#(and Harley is by far my least favourite but I didn’t wanna spend too

[lyssismagical]

Can you do a hurt/comfort parkner story where Peter overworks himself cause someone died and he thinks it’s his fault so Harley has to help him. No rush at all 💞

It’s hard for Harley to really offer much, living so far away from his boyfriend.

When Peter stops responding to texts, stops answering his endless calls, cancels their virtual date nights, there’s not much Harley can do. It’s not like he can really force Peter to answer him.

The days without Peter, without his witty texts, his soft crackling laughter over the phone, the heart-eyes he gets whenever they have Skype Dates, it’s hard. Harley hates to be so far, still stuck in Rose Hill, with no way of getting up to New York for more than a couple weeks a year, but being without Peter, not being able to see him or hear from him or even get a single text to ease his nerves, hurts like his chest has been pried open, heart trying to escape and find it’s way back to his love.

At first, he assumes Peter’s just busy. They’re rounding on Exam season and Peter’s a Junior, so class loads are pretty heavy, not to mention the Academic Decathlon competition he’d been talking about the last time they called.

But even when Peter’s busy, he always remembers to text at least once. Especially with how nervous and worried his texts get as the days pass with no answer.

His boyfriend is a superhero. How could he not be worried?

He’s had the news on almost constantly at home, annoying the hell out of his little sister, and his phone ringer stays on high all day at school, getting him into a few detentions. But so far, nothing’s come up about Spider-Man.

After four days of radio silence on Peter’s side, nearly a hundred messages staying on Delivered, he finally caves and calls Tony.

“Wow, my second favourite young adult!” Tony says, sounding mostly chipper. As chipper as someone like Tony Stark can. “What’s got you calling? Normally, I hear everything through Peter.”

“So you’ve heard from Peter?” Harley asks, voice lifting almost an octave higher in his worry and panic. “He hasn’t answered me in four days and I’m kinda freaking out.”

Harley starts pacing the length of his bedroom, heart hammering in his chest. Abbie shoves open his door, rolling her eyes overdramatically at him, but she still sprawls out across his bed, watching him carefully.

“Um, now that you say that, he cancelled his last Lab Night with me. I didn’t really think much of it but he’s been kinda snappy with me last week too,” Tony says. There’s a few clicks of a keyboard, and then Tony sighs. “It looks like he’s been logging a lot of hours as Spider-Man. Like a crazy amount. Yesterday, he was out from four pm, when he got out of school, until five am.”

“Is he mad at me? Did he say anything?”

Even Abbie frowns at his question, laced in desperation.

“I don’t know, kid. I haven’t spoken to him in like a week. I’ll ask May, I’ll see if I can corner Peter into telling me anything and I’ll let you know, okay?”

Harley frowns, saying a quick goodbye and dropping onto the bed beside his little sister. “I hate this. I just wish he’d call me.”

“I know, Harls, but there’s nothing either of us can do. It might be smarter to just take your mind off everything. Weren’t you planning a trip up over summer? That’s only another two weeks out,” Abbie says, forever going to be the smarter, more logical of the two Keener siblings. She shrugs but still wraps an arm around his shoulders, tugging him into a comforting hug.

“I know you’re right,” he says, still staring at his phone. “I just… I really think I love him. I do. And I’m scared he’s mad at me or that things are falling apart and there’s nothing I can do about it. I just really wish he’d call and talk to me.”

Abbie doesn’t say anything more, knowing there’s nothing more she can do to make it better.

* It’s another three days before Peter finally responds.

All he’s heard since then was a single text from Tony reading Peter’s acting weird, think you were right. He’s not talking to me or May or even his friends, falling asleep in class, getting detentions. I’ll try to talk to him or at least get him to talk to you. But I’m pretty positive it wasn’t anything to do with you. Don’t fret.

And then it had turned back into a waiting game until Peter finally texted him.

It was simple, small, sweet.

I miss you

It made Harley’s chest jump, and he immediately asked to go to the bathroom, ducking out of class and dialing Peter’s number again.

He waits and waits and waits, but Peter doesn’t pick up. He tries again, heart pounding and pacing down the hallway.

On attempt three, Peter finally picks up. “Harley.”

“Peter, honey, thank god. I was starting to get worried. You weren’t answering my texts and cancelling all our dates and I was- I just-”

“I’m sorry.” Peter sounds miserable. Tired and upset and confused. “I meant to but I kept freaking out and I didn’t know how to… Is there anyway I could convince you to come up to New York early?”

Harley frowns. He wants to see Peter, he’d drop everything for Peter any day but he has his own exams the following week, plus Junior Prom on the Friday. It’s not like he can really skip any of it. Plus, changing his plane tickets is going to be a hassle.

“I don’t know if I can. I might be able to fly up on the Saturday, but that’s still another nine days from now, and that only changes our plans by four. It’s not really…”

Peter sniffles. “I just- I really wanna see you. I miss you and things have been hard and I just want you here, you know. I miss you. It’s been, what? Three months?”

“I miss you too, sweetheart, I have exams next week. All week. I don’t mind skipping junior prom, it’ll probably be awful anyways considering the disaster that was homecoming last year. But I still need to be here until Friday.”

“I know, I know, I just-” Peter cuts himself off, voice trembling.

Harley checks his watch, knowing he’ll get another detention if he spends too much time out of class. “How about, for now at least, we’ll set up a Skype date for tonight, and then we’ll talk more about making another trip up.”

