because the two of them hadn’t spoken in days but the absolute last thing Calum ever wanted was for Parker to be going through something so awful that she was crying like this. Crying like something terrible had happened. Crying like she’d lost some—

Oh. Shit. Calum hoped that wasn’t the case.

And then, a moment later, Parker’s thick, anguished voice finally said, “She was my first patient.” His heart stopped at her words, his fear being proven correct, as his eyebrows drew together in distress over her state and jaw clenched tightly. Parker lifted her head and despite the nighttime, Calum got a good look at her face, and he didn’t at all like what he saw. He didn’t like the redness of her nose or her eyes, the blue glazed behind pools of unshed tears as the rims of her eyes were lined red; raw and bruised from crying as hard as she was. The sight, undoubtedly, broke Calum’s heart, rendering him breathless from just how broken she looked, and how the only thing he wanted in this world right now was for her to not feel like this. The waves of her blonde hair framed her tear stricken face, lips trembling as her eyes met Calum’s worried brown. “One of my first days my intern year we—she needed an appy and I-I was given the first solo surgery to perform it. And she—she lived.”

The tears in her eyes and sobs in her throat had Parker stumbling over her words, voice scratchy and thick, having to pause to sniffle and catch her breath and Calum listened patiently. Listened with his lips pressed together and fighting the urge to pull her into his arms because she looked so heartbroken and he couldn’t stand it. And it was terrifying to him, how the sight of her was absolutely breaking his heart more than he ever thought possible, more than one would justify. But he couldn’t give a shit. She was hurting, and not for the first time, Calum wanted to make it better, whether it was his fault or not.

Parker blinked, looking away from Calum for a moment as she licked her lips, trying to get her thoughts together. “She—Joanna was my patient for three—” The last word came out breathless, like she ran out of whatever little air she had left, neck tensing as she regained her breathing, all the while looking out at the pool in front of her. “Three years and I was her doctor whenever she came in. One of her doctors but still. “I-I took out her appendix and—and treated her when she got in a car accident last year and helped deliver her baby yesterday and now she’s—she’s gone and we should’ve saved her. I should’ve saved her.”

She broke down. Completely, utterly crumpled in front of Calum’s eyes as the sobs that escaped her strengthened with the help of her heartbreak. Parker’s eyes clenched shut as more tears escaped, body shuddering with her cries and Calum instantly wrapped his left arm around her shoulders, pulling her in and letting her rest her head against his chest as his other hand buried itself in her hair.

He could feel every cry of hers just as well as he could hear it, holding her close and shutting his own eyes as her grief washed over him. Not as severely as she felt it, but Parker going through it was enough for Calum to feel a suffocating tightness in his chest and strengthen his own hold on her. And her understood, selfishly for the first time, that Parker probably lost people in her line of career, that there were just some that died on her watch and she could do nothing about it except for grieve and then fight to never make the same mistake twice.

And holding her right now, in this period of heart wrenching mourning, Calum rested his chin atop her head, the faint scent of her fruity shampoo washing over him, and let her cry into his shirt. He felt her fist his shirt in her grasp, felt her clutch onto him desperately as she ached over the loss of someone important to him. And he hated that he couldn’t do anything to help except hold her to him.

“Parker, you—” Calum cut himself off, unsure of what to say, unsure of what were the right words because he didn’t know if there were any. He opened his eyes, taking a breath as he looked up at the dark cloudless sky with a few stars glittering across. “I’m sure you did everythin’ you could’ve—”

“I should’ve worked harder,” she whimpered, shaking her head before pulling away from him, red eyes and red nose and flushed cheeks that were all breaking Calum’s heart further. How she managed to get such a tight hold on him, he had no idea, but he didn’t question it. Not right now. Her hands pressed against his chest, putting some distance as she continued, “Should’ve looked at her tests and should’ve picked it up sooner—”

“Parker, Parker,” Calum cut her off, his voice raspy in his own desperation as his hands found her freckled, tear splattered cheeks. His thumbs wiped away what he could, feeling the softness of her cry-blotched face as he got her to look at him, his throat working at the redness of her face. Ignoring the tickles of his own curls across his forehead, Calum cleared his throat lightly as their faces neared, holding her close. “You did everythin’ you could’ve,” he repeated, stronger and surer this time. He couldn’t be sure, he knew, but he believed it. “You’re in pain and you’re grieving and it’s just making you blame yourself. Please, don’t. You just—you need rest, okay? This isn’t helpin’ you. Don’t do this to yourself, sweetheart, please.”

She’d been crying for hours, he knew—could tell from the state of her eyes and the hoarseness of her voice—and so he wanted her to just stop for now. Wanted her to be able to take a breath and close her eyes and be able to sleep despite the heaviness in her soul. Even if she disagreed, even if she began shaking her head as she understood his words and closed her eyes, trying to pull away, but he kept his hold. “Sleep, please, it’ll—”

“It won’t bring Joanna back,” her voice cracked, shoulders sinking as she sniffled.

“Neither will this,” Calum told her, swallowing the thickness in his own throat, keeping his dark eyes on her blue. “Neither will sittin’ out here making yourself sick over somethin’ like this.”

She was quiet for a few moments, the only sounds coming from the still awake city below and the occasional sniffles she was trying to get control over, glassy eyes looking out at the pool as she considered Calum’s words. He looked at her, patiently and worriedly, chewing on the inside of his lower lip. And then her gaze dropped, looking at the length of Calum’s tattooed arm since his hands were still on her cheeks and then she spoke up. Her voice was a whisper, almost lost in the night, but Calum heard it. “I don’t wanna sleep alone.”

Calum’s expression softened, understandment washing over his features as he took a quiet breath. When her blue eyes met his brown, Calum felt something in his heart clenched and he nodded without hesitation. Despite their distance in the past however long, Calum was keen on not leaving her side. Because he’d hurt her enough and wanted to make up for it, but he hated that it had to be this way.

