#ALSO that time i knocked over someone's forgotten drink all over the delivery table during rush

[hertwood]

not 2 be a narc but some of the rules the store manager is a hardass about, she's right. every time i ask the guys on table to make something and they dont hear me bc of their fucking headphones i feel her spirit

[neonponders]

I started writing this very niche au ages ago that @booksfoxesandcoffee and @demogirlfriend tinkered with lol​ it’s not quite what I wanted, but at least it’s done ~

Based on my post for This Steve with This Billy:

vampire/musician!Steve and mobster!Billy.

TW for briefly mentioned drugs and all manner of vampire things.

💋 💋 💋 💋 💋 💋 💋

If Billy were being honest with himself, it wasn’t the man’s looks that hooked him. The way a superior dancer stands out in the ensemble, it was the musician’s energy that made Billy’s eyes keep finding him.

Every business that opened his his territory went through Billy’s strict legislature. And the whole city was his to play king.

He didn’t consider himself a strict businessman, but he did attend the new club with regularity to make sure they had what they needed to succeed. If they couldn’t succeed, then they’d have to rebuild elsewhere.

They did succeed. Because they had Steve Harrington.

On paper, he was lead guitarist. An instrumentalist. Vocalist if necessary. Billy Hargrove knew he shined in neon stage lighting and his special trick was swinging the instrument around his body so the guitar switched sides halfway through a song or riff, proving ambidextrous dexterity.

Billy knew Harrington was hard to get ahold of. So far, he’d hosted every member of the band and every guest musician at his VIP table. Harrington always had reasons for leaving directly after a show, which surprised Billy. The man’s band mates clearly revolved around him, looked to him for timing cues, and Billy even had the unique experience of seeing the man smack a drink out of the bassist’s hand because the guy could barely stand.

There was a personality there, and Billy wanted to see it up close. Taste it.

Somehow, Harrington had even avoided being invited to Billy’s table during the mid-show break. Always conveniently disappearing until the second he needed to be on stage.

Until now.

Billy’s guards stood up when Harrington approached with someone held firmly by the scruff of his shirt and jacket. Billy waved them aside, and the musician dumped the guy into Billy’s booth. Some heads turned in their direction, curious for drama but not for long. Anyone who hung around Billy, hungering for his attention, knew to be careful about annoying him.

“Is this one of yours?” Harrington prompted.

“Why would he be?” Billy inquired with a lethargic blink.

“I thought your sort had more class than distributing roofies.”

Billy’s pleased, large feline demeanor sloughed off as he turned his head to the man in his booth. Billy didn’t bother negating Harrington’s accusations. Anybody with sense knew who he was. The only thing that bothered Billy at the moment was the use of some nobody to get the musician’s attention.

“You’re right. He isn’t.”

Just like that, the guards lifted the sorry soul out of his booth and began ushering him out of the club. He made a weak attempt at promising an ability to make Billy money, but the latter wasn’t interested in a business centered around dangerous sex. Billy considered himself a purveyor of the opposite; of passion, and real passion only came when all parties were conscious for it.

“Steve.”

The musician paused to look back at him, already on his way back to the greenroom or wherever he hid in between performances.

“Sit with me.”

Steve’s gaze flicked down to the now available seat next to Billy. “No, thanks.”

As if he could - 

He did.

Steve walked away from the table. Billy saw the more discretely dressed guards loitering in the crowd turn and begin to approach Harrington...before distinctly letting him pass.

It was not a regular day that Billy Hargrove’s employees feared someone else more than him.

He pressed his back into the booth, and one of the women sitting along the back of the booth leaned down to hear him. “I want his file.”

“Yes, sir,” she purred. It took no time at all for her to return to his table with Harrington’s business papers. Typical tax form, resume, no cover letter but instead a CD with his music samples.

“What about his background?”

Her nails raked through her long, black hair. She played the part of groupie very well. “We don’t have anything yet.”

Billy found that hard to believe. “He’s worked here for weeks.”

She shrugged a bare, shimmering shoulder. “He hides very well. We’ll have something soon.”

Not soon enough.

Billy took to wandering his club instead of sitting. Why they didn’t just haul the musician into Billy’s office for questioning…no sensible person detonates a bomb without knowing the area is clear. They didn’t know enough about Steve. Whether he belonged to a family scouting the borough before encroaching on Billy’s property.

Would it be their fault for sending in a mole without honoring the proper channels? Yes.

Would it be Billy’s fault for starting an underground war for harming Steve first? Also yes.

So he watched. So he waited. And he began to enjoy this game he and Steve had developed. Because Steve wasn’t as oblivious. He looked pretty—the kind of pretty that some mistake as dumb—but Steve had proven in many, subtle ways just how observant he could be.

The way he managed his band members’ alcohol or obvious drug addictions.

The second time he hauled some petty dealer over to Billy’s booth.

When he flipped Billy off as he walked away after Billy tested, “I noticed you like brunettes.”

“No, you haven’t.”

Steve watched Billy. And Billy watched Steve. At least, Billy suspected. Billy hoped.

The confirmation arrived in the humid alleyway behind his club. He was already itching for a fight. For the last two weeks, a new asshole had been loitering around and inside his business. No one had yet been able to catch him doing anything—until Billy followed him out of the wrong exit. Nobody could use service doors at the back of the building; it was both a safety hazard for civilians to be in the way of delivery trucks, and any squeals about people coming and going from there would have the police riding Billy’s tail.

Then the bastard had the audacity to take two girls who were definitely sporting fake id’s outside.

He slammed the service door against the brick exterior to get their attention. All three of them were huddled and necking between two garbage bins. A real class act.

“Jail bait bimbos, get inside. This asshole can lock himself in a concrete box without your…help.”

The distinct memory of Steve delivering roofy dealers to him flashed in his brain at the sight of the blissed out girls using the alley walls to stay upright. The memory flew out into the main street at the glistening darkness on both of their necks, dripping into their low cut shirts.

In the window of Billy’s surprise, the guy attacked. Slammed Billy right against the other side of the alley, knocking the air out of him—

Billy’s brain couldn’t keep up. But his eyes could.

A large hand gripped the gelled hair and wrenched the guy’s head so far back that Billy heard a threatening pop.

Billy had never stood next to Steve before. He stood just a little taller than Billy—both smaller than the impressive figure he’d watched so many times on stage, but also bigger because he’d never been this close…

Billy was officially having trouble breathing as he watched the man’s wide eyes darting around his sockets despite his broken neck and the disgusting angle of his windpipe.

“This spot’s taken. Tell your hovel to skip town. You won’t get a fourth chance.”

Fourth?

Billy’s eyes stuck on the bloody, long teeth in the man’s gullet before Steve shoved him down the alley. The man landed several yards away—no ordinary shove—but he hauled ass to his feet, head lolling on his shoulders with more sickening crackles.

Billy remained stationary as Steve fixed the shirts and jackets falling on the girls’ shoulders went to hail a cab. One of them recovered faster than the other, and hauled her friend into the vehicle. By this time, Billy managed to say, “What will they do with those stained shirts?”