“Six?”

“Yeah, six is good. I’ll look up plane tickets for this weekend, but I can’t make any promises, okay?”

Peter sniffles again. “Okay. ‘m sorry for worrying you.”

“That’s okay, darlin’. Don’t you worry about me. Are you home?”

“May grounded me when she found out I was skipping curfew. And when she saw just how badly I was skipping curfew, just how little sleep I was getting, she made me take a sick day to sleep but I couldn’t stop thinking about you and how much stress I must’ve been putting you under.”

Harley sighs, already knowing from Tony just how little sleep Peter had been getting. It makes his heart ache with the idea that he’s not there. He’s not close enough to wrap Peter up and protect him from everything, take care of him. He wishes, more than anything, that he could do that, that he could be there.

“I’ve gotta get back to class before I get a detention, but Skype call at six, okay? And we’ll talk about everything, make everything better, alright, honey?”

“Thank you, you’re the best, you know that? I really don’t deserve you, Harls,” Peter says, voice slipping into a quiet murmur. “You’re too good to me.”

Harley shakes his head, voice dipping too. “You deserve the world, darling, I swear.”

* Seeing Peter, through the old camera lens, makes everything make a little more sense.

The dark circles under his eyes, the puffiness of his tear-stained cheeks, his bloodshot eyes, the slight tremble of his shoulder, the bruises mapped out across the pale expanse of his skin. It makes Harley’s chest hurt so badly, makes his heart ache to be close to his boyfriend again.

“Hi, sweetheart,” Harley starts, voice rough and pained. “Everything okay?”

Peter shrugs, bottom lip sticking out. “I miss you. I wish you were here. The only thing I want right now is a hug from you.”

“Oh, I know, honey. I’m so sorry I can’t be there all the time to take care of you, to protect you, to hold you. I’m sorry I can’t. I’m sorry this has been so hard on you.”

“I know this has been hard on you too,” Peter says, obviously trying his best not to cry. “I’m sorry I’ve been so distant lately. I just- I got so caught up in- in feeling like this and working so hard to be better, I didn’t think I deserved to have your support.”

Harley looks down, not wanting to cry in front of Peter who obviously needs him to be strong and stable for him. “You deserve everything and more.”

“You wouldn’t say that if you knew.”

“Knew what?” Harley says and then quickly rephrases, “Whatever it is, that’s not going to change how I feel about you, that’s not going to change how much you deserve.”

Peter frowns, lip trembling and eyes watering as he turns his gaze to his hands. “Last week, I was out patrolling and there was this fight happening out on the streets and I went to go save them, I wanted to protect her. She was- She was young, like maybe mid-twenties, and she was so scared and alone and I tried- I tried so fucking hard but-”

“Honey-”

“I got shot,” Peter says, voice breaking. “In the hip. I fell- I didn’t want- I couldn’t-”

Harley shakes his head, wanting nothing more than to hug his boyfriend, press a kiss to his forehead, hold him and make all of his pain go away. “I’m so sorry, honey.”

“She died,” Peter chokes out, tears falling down his flushed cheeks. “She got shot and I tried to swing her to the hospital and keep her awake and get the bad guy, but with my stupid hip, I- I didn’t make it in time. I can’t- I-”

“Oh, sweetheart, that’s not on you. You can’t save everyone, you know that. I’m so sorry that happened, but just because some bad guy hurt a civilian, doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to be cared about. It doesn’t mean you have to overwork yourself to make up for something that wasn’t your fault.”

Peter lets out a quiet pained noise, shoulders shaking. “It was my fault. I was right there. I should’ve gotten up and saved her. I should’ve been faster, more careful, something. I could’ve saved her.”

Realizing just how bad this is, the overwhelming need to wrap Peter up in a hug, makes itself obvious so he grabs the emergency credit card Tony had given him, and books the next flight to New York, leaving the next day. It’s not cheap, but he’s sure Tony would understand.

“Darling, it’s not your fault. I know it seems like it is, but you weren’t the one holding the gun, you weren’t the one who put her life in danger, the only one at fault is that bad guy, okay? This isn’t on you.”

Peter sniffles, ducking his head. “I visited the family yesterday as Peter Parker not as Spider-Man, well I told them it was me, but I told them what happened, how sorry I was.”

“Did they say it was your fault?”

His boyfriend deflates, shaking his head. “No, they said exactly what you did. That it’s not my fault, I tried, I made sure she wasn’t alone when she went. I know logically, there was nothing I could do, but- I still feel like I need to work harder to make sure it doesn’t happen to anybody else. That I won’t lose anyone else.”

“It’s not up to you to save everybody, Peter,” Harley says, hoping he can get it through to his boyfriend for at least tonight. “You’re the only superhero within the Avengers who actually cares about the little guy, it can’t be just your responsibility to save everybody in New York. That’s not feasible, right?”

“Right,” Peter agrees, finally slumping. “I know you���re right. I know I’m being crazy. I know it’s not up to me to save everyone, Tony’s had that conversation with me about a thousand times. I know, I just- I feel like I’m falling apart.”

Harley nods sympathetically, offering a small smile. “You’re definitely sleep-deprived, that can’t help. How much have you been doing?”

“I’ve been patrolling for like twelve hours every night,” Peter admits quietly. “May’s been working overnights so as long as I can get home before she gets home around six, she wasn’t going to find out. But I’d only get like an hour or two of sleep before school and exam prep and homework- I don’t know. Too much, really.”

