#.....sometimes i wonder if i do sound incredibly insufferable when i answer messages ;;;;;;;

[stormyoceans]

hey babymon, don't you think jojo could have seen all of sea's countless phone calls with a half-naked force, seen sfk interview and thought 'damn it, this should work', seen crying boys on lol and got a vision of the most untethered drama with ex-bfs? in any case, im crazy and have repeatedly reviewed ep in search of clues. sea is a musician and he would really suit first as a bf (but god forbid forcing first to sing, this is clearly not his strong suit)

OH ABSOLUTELY!!!!!!!!

i mean casting can be a very long and complicated process that actually involves a lot of people, and unfortunately the director doesn't always have the last word in it (if the executive producer pulls rank in the final choice then there isn't much that anyone can do), but directors know what to look for between actors, they know when two people just - for lack of a better word - click. p'x decided to pair jimmy and sea up just by watching them interact with each other outside of an official audition, which was a big gamble, but it paid off

this may sound a bit creepy, but directors are ALWAYS watching, because that's a big part of their job: to watch and really see what works and what doesn't, not only on-camera but off it too. sand's ex may not be one of the main characters of the show, but potentially is someone who's gonna have scenes with both sand and top, so i have no doubt that p'jojo spent a good amount of time observing all the people interacting with first and force to understand which one could work better with them

and you know, im not saying sea is the only one who could fit the role, but also it's undeniable that he is close to force and that he has a surprisingly natural chemistry with first SOOOOOOO. NOT TO REPEAT MYSELF AND BE AN INSUFFERABLE CLOWN BUT SEA AS SAND'S EX IS SO REAL

[imagines-ahs]

Chapter Seven - Black.

Summary: Wilhemina Venable felt it was finally time to leave Kineros Robotics and get a job with people who weren’t such morons like Jeff and Mutt. What she didn’t expect, however, was for her new boss to be so damn insufferable. She didn’t expect to fall in love with her, either.

Tag List: @devriesgoode @mistysswampmud @paulsonsratched @msvenablx (message me to be added if interested!)

Upstairs, in the kitchen, Billie Dean poured herself some coffee. The office was still empty, and her thoughts actually had room to be heard, for once. The building was new, so there were no spirits trapped. Restaurant… Wilhemina had eaten at a restaurant today. Billie Dean couldn’t help but wonder why she didn’t eat at the office. They had talked about it, and she knew Wilhemina shared the same opinions when it came to the food she provided. Is it because of me? Billie shook the thought off. Perhaps Venable only needed some alone time after their talk in the morning. Chattering arose from the hallway, indicating people were coming back. Billie Dean walked that way, stopping at the doorframe with a small smile. People greeted her, and she greeted everyone back. Everyone arrived but Wilhemina. Ready to start working, Billie Dean began turning around. From the corner of her eye, however, she caught Emma placing a box on Wilhemina’s table. Baker’s Bakery. 

Venable took no more than thirty minutes to get back at the office. She needed to work, and the Valium had already calmed her down enough. The room was quieter than usual, and now with a clear head, a part of her felt bad for leaving Emma like that. The other part, however, still thought it was all just a game. When Wilhemina saw the box on her table, she couldn’t help but bite her lip. Brown eyes avoided Emma, walking quietly to her chair and sitting down without making a sound. She began to type down, doing anything to avoid talking to her. But Emma got up and walked to her table, as Wilhemina was sure she would. 

“Can we talk?” Emma asked softly, nearly begging. Wilhemina usually enjoyed when people begged, but realistically, Emma had been incredibly nice to her, and the only thing saying she was messing with her was, after all, her mind. And Venable had learned her mind was often wrong. I am a fuck up, after all. She nodded. “Kitchen?”

“Sure.” Wilhemina got up and followed Emma that way. As they got there, Emma pulled them to the balcony. It was empty. 

“Please, just tell me what happened. Was it something I said?” Emma’s green eyes now carried a wet shimmer to them. Wilhemina’s chest felt heavy. How is it fair? 

“No… I…” Venable had a hard time speaking. She licked her lips—they stung a little where the cut was—doing her best to open her shell. But her shell was locked, and she hated herself for it. “I…” Was she really willing to dump all of her trauma on her? To share a fraction of how fucked up she was? She’ll never want me around again. Something inside Wilhemina feared she was losing the closest thing to a friend she had in years. A sigh left her lips. Once again, Venable was defeated by her monsters. 

Emma stared at her with huge green eyes, begging for an answer. When she realized there was none, she gulped softly. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable… it didn’t occur to me that you could not… be into women.” Wilhemina frowned. “I’m so used to my own world, I forget people are different than me.” How was it possible Emma expressed herself so well? Venable could only wish she was like that. 

“It’s… it’s not that…” Venable shifted her weight from leg to leg. She avoided Emma’s eyes. It’s not that she didn’t want to explain things, it’s that she couldn’t get herself to explain them. I sound like a scared child. Wasn’t that what Wilhemina was, after all? 

Emma nodded. She looked down for a second. “Can we try it again, sometime?” Wilhemina nodded, but again didn’t say anything. “Okay… I’m sorry, still. I’ll let you work.” With a small, sad smile, Emma left Wilhemina alone in the balcony. 

Venable sighed loudly. She leaned against the wall, nerves screaming. Why am I so messed up? There was a reason her only friend was Purpura. After a minute, she got back to the office. She was being paid for that, after all. 

The afternoon dragged itself for Billie, who read article upon article regarding the ranch they were going to film at today—the story was absolutely brutal. In the fifties, a teenager had killed the whole family with their bare hands. Years later, a woman cut her pregnant belly open and killed the baby and the father. When another family moved in, the father burned everyone alive, including himself. To top things off, the property had worked as an illegal brothel in the nineties, where more than ten clients wore brutally killed by a few of the prostitutes working there. The ranch had been vacant ever since. Billie Dean’s stomach already began to twist; the energy was going to be dark. I’m going to need a lot of white light. She had a feeling the place carried a deep, dark root to it. No ordinary property had a history like that. Something wanted that house, that energy, that suffering. Even between all these horrible stories, Billie caught her mind slipping to lunch; to what could have happened with Venable. The blood on her lip had been very suspicious. When the clock hit three p.m., Billie Dean leaned back on her chair and stretched softly. Her eyes had begun to fall close, which indicated she needed some coffee. Lazily, she got up and followed to the kitchen. Jenny worked on her computer, typing frantically and making calls all afternoon. Billie needed a break from all the typing and talking. She carried the small sketchbook with her, and after getting some coffee and sitting down on the table, she began to scribble on it. She scribbled and scribbled and scribbled nonstop until the clacking of heels caught her attention. Emma entered the kitchen. “Hi, Emma,” Billie Dean smiled up at her. 

“Hey.” Emma offered her a small smile as she sat down beside her on the table. Her eyes closed, and she leaned back. 

Billie Dean frowned. “Everything okay?” Emma was usually talkative and energetic. 

With a sigh, Emma looked at Billie Dean. “I really shouldn’t talk about my love life with my boss…”

“Oh, sush. Just tell me.” Billie Dean closed the sketchbook and leaned closer. She didn’t want to simply be a boss for her employees; she wanted friends. Even though Billie now had fame and success, that didn’t mean she had a lot of people she could count on— most people wanted to take advantage of her status. She missed being a person. And even though in the beginning Emma had been another one to get starstruck by her, she was much better about it, now. 

“Well…” Emma took a deep breath. “You know Wilhemina? The new executive?” Billie nodded. And her mind already wandered to what she thought was coming. Billie Dean knew Emma was into women, that had never been a secret between the two. “I find her interesting. I took her out for lunch and tried testing the waters… flirting a little. I think she got really uncomfortable by it.” 

Billie Dean blinked a few times as she assimilated the information. Emma was flirting with Wilhemina? Billie would have never thought Venable was Emma’s type. “Why so?” 

Emma shrugged. “She wanted to leave all of a sudden. We had ordered dessert, but she didn’t even bother about it.” So that was what had happened. That was why Wilhemina looked so off when they met earlier. Billie couldn’t help but wonder if Emma had been too strong in her approach. “I mean—we did talk when I came back to the office. I thought maybe she’s just not into women but she told me it was not it.” So, she’s into women, too. “I don’t know.” 

Billie didn’t really know what to say. By one side, she was positively shocked to find out Wilhemina was into women. By the other, she was worried perhaps Emma had done something else. Venable was too distraught to be only uncomfortable by some innocent flirting. “Did you—did you do anything? I mean—tried to kiss her or something?”

“Oh, no.” Emma quickly shook her head. “No, no. We only talked. I tried nothing physical.” 