Steve looked at him, suddenly looking remarkably…normal. Even startled, like he’d forgotten Billy was there. He didn’t hold Billy’s gaze, instead looking a bit downward—

“What will you do about yours?”

Billy frowned, blinking twice before he looked down at himself. It took him a moment to see the difference in his dark blue button-up. But he glistened like the girls did. Slowly, his mind caught up and realized how warm the side of his neck felt, and how gross. Wet. Dry. Sticky. Crusting.

“How did I not even notice?”

Like a dream clinging onto his waking consciousness, the blurry numbness subsided, and Billy realized his throat really fucking hurt.

Steve’s gaze dropped even further, tilting away from Billy as he pointed at the doors. “Go and clean yourself up. Go home.”

Leave it to Billy Hargrove’s pride to stack his spine back together. He stepped off the alley wall and into Steve’s space.

“Don’t—” he turned his face further to the side.

“Explain,” Billy ordered, even as Steve’s hand lifted to cover his mouth.

Steve shook his head a little. “I don’t have to,” he muffled and lifted weary eyes. “Clean yourself up.”

The answers were right there. Yet it seemed…stupid to say any of it out loud. How many movies? Book? Shows?

Instead he said, “Show me.”

Steve’s jaw clenched. “You don’t play with bears like this.”

Billy laughed. He laughed Steve all the way out of the alleyway. Billy only regretted this when the next evening, the secretaries of the business ran through the week’s itinerary. Steve wasn’t scheduled.

A long week progressed of Billy thinking over that night. How the hell a guardian angel with teeth and no wings lived his nights in Billy’s cage and Billy had just…taunted him into slipping right out of the bars.

When another week presented itself with still no sight of his musician, Billy knew he would have more than one inconvenience on his plate. His customers liked Steve. Statistically, the club was fit to bursting since a third more clientele showed up for the band’s gigs. Steve made the barkeeps laugh in between numbers. Billy had always thought he used the alcohol in the greenroom instead of taking up the bars’ time.

Instead he dropped rats right into the king’s lap. Creatures Billy never would have seen unless Steve made them visible.

“Schedule Steve’s group on Sunday.”

His secretary frowned at him. “Am I missing something? We’re off on Sundays.”

“He knows that. Just use whatever number he gave you.”

Billy waited behind the club. Perhaps he should have arranged a specific meeting time instead of just the vague Sunday, but…Steve was punctual to his usual call time. Billy heard his footsteps the same moment the lighter in his hands crackled softly under his cigarette.

Steve approached with his hands in his jean pockets. Then he entered the harsh lighting of the motion-detected beams above the doors. “You don’t look good.”

Because he didn’t. Steve made tired look good but he had met the line between tired and haggard. His lips were chapped and the lights above him put his eye sockets into harsh contrast. Billy missed the lush face he watched bathed in neon stage lights.

Steve only met Billy’s gaze briefly before looking back down the alley. “Haven’t been to the grocery store lately.”

“By ‘groceries,’ do you mean my place?”

“And if I do, then what?”

Billy smirked as easily as blinking. “I don’t recall firing you. You didn’t have to run—”

“Yes, I did. Dipshit.”

Billy moved his tongue over his teeth while he grinned. “Why didn’t you finish what he started? Three easy meals right there.”

“And swell up like a mosquito? Gross.”

Smoke sputtered out of his mouth. “You’re not what I expected. In any regard. It’s a wonder my employees haven’t been inspired by your recklessness. Or my letting you get away with it.”

“There’s no letting anything happen. We’re not all teeth. There’s nothing you could do if we don’t want it to happen. It’s the same on your side for humans.”

Billy’s next exhalation seeped out of his mouth. Slow. “Are you taking your time? Circling a stronger prey?” He tapped the ash off his cigarette, and watched Steve’s irises flick to the movement. “Most people come to me for my looks, money, or power. Is it the same for you?”

“No.”

That might’ve caught Billy off guard, if he didn’t feel gently nailed in place by Steve’s eyes lifting to his own. It was Billy’s turn to look down—down at the fingers grazing Billy’s hand as Steve reached for the cigarette. Took it.

“You’re easy prey because you’re already dying. You smoke a pack of these a day. The rest of the criminal cityscape would celebrate your funeral. A wolf’s goal is to eat. Not bragging rights—well. For the smart ones. We go for what’s easy.”

Glass-blue eyes wandered Steve’s face as he took a long inhalation. “I’ve never been called ‘easy’ in my entire life.”

Steve shrugged and—politely—aimed his lips to the side. Billy wondered how much he’d mind if Steve’s smoke graced his skin. “What can I say? We hunt the same way lions, tigers, and bears to. We go for what’s attainable with minimum effort.”

“You’re lazy.”

That overarching fringe bobbed over his head. Of course Steve had taken the time to style his hair. “Yeah. Pretty much.”

Billy took his cigarette back with a huff. “I’ll decide later how insulted I should be. Until then, you’re the one looking like easy pickings.”

“You haven’t thrown anyone out of your place lately.”

That took an extra minute for Billy to process. “You…huh.”

Steve’s head moved with his eyes rolling onto him. “You don’t really think people in this city leave any bar without a fight, do you? I’ve had plenty of dinners on your tab.”

“Well, don’t let me stop you.”

Steve’s mouth lifted slightly in a skeptical grimace. “What’s the catch?”

Billy took his time with the last drag and stepped on the filter on his way to minimize the distance between them. “Explain to me why some pervert bites me and I’m fighting a hard on for two weeks?”

A rigid second passed, and then Steve crumbled into laughter. He laughed like a kid. A really cute little shit.

As Steve recovered, he heaved, “I’ve never heard anyone complain about the bite boners.”

Billy followed him as he reclined against the alley wall. “How about, instead of avoiding what’s really at play here, you admit to wanting to bite me. You’re usually on top of the rats that enter my business. But not that night.”

Steve stood on his own feet, making Billy feel the one inch he had on him. “And what if I did? What if it wasn’t your smell that made me crave, but jealousy?”

His musician’s bravado flickered when Billy’s tongue traced the edge of his bottom lip. “How do I smell?”

“Like smoked peaches.”

Steve was proving an annoying skill at making Billy dumbfounded. “What?”

He giggled anew. “Are you the type to fuck without kissing?”

Billy absorbed that and returned, “You like to kiss after blowjobs, don’t you?”

Steve wagged his head, so his words drifted back and forth over Billy’s mouth. “Yeah? So what?”

Billy inhaled deeply to make a show of sighing like humoring Steve’s romantic ethics was tiring him out—

Steve’s hands cradled his head with care, the soft sound of Billy’s hair scrunching underneath his fingers filling his ears as Steve licked inside Billy’s mouth. The latter’s jaw went slack, letting Steve in and meeting his tongue to taste him right back. Apart from the smoke, Steve tasted mutely sweet. The way a clean mouth does; the way a man should taste. Billy had always thought the way a person tasted was a uniquely intimate thing. Like a special piece of DNA could only be read with the tongue.