“I just bought tickets to come home for the long weekend,” Harley says, smiling when Peter’s whole face lights up. “Tomorrow night, I’ll be flying out and you’ve got me until Monday morning. As long as you promise we’ll spend a little time studying for our exams.”

Peter quickly swipes a hand over his cheeks, ridding himself of the tears that still linger. “You know you didn’t have to do that. I could’ve hung in there for another week or two.”

“If I’m being honest, it’s only half because of you. It’s also half for my benefit.”

“Because you need me to reteach you all of calculus?” Peter teases sweetly, smile making his eyes sparkle.

Harley rolls his eyes, smiling back. “Believe it or not, I have missed you too. Not for your genius brain, somehow understanding how to do stupid calculus, but for you. You know I’ve gotten more detentions these last two years than ever before because of how often I’ve been caught texting you or just daydreaming about you.”

“I don’t want to put your education in jeopardy,” Peter says, mostly joking but there’s an undertone of guilt.

“You’re not. That’s all on me. I think I’m really the bad influence here, not you.”

“You’re really coming all the way to New York? Just for this weekend? Just because I said I was upset?”

Harley rolls his eyes again, smiling softly. “You really doubt me? The things I’d do for you, Peter Parker, are so much bigger and higher than flying out to see you for a weekend.”

“You’re too good for me.”

“You won’t be saying that when I get there and physically force you to sleep if I have to. I’ll be your self-care enforcer all weekend. Eight hours of sleep, no Spider-Man outings, the exact number of calories your metabolism needs, everything.”

The love that fills Peter’s expression is so open and whole that Harley’s chest starts to hurt again, the same aching, fullness like he can’t possibly fit this much love inside his heart.

They talk throughout the night about what they’ve missed over the past couple weeks, of school and friends and Spider-Man and Tony, catching up on each other’s lives, until eventually Peter looks like he might pass out if he stays up for a moment longer, and Harley has to pack for the weekend, so they say their quiet goodbyes, see you soon’s bleeding into their every sentence with unbearable amounts of fondness.

And the next day, after a few hours’ plane ride, Harley makes it to the New York airport, dropping his luggage to catch his boyfriend in a tight hug, they finally murmur the three words they’d been holding close to their chest, I love you leaving their mouths between kisses like a promise.

Taglist: @littlemissagrafina  @spidey-reids-2003  @romeoandjulietyouwish @c-artara @shadedrose01 @likeaphoenix13 @pj-hermes-tonystark-obsessed  @you-get-killed-walk-it-off @kitkatwinchester  @emo-girl10 @justme--emily  @hold-our-destiny @imalivebecauseirondad @spiderman-peterman @dykeragee @maryserrao @heeeyitskay @parknerandirondad @lilacsandlilies4 @loveliestdisappointment {Let me know if you wanna be added or removed}

[harley-sunday]

The Draw (05)

Summary: The whirlwind starts at the 2018 ACE Comic Con in Phoenix but you’re not sure where it will end...

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x reader

Warnings: Language | Mentions of an abusive relationship

Word count: 4638

AN: A longer chapter this time, and if I’m honest, one of my favorites so far. I had so much fun coming up with the story she tells in this chapter, so I hope you like it too :) Also, thank you for all the comments, reblogs and likes so far, it means a lot! Let me know what you think of this one!

I don’t have a taglist, but if you follow Harley Sunday x Sebastian Stan you should see any update I post.

Masterlist

You open your mouth to say something, but don’t really know what, so instead you step aside and let him in, closing the door and leaning against it, arms crossed in front of your chest as you watch him walk inside and stop in front of the window, hands still in his pockets as he turns around, “You had a good time last night?”

You furrow your brows at the hint of anger you think you hear in his voice and it reminds you of all the times Mark called you out for having a good time without him, and it feels like you’re back in a room with your ex. You can feel yourself tense up, ready to defend yourself and he must sense it too because his expression changes as he studies you and for a moment there’s nothing but silence between you.

His hands are out of his pockets then and he takes a step towards you, which automatically makes you want to back away but you’re already flush against the door and so you hold out your hands to stop him, “Don’t.”

A worried look passes over his face but he stops and whispers, “Talk to me,”

Shaking your head ever so slightly, you try to suppress the memories from all the times you told Mark not to touch you even though you knew it would only make him angrier and you would ultimately pay the price later that night. At least Sebastian listens.

You take a deep breath and look somewhere over his shoulder when you say, “I just don’t understand why you are here. I mean, last night-”

“Hey,” he interrupts, his voice soft and it makes you look at him. He smiles a sad smile, “Last night, I fucked up, ok? And judging from your reaction I fucked up again just now,” his hand runs through his hair before rubbing his neck and he clears his throat, “I just didn’t want to leave things between us like this.”

“Why?” you ask, holding up your hands when he wants to say something, “You could have. I mean, you really don’t owe me anything.”

“I think I do-”

“Really you don’t,” you counter, but before you have a chance to say anything else he interrupts you.

“Ok fine, then I owe it to myself,” he takes a step towards you, slowly this time, “It’s just,” he hesitates, licking his lips before he continues, “I like you, ok?”

“Oh please,” you scoff, your defense mechanism up in full force now, because this is how Mark would always try to sweet talk his way back to you the day after. “You don’t even know me.”

“I know that you’re kind,” he offers, almost in a matter-of-fact kind of way.