Billie nodded slowly. She pondered on whether or not to tell Emma she had bumped onto Wilhemina earlier. I probably should talk to Wilhemina, first. “I suppose if you two talked and she said everything is alright…” Still, why didn’t Wilhemina mention she was having lunch with Emma? Why did she have the need to lie about it? Did Emma try something?

“I guess…” Emma sighed. “Yeah, I’ll try talking to her again, later.” Billie nodded. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” Billie Dean smiled a little. And then she bit her lower lip, eyes falling down to the table and back up at Emma. Why was she… bothered? Does Wilhemina even date? Venable was so closed into herself, it was hard to imagine her actually dating someone. It piqued her curiosity. “So… Wilhemina, huh?” Emma’s cheeks went from pale to deep red in a matter of seconds. She laughed, palms covering her face. Billie let out a laugh as well. “She is beautiful, no judging.” 

“She is!” Emma whisper-yelled. “There’s something about her… I don’t know.” Her green eyes looked over to the door, checking if it was empty still. 

I know. Billie Dean knew. She knew exactly what Emma was talking about, and it was scary to realize that, perhaps, she knew it a little too well. Just because she likes women, doesn’t mean I’m attracted to her. Billie had a hard time with it, sometimes. Sometimes. “I understand.” 

“Yeah…” Emma licked her lips. “I don’t know, though. We’ll see.”

“Good luck.” Billie chuckled sweetly. 

“Thank you.” Emma laughed. “And you, Miss Medium To The Stars, got your eye on anyone?”

Billie Dean couldn’t help but blush softly. She bit her lip. What was the answer to that? Yes? No? Maybe? She didn’t know. “Not that I can think of.”

“No? What about that makeup artist you told me about?”

“Oh, it didn’t work out.” Billie Dean brushed it off.

“Bummer.” Emma pouted. “Well, I’ll let you go back to your rest. Sorry about it.”

“Emma, it’s alright. Truly. I don’t mind.” Why did everyone act like they were bothering her? Being famous didn’t make her less of a person, for Christ’s sake!

“Thank you,” Emma said once again. Timidly, she left the kitchen. 

Billie Dean played with the pencil between her fingers. She didn’t want to stop Wilhemina from working so she could, quote on quote, gossip about what had happened. But she was a little worried, given Wilhemina had been so distraught. She decided on waiting; they would have some alone time while going to the ranch anyways. 

The end of the afternoon arrived quickly. Wilhemina had nearly managed to fix the company’s policy, which she found to be a job done fast, even to herself. When Emma got up, Venable already knew she was going to come to her table. Again. Emma seemed to be really shaken with everything that had happened, and even though Wilhemina appreciated it, she felt weirdly overwhelmed. Turning her computer off, she looked up right when Emma stopped over her table. “Can we have a chat?”

“Wilhemina, are you ready?” Billie Dean approached them from behind, resting a hand on Venable’s shoulder. She was glad she walked when she did, for she wanted to talk to Wilhemina before Emma could do anything else. She still found the whole story to be suspicious. 

A little bit lost, Venable looked up at Billie Dean. Her blonde hair fell down and framed her face like an angel. Floratta Blue invaded her nostrils, as well as the faint smell of tobacco. She nodded, and with apologetic eyes, she turned to Emma. Emma shook it off. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Okay.” Wilhemina smiled softly. Emma turned around to leave, and so she got up to finish gathering her stuff.

Billie Dean took a step back, watching her quietly. She leaned against the wall, brown eyes studying the way Venable moved. It still somewhat baffled her mind that Emma was into her… it had stuck on her brain. Once Billie Dean realized Wilhemina was ready to leave, she decided to break the ice she herself had made. “Are you feeling better?”

Another conversation. Wilhemina had talked enough for today. But Billie Dean was so… charming, it was impossible to deny her a conversation, especially when her eyes carried that softer color to them. “I am. Thank you.”

“That’s good to hear.” Billie Dean offered her a small smile. “Before we go, I wanted to talk to you about Emma.” 

Uh oh. Wilhemina stood a little better, hand gripping her cane. “Yes?”

“She told me about what happened during lunch, but I worried she could be forgetting a few details. Did she do anything?” Billie Dean didn’t want to pry, but it was way more important to make sure Venable was alright. 

Venable frowned. “What do you mean?”

“You were really distraught when I saw you.”

Shit. The last thing Venable wanted right now was to explain herself to Billie. And the fact that Emma had told her God knows what about their lunch caused her skin to grow hot in shame. She gulped quietly and lifted her head a little higher. “Emma did nothing wrong. I simply forgot my wallet.”

“Wilhemina…” Her walls are high again. Billie would have to approach it carefully. “Emma told me she’s romantically interested in you. All I’m saying is that if she crossed a line, you can tell me and I’ll fix it. You’re not going to get in trouble for reporting a possible sex assault.” 

Sex assault?! How did things escalate so quickly? Wilhemina’s brown eyes opened wide. “No—no. She didn’t do anything.” She gulped nervously. She definitely didn’t want to talk about why she had gotten the way she did, and Billie Dean seemed to be wanting answers. 

Maybe I was the one to cross a line. “I’m just making sure you’re alright. You were so distraught earlier that when she told me you two went out for lunch, I got scared she could have done something.” Saying it out loud caused Billie Dean to realize that, perhaps, the way she saw Emma was quite bad. Or maybe she just had bad past experiences. 

To know Billie Dean—her boss—knew Emma was interested in her made it even worse for Wilhemina to deal with it. Her mind was starting to spiral again, and even though the fact that Billie worried about her was nice, everything was too overwhelming for things to make sense right now. What if she laughed at me? “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Wilhemina, did she do anything?” Billie Dean insisted. The way she had seen Wilhemina was not normal. Something was going on. 

“Billie Dean, I don’t want to talk about it. This is none of your business, frankly.” Wilhemina could feel her walls tightening. She didn’t want them to, but her mind worked in a way she couldn’t always control. I’m not that kind. I’m not that kind. I’m not that kind. 

Dark blonde eyebrows drew close together. Billie Dean took a step back. “It is my business when it comes to the safety of my employees.”

“I’m okay.”

“Clearly not.”

“Who are you to tell me what I’m feeling?”

“Someone who’s watching from the outside.” Billie Dean struck a nerve, for Wilhemina didn’t snap back at her. Billie took a deep breath. It was so hard to talk to someone who refused to listen. “Wilhemina, I just want to make sure you’re safe,” she started again, softer this time. “That’s all.” 

Brown eyes fixed themselves on Billie Dean’s. Someone who’s watching from the outside. What could Billie tell from the outside? She knew nothing about Venable. She knew nothing about her life nor her experiences. From the outside, Wilhemina was nothing like herself. “I’m safe.” Her jaw tightened, voice rough. 

“Good.” Billie smiled a little, even though Wilhemina’s aura was anything but comforting. “Should we get going?” Trying to talk more about it wouldn’t be productive. Venable had closed herself, she wouldn’t open yet. Wilhemina nodded, and so Billie Dean guided them to the garage and to the car. 

The ride was uncomfortably silent. Wilhemina stared out of the window, and Billie Dean didn’t dare try to make small talk. It was clear by the way Venable didn’t even look at her that she wanted to be left alone. The ranch wasn’t too far, but fifty minutes in a car where no one speaks could feel like an eternity. When they arrived, the hair on the back of Billie’s neck stood up. It was dark there. She got out of the car and her makeup artist and stylist already pulled her inside. She had to get ready as fast as possible. Wilhemina, on the other hand, slowly made her way inside. She found a chair more to the corner and sat down on it, MacBook on her lap. Why the fuck am I here anyways. The day had started really well and then it had turned into a mess. Wilhemina just couldn’t believe Emma had told Billie Dean she was interested in her, who did that?! Perhaps I am the one who’s all sorts of fucked up and can never open up. It made more sense. Emma seemed like such a well adjusted woman; she was beautiful, talkative, had a nice job, probably had a lot of friends. It only made it even weirder that someone like her could be interested in someone like Wilhemina. It’s a bet. But it made no sense for it to be, now that Billie Dean knew. Or at least, Billie wasn’t in it. Venable could still feel her nerves slightly agitated, so she grabbed her sketchbook and began to draw nothing at all, settling it on top of the computer. She drew a line—two—closed them together, added some shade, a circle, another line… and then she looked over at it from a distance. The lines roughly reminded her of a face. A woman. Billie Dean. 

In her dressing room, Billie Dean began to put on the cream dress Jenny had managed to get her. She was thankful the outfit was such a light color, given this place was one of the darkest she had ever seen. She kept on seeing shadows and hearing whispers, her brain was getting foggy already. She felt drained, and it hadn’t even been half an hour since she got there. Once she got dressed, she went to get her makeup done. Her blood pressure was getting low, so she silently prayed. It didn’t take her long to get ready and for the cameras to start rolling. She began telling the story of the place, and she could feel her chest getting heavy. And heavy. And heavier. Until she had to ask for a break. 