Steve’s tongue retreated so he could fully kiss Billy’s lips. When the lazy, soft pecks seemed to be Steve’s only intent, Billy gripped his shirtfront, the only warning he got before Billy licked the seam of his lips, wanting more. Wanting what they started.

“Mhm…is everything…a power trip with you?” Steve mumbled, but his breath shuddered when Billy pressed his hard groin against Steve’s pelvis.

“Bite me and fuck me—”

The lights went out, because they were tucked far enough behind a garbage bin for the motion detectors to not see them. Steve’s attention moved between these details and he uttered, “Next to the trash?”

Billy growled, “Ughh,” and hauled Steve off the brick and into his off-day business. “I should’ve guessed you were high maintenance.”

But right inside the doors, Billy tapped in the access code to a private elevator. “Where are we going?”

“Top floor penthouse.”

Steve snorted. “You’re like my cockatoo bragging about the highest swing.”

“You have a bird?”

“Yes, I have a bird! A little asshole named, Orchid. He whistles to all of my songs.”

“You’re the strangest excuse for a vampire I’ve ever seen.”

“And you are easy. Thanks for showing me the key to your house.”

Billy looked at him and met a toothy smirk. “Pisces, huh?”

The elevator dinged and Billy was too deep to back out now. He couldn’t tell which of them was the hunter, but he was ready to share a hell of a meal.

[cycat4077]

Three Weeks In

So, I’m writing a series. Cute, fluffy ideas kept popping into my head and rather than making a new character/backstory for each one-shot, I decided to keep the universe I set up in Changes which is basically all the canon-SVU events but Sonny has a loving relationship behind the scenes. Let’s face it, the boy deserves happiness. It’s not necessary to read my other story first unless you want the backstory of the reader character and how they got together with Sonny. I’ll try to keep things chronological and weave in SVU events if I can. My OCD is forcing me to make sure the dates are all correct (ex: Sonny can’t be with the reader if he’s supposed to be upstate investigating a lead.) So tah-dah! I present thee with the second installment of the “Changes” series which is set immediately after 17x09, Depravity Standard, and begins on Nov 23rd 2015 (the day before Thanksgiving). It may be crap, but I hope you enjoy anyway!

Words: 2296 Warnings: none Pairing: Sonny x Reader Summary: Three weeks into dating Sonny and he already wants you to meet his family… AO3 here

Some days you actually have to pinch yourself as a reminder that your life is real. It’s been three weeks since Sonny showed up to your class. Three weeks since the two of you confessed your feelings. And three weeks of dating Sonny. While your schedules didn’t allow for a lot of one-on-one time, the two of you keep in touch and steal away for dinner whenever you can.

A steady beeping sound rouses you from your sleep and you roll over to shut off your alarm. The sun is starting to peek through the curtains, signalling a new day. Glancing at your phone screen, you smile.

Mornin’, doll. Have a great day! Talk to you later xoxo

Everyday you wake up to a text from Sonny and, though a seemingly small gesture, your heart aches in the best possible way from knowing he cares. You unplug the device and lay back in bed, phone perched on your chest.

Morning, Sonny. Hope you have a great day too and stay safe! xoxo

As you hit send, you imagine him smiling at his desk when the message comes in. You get ready for class and head out, a spring in your step while you journey to campus. Sonny texts you back around lunchtime with a message saying that he should be free tonight. He asks if you’d be up for having dinner and you eagerly accept. That evening you put on a nice outfit, fix your hair and set out to meet your date at a nearby restaurant. But SVU work can be unpredictable. You were made very aware of that during your summer there. One day could be quiet while the next could be so busy that you didn’t know whether the detectives were coming or going. So understandably, this line of work would sometimes force Sonny to be late. Nevertheless, if he was, he would apologize profusely and you would always reassure him that you understood. Tonight however, as you wait alone inside the restaurant lobby, Sonny is later than he’s ever been before. Not only that, but he hasn’t even sent you a message to confirm that he was caught up. His silence has you worried. You crane your neck towards the door once more before sending him a quick text:

Hey. Hope everything is okay.

Not a moment later your phone vibrates.

Shit. Sorry, doll. I’ll be there in 15.