You snort, because if it’s random traits he’s going to go with this is a lost cause.

“I know that you care,” he continues, without missing a beat, his eyes soft now and a smile playing on his lips, “and that you’re patient, rather comforting your nephew instead of pushing him up on stage with us. I know that you like to have a laugh, because apparently you have a wall of photos where nobody looks directly into the camera, which by the way, I still think is genius and I can’t wait to see one day,”

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and feel some of your defenses starting to crumble from how sincere he sounds.

“You’re down-to-earth, because none of this seems to faze you one bit and you have no idea how much that means to me.” There’s a hint of a grin when he continues,, “And even though you’re humble you’re also confident because God, last night you were wearing that dress as if it was made for you.”

Your cheeks heat up ever so slightly at his last observation and you drop your gaze, a little taken aback by everything he’s summed up, all the things he’s remembered about you. When you look up again you find him standing in front of you.

“I might not know everything about you, and maybe I never will, but from what I’ve gathered so far, you are a very likable person,” he smiles, the corners of his eyes wrinkling, “and I happen to like you very much.”

“Then what happened last night?” you ask, because even though you are still a little shocked from his confession, he still owes you an explanation.

“Remember what I said while we were in the lobby? How I’d ignore you until after the press was gone because of how vicious they are?” He runs a hand through his hair again, “Someone was taking pictures at the party and selling them to TMZ almost in real time,” he shakes his head, now looking angry, his hands balling into fists at his sides, “We did eventually find out who it was, but by then you had already left and-”

“Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“I wanted to, but my manager told me not to,” he starts, “she was afraid that talking to you would only draw attention to us.”

“So had her talk to me then,” you counter, still not convinced that this couldn’t have been handled differently.

“We didn’t want to risk it,” he offers. “They know she’s my manager, they know you’re not a regular at these parties, so any interaction, it would have been suspicious, and we just didn’t want to expose you to that.”

“You could have had Sheletta tell me,” you mutter quietly, but his honesty has already dissolved the little bit of your defenses that were left. Then, as an afterthought, “Or you could have just texted me.”

He curses quietly, but there’s a smile on his lips now, “I can’t believe we didn’t think of that.”

You sigh, “If you just would have started with this,”

“I know,” he agrees. “This is all new for me too, ok? I never,” he shakes his head, taking a deep breath, his hand finding yours, giving it a little squeeze, “I just didn’t want to fuck it up again. I’m sorry.”

“It’s ok, really, I just,” you shrug, “I wish you would have just told me last night.”

He nods, “Me too.” He gives your hand another squeeze before letting go, a shy smile on his lips.

“Well, you better make it up to me next time,” you say, a little surprised at your own courage.

He laughs for real then and nods, “I will,”

“Listen,” you start, because suddenly you remember Lauren’s words about getting a hot guy to take you to his hotel room and even though this is a totally different situation than what she was referring to, you still feel the heat rise to you cheeks. Determined not to make a fool of yourself you decide to change the subject, hoping it will get you to spend some more time with him, “I was about to go out and grab some breakfast, wanna join me?”

His smile drops then, “I’d love to, but I can almost guarantee there are photographers lined up outside by now and I-”

“It’s ok,” you reply quickly, not wanting him to feel guilty. You scrunch up your nose then, suddenly aware that he pretty much has to plan his every move carefully, “How do you deal with all this? I mean, for me it’s just been two days but already I’m mentally cursing every single one of them.”

He shrugs, “It’s part of the job.”

“Well, it shouldn’t be,” you reply stubbornly with a shake of your head, but at the same time knowing there’s nothing you can do to change it and it makes your heart go out to him. “So, how do you want to do this?” you ask, when you realize there’s no way you can walk out of the hotel together.

“I think you should go first,” he suggests, “if it’s ok I’ll stay here for another ten to fifteen minutes, just so they don’t link us.”

You nod and take a deep breath, trying to find some of the same courage you had a few minutes ago when you ask, “So, I’ll see you before I go home?”

“Definitely,” he says, and then his hand is on your shoulder and he kisses your cheek. There’s a grin on his face when he pulls back and looks at you, “I’ll text you.”

You let out a laugh, “Yeah, you do that.”

You spend the day wandering around the city, effectively hopping from coffee bar to coffee bar, trying a different drink at each of them, sometimes accompanied by a snack, falling a little more in love with Los Angeles as the day progresses, although you know it will never take New York’s place as your favourite city.

It’s almost five when you walk past an art gallery that has an interesting mix of paintings and sculptures displayed in the window and so you step inside, because you’re always on the lookout for new things for your home. The girl inside greets you with a smile and tells you to let her know if you need anything, otherwise letting you walk around in peace.

There are some interesting pieces spread across the gallery, one particular painting catching your eye - it’s a confetti of colors and swirls of happiness called Tomorrow and the longer you look at it the more you like it. You ask the girl if she can put it on hold for you, telling her you’ll come back on Monday to see if you still like it as much then, and she agrees, taking your details before handing you a business card, telling you she looks forward to seeing you again.

It’s almost like there’s a spring in your step as you walk back to the hotel, happy with how the day is turning out. Your brother calls then, and you sit down on one of the benches that are spread out across the city, answering the call with a grin, “Hey loser,”

“Takes one to know one,” he says, completing the spiel the two of you have perfected over the years, “You ok?”

You lean back, nodding, “Yeah, I am actually.”

“You had fun yesterday?”