“Come on,” he murmured, soft and reassuring as one arm went around her waist. “Up you go.”

The walk to his room was a quick one after Parker wiped at her face, the door clicking shut behind them as he hesitantly let her go to close the curtains, the room a bit dark to the lack of light save for the single lamp on his bedside. When Calum turned, he saw Parker, red eyed and nosed, looking around his room, taking in a part of him she hadn’t been privy to until this moment.

He watched her take in the two bookshelves full of books and vinyls, the record player right by it along with the guitar, the TV set up on a table opposite of the bed. She took in the furry dark rug by the bed, the cushioned chair and covers of vinyl records he had taped to the wall above the bed. There was a doorway to a closet, as well as to a showerless bathroom to make things just a little bit easier for Calum living so far from the communal bathrooms. But the other trinkets and decorations around the room, they all screamed of Calum’s personality Parker wanted to know, and he realized, over the course of the past few days, that he wanted her to.

His hand lifting, running his fingers through his hair as he took a breath and licked his lips. The sight of Parker standing in the middle of his room, taking in everything around her, had his throat tightening. “You can take the bed.”

Her head turned to look at him, a delicate furrow on her eyebrows as she asked, “What about you?”

Calum offered her a smile, reassuring and sincere as he gestured to the comfortable chair by the bed. It was cushioned and soft, whoever sat in it would just sink into the material, and he’d already fallen asleep in it more than once. “I’ll sleep on that.”

Eyes darting to the chair, Parker’s frown deepened with parted lips, taking a disagreeing breath as she shook her head. “Wh—no. I can’t ask you to do that.” She swallowed, throat working as she added, “I’ll just go to my room. I shouldn’t even be bothering you with this.”

She made a move to walk towards the door, but Calum was in her way, his heart in his throat. “No—stay.” Parker stopped at Calum’s words, mouth pressing together as she stared up at him with wondrous, disbelieving eyes. She saw the corners of his lips quirk upwards in a hopeful smile. “You shouldn’t—I don’t want you t’be alone tonight. So just—stay, yeah? Please.”

If she really didn’t want to, of course Calum wouldn’t force her to against her will. But fortunately, he saw Parker’s resolve breaking, probably because of how late it was, how tired she was over her loss. It was quite the change both of them were faced with, going from him avoiding her to her avoiding him to him offering his bed to her. But the sight of Parker crying so hopelessly had shaken Calum, so much more than he ever thought possible, making it a sight he never wanted to witness again because it was awful.

Parker pulled her lower lip into her mouth, chewing it for a moment as she looked at him. They stared at one another for a moment, taking in the sight of his tattooed arms and curly hair and sincere expression that melted some of the tightness in her heart, and she relented. “Okay.”

They adjusted, with Calum taking one pillow and blanket from the bed for himself on the chair, settling into the comfortable furniture as he watched, just a few feet away, Parker take off her slippers and slip into the bed under the blanket, already in her pajamas. The glow of the lamp lit up her face as she lay on her side, facing it, facing where Calum laid on the chair nearby. He looked at her, cheek resting against his own pillow with the blanket at his waist also resting on his side.

It was a sight, having her in his bed, not exactly expecting it to be under these circumstances. But Calum didn’t care nor did he mind. He didn’t want to be alone tonight and if this was how it had to be, he was perfectly fine with it. So long as Parker knew that he would be there for her if she needed him to be.

They were quiet for a moment, the silence of the night settling over them in his room. He wondered if his pillow and blanket would smell like her in the morning, kind of hoped for it, prayed that she’d be able to get a good night’s rest.

“She had complications after delivery.” Parker’s voice was quiet, eyes unfocused and looking at something past Calum, maybe the shelves behind him, and he stayed quiet. “Postpartum preeclampsia. It—it’s a rare condition and we should’ve known because she had diabetes. But she just—” Parker stopped, voice shuddering, throat working as she remained laying on the bed. “She stroked out. And we were just—too late.”

Calum swallowed the lump that formed in his throat, feeling the pain in Parker’s voice and just how much this was affecting her. He couldn’t imagine that kind of ache she was suffering through, couldn’t imagine the weight of the guilt she was enduring over losing a patient she’d known for so long, someone she was meant to take care of. Having someone’s life in your hands—Calum couldn’t imagine it, and he realized that he admired Parker for the career she had. She saved people’s lives for a living. No doubt the loss of one she failed to help would eat away at her tremendously, especially if it was a patient she’d been treating for years.

He so desperately wanted to help her. Except all he could say right now was a soft and sincere, “I’m sorry.”

For everything.

Parker pulled the blanket up to her chin, blue eyes flashing to Calum’s brown, letting out a breath. She looked at him and Calum felt a shiver run down his spine because the way she was looking at him made him feel as though she was looking for something. He wasn’t sure if she found what she was looking for, wasn’t sure what she was thinking, as Parker reached for the hanging handle of the lamp and murmured to Calum, “I know,” before shutting it off.

Both spent most of the night thinking of each other, thinking of everything that’s happened, but never saying a word. Never reaching out to the person laying just a few feet away from them. But they thought of each other. Dreamt of each other. Hoped things would get better. And, eventually, fell asleep.

*****

Parker stood in front of the glass door, shuffling on her feet and wondering if she should just knock on the damn door. She’d been standing outside of it for about five minutes now, silently debating this, when she knew she should just fucking knock. But Parker was nervous and a little bit scared, if she was being honest, because last night Calum had been so kind and sincere with her that she was dreading the potential rude awakening she may have to face. That it had only been a one time thing because he caught her sobbing her heart out and felt for her in that moment, and now things were going to go back to the way they had been for weeks now.