You breathe a sigh of relief knowing he’s safe but then your gut knots when the alternative creeps into your mind. Restaurant patrons pass you by and the hostess keeps glaring while you’re standing there. They’ve seen it all before: a girl left waiting for a date who doesn’t show. You look up and let out a shaky sigh, hoping that Sonny hadn’t simply forgotten you. Practically 15 minutes on the nose from his text, a rather frantic looking Sonny comes barreling through the restaurant door. His winter jacket is unbuttoned and you can see his badge still clipped to his suit underneath. He hasn’t had time to change. “Hey,” he breathes out with apologetic eyes. “I’m so sorry. I shoulda texted you. It’s just Rollins -” Sonny takes a breath, chest heaving. He must have ran here. “She had a scare today. There were complications with her labor. Luckily, she made it though n’ delivered a healthy baby girl, but Lieu and I stayed there with her for a while. She’s gettin’ some rest now and Fin is gonna check up on her later.” Immediately you flood with relief. “I’m glad she and the baby are alright,” you say, “and I’m glad nothing had happened to you either.” “You dunno know how sorry I am for not lettin’ you know what was goin’ on. I shoulda texted. But things got hectic and we were all pretty worried about her…” “Sonny,” you cut off his rambling and force him to meet your eyes. “It’s okay. I’m not mad. Like I said, I’m glad Rollins is fine and I’m also glad she wasn’t alone through all this.” Sonny looks back at you and takes a breath. Your words seem to calm him right down. He smiles. “You’re amazin’.” You blush. “Back at you, but I’m starved.” He chuckles and the two of you approach the hostess. She grabs your menus but rolls her eyes as she turns to lead you to your table. She seats you at a little booth in the corner, Sonny taking your coat before you sit down. You braved wearing a knee-length dress despite the November weather and are rewarded by an expression of awe from Sonny when he sees it. “You look beautiful, doll,” he compliments, drinking you in. “And here I am, lookin’ shabby in comparison.” A little tired, yes. But shabby? Never. Sonny’s dark hair is still combed back and he’s wearing a tasteful burgundy tie over a white pinstripe shirt. You lean in and peck him on the cheek. “You always look handsome to me.” The two of you order and share a drink, happy to finally be catching up. “Shadowin’ Barba was fantastic!” exclaims Sonny through a mouthful of bread. “He’s so polished in his delivery n’ so sharp at findin’ the littlest things to drive it all home to the jury!” “Fanboy alert!” you joke. “Guilty!” he grins, raising his fork in surrender. “But I learn so much from him and it gives me new ideas for doin’ my written assignments.” “I’m happy for you, Sonny. You work so hard and you deserve every ounce of success you earn.” You truly can’t help the pride you feel for him. “Aww, thanks, doll. That means a lot.” Sonny gazes at you with the utmost affection and you nearly melt in your seat. “Say, what’s new with you? Anythin’ excitin’ in the ol’ biology class?” “Same old, same old,” you shrug. “Just gave the second midterm back to the students, so I expect a lot of office visits from them on Monday.” “You don’t have ta work or take emails over the holiday, do ya?” asks Sonny, pushing food around his plate absentmindedly. “Nope. Why?” You sense there’s something more to his inquiry. “Well, I was wonderin’…now, I know it’s short notice ‘cause I wasn’t even sure I’d be able to get off myself, but I was wonderin’ if…if you’d like to spend Thanksgiving with me at my parents’ place?” Sonny looks up. It’s the most hopeful expression you’ve ever seen on him. “I..uh…” you’re lost for words. You want to scream out ’YES!’ at the top of your lungs but at the same time it’s not that easy. “Sonny, that’s t-tomorrow. And it’s also your family time. I wouldn’t want to intrude on them.” “You wouldn’t be intrudin’! My ma’s been askin’ to meet my girlfriend n’ even said to ’make sure you bring her over for Thanksgiving’.” Your voice goes quiet. “I’m your…g-girlfriend?” The word floors you. Most guys don’t want to dive head first into labeling relationships, especially not after only three weeks. But here is Sonny Carisi, happily calling you his girlfriend and wanting you to meet his family. “Yeah, of course doll,” he answers a little perplexed. “We’re datin’ aren’t we?” Sonny fixes his gaze on you, trying to read what you’re feeling. You shake your head to snap yourself out of it. “Yes, y-yes. It’s just that…Never mind. I’d love to spend Thanksgiving with your family!” An uncontrolled smile spreads across your face and you’re pretty sure it makes you look like a complete dork. If it does, Sonny doesn’t point it out, but instead reaches across the table to hold your hand. He too is smiling from ear to ear like you’ve made him the happiest man alive. Suddenly your smile drops. “What?” questions Sonny. “What time will you be heading out tomorrow?” “Uh, well, I was thinkin’ we could get there for ‘round four o'clock. Time enough to introduce ya to everyone before we eat?” “Four?! That doesn’t give me much time to make anything!” you gulp. “Make somethin’? Doll, my mother wouldn’t want you to bring anythin’. Believe me, she cooks for a small army.” “Sonny. You can’t show up to someone’s house for dinner empty handed.” Sonny opens his mouth to argue, but you shush him instead. “How many people are gonna be there?” Conceding, he sets down his utensils, freeing his hands to count. “Well, there’s gonna be mom, dad, me, you, Bella n’ Tommy. Their little one doesn’t eat the good stuff yet, so I won’t count her.” Sonny unfolds that finger. “Then there’s Resa and Mia and Gina. Maybe a plus one for Gina, but who the hell knows with her.” Looking down at his two hands, he raises them to show you. “Should be nine altogether.” Good to know because you were going to be up early the next morning baking. -x- You don’t realize your knee is bouncing until Sonny reaches over and places a warm hand on it. “Don’t be nervous, doll. My family is gonna love you.” You turn your head towards him, flashing a weak smile. Sitting in idle traffic is only making your nerves worse. “Trust me. Besides, ya even baked fresh bread rolls on short notice. They’re gonna disown me and keep you instead.” Sonny taps your knee reassuringly before returning his hand to the steering wheel. The Carisis live in a quaint little suburban house complete with a petite yard and front porch stoop. It seems small for a family of six, yet still cozy and welcoming. You can’t imagine Sonny growing up anywhere else. Sonny leads you up the steps and knocks on the door. It instantly flies open and a short woman with grey hair greets the two of you with open arms. “Sonny!” she coos, scooping her boy in for a hug. Sonny plants his mother a kiss before introducing you. “Hellooo! Welcome, hon,” exclaims Mrs. Carisi as she ushers you into her home. The place smells delectable. If someone asked you describe the scent of Thanksgiving, you would say ‘the Carisi household’. “I’m so happy you could make it! Y'know, Sonny has told me so much about ya and I’m glad that boy finally got the nerve to - ” “Ma!” blurts Sonny, flashing his mother a warning look. Sonny must have spent those months apart dwelling over you, just as you had done over him. “What?! It’s true, honey,” defends the Carisi matriarch before turning back to you. “Whateva. You just make yourself at home dear. We’re all family here.” “Thank you, Mrs. Carisi,” you say sincerely. You’d never been so instantly accepted by another family. After sharing a hug with Sonny’s mother, you are swarmed by the rest of the Carisis. Sonny introduces you to his father first, who gives you a solid nod. Next is Bella, bouncing a tiny infant with Tommy by her side. Theresa and a shy Mia chime in a ‘hello’ before a solo Gina caps off the meet-and-greet. Mrs. Carisi is over the moon when you hand over your baking and the bread rolls end up being a major success. In true Italian fashion, the Thanksgiving spread is full of flavor with Sonny’s mother sparing no expense in variety or quantity. Everyone joins in saying grace before dinner and, though not a common practice in your house growing up, you don’t mind linking hands with Sonny and Gina while Mr. Carisi leads the family in giving thanks. Because you do have a lot to be thankful for: a great job, an incredible boyfriend and now a whole new family to spend time with. The rest of the meal is occupied by sharing in conversation, fond memories and laughter. You find it all sort of surreal. During the summer Sonny had entertained you with tales of this very family: How they could get on one another’s nerves but that at the end of the day still loved each other. And this is exactly what you see before you. Maybe it’s a light buzz from the wine, but you feel all warm and fuzzy as the chatter of the Carisis surround you. Eventually the evening winds down and everyone seems to be groaning over how full their tummies are. You know you’ve eaten too much but wouldn’t have it any other way. “The food was absolutely delicious, Mrs. Carisi. Thank you all for having me,” you say appreciatively, looking at everyone in turn. “Our pleasure, hon,” smiles Sonny’s mother sweetly. “Know that you’re welcome here anytime.” She clasps your hands in hers and gives them a few quick pats. You say your reluctant goodbyes before you and Sonny head to his car. Once inside, he looks at you. “So?” “Your family is wonderful, Sonny and I had a great time.” This makes him flush with pride. “Glad to hear it, doll. Sometimes they can be a bit much, but they mean well.” He turns the key in the ignition and his car grumbles to life. The two of you wave as he backs out of the driveway. Once you’re cruising down Arden avenue, Sonny pipes up again. “Y'don’t have any more of them rolls, do ya? I didn’t know you were such a good cook.” You let out a laugh. “I’m not that good. For every two-dozen there’s about a dozen that come out flat and ugly. But if you’re indifferent to what they look like, then I can hook you up with the rejects.” You wink just as the car passes beneath the glow of a streetlamp in hopes Sonny will catch it. He grins. “I don’t mind. Besides, it gives me a good excuse to walk ya to your door 'n steal a kiss goodnight.”