“I did,” you reply, a smile on your lips, “it was amazing.” You decide to not bother him with the whole party debacle, instead telling him about your day in general and how good the movie was without giving anything away.

“So do I have to worry about you ending up in the tabloids, or no?” he asks, and you can just imagine the shit-eating grin he’s wearing now.

“You don’t,” you reassure him, but your voice sounds a little strained and you hope he doesn’t pick up on it. God if only he knew how suspicious you felt when you walked out of the hotel this morning, spotting at least three paparazzi across the street.

“Anything I can relay to the parents at Sunday dinner tomorrow?”

“Nah,” you shake your head even though he can’t see you. “Just tell them I’m enjoying the city.”

“Alright, well don’t call me unless it’s to let me know at what time Jake and I can pick you up Wednesday,” he says, suppressing what sounds like a yawn, which you know he only does to annoy you.

“Yeah, love you too,” you deadpan, but of course he’s already hung up by then and you whisper a quiet “Idiot,” to no one in particular.

You decide to grab a bite to eat at a restaurant close to your hotel, enjoying some of the best Mexican food you’ve ever had while texting back and forth with Lauren, updating her on the Sebastian situation, but for now leaving out the part where he told you he likes you, not wanting to jinx it. She too seems satisfied with his explanation and once again tells you to have fun.

It’s dark outside when you get back to your hotel and as soon as you open the door to your room you are met with the smell of roses.Putting your keycard into the slot of the light switch you gasp once you’ve turned on the light, revealing a beautiful bouquet of white and pink roses standing on your bedside table.

You smile when you spot a little card in between the flowers and walk over, taking it out as you sit down on the bed. It’s handwritten and you wonder if it’s Sebastian’s handwriting you’re looking at when you read

Thank you for being so understanding. I promise I will make it up to you. And that I’ll text you :) -S

You’ve been awake for a few hours already, after going to bed early last night, when your phone chimes, pulling you out of your blissful slumber. You open the text and smile when you read

This is day 1 of me making it up to you. There’s a car coming to pick you up at 11. -S

You look at the time on your phone, seeing it’s only nine and you still have some time left, glad that you don’t have to rush. You turn around so you’re on your back, rolling your phone over in your hand, wondering what he has in store for you and trying to figure out what to wear.

After a quick shower about an hour later you decide on a pair of dark blue jeans, a blue and white striped top and your favorite blue blazer, accompanied by your trusted white Converse, your hair in a loose braid, and everything you might need in your purse.

You arrive outside a couple of minutes early, but the car is already there and you recognize the driver from Friday, greeting him enthusiastically climbing into the backseat as he holds the door open for you. You try to get him to tell you where he’s taking you but he simply ignores you, turning up the radio as he pulls onto Santa Monica Boulevard, but you see him grinning in the rear view mirror.

You watch as the city passes you by, not sure which direction you’re even headed in until forty-five minutes later he pulls up at Marina del Rey, and drops you off the entrance, handing you a piece of paper with a dock number on it, telling you good luck with a smirk that makes you wonder what it is you’re being set up for.

You see a map of the marina then and locate the dock to be somewhere in the middle of basin C, which is conveniently right in front of you. As you walk down the pathway you see Sebastian’s already waiting for you on the dock, smiling widely, wearing dark blue trousers, a moss green sweater, and a green jacket, paired with white sneakers, looking like he just walked out of a fashion shoot. You bite your lip, sighing at how good he looks, but also suddenly very aware that your outfit effortlessly matches his.

He holds out this hand to help you onto the platform, not letting go as he kisses your cheek, “Hi,” pulling you out of your thoughts.

“Hi,” you smile before taking in the 30 ft yacht in front of you, whispering a quiet, “Wow.” You hear him chuckle beside you and you let out a laugh, “Well, it is a really nice boat,”

“Yeah,” he nods, but his eyes stay on you and you feel your cheeks heat up a bit. He lets go of your hand then and steps on board, before he takes your hand again and helps you down. The boat’s swaying a bit and you squeeze his hand as you try to steady yourself when you feel his other hand on your hip, “You ok?”

“Yeah, it’s just been a while since I was on a boat,” you say as you suddenly remember the holiday where you gave Nathan a blue eye because he hit you with a dead fish while your parents were busy trying to figure out how to navigate the boat they’d rented for the day through a shallow reef somewhere off the coast of Mexico. You remember wearing braces, so, “I must have been thirteen-”

“And how long ago was that exactly?” Sebastian asks with a grin, both hands on your hips now as another boat passes yours and the water gets a little rough.

“Oh, smooth,” you laugh, realizing then that you don’t know how old he is either. You decide to give him this one, “Twenty-one years ago,”

“Hmm,” he hums, “It would have been twenty-three for me.”

“So basically you’re an old man,” you counter with a grin, laughing when he lets go of you and puts a hand to his chest, pretending to be hurt by your comment.

“An old man who will not hesitate to throw you overboard if you keep this up,” he mutters under his breath, as he throws you what you suppose is a threatening look, but failing because halfway through his act a passing boat sounds its horn and it makes him jump, cursing quietly in what sounds like Romanian. He looks at you again after he’s regained his composure, “What do you say we get out of here?”

The boat comes with a captain and a deckhand, but you don’t really see them anymore once you’re out on open waters and so you almost forget they’re there. You’re sitting on the top deck, over the cabin, enjoying the sun and the view of the shoreline you’re cruising next to, Sebastian sitting opposite to you, busying himself with opening a bottle of wine. He hands you two glasses and fills both of them, before taking one from you and holding it up.