“Already?” The director yelled. “We only have the building until five a.m.”

“Just ten minutes, please.” Billie reached for the doorframe, holding herself against it. 

Wilhemina eyed Billie Dean. She was as pale as paper. Weird. She kept quiet, working on the report. Ten minutes passed by pretty fast, and the cameras were soon rolling again. The story was tragic, but Venable didn’t really pay attention to it. She was focused on her work. Until, nearly an hour later, Billie Dean asked for another break. Fiery eyebrows drew close together. Wilhemina looked up at her, watching as Billie Dean followed to her dressing room. She looked weird. Very weird. Quietly, Venable followed behind. Did she eat in the afternoon? Just to make sure, Wilhemina grabbed a sandwich and a bottle of water from the snack table. “Billie Dean?” She called against the cracked door of her dressing room. No answer. “Billie Dean, are you alright?” Why do I even care? Billie had cared for her, after all. It was only fair. No answer, again. “Billie Dean, I’m coming in.” Slowly, she pushed the door and peeked inside. To her surprise, Billie lay on the couch, breathing heavily with her eyes closed and head thrown back against the backrest. Wilhemina closed the door as quickly as she could and sat down beside Billie. What do I do?! How come no one from the crew had seen her sneak out like that? Feeling lost, she reached for one of Billie Dean’s hands and felt her pulse. Low. “Billie Dean, you need to breathe.” With her cane falling to the side, Wilhemina didn’t really think much when reaching for her face and cradling it between her hands. 

“Mgh,” Billie murmured. Everything was so heavy, even opening her eyes was hard. When Wilhemina touched her, however, energy jolted through her body. She lazily managed to open her eyes, now. Venable’s energy wasn’t draining like everything else in this property. “I… it’s s-suffocating.”

“Do you need some air?“ How the fuck am I going to take her outside? 

Billie Dean shook her head. She reached for both of Wilhemina’s hands and held them tightly, lacing their fingers together. Venable was alive. Her energy wasn’t the best, if she were being honest, but she was alive and meant well. That was more than enough. “Just… just stay here.”

Venable wasn’t understanding a thing, but she knew she hadn’t been treated like that in a long time, even if the situation wasn’t a normal one. Her hands felt so odd when laced with someone else’s, and still she felt so… comforted. In that moment, she was sure she’d do anything Billie Dean asked of her. “O-okay,” Wilhemina nearly breathed out. She looked down at their hands again, and her stomach twirled. “I… I brought you water and a—a sandwich. Just in case.”

Billie Dean could barely think. She caressed the hands in hers, trying to focus on something physical rather than in all the whispers around them in the other realm. “Thank you,” she said weakly. “Everything is so loud.”

Venable wanted to roll her eyes and call it bullshit, but in the state Billie Dean was in, she had to admit it couldn’t be just to put a show on. There were no cameras around them. If Billie wanted a show, she would have done it while filming rather than asking for a break. “What… what do you mean?” 

“This property… it’s draining…” Billie just wanted to get distracted; it didn’t matter if Venable didn’t believe in her right now. “It keeps on whispering to me… keeps on draining me…” She had asked them to burn sage over the place, but given the way that entity clung to her, she doubted it had been done. “It’s all over the place. It wants revenge.”

The hair on the back of Wilhemina’s neck stood up. This was no ordinary ghost story. She squeezed Billie Dean’s hands back. “What does?”

“I don’t know.” Billie Dean sat up a little better. She focused on breathing. “Something that has never been human.” Venable had always been a skeptic, but the lights around them flickered and she felt the room changing temperatures. Billie opened her eyes all the way. “It’s back.” Wilhemina looked around. She saw nothing. The only thing she could feel was a putrid smell. Her eyes began to tear down. Billie Dean squeezed her hands a little harsher. “Can you smell it?” 

“Y-yes.” How could Billie Dean tell? Venable’s nose scrunched up as the smell got worse. She sniffled. “Billie Dean, what’s happening?” Billie shook her head. Even though Wilhemina wouldn’t admit it, she was scared. The smell kept on getting worse and worse, and Billie now whispered something to herself. This can’t be a show anymore. The smell was very much real, as well as the way everything around her had grown cold. So cold Venable felt herself starting to shiver. 

“Go back to the crew. Don’t be alone,” Billie Dean told her all of a sudden. 

“What about you?” Wilhemina frowned. 

“I need to deal with it.”

“I’m not leaving you here to faint.” Venable turned to grab the sandwich she had brought Billie Dean. “Here. This should help.”

“I need sage.”

“Where can I find it?” Wilhemina wasn’t going to ask any questions right now. 

“The crew should have it.” 

“Okay.” Promptly, Venable got up and followed back to the living room, where all the cameras were. She could feel herself growing even more nervous. Brown eyes looked around, searching for someone she could talk to. Two men stood near the lights, and so she approached them. “I need sage.”

“What is that?” One of the men answered. For fuck’s sake.

“Does anyone have sage?” Wilhemina said a little bit louder now. No one said anything. “Billie Dean is demanding for some sage.“

“Here.” Finally, a woman handed her some. The celebrity card had worked. 

“Thank you.” Wilhemina nearly ran back to where Billie Dean was. Her back ached. She didn’t even know why she was the one doing it, but frankly she didn’t care. “Billie Dean?” Billie kept on talking lowly to herself, gesturing weirdly with her hands. She’s either crazy, or this is all real. Quietly, Billie Dean reached for the sage, and then she reached for the lighter in her pocket and lit it on fire. Instantly, the room began growing warmer. Venable felt the adrenaline in her veins pumping. “Stay close.”

“I am.”

Billie Dean reached for one of Wilhemina’s arms, pulling her closer. She needed to feel her, feel anything alive. “Closer.”

What the fuck is going on? Wilhemina gulped to herself. Slowly, the putrid smell went away, and Billie Dean began to breathe normally again. “Billie Dean?”

“Yes?” Billie turned back to Venable with tired eyes. 

Yes?! “Are you alright? Do you need anything?”

“Sleep.” Billie Dean sat back down and reached for the bottle of water Venable had gotten her. 

“You should go home.” Clearly, Billie was not alright. 

“I can’t.” Billie Dean took a sip of water and leaned her head back. “I need to film.”

“Nonsense.” Venable didn’t know on what to believe anymore. She hesitantly sat down close to Billie. “You should rest.”

“I can’t.”

As if on cue, the door of the dressing room opened. “Ms. Howard, we need to carry on with filming.”

“Yes. I’m on my way.” Billie Dean began to get up. Wilhemina frowned as she watched her. 

“Billie Dean, with all respect, you should rest,” Venable insisted. But Billie followed outside, face still pale and body still shaking. Wilhemina didn’t really know what to do besides follow her. When she got to the living room, the crew was already ready to start filming again. Quietly, Wilhemina got back to work. The ranch didn’t feel like it did before, when they had arrived. The putrid smell lingered on her mind and nostrils, making her stomach twist and turn. She could feel her body wanting to cave in out of fear, but Venable denied it the chance to do so. She sat up straight and worked as if nothing was going on. 

Hours later, when filming wrapped and the director allowed Billie Dean to take a first sip of water in God knows how long, Wilhemina couldn’t help but worry. What had happened today was concerning, and everyone seemed to be used to it. Is she always treated like a circus monkey? Wilhemina was quick when grabbing her things and getting ready to leave, following Billie in rushed steps. “Billie Dean?” 

The head of beautiful blonde curls turned around to her. Billie Dean smiled in a way that could only be described as exhausted. “Yes? Everything alright?” 

How come Billie Dean still asked her that? She should be worried about herself! “Are you alright?”

Is she worried about me? “I am, thank you.” Billie Dean couldn’t help but feel a little touched. No one else had worried about her; mostly because they were used to it, but it still didn’t mean that being drained was a good or normal thing to go through. “Are you?”

“You should eat something.” Wilhemina honesty didn’t think the conversation should be about her right now. 

“I need to sleep.” Billie reached to hold herself against the doorframe of her dressing room. She desperately wanted to leave this place.

“You should still eat. You were shaking like a leaf earlier.” Why did everyone act like what had just happened was something normal? Billie Dean’s cheeks were still to regain the color in them, after all. “Do you need help?” 

A small smile crawled into Billie Dean’s lips. She shook her head. “Thank you. Don’t worry about me, Wilhemina. You should rest.”

“Billie Dean, are you sure you’re alright?” Wilhemina insisted. Everyone felt off. 