-x-

I have a bunch of ideas planned, the next being x-mas (wrong time of year, I know) but I just have to check dates from the episodes. Let me know if you’d be interested in more of these stories and any feedback would be loved!

Next part here!

[rayonfrozenwings]

Dreams Again

Waiting in the Freezing Dark Chapter 3: Dreams Again

A Nessian Fan Fiction: Characters all belong to Sarah J Maas and her book series A Court of Thorns and Roses. This Story takes place after ACOFAS and after Chapter 1: What Box sweetheart? , Chapter 2: Goodnight Cassian, the story has Multiple POV’s, taking place in the Illyrian camp Windhaven, Nesta and Cassian are living together at the behest of the high lord and lady of the night court.

This Chapter is Nesta-centric. And a shortish one before a longer one - that i’m still writing... so it will be at least a week away unless i get the writing bug...  I’ve loved hearing feedback from the previous chapters too :).

Also i’m sorry for all you sweet people because - yes, its going to get angsty. <3 love you all.  

Wc: 1734

Tagging by request: @fucking-winchester-trash @rhysanoodle @velarxs @lorcanswife @my-fan-side @wolffrising  @urbisie, @howtotameyourillyrian, @illyrianbeauty, @lady-katkat,@photofeesh, @study-read-repeat @verifiefangirl​, @queen-archeron,@bookofmirth, @aqueentorattlestars, @acoaas @nephelle–warrior-scribe @librarian-of-velaris@anoverstuffedkindle, @miladyaelin, @bookofmirth, @acoaas , 

(Just let me know if you wish to be added/removed from this list - its already growing.)

Nesta

The sun poured in through her bedroom window as Nesta began dressing for the day. Cassian had woken early, eaten his breakfast and then knocked loudly on her door. Having no common decency at all and destroying any hope she had of sleeping until noon. He had left to see Devlon, his old camp lord, at the behest of his high lord. Apparently he was needed urgently but decided not to disclose why. So now Nesta had the whole house to herself.

Perfect.

Cassian had thought she had stopped her drinking but she knew he was a good soldier and followed orders. He would report back to Feyre and Rhysand all her habits and she didn’t want anyone getting in her business - not this time. Strategy was important when playing a long game, and she didn't need the arguments about her drinking. Now that she was alone she could have a few glasses of wine and read her latest acquisition. 

Perfect Bliss, no distractions.

Her dreams over the last week had been preventing her from sleeping soundly. Talking with Cassian last week stirred up grief she had kept locked away and it was invading her thoughts while she slept. Cassian had been teasing her about snoring - something Nesta knew she did not do. Her dreams were hard to pin down and describe but she often woke in a cold sweat during the night. Shadowy figures, then red - always red would flood her vision, battle raging on, high fae in meetings, snarling, illyrians falling from the sky, white hot light pouring from the cauldron. Last night’s dream was of her father and his final moments. It was becoming too much. With Cassian gone, Nesta could drink and sleep without fear of her memories.

If only she had a bottle of wine.

Cassian had emptied the house of it after the last evening of libations went south. The only thing left was that vile amber liquid he seemed to enjoy. Emerie frowned upon her drinking but did not stop her doing it. Maybe another reason why Nesta liked her company - she knew when to keep her mouth shut.

Nesta quickly buttoned up her overcoat, closing the house up behind her and she walked out the door. The day was brisk but she was becoming accustomed to the cold. Nothing layers and a quick walk couldn’t fix. Nesta’s muscles were getting stronger walking up and down the street to Emerie’s shop from her place. She still refused to train with the females like Cassian wanted but she was becoming stronger in this setting of thin air and steep hills, without too much effort on her part. Her boots crunched on the gravel path, sliding left and right as she ascended the slope on the uneven ground. Emerie’s shop was one of the larger buildings, a two story wood paneled building, it had beautiful views of the camp since it was higher on the hill.

The door was closed to keep the heat in but the shop was open. Customers still hadn’t warmed up to Emerie and her position, so it was often quiet. Perfect for Nesta, hiding from the rest of the camp in plain sight. She walked up the steps and into the store. Emerie was organising some of her new stock to the right of the counter.

“What brings you here before noon?” her deep honeyed voice called out to Nesta.

“Very funny, I decided to come see you, isn’t that enough?”

“Nes, you never come to just see me.” Emerie replied. “So what’s the real reason? You have been a little MIA this week…” a pause “Is Casian training?”

Nesta hated how Emerie could see right through her, but she knew it was her own fault, Em was just someone who Nesta could open up to without any effort, without any fear. It did not make any logical sense since Cassian introduced the two of them. But Nesta knew that Emerie held no loyalty to him or anyone else over her. Emerie was a fresh start.

“Well Cassian has gone away for a wee while so I thought I would come and spend some time with you. Unless you don’t want me to, I can go.”

“You’re not going to go Nes, you’re not telling me the full story either.” she turned to look at me with that piercing stare and then continued to tidy her summer blankets.

“I love your company and I came to offer my help” Nesta defended.

“I don’t need any help.”

“Exactly Em, so maybe you should stop asking me why im here so I won’t find something to do”, Nesta’s tone sharp, that fire burning behind her eyes boring into Emerie, she did not want to discuss her dreams or feelings or anything today - she just wanted a drink. “Any new red’s recently?”

“Ahh... I see. Have a look over by the window... there is a crate there.” Nesta turned to look and Emerie continued “The good ones have the dusty pink labels with golden writing - I managed to get a shipment from the Dawn court two weeks ago. I thought I might be able to keep it for a while this time, since about a month ago I had Cassian telling me who I could and couldn’t sell wine to.”

Nesta glared over her shoulder, Emerie still had her back to her tidying the shelves. Simple words with a pointed delivery.

“It’s none of his business what I drink!” Nesta said as she pulled out one of the bottles Emerie described.

“That’s what I told him, I also told him it was none of his business who I sold my products to.” She turned to Nesta and walked over to a cupboard above their heads, pulling out two wine glasses. “He also can’t tell me who I can drink with or when I can drink.” Both women smiled and sat down in the chairs by the window. Emerie ran the shop by herself so having a place to sit while waiting for those elusive customers was important. Plus if your best wine connoisseur wants some company how can you say no? Nesta opened the bottle and poured two glasses.

“Add it to Cassian’s tab, and I’ll take a few bottles home with me as well  - when I leave”

“Sure, what’s going on Nes?”

“Dreams again”

“I don’t mind drinking with you, but you might want to find a better way to address that.”

Head tilted Nesta calmly replied “I thought you weren’t going to tell me what I can and can’t do?”

Emerie sighed “Nesta I just want you to be safe and not remembering who you are or what you are doing or where you are going is not staying safe. You are a high fae for cauldrons sake! In an Illyrian camp. Staying with a commander who isn’t that well liked! To top it off you are friends with me. It’s not the most sensible way to stay out of trouble. Add the wine and its a recipe for disaster.”

Nesta drank more of her wine and looked at Emerie closely, her friend who had been so supportive - was telling her what to do, Em hadn’t even touched her glass, while Nestas was half gone.