Still, Parker felt bad. She had left early this morning, before Calum even woke up because she was being paged, and left in a hurry. Truthfully, she wanted to thank him for letting her stay in his room last night, because despite the way he’d been acting towards her leading up to last night, Parker still appreciate the kindness—even if it was simple, decent human behavior. But she’d never been one to take someone’s kindness and not thank them for it. Which is why she was here now.

So she knocked, knuckles rapping on the glass pane, throat working to swallow the nervous lump that had formed as she waited for him to answer. Parker played with her fingers, picking at her unpainted nails as she looked around the roof, the late afternoon sun providing a warm glow all over. Her admirance of it was cut short, however, when the door swung open and there stood Calum.

Her breath hitched at the sight of him, only in grey sweats and an oversized darker grey shirt, looking unfairly adorable with his messy curls and providing Parker with the sudden, ridiculous urge to just fucking hug him. He looked so comfortable in his clothes, yet so attractive with the tattoos inking his brown skin and the scruff he was sporting. It was dizzying, just looking at him.

“Hi,” she found herself greeting, voice expectedly a whisper as she offered a smile.

She noticed the slight raise in Calum’s eyebrows at the sight of her, hand going from gripping the door handle to the frame higher up, offering a small smile of his own. “Hey,” he responded easily. His dark eyes took in the sight of her, showered and in leggings and a tank top after returning from her shift at the hospital. Brown met blue as he surprised her by asking, “Wanna come in?”

Parker looked over his shoulder into the familiar room, not entirely expecting that offer. She’d been waiting for the cold yet blank looks and unfriendly nature, which may be unfair given how he’d acted the night before—yet still justifiable because of how he’d behaved every day leading up to it—right? Still, Parker felt herself nod as she answered, “Yeah.”

She got a whiff of his familiar, dizzying cologne as he stepped aside to let her in, mixed in with the faintest scent of nicotine as Calum shut the door behind her. The room was just as same as the night before, of course, only this time the afternoon sun sweeped in through the curtains and their was a glow in his room in place of the darkness from before. Turning to face Calum, Parker was once again playing with her fingers as she started, “I just, uh, wanted to thank you. For, you know, listening to me last night and letting me sleep in your bed.” She licked her lips nervously, heart leaping ever so slightly as she saw his eyes track the movement before unapologetically meeting her gaze once more. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Yeah, I did,” came his immediate response, one corner of his mouth lifting up, as if allowing Parker to sleep in his bed was something he did all the time. Like it was no big deal. “You were going through somethin’ and I don’t—I didn’t want you to be alone last night.” Then Calum let out a quiet, raspy and breathy chuckle that screamed of self deprecation as he shrugged his shoulders and his left hand reached up to rub the side of his neck, silver bracelet slinking downwards. “You probably wanted to be with a friend or somethin’, but I, um, I wanted you to know that ’m here for you, too.”

Parker could feel her heart pounding in her chest and hear it in her ears, teeth pressing together briefly at Calum’s words, eyeing him for any sign of insincerity. But he looked genuine, sounded it too, along with disappointment in himself for even having to put himself in a category that wasn’t considered being friends with Parker. Yet he still managed to make her heart race, make her wonder if he wanted to be just her friend or something more. “Really?”

Calum’s hand dropped to his side, Adam’s apple in his throat working as he instantly answered, “Yes.” He released a sharp breath, sounding so loud in the comforting quiet of his room as he took two steps towards Parker as he said, “I’m sorry, doll, for everything. I’m sorry ’bout your patient—’bout Joanna. I’m sorry you’re hurtin’ and that I can’t fix it. And I’m—’m sorry for bein’ such an asshole and hurtin’ you just because I couldn’t get my own shit together and treated you so badly. I’m sorry for callin’ you an intruder when you first got here—” He almost laughed at how stupid he’d been.” Calum wasn’t sure if he’d apologized to one person so much before in his life, but he meant every word. Every fucking syllable. Hurting Parker ate away at him a lot more than he thought it would, the whole situation escalating out of his control, and it almost drove him crazy. It drove him crazy that he wanted her right away, drove him mad when he finally got to have her, and it drove him completely fucking insane that he was being such a shitty person to her when she’d done absolutely nothing wrong. Who was he to give her more crap to worry about than she already had to? Who the fuck did that? Especially to someone they liked? It was sick.

His throat felt dry, but Calum didn’t care as he now stood in front of Parker, his height towering over hers as their eyes never left each others; his genuine and honest and desperate and hers incredulous and bewildered and—dare he consider it—elated. It gave him a little bit of hope, a little bit of a push to keep going. “I don’t expect you to forgive me right away, or at all, but I really am sorry, Parker. I am. . .” He trailed off breathily, letting out a slightly incredulous laugh as he shook his head at himself. “I am so sorry that ’m absolutely terrible at tellin’ the girl I like how I feel because she deserves more than that from me. You deserve more than that.”

Parker wondered, right there, if Calum could hear the way her heart was hammering in her chest, how she could feel every nerve in her body electrify with every word he spoke. She was acutely aware of everything; of the strands of her blonde hair tickling the bare skin of her shoulders, of the complete dryness of her mouth Calum’s tenderly intense words created, of the glorious tightness in her chest that wasn’t caused by pain or hurt but by relief and disbelief and so much more her spinning head couldn’t quite properly focus on.

He liked her. He liked her and he was sorry for everything. He liked her and he completely meant it.

She could see the apology in Calum’s eyes, could hear it in the desperation of his words. They could, and would, have a much longer conversation about it all later. But right now, Parker didn’t want to hurt. He was trying to make up for it, was already succeeding at it, and she could give him grief over it later on. Right now, she just wanted him.