“I am. Don’t worry.” With a small smile, Billie Dean followed inside. But then she quickly walked back. “Wilhemina?”

“Yes?” Venable hadn’t even turned around when Billie called. 

“Do you have sage at home?”

Who has sage at home? “No.”

Billie bit her lower lip. “Hold on.” She quickly walked into her dressing room and grabbed what was left from the sage she had gotten earlier. Her blood pressure started to drop again. I need to get out of here. “Here.” She handed it to Wilhemina. “Burn it in your house.”

With a confused frown, Venable hesitantly reached for it. “Why?”

“Just do it.” Explaining she was scared something could have clung to Venable would be too hard for Billie’s tired brain. She doesn’t believe in me, anyways. “Have a good night.”

“You too.” Without understanding much, Wilhemina followed outside and to the car waiting for her. She looked to the plant in her hand, playing with it throughout the ride home. What even had happened? 

[stardancerluv]

Being a Good Friend

Part 18

Summary: Winning doesn’t always mean it ends happy and warm.

Arthor’s Note: Dialogue from the movie is in italics!

With his blood still rushing in his ears, he went over to your flat. His tires screeched as he pulled up and parked in front. He cut the engine and getting out on legs that may have felt like rubber but actually held him up, he managed to get out of his car.

As he opened the door and then ended up holding it open for one of the guys, that lived there. He nodded politely. Glad there was no small talk. He couldn’t, he barely was knitting two thoughts together.

Finally, then he made it to your door. Before he could even knock, he just leaned heavily beside it. His head spun, his stomach churning he felt like he could quite possibly be sick. He was out of breath and ice cold fear slid through his body.

Swallowing, he closed his eyes and struggled and managed to gather himself. He laid hand on you door.

That is where he stopped, opening his eyes he pulled his hand back. Tearing, himself away he ran back downstairs.

He looked up and practically flung himself back into his car. Putting it into gear he headed back to the paper.

*****

You were confused, reclining on the sofa when you heard the distinct sound of Alex’s car. Your heart lifted. For the briefest of moments, you saw his face. He was incredibly pale. You shook off your worry, as you watched that familiar head of hair as he held open the door for the guy from 2E. Then he made his way into your building.

Work, had been horrible. Rose who had finally left a little while ago had been insufferable. Asking, you questions you didn’t have answers to. You ran your fingers through your hair. You expected the knock, expected the key in the lock. None of it came.

Your stomach instantly churned. You heart beat thudded hard in your stomach. Reaching, your fingertips grazed the door knob.

You heard a screech and ran to the window, you watched just as Alex tore away in his car. You wrapped your arms around your middle. “Alex.” You sobbed, your breath fogging up the window as you looked out. Why had he not popped in. Worry and anguish filled you. That had never happened.

You remembered how one day, the two of you had a row. Pouting, you had gone back here. Sometimes, he really could be a smug little bastard. Well, he wouldn’t have it. He tore over and using his key let himself in.

In the end, it had all been terribly silly. Before the night was over, you were wearing his super comfy gray hoodie that was huge on you while you danced around the kitchen much to his amusement. You made a dessert you and him loved and then you curled up to his side watching one of his favorite horror movies. What would you give to be back there. You were sad and confused.

******

Walking across the parking lot, he lit himself a cigarette. He inhaled deeply. It actually, helped to calm him a little. Stomping, it out he went inside.

He had to get this article done. If he didn’t his boss would surely wonder. Opening, his laptop he went to work. Inhaling, he opened a new document.

TRIPLE CORPSE HORROR, he typed. Pressing, his lips together he continued.

“Law? Are you back already?”

Alex, barely looked up. “Yes, sir.”

“Good. Good. If you get that done soon enough, we can put that in the evening edition.”

He looked up. “I’ll try sir.”

“Good work son, we’ll have the exclusive if you do.”

Words...Sentences....paragraphs came to together. Finally, he sat back and his chair creaked. He skimmed it and happy with it, he sent it on to his boss.

Feeling, like all that had been rushing through him since being in the forrest was gone. He pushed his laptop away and laid his head on his arms. He shook his head.

Sitting, up something caught his eye. He smiled and took the photo. Holding, the photo he smiled. He remembered when he took that of the two of you.

“Law.” His boss hollered. “Get in here.”

Pressing, his lips together he put the photo down.

He knocked the on the door frame. “Yes?”

His boss spun in his chair and practically leapt from it. “Law, you did it. We got the exclusive.” He reached out excitedly and shook him. “It is already printing. Go and grab a copy or two.”

Alex smiled broadly. “Fantastic. Glad you liked it sir.”

“Liked it? Law, I loved it. Now go, enjoy your night. Take that little girly of yours out.”

He smirked, “Will do, sir.”

*****

On his way to his car, he called you. It went straight to voicemail. Sighing, he made his way downstairs. The scent of ink greeted him before he was even on the ground floor.

*****

Since, you were not picking up your phone he decided to head back to his own flat. At least, if David and Juliet were there he’d give them a copy and tell them what he knew.

Sighing, he walked in and found them both sotting there. It immediately made him feel ill at ease.

“My boss, made me go.”

“Right.” Juliet said flatly. “Well, we were just sorting things out.”

“I told you it wasn’t deep enough and you wouldn’t listen.” David berated him.

Alex, threw the papers aside. “Doesn’t necessarily matter. They barely know who these people are. And they have nothing to connect us with them. Nothing!”

“I am glad you are so certain, Alex.” David quipped before firing more at him. “It makes us feel a whole lot better.”

“I beg your pardon?” Did, he really just say that Alex wondered.

“That makes us feel a whole lot better.” Juliet added mimicking David.

“That’s what I thought you said.” Alex’s stomach continued you to churn. Sighing, he retired to his cold room.

He tried you one last time. This time he was able to leave a message.

“Little Dove, where are you?” He swallowed. “Listen, David and Juliet are acting really odd. I’m spending the night here. Come over if you want, I miss you. I’m cold.” He hung up then.

He slipped into his pajamas and shivered. It had been ages, since he didn’t have you to curl up to. Despite, playing tug of war with the blankets or sometimes, your terribly cold feet from time to time, he really wished you were there. He couldn’t imagine what was going on.

Pulling the blanket tighter around himself and pressing his eyes, he prayed for sleep.

******

You had been ill with worry. When his first call came, you honestly had been in the tub, trying to forget how anxious you felt. Why had he driven away, it just ate away at you. But he had not left a message and that ate away at you even more.

You stuffed yourself with some bad food, which ended up giving you a tummy ache. You almost threw it all up when Rose, through a copy of Alex’s paper at you with his story about the bodies.

Finally and very reluctantly, you pulled on your pajamas. Pulling the blankets around you, you kept one foot out, hoping that you would fall asleep fast.

It had been forever since, you slept without Alex. Curled up to him or even fighting with the blankets, you missed him. You missed his scent. Sure one side of your bed, did now smell like him but oh, barely brought you comfort. You missed him so much and wish you knew what had happened.

Startled, not realizing you had even fall asleep. You phone buzzed to life. Reaching, out to it you saw that it was almost morning.

“Alex!” You practically cried, answering your phone.

“Y/N” A whisper filled your ear.

“Alex, is that you?”

“Yes! Come now,” Alex hissed. “David, Juliet ...” then the called got cut short. Your heart was in your throat.

@mac-n-cheesie @dance-like-russia-isnt-watching @rosionis @rentskenobi @brookisbi @johallzy @darling-i-read-it @professionalclown @chogisss @obiwankenobiness @i-love-scott-mccall @stardust-and-starlight @the-mandalorian-clone-lover @unfilteredmoonchild @pooshnulooshnu

[brightmoonprincess]

Scorpia/Adora Coffeeshop AU for @blackbyakko for the @sherawintergiftexchange! 

it’s very cheesy and rushed, but hope you like it!

paring: Scorpia/Adora rating: G length: 2.1k words

- - -

For my best friend Entrapta! Good luck on ur robot! (^ ᴗ ^)/

Since her first day working at the cafe, Scorpia has always written kind and encouraging messages onto every single customer’s cup. Sure, her coworkers complain about not being to find the name quickly enough when it’s time to call it out. And sure, sometimes the queue of customers get irritated by the longer wait...

But it’s fun! And it keeps people happy! It’s part of the reason why Scorpia loves her job. It makes the coffee shop feel more like family, rather than business.

For some quirky reason, Entrapta insists on her espresso being served in the smallest sample-sized paper cup that’s available. It’s made it difficult for Scorpia to write out her message on it. Her hands aren’t exactly danity, and neither is her penmanship. 

(These meaty claws were meant for sweet sweet loving, not for writing tiny tiny letters.) 