“Nesta its eleven in the morning, are you sure you wouldn’t like a cup of tea?” Emerie pleaded.

“I think wine is fine, you go back to your cleaning and i’ll enjoy the sun from your window, I don’t particularly feel like going home yet.” Nesta’s tone had turned icy she felt the pull on their friendship and wondered how much longer it would last. Amren’s patience had worn thin - how much longer before Emerie gave up on her too.

“Fine Nes. You drink. I’ll clean. When your done with your glass I’ll have those four bottles packaged up for you and you can leave. I’m not having you spill vile poison in here when your drinking.” Emerie had a short temper like Nesta and it was not the best combination when the both women locked horns. Her dark brown shined like glass, hard and seeing too much. She walked away from the seating area back to the main counter to dust.

Nesta was angry but also had not drunk enough to cause damage - yet. She didn’t want to lose Emerie, so she drank the rest of her wine in silence.

No one came into the store. Emerie continued tidying with silence stretching on. She placed four bottles into a bag, including some food too, a hard cheese and bread as well as a stew she had made the previous night. With Cassian gone Emerie knew Nesta would be avoiding cooking and wanted her to have some food with her liquid diet.  

Nesta had been home several hours, reading her book and drinking her wine in the sitting room, the sun was tracking lower in the sky and Nesta started to close all the curtains around the house, being alone was peaceful but being alone felt eerily similar to rejection. She had forgotten how lonely life could be with Cassian always around invading her space. She double checked that all the doors were locked and made her way to the kitchen table. She was onto her second bottle and grateful for Emerie and the food she had placed in the bag with her wine. Cold stew wasn’t great but it was better than an empty plate which she had planned on enjoying that evening.

Living with an illyrian warrior did have its advantages.

Especially when they loved food and didn’t mind sharing.

It would be even better when they figured out how to make things hot without using fire. Nesta took her soup to the sofa and had another glass or two reading her book as she went. The wine kept her warm as she read into the wee hours of the morning, a second bottle polished off. Nesta was tempted to go find one of the illyrians on patrol to share her bed, but was sure Cassian would have threatened them when she moved here. Her Velaris coping mechanisms didn’t seem to work in Windhaven, she just hoped to get some sleep tonight.

Head foggy and book in hand her feet padded along the floor to her room. She stripped down and pulled on a night shirt before climbing into bed.

Masterlist

[flyfireflyfly]

Shenanigans

You were startled awake by a strange sound ringing throughout your room. It took your brain more than a few seconds to realize it was your phone and then you hurriedly grabbed it off of the bedside table. "Hello." you mumbled. "Wakey, wakey!" the person on the phone annoyingly sang. "Time to get up and get your ass back over here." You grimaced. "What??" Laughter followed by the question, "You know who this is, right?" Once more, it took a bit before everything clicked. "Yeah." you answered with a sigh. "And I had promised to help clean up." "Exactly. So come on over." he told you. "Shower and food first." You sat up with a little yawn and noticed you were still in last night's clothes. "Especially the shower part." "Take your time, the trash isn't going anywhere." your friend stated. "Just don't take too long. I don't want this to be a two day project." "Yeah." you agreed. You hung up and tossed your phone aside. Standing up, you stretched and shook your limbs to help you wake up. Then you went over to your closet and dug out some clean clothes. You carried them to the bathroom and deposited them on the counter before stripping. Then you stepped in to the shower. The hot water was a blessing and you closed your eyes as you sighed, this time in contentment. That's when memories of the previous night began to bubble up to the surface. All of which centered around the man you had met. Blushing, you remembered the way his eyes sparkled whenever he looked at you. The softness of his lips against yours. And how tightly he held you with his arms around your waist. All through the night, you couldn't get enough of him and it seemed like he felt the same way. Even when the night's escapades were over, the two of you had laid down together on the sofa. Talking to only each other and forgetting about the rest of the world. You hadn't realized you had fallen asleep until your ride home gentle woke you, causing you to leave the sleeping male all alone. With a shake of your head, you banished those memories from your head. Both of you had been drunk and caught up in all the revelry. And it's not like either of you had exchanged numbers. There was no guarantee that last night meant anything more than what it was. Just a little fun. You hurriedly finished showering and getting ready. After a quick breakfast, or rather lunch considering the time, you headed out the door.

The drive over to your friend's house didn't take very long and as you pulled up to the front of the house, you surveyed the damage done. Empty beer and liquor bottles lined the railing of the porch, not to mention the ones haphazardly scattered around the yard. Plus plates, napkins, some turned-over chairs, and a few other items that had been dragged out of the house. Why was the clock that normally hung up in the kitchen now leaning against the mailbox? And since when did your friend own a dozen or so clown masks? You got out of your vehicle and walked up the pathway to the house. Your friend was sitting on the porch steps, scribbling on a pad of paper. "Afternoon" he greeted with a smile. "Hey." you replied and glanced around at the mess once more. You were dreading to see what the inside of the house looked like. "Please tell me we're not the only ones on clean up duty." "More people will be trickling in later." he assured you with a chuckle. He sat the pen and paper aside before standing up. "And as the first person to show, I'll even give you the easy job of returning the prizes." An amused smile formed on your face as you followed him inside. The smile quickly disappeared though as you saw the state of the house. Hopefully someone was bringing extra garbage bags. He led you over to the coffee table where a box of items was sitting. Right by the couch that was in your memories you had thought about during your shower. It was vacant, the guy no where in sight and you suppressed a sigh. Then a yellow sticky-note on the arm of the couch caught your eye. Picking it up, your heart skipped a beat as you read the words on it. Where did you go? "Oh yeah, that guy was asking about you." You turned to your friend in both confusion and surprise. "What?" "Maybe a couple house before I called you." he informed you. "I told him I'd be calling you to come over as soon as I found my phone in all this." You furrowed your eyebrows. "Then where is he?" "Don't know." he shrugged. "Guess he couldn't wait." "Oh." you uttered, hearing the disappointment in your voice. A few fleeting emotions washed over your friends face before he was grinning at you. "Don't worry. He has to be friends with someone in the group to join us last night. I'm sure you'll see him again soon." You tried to not blush at those words and turned away. "Guess I'll get going." you stated and grabbed the box. Without a second look at your giggling friend, you turned and walked out of the house.