You clink your glass against his, smiling, “Cheers,”

“To not fucking it up again,” he says at the same time, making you laugh.

You take a sip of your wine, enjoying the taste, and lean back in the soft pillows, the smile not leaving your face as you study Sebastian from behind your sunglasses. His jacket has come off and he’s rolled up the sleeves of his sweater, and from the way he’s flexing his muscles you can tell he knows you’re looking at him even though he’s facing away from you, apparently very interested in the shoreline that’s on his right. You let out a content sigh at the sight in front of you, because honestly, if it would never go any further than just this one day you’re spending with him you’d be happy too.

He turns his head towards you then, a shit-eating grin on his face when he catches you looking at him, “What’s on your mind?”

“You mostly,” you want to say, but you swallow the words and decide to go with the story you hinted at earlier, “How I gave my brother a black eye the last time I was on a boat.”

“Please tell me about it,” he says with an amused look on his face, stretching his legs towards you, his arm draped over the pillows, wineglass dangling from his hand.

You clear your throat and start the story, telling him how, at thirteen, you and your brother pretty much fought all the time and how things got so bad in the weeks leading up to the family vacation that your mother threatened to just cancel it all together several times. Your father, being the rational man that he is, actually made you and your brother sign a contract the day before you left, because if there’s one thing thirteen-year olds are perfectly capable of, it’s being reasonable, right?

Of course he knew he had to come up with a reward and so the contract stated that you’d each get a hundred dollars if you could keep your mother from yelling her infamous line, “I have had it up to here with you two!” during the holiday, the flight to and from your destination included.

You always did admire your father’s sense of humor.

Both you and your brother signed on the dotted line without giving it too much thought. And during the first week it seemed like your father had actually made himself a good deal, because you were on your best behavior and your mother was actually a little stunned at how well her little monsters were behaving.

But then week two came along and you’re still not sure if it was the bad weather that had plagued the area for the last three days and would continue do so for the rest of the week, or if it just was because your father got bored, not having to keep you and your brother from trying to kill each other, but he started making little comments to both of you. Like telling Nathan that you had said he was red as lobster after he got sunburned on the first day, or explaining to you how it was your brother who had filled you shoes with sand the other day. And so on the last day, when the weather finally cleared and your mother decided it would be a good idea to rent a boat and confine you all to an even tighter space after being holed up in the apartment all week, you and your brother were on the brink of war, yet still acting reasonably civil whenever your parents were close-by.

To this day you are convinced it was actually your father who edged Nathan on, no matter how much he still denies it, because you saw him whispering something to your brother right before Nathan walked up to you and slapped you in the face with the dead fish they caught moments before, whispering something about how payback is a bitch.

You were beyond reason by then and pulled your arm back, your fingers curling up into a fist, covering your thumb like, ironically, your brother had taught you, and you hit him with all your might, your fist connecting with his eye in a matter of seconds.  You heard your mother scream at both you and your brother from the helm, while your dad kept yelling at her that she should steer right if she wanted to keep the boat from running into the reef next to you. It was chaos and it was every man and woman for themselves. You felt pretty smug about hitting your brother but you didn’t even get to enjoy your victory because you lost your footing then, the boat rocking to a sudden halt and you looked around, trying to figure out what happened.

“Woman!” your dad roared at your mother. “What the hell did you just do?”

Your brother and you both looked at each other startled by your father’s sudden outburst, Nathan holding his hand over his eye, whimpering quietly, before you turned to your mother, who was standing beside the anchor porthole, the anchor now somewhere on the ocean floor. Her feet were wide apart, hands on her hips, and you swear you could see smoke coming out of her ears when she said through gritted teeth, “I have had it up to here with you three!”

Your brother let out a quiet, “Shit,” as it dawned on him that you’d lost the money, but you turned around quickly, whispering a quiet, “Shut up, Nate, we’re still good.” He looked at you, confused so you explained in a rushed whisper, “She said, ‘you three’ not ‘you two’, so technically we didn’t break the contract and Dad still has to pay us.” Realizing you were right he grinned, and held out his free hand for you to fist bump.

“And that’s the story of how I gave my brother a black eye and walked away with a hundred dollars,” you conclude, but by then Sebastian’s laughing so hard that you doubt he’s heard the last part.  

He’s let his head fall back, holding his sunglasses in one hand while he clutches his stomach with the other, his laughter so infectious that you can’t help but join him. When he looks at you after a while you can see there are tears in his eyes from laughing so hard and it sets you off again.

“That was the best story ever,” Sebastian says in between taking breaths as he tries to calm himself down. Shaking his head he adds, “It seems like you have a great family,”

“Meh, they’re alright,” you shrug, but smiling to let him know that in fact, they are pretty awesome.

“How much older is your brother?” Sebastian asks, filling up both your glasses, emptying the first bottle.

“Five minutes,” you say, watching as he starts connecting the dots, smiling when he does, “We’re twins.”

“Wow,” he leans forward, “What’s that like?”

“Annoying mostly,” you say with a shrug, “we don’t really look much alike, so people never really believe us when we tell them.”

“So not identical then?” Sebastian asks.

“Nope,” you shake your head, “and none of that, I can feel it when he’s hurt, kind of thing either. Thank God.” You take a sip of your wine and watch him do the same, a comfortable silence between you now. He seems lost in his thoughts and you wonder what he’s thinking about, deciding to return the question he asked you earlier, “What’s on your mind?”