 The bulky, fluffy letters cover almost the entire surface area of the cup. The emoji at the end barely makes the cut, but she manages to squeeze it in.

“Another mini espresso, coming right up!” Scorpia says, setting the cup down at the end of the line of pending orders. “Hey, uh, Entrapta… Do you think you should slow down a bit?”

It’s the tenth coffee in a row that her eccentric pig-tailed friend has bought, and Scorpia is starting to worry about her caffeine intake… Can baristas start cutting people off? Or is that only a thing for bartenders?

“What? And waste my precious time unconscious when I could be working? Never!” Entrapta proclaims when the notion of “slowing down” is suggested to her. She’s practically vibrating.

Scorpia sighs. 

After Entrapta goes to wait for her drink, Scorpia takes the next customer’s order-- but she notices that her trusty marker is almost out of ink. Man, this things really go quick-- this is the third one this month!

“Mermista! Do you know where we keep the markers?” Scorpia calls out to the other side of the bar.

Her less enthusiastic coworker groans in response. “You do know that we’re getting paid minimum wage, right?”

Just as Scorpia is about to remind her about the importance of kindness and customer service. Mermista holds up her hands and says, “Hold up, forget I asked. I’m clocking out in two minutes.”

“Already? I thought you were working until closing with me!”

“Oh, right. You don’t know yet,” Mermista realizes. “We have a new girl. She started yesterday, and she’s taking over the rest of this shift.”

Scorpia’s eyes light up. A new coworker! This could be a new friendship opportunity! Not that Mermista isn’t great, but sometimes she can be a bummer when working. The Etheria Coffee Co family could stand to gain another member who has the same passion for the art of barista-ing that Scorpia has!

Right on cue, another person comes in from the back room. She greets them joyfully, “Hi!”

Immediately, Scorpia’s excitement turns into huge disappointment. 

Really? Really??? 

Of all the eligible working young women in this town, they just had to pick the most irritating person to ever exist, with the most obnoxious personality and the most ridiculous forehead-enlarging hair poof.

They make eye contact, Scorpia’s sharp glare battling against Adora’s wide-eyed surprise, and the two buff baristas say in union--

“Oh.”

/ / / / /

“Two non-fat peppermint mochas, a sixteen-ounce americano, a salted caramel latte, and a orange-mango-agave smoothie are on the bar!”

It’s been a week, and Adora is absolutely insufferable.

She somehow manages to make six drinks simultaneously, putting together even the most complex drink orders as if she’s made them all a million times before. It’s like she’s some kind of latte-making superhuman!

Of course, she’s great at the job. Why wouldn’t she be great at everything she does?!?! Grrr.

She even convinced Entrapta to drink decaf coffee for a while instead, telling her that it’s a missed opportunity to experiment with placebo effects of caffeine. Why didn’t Scorpia think of that?!

But the worst part?? Despite the fact that Scorpia has been working at the shop for two months, Adora keeps asking her if she needs help with something. It’s like she’s always looking for a reason to swoop in and play the hero, like someone needs her to save the day from coffee shop mayhem. It’s infuriating! 

And no, it has absolutely nothing to do with the Catra situation, thank you very much. Scorpia is irritated by all of this for completely unrelated reasons! Adora is a terrible coworker! That is the one and only explanation. 

“Phew! I’m glad the place is finally starting to slow down! How’s it going over there, Scorpia?” Adora asks.

When Scorpia doesn’t reply, Adora looks over at her, and she becomes concerned at the completely crushed cup in Scorpia’s clenched fist. “Er… Scorpia? Do you want to take a break? I can handle it from here. 

Oh here we go again. Scorpia doesn’t need Adora acting like she’s better than her all of the time! She is the furthest thing from a damsel in distress. And after the past week of having to tolerate all of this, Scorpia can’t take it anymore! 

“Alright, alright! We GET it, Adora! You can handle it! You can handle everything! Well, I, for one, don’t need your help!” Scorpia snaps, too loudly.

“What? I’m just trying to be nice!”

 “... W-o-w.” Mermista’s draws out her monotone reaction as she pokes her head in from the back room. “So can both of you, like, stop being weird and help me lift some of these boxes?”

Adora and Scorpia glare at each other, but-- now that it’s incredibly awkward and uncomfortable-- they silently agree to move on. For now. 

They follow Mermista to the back storage closet, where she directs them to a tall stack of boxes to carry out. They’re small but surprisingly hefty. Nevertheless, Scorpia lifts one onto her shoulder with ease. 

Adora picks up two.

So, naturally, Scorpia picks up three more.

Yes, in fact, this just became a weight-lifting competition. 

They keep at it for a bit, stubbornly matching the number of boxes that the other person is carrying until they’re huffing and wobbling around. But there’s no way Scorpia is backing out now! This is easy-peasy. The sweat on her forehead means absolutely nothing, except that maybe the air conditioner stopped working.

“Can you hold the door open for us?” Adora asks Mermista, her voice strained.

“Nope,” Mermista answers, swiftly closing the door.

“Uh,” Adora says.

“Um,” Scorpia echoes.

They give each other confused side-glances.

“Neither of you are leaving this closet until you learn how to at least pretend to like each other,” Mermista says calmly from the other side, followed by the sound of the door being locked. “I do not get paid enough to listen to you argue all the time.”

Adora sets down her boxes-- (phew, game over! Scorpia wins)-- and goes to jiggle the doorknob. “Mermista, this isn’t funny! Open the door!”

No response. 

She lets out a groan and turns to Scorpia. “What was that all about, anyways?”

The totally-innocently-and-not-petty-at-all barista shrugs. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You blew up at me for no reason!”

“I had a reason! Many reasons.”

“Like what?”

“Like... I just… I don’t need you coming here and beat me at this, too!”

Adora pauses for a moment. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t act like you don’t know,” Scorpia mutters. “It’s not the first time I’ve had to compete with you...”

So Adora asks the big question, “Is this... about Catra?”

“No!!! I mean, sort of! But not really! I just… ugh...” Scorpia sinks to the ground, cupping the sides of her face with her hands. “I’m over all of that-- really!’

Well, guess it’s out there now. If she dies in this cafe storage room, it might as well be with an honest heart. 

Although things didn’t work out between her and Catra, she really is over it! 

What she’s not over is how jealous Adora made her feel. Even if Catra and Adora are only friends, it didn’t feel great to be compared to someone... even if she herself was the one doing the comparison.

Scorpia tries to explain, “It’s more like... I don’t like being reminded that you’re better than me, ok? I know that it’s not a competition, but for some reason, I still feel like I’m always competing with you!”

Adora stays silent, unsure of what to say. 

“You’re really amazing,” Scorpia admits. Her cheeks redden. “I know you are, but you don’t have to rub it in…”

After a few moments of sitting in the awkward silence, Adora crouches down with her. “If we’re being honest… I think you’re more amazing than I could ever be.”

“What? Really?”

“Yeah, I do!” Adora insists. “I know we haven’t gotten along after the drama with Catra happened, but... I think you’re a good person! You’re strong, you’re loyal, and you genuinely care about people… You do kind things because you want to, not because anyone expects you to! I don’t even know if I can say the same for me...“

“Oh, uh…” Scorpia wasn’t expecting this. If she hadn’t been blushing already, she definitely was now. After all, Adora’s an honest person. She wouldn’t have said all of that if she didn’t mean it.

“It’s never been a competition,” Adora assures her.

Scorpia lets out a slow, shaky laugh. “... Ok, I might have been letting the past get to me. I shouldn’t take it out on you. I’ll get over it, I promise!”

Adora smiles at her. “Sooo does this mean that we’re friends now? Or at least friendly coworkers?”

“At least friendly coworkers,” Scorpia agrees with a grin. 

Adora stands up, offering her hand to help Scorpia up as well. “Now let’s get out of here!” 

She helps Scorpia up knocks on the door again.

… Still no response. Uh oh. 

“Uh… Mermista?” Adora calls out.

Scorpia wonders, “It was almost closing time when we came back here… She wouldn’t leave us in here overnight, would she?”

Oh no… she totally would. Scorpia can’t die in a coffee storage closet! She had so many plans! Who is going to water her plants? Who is going to inherit her motorcycle? Who will take over the duty of writing her signature coffee cup messages???

“I’m going to break the door down,” Adora announces.

“Wait, I don’t know if that’s the best idea--” Scorpia beings to tell her, but Adora is already preparing to throw herself at the door.

With a mighty battle cry, Adora rushes towards the door, shoulder braced for impact-- but just before she hits the wood, the door swings open to the other side. 

“Whoa there!” Scorpia lunges forward to catch Adora before she falls onto the floor. Who’s the hero now, huh?