Arriving at your first destination, you carefully opened the door without dropping the box. Then headed over to the bar counter where only a couple people were sitting. It was still too early for the main rush. "You damn kids." You smiled at the owner as he stalked towards you. "Nice to see you too." You indicated the box of goodies. "What's yours?" "You took my towel!" he accused and grabbed at the box. He dug through it for a second before pulling out his item. Then he gave you a pointed, stern look. "Don't you dare try pulling this crap anywhere else either. The only reason you get away with your 'shenanigans' here is cause we've all known you kids for years." You solemnly held up your right hand. "I promise we'll behave ourselves in other towns." "If only you behaved yourselves here." he mumbled under his breath. You chuckled as your gaze wandered over the room. You eyed the wall where you had been standing by the night before. And then you inhaled sharply. With long strides, you quickly closed the distance and grabbed the sticky-note that had been stuck to the wall. No regrets. I'd do it all over again. This was the spot where you had met him. He had come up to you, introducing himself and asking your name. Both of you were surprised that you were each in on the night's game. And when someone had yelled 'shenanigan', he had reached for your hand before the two of you started running with the others out of the bar. "That guy that was chatting you up left that there." You spun around to face the bar owner. "Did he say anything?" "Just that it was for you, and then he left." You looked back down at the note in your hand and read the words again. This was two notes now, both in places you had been... Tucking the note into your pocket, you went over and reclaimed the box. "Thanks. See ya around." "Think of a different game next time!" the man called out after you. You hurried outside and over to your car. After stuffing the box back inside it, you got in to the driver seat. In no time at all, you headed to the next stop.

At the next bar, you tried to open the door only to find it locked. You pressed your face up against the glass and peered inside to see a person behind the bar so you knocked. She glanced over at you before rounding the counter and heading towards the door. You stepped out of the way as she unlocked the door and swung it open. "Hey, I was wondering when you'd show up." "Me specifically?" you questioned suspiciously. "Or just anyone bearing gifts?" "Both." she said with a chuckle and went over to the bar. She grabbed a sticky-note off of it and offered it to you. You set the box down and took the note from her.Like the others, there was a small note written on it in a handwriting that you were becoming familiar with. Did I talk too much? Or did I not say enough? The two of you had spent every second in this location to talk. About anything and everything, not realizing that time was ticking by. You had even forgotten about the reason you had came here. When the shout had rang out, you practically choked on your drink before grabbing your stuff in a hurry. In between the words of him talking about himself, he would ask you about yourself. As well as other words that seemed to have come out of nowhere. "How can you be so beautiful?" Was he normally so cheesy or was it the alcohol talking? "Can't believe you guys took off with this." the lady laughed as she retrieved the black eight ball from the box. "Pissed off everyone else who wanted to play pool." "Yeah." you agreed, barely paying attention. Then you held up the note. "Did he say anything?" "Just to give it to you. Guess he knew you'd be the one making the drop offs." That brought a giddy smile to your face. "Guess so." She in turn began to smirk at you. "Which also means you better hurry with the rest of the deliveries." In silent agreement, you stuffed the note in your pocket and picked up the box. There weren't many stops left, would he be at the end waiting for you? Or would it simply be another note?

You were filled with excitement as you walked into the next bar. As you returned the item your group had stolen that night, you eagerly searched for the next note. The amused bartender didn't say a word as he pointed towards the small stage tucked in the corner. There was a microphone with a karaoke machine but last night, it was just playing a loop of music for the people on the dance floor. Heading over to it, you remembered how you had dragged him out for a dance. Your arms around his neck and his hands softly resting on your hips. He had even lent his voice as backup for the vocal tracks. Quietly serenading you as he sang along with all of the songs that had played. So when you pulled the sticky-note off of the microphone stand, you weren't too surprised to see those some lyrics written on it. And as an added touch, some music notes that he had drawn. ♪ ♫ I know I sound crazy, but let's just work this out ya and maybe settle down ♪ ♫ You could almost hear his voice singing once more and a shiver went down your spine. The way he leaned in to you, his mouth so close to your ear that his warm breath tickled your neck. The heat radiating off of his body as you pressed your own body against his. The two of you swaying in perfect harmony to the rhythm of the song. You could have stayed there and danced with him all night long if it wasn't for the rallying cry that urged your group on to the next bar. You shook your head to collect yourself and took a deep breath. You hastily added the note to the growing pile in your pocket before retrieving your box. "Hope you find your lover boy." the bartender teased as he fiddled with the now returned remote to the karaoke machine. You blushed slightly at those words, despite hoping the same thing as you moved on to the next location. When you arrived at the next bar, you knew exactly where to go and headed straight for the counter. As you checked it over though, you didn't see a note. At that moment, one of the workers came up to you with her hand stretched out. You sheepishly grinned and dug through the box to find a small wooden bowl. She took it from you and then offered you a sticky-note. You took it gleefully while ignoring they way she rolled her eyes before walking away. Missing that midnight kiss. That was what had happened, right at this spot. You had been in the middle of telling a story when he leaned in and pressed his lips against yours. Then blushing and apologizing profusely afterwards. You could only listen to his embarrassed rambling for a few seconds though before doing the same thing. Unlike him though, you didn't pull back. You kissed him and your heart fluttered in your chest as he kissed you back. Making you feel like you were falling and clinging to him was the only way to stay upright. When you had finally broke off the kiss, both of you breathless, you happened to have glanced at the clock. Then you turned back to him to see a mischievous twinkle in his eye. Without hesitating, you had grabbed the bowl off of the bar while he loudly yelled 'shenanigans'. The two of you raced out with your prize, quickly followed by the others. Feeling the rush of those emotions all over again, you decided you had taken an even bigger prize than the one for the game.

You swiftly went through the box until there was only one item left. When you entered the last bar the group had gone to last night though, you couldn't help but fell a bit disappointed. He wasn't there. Sighing, you made your way to the bar and returned the glass beer stein. You started to leave when something yellow caught your eye. You grabbed the sticky-note and blinked in disbelief at what was on. Then you smiled broadly and silently laughed. It was a cartoon drawing of an obviously embarrassed male. He may not have been here like you were hoping, but your friend was right. Somebody from last night knew him well enough to invite him along. You would see him again eventually. Feeling much better, you took the empty box back out to your car. You kept thinking about when you would meet up with him the entire drive back to your friend's house. Plus his trail of notes, and the moments from the night of bar hopping, causing you to chuckle at yourself. You were definitely going to be thinking of him for quite a while. After parking your car, you got out and grabbed the box out of the backseat. Then you rounded your car, stepped up on to the curb, and made your way to the sidewalk. Only to slow your steps as you looked over at the house. It was him. Sitting on the porch steps, wearing clean clothes and smiling at you. You gasped in air, not realizing that you had stopped breathing. You slowly headed towards him while the world seemed to fade away. "Hey." he greeted with a sheepish smile. You released the box, letting it drop down on to the sidewalk with a light thud. "Hey." He licked his lips as he seemed to hesitate. He opened his mouth to say something but promptly shut it. Everything came rushing back to you as you held your hand out. When he blinked at you in surprise, you merely raised your eyebrows and quickly curled your fingers a couple of times. His eyes widened in sudden realization and he shoved his hand into his pocket. He pulled out a small pad of sticky notes and handed it to you. You took it from him and retrieved the pen your friend had discarded earlier. You jotted down your phone number before yanking the sheet free. As he reached for it though, you instead pressed it against his face so it was hanging from his forehead. "This works much better." you stated with a smirk. Then you tossed the pen back and swept past him up the stairs. You managed to get through the front door when you heard footsteps behind you. Seconds later, your arm was grabbed, forcing you to stop and spin around. There was no hesitation this time as he quickly captured your mouth in a kiss. You kissed him back, his lips as soft as you had remembered them. "Ahem!" Both of you jumped and broke apart. You turned to see your friend with his arms crossed over his chest. "You two going to get any work done today?" he questioned teasingly. You giggled while hearing the man next to you chuckle. You turned back to face him and noticed that his was looking at you. With that same mischievous twinkle in his eye you had seen last night. It took a whole two seconds for you to spy the cell phone laying close to you and another two seconds to grab it. At the same time, your other hand was grabbed. "Shenanigans!" you both yelled before taking off. "Hey!" Hand in hand, the two of you raced out of the house and down the porch steps.