“You know,” she spoke up, a lilt creeping into her tone as she took a step towards him, the distance between their bodies closing up exponentially as her eyes never left his. Calum watched her, intensely and hopefully and longingly, and she felt her heart flutter. Parker was tired of all the bullshit. She just wanted to go past it. And, admittedly, she wanted Calum. Practically from the moment she’d met him. Her eyes flickered to his lips, full and pink and kissable, before continuing, “I’m getting tired of you deciding what I deserve. You can’t decide things for me and expect me to abide by them, Calum.”

His throat worked, eyes dropping to her own pink lips, adoring the freckles on her face and wanting to spend hours counting every single one. Maybe he could someday. “You’re absolutely right,” Calum responded, his voice unintentionally dropping to a raspy whisper, one that sent a pleasant shiver down Parker’s spine. His forehead dropped, pressing against hers, curls brushing against her skin. The small smile that had tugged on his lips faltered slightly, sighing softly as he admitted, “I definitely don’t deserve you, though.”

Parker couldn’t help but roll her eyes, leaning away ever so slightly as their hands absently found each other’s. “Again with the executive decision making,” she huffed out, only slightly joking, as she pursed her lips up at Calum. He rolled his own lips into his mouth, gaze dropping, and Parker shook her head, squeezing his hands as she felt the cool metal of his rings against her skin. With a kind, gentle smile, she added, “I forgive you.” His eyes met hers, disbelieving and confused, and her smile widened. “I do, because I spend way too much time in a hospital where people don’t ever say what they mean to those they care about and who regret what they didn’t get to do once it’s too late. I don’t—” Parker paused, worrying that she may be coming off too strong, relaxing only at the sight of the soft smile on Calum’s face and the reassuring squeeze he gave her hands this time. Her heart fluttered; she liked this side of him. Could definitely get used to it. “I don’t want to have any regrets, and I don’t want you to, either.” She smiled, pretty and honest. “Doctor’s orders.”

The last two words had a gentle, adoring laugh escaping Calum, one that widened Parker’s grin because it was a sound she wanted to hear more of. A sight, full of a wide grin and crinkled eyes, she never wanted to forget, as his forehead returned to press against hers. It was tender, he was tender, a complete change from how things had been between them, yet neither would have it any other way. Because even though it may only have been a few weeks, it felt like a lifetime where they spent avoiding each other, acting stupid and ignoring their feelings. And being there, holding each other’s hands and breathing the other in, strangely felt like coming home.

It was terrifying and nerve wracking and completely ridiculous to feel this way after only meeting just weeks ago. But, God, neither of them cared. Not when it felt this good and this right. Not when they’d gone through tedious avoidances and mishandled feelings.

“Doctor’s orders, huh?” Calum grinned, nose brushing against Parker’s, their foreheads still pressed together and the distance between them practically nonexistent. Their skin was heating up with the desire of wanting to be closer than they were, both eager to give in. Calum hummed approvingly. “I think I can follow those.”

Parker couldn’t help the grin on her face; wide and goofy and relieved as she stared into a pair of brown eyes that were more warm and inviting than she’d ever seen them. She tilted her mouth towards his, lips brushing together and sending jolts of electricity down both of their bodies. It was a wonder they didn’t close the gap right then and there. “You sure?”

She was teasing him. Calum could see it in the glint in her eyes and the lilt in her tone, and it only made him want to kiss her more. Made him appreciate Parker and who she was, and he couldn’t wait to get to know her more. In every single way possible. Trying to keep his distance from her when she first moved into the Viridian had been an idiot’s move on his part, which only backfired on him later on. But Calum knew, in that moment with her hands in his and her lips slowly coming to touch his, that Parker Hayden being the newest member of the Viridian had the potential of being the best thing that could’ve happened to him.

His lips brushed hers, a soft and honest murmur of, “Yes, doc,” escaping him, and the last thing he saw was Parker’s widened smile before pressing his lips to hers. They melted into each other, instantly and familiarly and finally. This time, the promise of there being more excited their hearts and slowed their kiss; soft and languid and savoring every movement of lips. This time, they allowed themselves to truly get lost in the other’s touch because they knew, deep down, they may have also found themselves in the other.

tags: @crownedbyluke @irwinkitten @glitterprincelu @softforcal @valentinelrh @hotmessmichael @meetashthere @astroashtonio @calumh-excess @hearts-to-the-sky @old-zeppelin-shirt @angelbbycal @captain-what-is-going-on @calumthoodsyonce @cathartichaoss @misskarynie @softboycal @soulmatecashton @babygirlcashton @cxddlyash @calumhoodless @wrappedaroundcal @calumculture @ohhmuke @fucking5sos @heavenlyhemminqs @cosmixcalum @invisiblexcth @gettingjillywithit @calistheloml @cliffordcntrl @asht0ns-world @hereforlukescruff @ghostofch @ghostsofhood @dxmncalum @bitchinbabylon @walkedhomealone @poppedpins @5secondssofssummer @calumsmermaid @booklove-2 @empathycth @checkeredcalum @lovelettercalum @kchillout @rosecoloredash @theagenderwhocriedwolf @cal-pal-cuddles @xhaileyreneex @calteahood @biwriting @2k17muke @sublimehood @tupeloohoneyy @egyptiangoldhood @x-valntyne-x @bloodlinecal @97britt @emma070900 @mmxiihood @monsteramongmikey @akacalciumhood @thebodaciouscth @5sos-stan4lyfe @lipstickstainfading @flannelpunkcalum @c-sainthood @inlovehoodx @all-i-want-is2b-loved-by-you @fireupthatthrone @lmao5sosimagines @isabella-mae13 @mysteriouslycali @teageowen @fallfrxmgrace @dontjinx-it @thewackywriter @caswinchester2000 @calntynes @post-traumatic-mess @kissmefree

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anotherdayinchuckletown · 4 years

Text

They’re Funny That Way

Chapter 3

A/N: Hello, lovelies, I’m rolling out this chapter about a month after I had originally planned to! Wonderful! Honestly, though, I’m really happy with how this one eventually turned out, and I hope you all enjoy it. We’re gonna be getting to that good shit soon, y’all, I promise. What can I say, I love me a good slow burn.