“Two things,” Mermista says.

 “One, you’re not supposed to use your shoulder; you’re supposed to kick. You would know this already if you read Mer-mystery: The Vanishing Clownfish, like I told you to many many times.

“Two, I am not getting my pay docked because two idiots broke the door.”

/ / / / /

 It’s been a month, and work has been great! Once Scorpia let go of her gay pettiness, she and Adora have been getting along really well. She can’t believe that she used to hate her!

That isn’t to say that Adora doesn’t have her annoying moments-- she does-- but Scorpia feels like she’s learned a lot more about her. Once Adora gets more comfortable, she actually has a very silly, fun side. 

Like she does this really cute thing where she puts weird emphasis on some of the drink orders when she calls them out, like frapPUcciNO-- wait, cute? Uh. Scorpia meant funny. Funny and not adorable at all. 

Oh no. Not again.

Scorpia is finishing up a latte and sorting out her thoughts, when she notices Adora walking in through the front door.

“Oh, hey, Adora! Are you working today?”

“Hey, Scorpia! Ah, about that…” Adora says, “I came here to tell you that I’m quitting.”

“Aw, man… Really?” 

“I got a promotion at my other job,” Adora explains. “They gave me a lot more hours, so I don’t have enough time to work this one, too...”

“I didn’t even know you had another job!” Scorpia gawks. She hopes that Adora hadn’t been overworking herself this entire time. “But... congratulations!”

“Thanks! So... we can still be friends, right?”

“Of course!” Scorpia affirms. 

She’s happy for Adora, but she can also feel her heart sinking. A few weeks ago, she wished that Adora would quit-- but now... it’s heartbreaking. Talk about a one-eighty. She and Adora had the start of a beautiful friendship going on, and it sucks that it might come to an end. 

And now, after realizing how much she’s going to miss all of the time she’s spent with Adora... 

Scorpia also realizes something important.

“... Can I get you some coffee?” she asks Adora. “On the house!”

Adora grins back. “Sure!”

Alright. Here is it. Possibly the most important coffee cup message that she has ever written in her entire life! Gotta make it good!

Her heart is pounding, and she writes out:

For Adora, the best coworker I’ve ever had! (Don’t tell Mermista! )

(Also, want to go on a d       hang ou    maybe if you’re at all interested we could go out sometime? Together?)

<3

[nomorelonelydays]

Patater Week - Day 4

Feb. 9 - Alternate Universe – Soulmate AU, 2.4K (everyone has their soulmate’s first thought about them on their skin – both still in NHL - coda of sorts to Dot Your Ts and Cross Your Is) 

“You’re in a good mood today,” Jack comments, as slides in next to Tater in the nook. “Mhm,” Tater hums and chews his sandwich. “I find soulmate,” he says, like he’s commenting on the weather. Snowy and Thirdy look up from their breakfast, and Marty nearly snorts out his cereal. Guy pats him on the back a little harder than necessary. “You found your soulmate, Tater?” Poots asks carefully. “Like, the one who said ‘You’re tall and hot, I want to die,’ that soulmate?” Almost everyone’s seen that particular marking in the locker room, and though no one actually voiced it, a large majority of the team had covered up their jealousy with chirps. Who doesn’t want a confidence booster like that as a soulmark? Tater simply nods, and Thirdy flies up, excited.

“That’s great, man!” he crows. “Who’s the lucky girl? Did you meet her at a bar? Was it after the game against the Aces?” “You should bring her around sometime,” Marty comments. “I want to meet the person who has to put up with you and your snoring all the time now.” The table laughs, echoing their assent. “I’m happy for you,” Jack says, and Tater glows. “So who is she?” Marty asks. “Yeah, Tater, is she hot?” Thirdy adds. “Yeah,” Tater says casually, and takes another huge bite. “He is very hot. He also make this sandwich before I’m leaving.” The crowd of catcallers fall silent almost immediately. Snowy’s mouth falls open and a toast crumb falls out. Jack’s eyes widen as he stares at Tater’s expression, which has not changed from his previous, besotted look. “He is not good at making sandwich. Next time I go to kitchen and see how he do it,” Tater admits as he shrugs. “It’s thought that count.” There’s another awkward moment, but Marty’s already leaning in and taking a huge bite, quick as anything. “Hey!” “Chicken salad’s kind of dry,” he comments. “Tell him to use more mayo.” “Wait, man, no fair, I want to try,” Thirdy complains as he leans his weight on the table towards Tater. “Don’t be stingy.” “Get your own,” Tater guffaws, then tries to stuff the rest of his sandwich in his mouth and almost chokes. Jack doesn’t think he’s ever seen Snowy laugh this hard before. Or like, at all. Jack doesn’t know if it’s happy giddiness he’s feeling as he watches the table start teasing Tater good-naturedly, or if he’s lightheaded because he almost has to Heimlich maneuver the dry chicken and bread chunk from Tater’s throat, but he gets a quick flash of introducing Bitty, his own soulmate, to the Falconers. They’d love him to pieces, Jack thinks. Bitty will feed them even more pie, Poots is going to cry.   “What’s his name?” Jack asks, after Tater isn’t in danger of suffocating anymore. “Kent Parson,” Tater answers. “He is Captain of Las Vegas Aces.” Tater smacks his lips, then adds, “How long does chicken salad keep in fridge? Kenny says a week, but Google say 5 days.” Initially, Jack thinks his internal screaming is him actually screaming in reality, but then he realizes that it’s just Thirdy and Marty and the rest of the Falconers present roaring their lungs out simultaneously, with Poots in the background going, “Tater, you have to get me his autograph you’re my only hope.” Jack thinks he might’ve heard a “Boo, traitor, Parson sucks” from Snowy, but he’s not really sure of anything anymore.  

Kent doesn’t visit until 6 months after Tater’s announcement, but Tater seems determined to make up for it by talking to Kent on Skype every chance he gets. He goes to Vegas three months before Kent’s visit and returns starry-eyed and insufferably dopey. He also starts talking about Kent to the Falconers. Whether it’s about the Aces’ most recent win or Kent murdering a new recipe, the Falconers locker room has heard each one at least twice. They’re all happy for Tater (Poots is practically frothing at the mouth when Tater tells him that Kent had agreed to sign his jersey— “Why didn’t you just bring a jersey back?” Poots groans, and Tater just holds up his arms and says apologetically, “I forget! Next time! Maybe.” And all that just ignites another round of chirping). Tater and Kent apparently had taken to each other like an old, decrepit house on fire, in the most sickeningly romantic way possible. Once Tater boasts that he sent flowers to Kent for Valentine’s Day as a surprise, and that Kent had called him so fast Tater had thought Kent had been mad, but he’d really just been crying since the arrangement that’d been delivered was so excessive and it’s absolutely like Tater to go all out. Tater’s always staring at his phone and smiling at every new message Kent sends, and they seem to talk to each other on Skype every single day. He’s getting worse than Jack, Marty had once commented, and Jack, seeing how ridiculously happy Tater is, cannot bring himself to ask whether Tater knew about Kent and himself. They’ve somewhat made their peace by now; Kent phoned him one night, sounding exhausted, and stammered out an apology. It’d been terse, and while Jack had accepted his apology as sincere, neither of them have ever been good with words. He wonders if Kent is the same as before. He doesn’t forget how Kent had crowded him against the door of his own room in Samwell that night, his eyes decidedly fierce as he spits venom when Jack wrestles him off. “I miss you, okay? I miss you,” Kent had said, his face slack with desperation, then frustration. His grip on Jack’s shirt loosens, and for a moment the hurt cracks through and Kent looks like Kenny from the summer before the draft, with his fingers grasping at a love he never had. But Tater looks so happy when he’s on the phone with Kent before a game. It’s his new little ritual. Kent always takes the time to make a five-minute phone call, and Tater does it for Kent’s games as well, apparently. Tater sits in the locker room, phone pressed against his ear as he whispers things like, “Thank you. I miss you, too. We bring Kit to Providence next month, too? No? Haha…” It’s incredible how the same words that had slashed Jack in half can brighten Tater’s entire day. He doesn’t tell Bitty, either, because he hates for Bitty to be anxious for him, even if Jack knows that Bitty will, without a doubt, drop everything and hop on the train to Providence if Jack ever needed him. He wants to tell the world he loves Bitty, so very, very much, and even though he’s comforted by the fact that his teammates won’t react negatively, especially after Tater’s announcement, he wants to keep Bitty’s sleep-tousled hair and smile to himself for just a short while longer. “How was your day?” he asks Bitty again that night through Skype, as he always does. He says nothing of Kent, only that Tater’s soulmate is a man, and that they seem to be very happy together. Bitty eyes twinkle, but he doesn’t voice what they’re both thinking. “I love you,” Bitty says, as Jack lets his soulmate’s drawl slow the beats of his thundering heart until his head is quiet again. “So much, sweetheart.”