He smiles, nodding his head ever so slightly, “Fair question.” He sit up a little more and sets down his glass, “I just remembered that I actually asked my Mom for an older brother for Christmas two years in a row,” he chuckles, “I must have been eight or nine because we’d just moved to Austria, and I thought that Austrian Santa would be able to pull some strings for me. Turns out he doesn’t really stock older brothers either.”

“I would have given you mine in a heartbeat,” you say with a grin, “especially around that age, God he was so annoying from age five and up,” then, after taking another sip of wine, “still is, by the way.”

Sebastian chuckles, “I can’t wait to meet him someday.”

You hear him say something about going to get some food from downstairs and you nod absentmindedly, because it’s you who’s lost in thoughts then. After the comment he made about wanting to see your photo wall it’s now the second time he’s hinting at being a part of your life even after this weekend is over and you don’t really know what to do with this or what this even means.

Biting your lip you debate whether or not to text Lauren for some expert advice, but decide against it when Sebastian comes back up again, carrying what looks like a picnic basket. You giggle, “Off to see your grandma, little red riding hood?” and it earns you a glare that makes you laugh out loud.

“You just wait and see,” he says as he places the basket next to you, sitting down on the other side of it, before he opens it and looks at you expectantly.

“Oh wow,” you breathe when you see it’s filled with bowls full of fresh fruit, cut up sandwiches, mini quiches, chocolate cupcakes, and what you hope are pistache macarons. You smile up at him, “It looks amazing.”

“It better, I spent all morning in the kitchen,” he replies and for a moment you wonder if he’s serious but then he grins, scrunching up his nose as he laughs, “You should have seen your face,”

You shake your head and fake laugh, “God, you’re so funny, Stan.”

He takes a little bow, his arms outstretched as he dips his head, “Thank you, I’ll be here all day,”

“Dork.”

[britesparc]

Weekend Top Ten #461

Top Ten Good Things That Actually Happened in 2020

Well, thank God that’s over, am I right?

It feels kinda weird to be sitting here looking back over the wreckage and general weirdness of 2020, a year that pretty much defines the word “anxiety”. I have a lot to be thankful for: none of us died, for a start; we all seemed to avoid The Plague in its entirety for the whole year. We still have a house, we still have food, we always had enough toilet paper, and above all we had each other. It was hard, it was long, it sucked a great deal at times, but there are substantially worse hands to be dealt all things considered.

Anyway, amongst all the crap, there were some good things, too. And I don’t mean the end-year highs of them finding a vaccine, Biden beating Trump, and us narrowly avoiding No Deal by eating a ton of rotten mud instead of actual shit. No, throughout the year, there were actually some things that happened that were genuinely good; great, even.

And so once again, with no further ado, here are my ten favourite things. Like usual, these are, y’know, things that I watched or played or whatever. I don’t go on about my great kids being great, or the fact that I finally finished writing and formatting enough children’s books to start showing them to agents. But my kids were both elected their respective class’s reps to the school council, which is pretty badass. Here you go. Ten good things. Watch them on catch-up, or whatever.

Mega Mando: without a doubt the best “thing” that I saw was the second season of The Mandalorian. Managing to be both an event-of-the-week show (a heist! An infiltration! A siege!) as well as a long-form narrative; feeling distinct and its own thing but tying into so many aspects of Star Wars; full of absolutely excellent scenes and direction and performances; and holy crap what an ending. When you watch a few of these kinds of shared-universe genre shows, this sort of thing is a rarity to the point of my never having seen it before. Seasons that are too long? Filler episodes? Disappointing lore? A “thirteen-hour movie”? Mando swerves all of these things and – notwithstanding my love for The Last Jedi – emerges as possibly the best thing Star Wars has done since at least the classic LucasArts games of the late nineties.

Series SeXy: finally the new consoles came out, and I got an Xbox Series X. It was quite a ride for yours truly: I managed to successfully pre-order one from Microsoft directly; it turned up on the day of release, except it was late in the evening and the kids were around so I couldn’t open it; then, after briefly testing it, I shoved it back in its box till Christmas. Honestly, you wanna talk about anticipation much? It was literally in my house and I still didn’t properly set it up till the evening on Christmas Day. Anyway: it’s great. It just works, y’know? It’s a beautiful boxy delight, with its chunky green holes and its shiny edges. It makes all my games look amazing, it’s so fast and buttery-smooth. It’s like upgrading a PC, but far more successful and expansive an upgrade than I was ever able to do when I was actually upgrading a PC. Anyway, it’s great. It even runs Cyberpunk 2077.

Lockdown Crossing: Animal Crossing: New Horizons arrived at exactly the right time. Lockdown was starting, everything was darkness and fear, people were dying, we needed distractions, and here was a game about being happy and friendly and doing up your house and digging up fossils. It was perfect. It was also a great social game, with my kids loving sending presents to each other, or meeting up with their uncle (who they literally saw only once this year). A great game at just the right time.

The Stream Where it Happens: Mando might have been my TV highlight of the year, but film-wise my favourite new movie was not only not really a movie but was also several years old. Hamilton popped up almost by surprise on Disney+, and it was the first time I’d been able to experience it – and it was just as good as I’d heard. At this point you don’t need me to rhapsodise about the lyricism, performance, staging, and West Wing references; I think you either get it or you don’t, and I got it big time. Weirdly, experiencing it at home made some kind of perfect sense, and it made up for missing out on the big cinematic musicals such as In the Heights and West Side Story.