(cross-posted to my AO3 @ marie_deneuve)

Summary: Emma finds herself locked out of her apartment, leading to an unexpected meeting with her next-door neighbor.

Arthur's mission to conveniently bump into Emma again is proving incredibly difficult.

It's hard enough simply pinning down her schedule, with how sporadically she must leave the apartment. However, luck is on Arthur's side today, and he spots her in the hallway as he is leaving to run some errands that morning. His heart stutters as he recognizes her figure just before she reaches the stairs and descends out of view.

Heaven help him, she's even more beautiful than he remembered. He hasn't seen her since that time in the elevator - well, not in person, at least.

She has visited him every night in his fantasies - watching Murray with him while resting her head on his shoulder. Comforting him when harsh nightmares jolt him awake. Telling him that she's proud of him in that soft, melodious voice. That voice that's been echoing in his head and taunting him, driving him mad because he can't recreate her tone exactly, can't match her precise cadence on his own.

Last time they met, she had shaken his hand without a second thought. Arthur had been wearing gloves at the time as part of his work attire, and he'd been kicking himself for it ever since. She reached out and touched him, and he didn't even get the benefit of feeling her hand against his! Pressing that glove to his face as he slept that night had been mildly comforting, but it was no substitute for the real thing.

It's his one day off this week; he definitely has time for a little detour. Maybe if he runs into her somewhere along her way, makes it seem natural, she'll touch him again? He imagines how soft she must feel, how warm. He wants to pull her into his arms, tangle his fingers in her blonde waves, bury his face in the curve of her neck.

Those are the thoughts propelling him forward as he accompanies her through the streets of Gotham that morning, hood of his tan windbreaker up and obscuring his face. "Accompanies" may not be the correct word if one person is unaware of the other's presence, but Arthur isn't too caught up in semantics at the moment. No, he's much more preoccupied with following that streak of golden hair weaving through the foot traffic at a frustratingly quick pace. It's a good thing Emma doesn't share Arthur's talent for disappearing into crowds, he thinks to himself.

If anything, it's the opposite. Gotham City has a perpetual storm cloud hanging over it. Or perhaps it would be more apt to say that Gotham City is the storm cloud. Everything is a different shade of gray, the streets, the smog in the sky, even the people. She is the only splash of color for miles - all reds and blacks and spun gold, shining despite it being overcast.

He maintains several yards between them, knowing that if he gets caught prematurely, he risks scaring her off for good. The last thing he would ever want is for Emma to feel unsafe around him, and there is really no explaining this one away. Hi, I know this looks bad, but I'm that clown you were really nice to on the elevator a few days ago. Anyway, it's been a few days, and I just had to see you again because I can't stop thinking about you, even though we barely know each other. Have coffee with me?

Yeah, real smooth.

His insecurity is gaining on him, when suddenly, Emma slows in front of a store window - Cypi's Bakery, to be exact. Arthur swiftly ducks into the nearest alleyway, poking his head out to see what it is that captured her attention.

Her gaze is fixed on a chocolate croissant on one of the display shelves. She steps right up to the glass, transfixed.

It's the perfect opportunity to approach her. She's so close, it's nearly impossible not to make himself known and reach out to her. It's like the universe is dangling her right in front of his nose, teasing him. Look! She's right here! Come and get her!

What would he say, though? Scratch that, what would a normal person say? Try as he might, he can't quite find the words.

Seconds tick by, and Emma finally checks her watch, rolls her eyes, and with one last forlorn glance at the pastry, continues down the sidewalk. Several feet behind her, Arthur is rolling his eyes as well - he dawdled too long and missed his chance.

She has already rounded a corner by the time Arthur trudges out from his hiding spot, defeated. He tugs his hood down and attempts to straighten his ruffled hair with a sigh, Gothamites shouldering past him without so much as a glance.

Oh, well. Like he could have held the conversation without royally fucking it up anyway.

Perhaps this isn't a total loss - he can still buy her a gift. He knows what she wants now, after all. It will stretch his budget a little - unless he can ration out his cigarettes until the end of the week - but if it will make her smile, it will all be worth it.

He decides he'll wait a little while after she returns home, and then leave the box on her doorstep. With an anonymous note letting her know it's for her, of course.

Can't have that noisy brother of hers stealing her gifts.

______________________________________

One week.

One week, and Emma has already reached the end of her fucking rope with this building.

If it isn't the deathtrap elevator, it's the water heater. If it isn't the water heater, it's the absent staff. If it isn't the absent staff, it's the rusted spare key she's been given breaking completely off in her deadbolt, leaving her stranded in the hallway with five bags' worth of clothing and hygiene products.

Today, it's the spare key thing.

For a while, all Emma can do is stare in disbelief at the piece remaining in her hand, the way one might stare at someone running naked between the floats at the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. She knows there's no one downstairs at the moment to let her in, or even to get the old key out of the lock. Eddie has the afternoon shift, so he's definitely at work right now. She could just wait at Sophie's for him to return, but she won't even be off for another hour.

It's a perfect cocktail, she thinks. And then she hates herself even more for making an alcohol metaphor when she just took that damn bartending job she doesn't really want earlier today.

She's meant to start working at The Harlequin this weekend, which means two more nights attempting to sleep on that awful air mattress before then. Her new one is set to be delivered sometime after that, and she had to pawn her wedding ring just to afford it. Despite the foul memories behind it, that ring was the only nice thing she had left. Now, she truly has nothing. She can't even get into her own home.