They pick up Kent at the airport two months later, after a game that they win (but the latter is just a coincidence). The ‘they’ in question includes Jack, because Tater had pulled him aside before the game and asked if he could accompany him. “Wouldn’t Poots be more excited to go with you?” Jack said automatically, gripping his stick like a weapon before relaxing. “Not that I don’t…want to…” He doesn’t want to, but he doesn’t want to say no to Tater, either, when all Tater’s been doing the past few months is rave about how wonderful and fantastic his boyfriend is. “Is surprise,” Tater says conspiratorially. “Tomorrow, team come to my house. We celebrate win, and I bring Kenny.” “The game hasn’t even started,” Jack says wryly. “You’re going to jinx us.” “No,” Tater shrugs. “Team win, come over to drink. Team lose, everyone still drink. No jinx. Will be fun.” He nudges Jack with his gloved fist lightly. “Beside, you my rookie. I’m need emotional support. Please.” Jack’s pretty sure that’s an excuse Tater made up on the spot, but they get ushered out to meet the ice then, and Jack finds that he can’t refuse Tater’s earnest expression. “Okay,” Jack croaks out. “Good,” Tater says gratefully. “Kenny so small and funny. Used to be so sad and angry.” “Did he tell you that?” Jack asks, alarmed. “Is he still—?” “No,” Tater says, then leaves it at that. 

Tater picks him up from his apartment the next day in the afternoon, and Jack can see that Tater is thrumming with energy the entire ride to the airport. He talks about Kent and their daily Skype calls, and how Kent tried to bring them breakfast in bed but ended up spilling orange juice all over the cat instead. Jack just makes a bunch of noncommittal noises like “Hm” and “Ah” as he casually grips the armrest handle like Tater’s driving isn’t the most terrifying thing he’s ever experienced. They’re in the lobby now, with Tater craning his neck to see over the other travelers and checking his phone every once in a while. Jack clears his throat. It was now or never. “Um, Tater?” “Mm?” Tater’s still looking at the gate expectantly, like if he looked away even for a second, he’ll surely miss Kent. “How much, uh, do you know about me? Like, I mean, about me before. In the Q?” Jack never talks about it. He didn’t figure he had to, not with the headlines everywhere from back the proclaiming his teenage decline as Bob Zimmermann’s legacy. “Little bit, here and there,” Tater says absently. “Hear things, but not much. Respect privacy, so…” He shrugs, still absently scanning the crowd. And it’s sweet to hear, for a change. Jack hadn’t expected that. “But you—Kent and I—did Kent ever tell you—” “See him!” Tater exclaims suddenly, and Jack is jolted from his thoughts. “He’s here! He’s—” Jack sees doesn’t see anyone that looks like Kent, but Tater’s already maneuvering Jack’s shoulder so he’s facing him. “Do I look okay? Smell my breath.” Then he actually huffs on Jack like he’s six and Jack’s his mom checking if he brushed his teeth. Jack laughs, despite his nervousness, and pushes him off. “You’re fine. Get off of me.” And just like that, Tater bolts ahead, sidestepping the families and tourists until Jack sees that he’s heading for a man dressed in a grey hoodie and headphones. Tater’s waving his arms like a hooligan, and when Kent finally turns in Tater’s direction, even Jack can see that Kent’s mouth is falling open as he rips his earphones out, and the grin is so bright Jack would’ve been able to spy it from a mile away. It’s like a scene ripped from a bad romance flick. Kent picks up his bag and makes a mad dash for Tater, and Tater nearly loses his balance trying to go around some businessman’s luggage. They slow to a stop about a feet before they actually touch, and Jack sees Kent’s mouth form a very small “Hi.” Kent’s bottom lip is wavering as he schools his composure, but Jack’s well aware that he’s definitely looked at Bitty with that exact same expression many times over. Tater’s examining Kent like he can’t believe Kent’s corporeal, which is borderline ridiculous because there hasn’t ever been a missed night of Skyping. He breathes, “Kenny—” And it’s like a trigger is switched. Once Kent hears the nickname, he literally drops his duffel bag and jumps into Tater’s arms like he’s scrambling up a tree. His hoodie flies back as he buries his head in the crook of the taller man’s neck, his legs wound around Tater’s waist. Tater catches him like they’ve been doing it for years, and it’s heartwarming and sickening sweet but they’ve never looked happier. They’re hesitant when Kent bends his head down for a kiss, their noses bumping. Kent giggles, and Tater hardly notices as they fall into the next kiss, a real, proper one, like they’ve been aching for it for ages. When Tater finally lowers Kent, Kent’s expression is so open and laid bare that Jack is taken aback for a second. It’s love, Jack can see. Pure, unfiltered love. The kind that makes you want to smile beyond the confines of your face. The kind of love that surges over Jack whenever he looks at a text or good luck note from Bitty telling him that he believes in him, and that he is needed.  “I missed you,” he says breathlessly. One of Tater’s slides over to Kent’s forearm, where Kent’s soulmark is, and Kent’s hand hovers over Tater’s ribs reflexively. “Did you—?” “Yes. Every day,” Tater says as-matter-of-factly, still smiling like a fool as Kent just about melts. After about ten seconds of this, he seems to remember that Jack is now standing behind him awkwardly. “Oh, Kenny, I bring—” “Zimms,” Kent says. He sounds a little surprised, but not unhappy, either. “I—” “Hey, Parse,” Jack says. Kent seems at a loss for words, and he’s shuffling. Tater’s hold on his waist tightens, as he glances at Kent then back at Jack. “I—God, Zimms, I’m…” Kent looks dumbstruck. “It’s so good to see you again,” he finishes. “It’s been a while,” Jack agrees. “You look happy.” And Kent beams at as he leans into Tater, who rubs his shoulder with a sure hand. Jack hasn’t seen that gentle, quiet smile on Kent in years. “Come on,” Kent says softly. “I want to meet the rest of your team properly.” “You mean off the ice and not where you could get beat up?” Jack chirps automatically. He’s a little surprised at how easy it is to get back into the same rhythm with Kent.   “Yep,” Kent says, not missing a beat. “Unless the Falconers are hitting financial rock bottom and can only afford you and Zimms.” They’re still a long way from being alright, but without the dread of the draft or a summer with a deadline looming over their heads anymore, they start over, and they take it slow. So they go.

[fictropes-blog]

Cold Season

(ao3 link)

Dan is ill, insatiable and another word that begins with I.

''Phil.''

Phil knew immediately, Dan's voice had fallen into that very particular whine. He breathed in deeply, putting on a smile before turning over onto his side. ''Where does it hurt?''

''Everywhere.'' Dan was on him in an instant, long limbs tangled with Phil's, nose buried into is neck. ''Everywhere. I think i'm dying.''

''You're not dying.'' Phil was already struggling. He loved Dan, too much sometimes, and that's why he didn't move away, because Dan hot at the best of the times, but nothing would compare to when he was ill and Phil felt like he was sleeping next to a volcano. ''I'll go get you some paracetamol.''

''No. Don't leave. You're warm.'' He clung on tighter, Phil could feel Dan's sweat transferring onto his own skin.

''Dan, come on, i'll be two minutes.'' He reasoned, pressing a kiss to his damp hair. ''Please? I just want you to feel better.''

''Stay. I'll give you a blowjob.'' And they say romance is dead.

''Honestly, Dan, i'd usually jump on the chance.. but you've got snot on your face and i'd hate to think of the consequences if you decided you needed to sneeze during.'' He winced just thinking about it.

Dan stiffened before proceeding to roll away in a huff.

''Way to ruin the mood, Phil.''

''Don't think there was a mood in the first place, love.'' He leaned over, pressing the back of his hand to Dan's forehead because he had no idea where the thermometer was. ''You're burning up.'' Half of him was tempted to make a pun about being on fire, but even he couldn't be-bothered.

''Alright, nurse Phil.'' Phil could practically hear the idea forming in his mind. ''Nurse Phil..'' He repeated as he rolled back over, expression on his face one of extreme interest as he looked Phil up and down.

''No. I am not dressing up. I am not walking into town and buying a nurse outfit, the world isn't ready for that.'' Dan was pouting now, Phil flicked his lower lip. ''You're not even ready for that.''

''Spoilsport.'' That was all he said, already knowing he'd definitely lost that one. ''Medicine and water and--''

''You ok?'' Phil knew what was happening, already grabbing the nearest bucket-y looking thing he could find. He was right to do so, the landlord would have a fit if Dan threw up on the carpet. ''Well, that answered my question.''