Fantabulous Harley Quinn: Harley rocked on both the big and the small screen this year. Birds of Prey, or whatever it ended up being called, was actually the last film I saw at the cinema before the Big Shutdown of 2020. It’s not perfect, sure, but it’s a hell of a lot of fun; Margot Robbie is a blast, it’s really funny, and is edgy in just the right way, rather than feeling like it’s trying too hard. I was more sceptical going into the Harley Quinn animated show (starring Penny off The Big Bang Theory, for goodness’ sake!), as “sweary adult Harley Quinn cartoon” is pretty high on my checklist of “things that are trying to be edgy”, but I’m glad I gave it a chance, because it followed a very similar line to the movie. Hilarious, violent, filthy, but also offering a subtle unpeeling of Harley’s psyche and giving her more character development than she gets in most of her comic appearances. It was a great year for Harley. Just wish they’d show the second season of her show.

All This Plus Disney: yeah, I’ve already singled out Mando and Ham (great unmade detective show, there), but I’ve gotta say Disney+ in general has been a huge highlight. From getting all yer Marvels and yer Star Wars in one place, to a wealth of preschool and middle-grade shows for the kids (my youngest mainlined Vampirina this Spring), to being a home for loads of high-quality family films from years gone by (it was the prime destination for many a family movie night), to, well, the future. WandaVision launches in a couple of weeks, followed by dozens of great shows and movies; not just ones about sad superheroes, either – personally I can’t wait for the likes of Chip & Dale. I’ve gotta say, I’ve been really impressed, and once they roll out the sexier, swearier Fox stuff later this year, it’ll only get better.

A Schitt Year: we got into Schitt’s Creek rather late (like many a sitcom – I think we only discovered Brooklyn Nine-Nine and The Good Place in the last eighteen months or so), but it’s truly sublime, and it only got better and better as it built towards it joyous climax (ewww, David!). It was a great show about a family of people who were kinda arseholes, but were really very nice underneath it all, and how this town of people who were sorta idiots but kinda nice underneath it all brought out the better natures of everybody. It was, basically, a show about the all-encompassing power of being Nice. I’m so, so happy that it achieved huge success in its final season, winning literally all the Emmys. Hot Schitt.

Top Trek: 2020 was bookended by the two newest incarnations of People Boldly Going, Picard and Discovery. I was super excited to check in with Jean-Luc and pals nearly twenty years since we’d last seen them; although the show wasn’t a Best of Both Worlds-style masterpiece, it presented a believably fractured vision of the Federation, and a sadder, wearier Picard. It got a bit bogged down in Borg stuff, and I wasn’t totally sold on the ending, but I’m very, very eager to spend more time with these characters in future seasons. Discovery, meanwhile, flashed forward, with a season set about 900 years after Picard, and gave us what amounts to the closest Star Trek gets to a dystopia. It took its time settling in, but by crikey it pulled its threads together for a great run of episodes as we gear up to the finale later this week. I’ve very much enjoyed Star Trek on TV this year, and I’m really looking forward to whatever comes next.

Netflickin’ Ass: on the one hand, it was quite nice to see streaming services picking up the slack during the cinema closures, with many films winding up on Prime Video or Netflix or wherever; there were also those “Premium VOD” options, such as Trolls World Tour or Mulan, but I never quite fancied parting with so much cash for a rental (“Only if it’s Black Widow or Wonder Woman,” I said… so, yeah, see you later this month for the latter!). One trend I did notice, however, was Netflix also picking up the slack of “big Hollywood star-driven action movie”. Y’know, the stuff that had Van Damme or Seagal in it in the ‘90s, before everything became franchised (Mission: Impossible could almost fall under this banner, but Cruise became too huge and the series itself eventually was the draw, I’d argue). Anyway, these sorts of films nowadays are low-rent DTV fodder starring slumming former megastars, so fair play to Netflix for resurrecting the genre and giving it a fresh coat of paint and lease of life. Stuff like Extraction and The Old Guard weren’t exactly masterpieces, but they were solidly entertaining with great central performances and some nicely turned-out action. Looking forward to more of the same – bigger, better, and with more people getting killed with rakes!

A Summer of Anticipation: it was a weird year – well, yeah, of course it was, you know, you were there. But one of the things that was weird was that so much was going to happen. I mean, there were loads of things I was looking forward to as the year began; from the MCU and Star Wars shows to big movies, smaller movies, and – of course – new games consoles. And as the year went on, amidst the angsty real-world wait-and-see, there was also a steady drip of news and non-news as we held on to find out which films were pushed back, which were skipping the cinema, and mostly what the games would look like on the new consoles. Barely a week seemed to go by without new rumours, new stories, and new leaked videos or imagery. It was maddening and infuriating but also, weirdly, glorious. This strange ongoing sense of anticipation and wonder, even if quite often the news ended up being disappointing as more and more big hitters slipped to 2021 (everything from Bond to Halo to pretty much the whole MCU). But like an entire year made up of Christmas Eves, it felt for the longest time that anything was possible… just round the corner.

See? It wasn’t all bad. And maybe this year we’ll get to enjoy all the stuff we thought we’d enjoy in 2020! I mean, at the very least, Trump’s gonna be gone… right?