So what does she do? She thinks of the only honorable thing a lady can do in this situation, which would be to march back downstairs, go out to the payphone on the street corner, and call Eddie for help.

And then she does the opposite of that.

With a defeated groan, she throws down her bags and slides down the wall until she's seated on the floor. And keeps sliding until she's lying fully on her back, her bags strewn around her, pathetic puddle of bad luck that she is.

A part of her is ashamed of this private tantrum, and another part of her couldn't give less of a fuck anymore. Hasn't she earned the right to a couple meltdowns?

Emma is broken out of her reverie when the door to the adjacent apartment swings open. The person must not look down in time to notice the mess of a woman lying right outside the door, nor the shopping bags scattered like land mines.

It all happens so fast after that.

The person trips over one of the bags, and Emma has no time to brace herself before their entire body weight slams down onto her at full force.

She lets out a pained whine as the person's bony elbow meets her stomach, knocking the wind out of her. Her head instinctively jerks back, colliding clumsily into the wall behind her, and she briefly sees stars.

Clearly not expecting to effectively elbow drop some woman like a WWF wrestler, the person scrambles wildly on top of her, not helping her discomfort in the least. They flail backwards until they're sitting up on the floor next to her, and Emma finally gets a good look at them as she gasps inelegantly in an attempt to refill her lungs.

It's a man, older than she is, possibly in his early forties. The wrinkles adorning his gaunt face tell a story of utmost exhaustion, and he's dangerously thin, like he hasn't had a proper meal in ages. Brown curls float a touch above his angular shoulders, and his sunken green eyes...look quite familiar. The sudden hypoxia could just be playing tricks on her, though.

Those same eyes finally seem to focus in on her, and he looks at her like he recognizes her as well. She watches his expression quickly shift from confused shock to abject horror.

As Emma finally gets her diaphragm under control, she does her best to sit up, her abs screaming in protest. That'll be a nasty bruise. "Ugh," she groans out. "Holy shit, I'm so sorry! Are you all right, sir?"

The man pauses, thick brows furrowing. "I...I landed on you, and you're apologizing to me?" he asks, perplexed, as if the person who tripped him being repentant about it is the wildest thing he's heard all week. Here in Gotham City, it probably is.

His voice is soft, and upon hearing it, Emma shaves ten years off of her previous estimate of his age. He stares at her guiltily, as if he's just waiting to be reprimanded, despite the whole ordeal not being his fault.

Damn, where has she seen him before?

"What do you mean? Of course I am, I was in your way." Emma goes to gather up her things, still seated against the door to her apartment. "Let me just move these..."

"N-no, it's...it's okay!" the man stutters out. He rushes to stand, and even helps her to move the rest of her things up against the wall.

There's a long and awkward pause before he continues. "If you don't mind, um..." His eyes dart between her and his shoes. "What were you doing out here like that?"

"Oh! Ha, good question." Emma shows him the key - or rather, what's left of it. "It would appear that I'm locked out. It was either do this or throw myself off the roof, and I'm too tired to climb any more stairs today."

Emma briefly wonders whether she should be joking that way in front of a stranger. To her relief, he doesn't seem the least bit unsettled by her dark humor. He simply grins at her bashfully. His eyes briefly light up in turn, the spark so dim and fleeting that, had she blinked, she would have missed it altogether.

And that's when it hits her.

"I've got it!" she exclaims, clapping once. "I know where I've seen you before!"

"Y-you do?" The man appears startled.

"Yeah! It was bugging me, but I remember now." She points one red-painted fingernail at him. "You're that clown! The one I saw in the elevator on my first day here!"

He actually looks relieved at that for some reason, and he visibly relaxes. "Oh, right! I, um...forgot about that." He scratches at the back of his head. "I'm surprised you recognized me - or Carnival, actually. That's my clown name at work."

The irony makes Emma giggle. This skinny, timid man in a knit sweater and loafers puts on greasepaint and dances around at parties for a living... Somehow, she can't picture it, and she's even seen him in full costume. Right now he looks like a sad accountant. Or like Mister Rogers.

Sick of craning her head up to talk to him, she stands as well, brushing some dust off the sleeves of her black cardigan. "I can't say I've ever met a clown off the clock before," she says. "Your life must be a lot more interesting than mine."

His answer comes out slightly pained. "I really doubt that... What do you do?"

"I just became a bartender over at The Harlequin." Emma rolls her eyes and shrugs, smiling wryly. "It's a job. Hopefully a stepping stone, so I can get out of here before long." She gestures to her door. "Pretty sad that I can't even manage to get in today."

The man chuckles at her dry excuse for a joke - shyly, as if he's afraid of it being heard. Emma can't tell if she's being genuinely charming or if this guy just pities her. She hasn't been paying too much attention to his body language, so far down the shitter is her initiative to do so. She just wants to curl up in bed.

Being back in Gotham has been all right so far - preferable to the alternative, at least - but she can't seem to shake the cloud of dread that manifests each time she's not immediately busy with something. She figures it's stress-related. After all, there's so much to do in the coming months, just in regards to dealing with judges and lawyers. These things take ages, even if both parties are cooperative. She's not lucky enough to have the sort of divorce all little girls dream of...

She must have started to zone out because she's suddenly brought back by the man exclaiming, "I-I have pliers!"

Emma peers at him, quirking an eyebrow.

"For your door!" he elaborates. "I can't get you into your apartment, but I can at least get your key back!" Quieter, not meeting her gaze, he adds, "And then, you know, if you need to call someone...you're welcome to come in and use my phone."