Dan looked even more pathetic now; Phil was so in love.

''Here.'' He lifted Dan's head, using a tissue he'd found on the bed-side table to wipe Dan's chin. ''I am going to leave this next to you, alright? Aim for it.'' It turned out he'd picked up the little bin in their room, anything that was in there now covered and Phil found himself hoping that he'd not accidentally thrown away anything important.

Dan didn't offer an argument, Phil hadn't been expecting him to. He made his way to the kitchen, hoping they had something from the last time Phil had been ill. Luckily there was cough medicine, paracetamol and, for some reason, an entire box of tissues just shoved away in their mug cupboard. He considered making Dan something light like dry toast, but then he heard Dan retching again. He settled for a cold glass of water and turning the heating up. He'd been shivering on last inspection.

''Try and take these for me.'' He was knelt in-front of him, ignoring the can of sick directly to his left.

''Are you trying to give me a blowjob?'' Dan asked, first smile of the day making its way onto his flushed face.

Phil poked a finger into his dimple, ''No,'' He held out the tablets, wondering if Dan was capable of swallowing them without gagging. ''Take these and i'll consider it when you're better.''

''There.'' He stuck his tongue out as thought trying to prove they were gone.

''Good boy, now try and get some more sleep, hm?'' He pushed Dan back beneath the covers, not missing the pitiful looks Dan kept shooting him. Ill Dan somehow managed to eclipse regular, needy Dan.

''Will you sleep with me.'' His voice was soft and Phil couldn't say no.

''Just for a bit, ok? I need to answer emails, actual important ones.'' Part of him knew he'd be getting nothing done today, though he may as well make an attempt to at least pretend he was a functioning adult.

''Yeah.'' Dan agreed, tone suggesting he knew he had Phil's attention for the entire day. Not that that was an unusual occurrence.

Day two was no better. Phil was woken up by a violent coughing fit that he actually found himself worried about. ''Dan- Dan, hey.'' He sat him up, rubbing his back and wondering when Dan had turned into a giant baby. ''Breathe for me.'' He'd gone bright red, his eyes were watering. ''There we are.''

''I am dying.'' He declared, a much smaller cough following.

''I still don't think you are.'' They'd both long crossed any line between them and that was how Phil found himself wiping Dan's nose. ''You're just losing your dignity.'' He teased, dodging the weak slap Dan was trying to give him.

''Don't be mean. I'm sick.''

Dan was searching for his phone now, Phil could see it and kicked it aside. ''No. You're not tweeting about how i'm being a dick to you when you're just a poor sick boy.''

''I wasn't!'' He was. ''I was just going to see if anyone had messaged me.. or something.''

''I'm right here so why would you have any messages?'' Phil laughed at the affronted look on Dan's face, though they'd both come to accept the fact that, really, they were both each-others entire world.

''Dan, want something to eat? You've not eaten since yesterday.''

The groan he got in response told him no. He really needed to move the bin of sick, that probably wasn't helping.

''Fine, but you're at least trying some toast in an hour or two alright?'' He left no room for argument.

''Whatever. Put a movie on or something. I can't sleep anymore.'' The way Dan's eyes kept falling shut told a different story, but Phil wasn't about to argue.

''What do you fancy?''

''You.'' Even ill, Dan was a massive flirt. Phil wondered if they'd even lose this, wondered if they'd grow out of the stage where they couldn't help but flirt and touch and, well, be in love. He hoped not.

''Thanks but you still have snot on your face, oh, and you've not brushed your teeth since you threw up.'' Phil picked up the first dvd on his shelf, shoving it into the player a little too hard because Dan's coughing made him jump.

''Fuck you, then.'' Dan was a drama-queen at the best of times, ill he was an insufferable one.

''I love you, too.'' He crawled back up the bed, pressing a kiss to Dan's bare shoulder. ''My poorly boy.''

''I need a wee.'' Phil sighed, head dropping against the skin he'd just kissed.

''C'mon, then.'' He assisted Dan to the toilet, making sure he didn't fall and hit his head because he was just a big, uncoordinated giraffe who also happened to be ill.

''Don't watch!'' Dan sounded offended, Phil averted his eyes but made sure to listen out for Dan falling forwards and into the toilet. The thought of it made him giggle and Dan elbowed him. ''Shutup, you're putting me off.''

''Sorry, sorry.'' Phil kept quiet after that, only turning back around once he was sure Dan had finished.

The walk back to the bedroom was, thankfully, uneventful.

''That's better.'' Dan curled up to him, asleep before Phil could even get past the title screen of the DVD player. He was stuck here, he watched it.

''Your hands are so soft.'' Dan murmured upon waking, in the course of the movie there hands had somehow ended up pressed together beneath the quilt.

''Have we reach the delirious stage.'' Phil wondered if he could use this for blackmail in the future.

''They are!'' Dan protested, though Phil hadn't disagreed. ''Feel nice.''

''Thanks. I'll be sure to write to the papers about it.'' He removed his hand from Dan's clammy one so he could lean over and turn on the lamp. ''You look..'' How did Dan look? A mess. ''Nice.''

Dan's cheeks turned impossibly redder and Phil decided they'd definitely reached the delirious stage.

''Phil.. you're real.''

''I would hope so, yeah.'' Phil didn't stop it, he definitely wanted to see where this was going.

''I was dreaming and you were there and I thought-- I dunno, you never tweeted me back!'' Dan sounded a bit too upset by this, were those tears in his eyes? ''You never and I was alone and you were big and everyone loved you and you blocked me.''

''I blocked you instead of tweeting my desperate little Dan back?'' Phil teased, he could say whatever he wanted because it wasn't like Dan would remember this.

Dan nodded and Phil suddenly found himself with his arms full. ''You're real, though. You're here and .. something about a book and tour.. and I love you. Doesn't matter you're so pretty.''

''Is that why you keep offering me blowjobs?''

Dan pulled back, eyes narrowed and prepared for an accusation, ''You keep saying no. Lemme. 'M good.'' He was crawling beneath the covers then, trying to prove his point.

''Dan! Dan--'' Phil squeaked, trying to wriggle away. ''No! I know you're good, you're so good. You're also so, so ill. Get back up here.'' He lifted the covers, could see Dan between his legs, looking incredibly determined. Phil nearly gave in, then Dan coughed. ''Please? You know I love them but not when you're sick. I just want to cuddle.''

''Fine.''

He was back asleep in ten minutes.

''What?'' Was the first word out of Dan's mouth when he woke up, feeling like he'd ingested cotton wool.

''Oh, sleeping beauty awakes.'' He could hear just how dry Dan's mouth was and passed him the half full glass of water. ''Drink that before you choke on your own tongue.''

Dan drank like he'd only just discovered water, the glass empty before Phil could even blink and Dan requesting more by shoving it back into his hand. Phil obliged.

''Feeling any better?'' He asked, somehow it had already been another day and Phil had achieved a grand total of nothing.

''I'm not throwing up anymore, so.'' He happily accepted the second glass, have the foresight to take another couple of tablets along with it.

''Mhm, that's got to be a good sign.'' He pressed his hand back to Dan's forehead, he still hadn't found the actual thermometer. ''You're a bit cooler, too.''

''Still don't feel so good, but a lot better.'' Dan stretched out across the bed, the pounding in his head had reduced and he was ravenous. His stomach decided to demonstrate this my rumbling so loud that you'd think he'd never eaten in his life.

''Toast?''

''Please.''

Phil returned to bed with a plate of toast and his laptop, determined to actually get stuff done today.

''Thanks.'' Dan picked at it, managed to keep it down. ''Sorry for making you stay in bed all day.''

''Dan.'' Phil murmured, lifting an arm so Dan could tuck himself into his side. He leaned up, stealing a kiss that Phil allowed even though Dan hadn't been near in toothbrush in a good three days. ''Love you. You know i'll never mind looking after you.. even if you do keep trying to give me snotty blowjobs.''

''Oh my god, shutup! I need a shower.'' He managed to stand up on his own, a little wobble on his first step but then he was off and Phil could hear the shower turning on.

He really hoped he hadn't been too hopeful about Dan's recovery, the shower was slippery even if you weren't ill. He spent two minutes worrying before going to check, knocking on the bathroom door.

''Yeah?'' Dan called and Phil's heart immediately slowed back down.

''Just making sure you hadn't slipped and died.''

''No! I was planning to do that after I'd washed my hair.'' Dan was back, then.

''Don't make too much mess, please!''

-

Three days later:

''Dan.''

Dan knew immediately, Phil's voice had fallen into that very particular whine. He breathed in deeply, putting on a smile before turning over onto his side. ''Where does it hurt?''