Emma blinks, momentarily taken aback by this Good Samaritan. "Uh...yeah, that would be great! Thank you!" She reaches down and starts to collect her bags. "Good thing I bumped into one of the only nice people in the city."

While she's retrieving the last of her things, something at her feet catches her eye. There's a sealed envelope on the floor near where she was sitting earlier. Curious, she picks it up, and then balks at the name of the recipient.

"Woah!" She holds the envelope out incredulously. "This letter is addressed to Thomas Wayne! ...Did you drop this?"

Based on what Emma has seen of recent headlines, Thomas Wayne is a frontrunner in Gotham's upcoming mayoral election. As if Gotham doesn't have enough problems - the last thing the city needs is a pigheaded authoritarian billionaire running things. This guy who's been so kind as to help her couldn't possibly be a fan, right?

The man appears mildly annoyed, although not at her. Taking it from her outstretched hand, he says, "Yeah, I did. It's not mine, though - my...m-mother asked me to mail it." He rushes through that last part in a low voice, and Emma realizes he's embarrassed.

If he does still live with his mother, it's only natural that a man his age would feel insecure about it. She's always found the stigma silly, personally. What is Western culture's obsession with "leaving the nest" as soon as humanly possible, even to the child's detriment? Why, if Emma's parents were still around...

Never mind that.

She has no time to reassure her companion before he changes the subject. "I'll handle it later. I should help you first." With his free hand, he pulls out his key and goes to unlock the door to his apartment.

"Hang on a second!" Emma smacks her own forehead, and he freezes. "God, I'm so rude. What's wrong with me?" She shakes her head. "You're being extremely helpful, and I haven't even asked your name! Your real name, that is - I'd imagine it's not always Carnival, right?"

"Heh, right... My name's Arthur."

"Arthur," she repeats, not half minding the way it sounds in her own voice. "It's nice to officially meet you, Arthur."

Predictably, he looks flustered as he replies, "Yeah... Nice to see you again, Emma."

He unlocks the door, holding it open for her, and the smell of cigarette smoke mixed with high-end perfume wafts out. It's not her favorite scent in the world, but it's familiar - comforting, even.

Inside, gaudy pink plaid lines the walls, a sharp contrast to Eddie's taupe covered with band posters. The living room, or at least what she can see of it, is neat and tidy, despite the abundance of knick-knacks covering each surface.

Although, not a single family photo in sight, Emma notes. Some people simply don't have them lying around. She and Eddie are much the same way.

Lingering self-consciously in the foyer, she spots an older woman reclining in an armchair across the room. Arthur's mother, she presumes. Hearing the door, the woman turns and regards her, then Arthur, confusion plain on her features.

"Happy? I didn't know you were having company." Mild surprise colors her voice, affirming Emma's theory that Arthur doesn't get visitors often.

"It's just one of the neighbors, Ma! She's locked out!" he calls back. Squeezing past Emma, he slips into the kitchen and discards the Thomas Wayne letter on the counter. Rummaging through one of the drawers, he produces a pair of pliers rustier than the key that had gotten her into this mess.

"I'll be right back," he tells her. "The phone is in the hallway behind you, if you need to use it." And with that, he rushes back outside before she can even thank him.

Feeling Arthur's mother's eyes burning holes in the back of her head, she does step into the hallway, partly to call Eddie and partly to get out of her line of sight. Emma struggles to remember the number for his store, but breathes a sigh of relief when someone picks up on the third ring.

"G-String's, this is Ron."

Christ, she always forgets that's the name he decided on. "Ron, it's Emma. Is my brother there?"

Before he can answer, she faintly hears Eddie's voice in the background saying that, yes, he is still out of Pink Floyd's The Wall. "Yeah, he's right here, what's up?"

"Good. Listen, tell him I got locked out of the apartment, and I'm heading down to borrow his key." She dreads the walk. It's not far, but her arms are already sore from the shopping bags weighing them down.

Momentarily ignoring Emma, Ron starts talking away from the receiver. "Dude, it's your sister, she's locked outta the house... Okay, I'll tell her. Hey, Emma, he's on his way."

"What? I just said I'd-"

"Too late, he's grabbing his shit."

Emma groans. "Fine. Tell him I'm waiting for him in 8J."

"Will do." A pause. "So, uh... I hear you're single again-"

She hangs up.

She barely wanders back into the foyer when Arthur's mother surprises her by saying, "It's no use standing around over there. Sit down and make yourself comfortable, dear." She gestures vaguely to the sofa next to her.

Emma complies, stepping gingerly into the living room. She sits at the end of the couch, as far away as humanly possible, and sets her bags down underneath the coffee table, her arms crying out in relief.

"My brother should be here any minute," she begins sheepishly. "I'm so sorry to intrude like this, Miss..." She trails off.

"Penny," the woman supplies. "It's no trouble."

A stodgy local political forum is playing on the television. This is a particularly conservative broadcast by the sound of it, anchors harping primarily on Gotham's floundering economy and the ramifications of a potential garbage strike.

Penny is watching raptly, and Emma uses the opportunity to peer over at her. She certainly is done up to be sitting around at home. Sure, she's in button-up flannel pajamas, but she's also wearing a full face of makeup, and her graying hair, fading from strawberry-blonde, is curled. Underneath it all, the wrinkles on her face betray a beautiful visage. Emma feels oddly intimidated all of a sudden, trying to make a good impression on this woman who gives an air of having once been one of the most stunning girls in Gotham.

As if sensing her unease, Arthur returns. He hastily crosses the room and presents Emma with the other half of her key. "I'm sorry it took me so long... It was really in there."

She smiles gratefully up at him. "Oh, don't apologize. You totally saved my hide out there."

Still not quite on board with the whole eye contact deal, he busies himself by straightening up the coffee table. Lifting an empty mug, he looks up at Penny. "Oh, you finished your tea already. Want me to make more?"

"If it's not too much trouble."

"Of course!" He starts for the kitchen. "Emma, do you drink chamomile?"

She does, but politely declines, already feeling like she's taking advantage of his kindness. He only looks a little dejected by her refusal.

As Arthur bustles around the kitchen, silence descends upon the living room, save for the droning of the television. The subject has changed; the anchors have moved on from essentially blaming the working class for not making enough money to worshiping the ground their candidate Thomas Wayne walks upon. How original.

Penny practically lunges to raise the volume, startling Emma. "Did you mail my letter, Happy?" she interjects without looking away from the screen.

"I didn't make it downstairs yet." He assures her, "I'll do it before the mailman gets here."

"Don't forget. It's very important," Penny insists somewhat curtly.

"That Thomas Wayne is polling pretty high these days, isn't he?" Emma muses, attempting to make small talk.

Penny instantly perks up. "Yes, that's what everybody on the news is saying. It's a good thing he's running this year. He's exactly what this city needs, don't you think?"

Hardly, but Emma elects to keep her opinion to herself. Instead, she blurts out, "I met him a few years ago."

Penny looks positively awestruck. "You did, really? Oh, he's a wonderful man, isn't he?"

She did technically meet him, although she never spoke to him personally. It was at a benefit that Daniel had dragged her along to, so that he could network (code for smooth talk billionaires). They had conversed for a grand total of thirty seconds, shaken hands, and that was the end of that. He had come off every bit as arrogant and self-important as she would expect of the CEO of a multi-billion dollar industrial corporation. He and Daniel were two peas in a pod.

"...My husband seemed to like him."

The clattering in the kitchen stops cold.

The sudden absence of sound causes her to remember herself. "I mean, my ex - my ex-husband. Excuse me, I'm newly separated. Still getting used to it."

"So sorry to hear that," Penny tells her, not sounding in the least bit sympathetic. Not that Emma needs, or even wants, sympathy.

She instead returns to the previous subject, with Emma half-listening. Apparently, Penny worked for the Wayne family years ago, and is now chock-full of anecdotes from within Wayne Manor.

Emma smiles and nods along. Penny clearly sees her idol though rose-colored glasses, but there's no use telling her that. She must be delighted simply to have someone new to talk to, and Emma would hate to spoil it for her.

Arthur emerges with a steaming mug of chamomile tea and a facial expression that lets Emma know he's far sicker of these stories than she is. Nevertheless, he hands his mother the mug, giving her shoulder an affectionate pat.

The scene has her beaming up at the back of Arthur's head as something stirs deep within her. Something like the first sip of hot chocolate on a snowy morning, coursing through her veins and warming her from the inside out.

Before he can sit down, there's a loud knocking accompanied by a shout of "Hey, Em, you in there?"

"Ah, that's my cue." Emma gathers her things as Arthur hurries to answer the door. She says her goodbyes to Penny, but she's once again engrossed in her program and only offers a halfhearted "goodbye, dear" in return.

Eddie waits in the entryway, arms crossed, his voice booming in the otherwise quiet apartment. "Thanks for the excuse to break early today, ya lucky ladybug. You wouldn't believe some of the idiots coming into the store, you know what I'm saying?" He reaches down to ruffle her hair when she gets within range.

"Glad my misfortune was useful." She notices how Eddie completely towers over Arthur, whose hands fidget anxiously as he hangs back, unsure of what to do with himself. It's honestly sort of endearing how tiny he is, how she could probably lift him up if given the chance.

"I owe you one, Arthur. Knock if you ever need anything, okay?" Emma extends a hand, similar to their first meeting.

This time, Arthur immediately clasps her hand in his, with a grip that is equal parts firm and sweaty. "Okay, and the same goes for you." Eddie good-naturedly claps him once on the back, clearly taking him off-guard, and he drops her hand.

She's poised to head out when Arthur stops her, saying, "Oh, one more thing!"

He zips out of sight for just a moment before reappearing with a small, white box. "This is for you."

After all that, he's even giving her a gift? She starts to dissuade him, but he holds the box out toward her, close enough that social etiquette dictates she take it. And so she does, brows drawing together. "You're too nice, Arthur, thank you."

"Take care, man," Eddie says, finally ushering a confused Emma out the door.

When the door clicks shut behind them, he immediately fixes her with a long and pointed stare. For a second, Emma thinks he's pissed for having to walk all the way back home, but then he breaks the silence.

"So...you and the neighbor, huh?"

Emma tilts her head. "Me and the neighbor?"

"Lemme see this." He grabs the box out of her hands, ignoring her protests. A glance inside, and he shuts it again, raising his eyebrows at her in a nonverbal "I told you so" before handing it back and unlocking their door with a flourish.

"What? What is that face? What's in there?"

"A Cypi's croissant, Em? Oh, he's got it bad for you."

She snatches it back, indignant. "Ugh, you're delusional. I've met him once before; he probably just felt sorry for me." Although, she had really been craving one of those since she passed by the store on her walk this morning. What a happy coincidence.

"Don't be so naive. You have any idea how many girlfriends I've hit that place up for on Valentine's Day? You don't bust out the Cypi's unless you're seriously looking to drop some panties."

"Gross. Thanks for coming to get me, but never talk to me about panties."

It's strange to think that the seemingly mild-mannered, reticent man who gifted her a croissant has such a blood-curdling laugh. It would have been incredibly rude to bring it up today, when he had so kindly gone out of his way for her. Surely, there's a courteous method to broaching the subject? It would be unfortunate to hurt his feelings and topple the precarious acquaintanceship they were building.

She is pleasantly surprised that night when the walls are resoundingly, blissfully silent.

#arthur fleck #joaquin phoenix joker #joker 2019 #joker #they're funny that way #My fic

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