Song Inspiration: Stone Cold Sober by Brantley Gilbert

[notesfromthepen]

ALASKA

ALASKA

Running away never really works. But that rarely stopped me from trying.

Sometime in early 2001, me & 2 of my friends packed our bags & headed for Alaska.

The plan was to have our flight paid for by Princess Cruises, who had a mini resort in Denali Alaska. There we would stay in the employee lodging & work off our air fare and make some money while experiencing the last frontier on our days off. That was the plan at least…

Some of us made it farther along with the “plan” than others. In typical facing my plan was derailed inside my 1st week in the great white north. 

For the most part the flight was long & boring, until we reached the Alaskan mountain ranges. Upon our decent the landscape reveled itself.  Jagged, chipped, white teeth from some long forgotten beaches reached up through the clouds towards the plane. Rows & rows of teeth…for as far as the eye could see. This was not man’s territory. It soon became obvious. Nature would not provide any helping hands here. 

The unrelenting snow capped peaks seems to never end. I imagined the plane going down somewhere in the ominous terrain. Those instantly killed would be counted among the lucky. I could think of no plan, no scenario that wouldn’t end horrifically. In all that vastness I got one step closer to grasping the idea of infinity. 

Eventually we landed in Anchorage. The closest thing to civilization that Alaska had to offer. And we made the 3 1/2 hour drive into Healy Alaska.  We arrived at an old Colonial style house that had been renovated & aded on to until it looked like a somewhat suitable bed & breakfast. 

The three of us, me, Ben, and PJ, grabbed our bags & hustled into our new abode through a tucked away side door. Our path wound it’s way through the guts of the old building before spitting us out into the slash area of the house,. It was a living room / reception center / common area. 

If houses have souls then this particular one was somewhere between Edgar Alan Poe & Ted Nugent. The fixtures & ornaments were worn brass. The carpet was a deep, rich red. Which over traffic and time had added a tint not unlike the center of a red velvet cake…

Everything structural was wood. Wood covered with 30 plus years of lacquer, layer upon layer, like the rings the trees that they now covered. The walls, the doors, the staircase that divided the slash room, were all the deep dark brown of aged wood. We were directed up the staircase, to the right, 1st door on the right. The door swung open revealing 2 sets of bunk beds, a dresser, and a battle worn boom box. We claimed our beds and slung our bags onto our new plots.

The home was owned & operated by Princess Cruises Lines as a staging area for new employees from the lower 48. It was a temporary stop while went through the employee paperwork and orientation. Temporary digs…

Afterwards we’d be moved in to the employee village. But from the sound of it we still had about a week before any of that started.  A week to meet our new co-habitants, to drink, to smoke and to indulge. 

One of my favorite things about traveling is the blind casting of a path. Nothing more than an a general direction, into the ether, to discovering, converging, diverging, and crisscrossing paths of others along the way.

By sheer definition I guess fate cannot be avoided, but maybe it can be dared….

It wasn’t long before there was a knock at our door. The floor outside creaked with the weight of several people. PJ opened the door…3 of our house mates & down to be co-workers stood at the threshold. 2 girls & a guy. All seemed to be around our age…early twenties.  A blonde, Noel and a brunette, Beth…and in tow her boyfriend Abe, also with brown hair. The ladies were clearly running this welcoming party. Abe seemed to be more of an indifferent…a bystander at best. 

Noel spoke up first, claiming her position as the leader of this trio. She held up 2 bottles of wine. One of the bottles a midnight blue glass, so dark you could not tell if it was empt or full. “Someone left these as tips in one of the rooms that we cleaned today. Wanna drink?”

Absolutely! Come on in I replied. 

We passed the bottles around and got to know each other in the, no frills kind of way…like common fellow travelers. 

Noel & Beth were sisters. Noel 22 and Beth 19…and Abe, her fiancé, was 22. The trio hailed from Portland, Oregon. And like us Floridians, were Alaskan virgins. 

They were what I expected people from Portland to look like. Casually, and a bit ironically (I suppose), dressed in thrift store hip. A mild mixture of grunge and punk. 

All three were pleasantly strange and great for conversation. But Noel was really the stand out to me. She by no means was ever a head turner. A few lbs over weight, a nose on the slightly large side, and dressed somewhat frumpy. But through Noel I first discovered my attraction to quirky, witty, intelligent and funny women. 

None of this was understood by me at that time. I just knew that I liked sitting next to her. We traded self indulgent, witty & cynical remarks about who or what ever subject was currently making the rounds with the dwindling bottle of wine. 

While the others were in conversation, Noel leaned closer to me & whispered “you smoke?”  I nodded. She grabbed her bag and said come on. “We’ll be right back” she addressed to everyone in the room. Nothing more than an eye roll from her sister. We left. We snaked our way back through the path we entered. 

We sat down under a group of trees about 50 yards from the old house. She picked up a little glass bowl from under the pines. We smoked, we talked a little bit, but mostly we just took in this experience through our slightly altered filters. 

There’s an excitement, at the start of a journey, only truly known to those of us on the move. 

My senses were tingling with anticipation…not to mention some decent wine (not that I’ve even known the difference). 

While we sat there I saw a white fan, like the one that delivery vans use, pull up next to the house. Two people got out, then the van pulled away. 

Noel waved her arms, successful grabbing the attention of one of the distant figures. 

That’s Martie…she’s my roommate. Martin was the daughter of a preacher. A curvy, dark haired Southern Belle, complete with a southern drawl.

She joined us on the cold grass under the trees….Introductions were made and small talk ensued. Me & Noel continued to pass the pipe back and forth. Martin waved it away when I tried to pass it to her. 

“No, I’m alright” she said. There was the subtlest tone of insecurity in her refusal. She seemed self conscious of the idea of appearing indecent. Maybe she thought it too cliche…from a preachers daughter…maybe I was just projecting some of this on to her, or maybe it was the weed. 

Sitting there in silence, Martie unzipped her bag….revealing a 1/5 bottle of absolute vodka. “Look what I got!”…”interested?”

Never one to turn down road hospitality, both Noel and I in unison said “absolutely!”. 

Both of us simultaneously pleased with ourselves & disgusted at the other for the shitty pun…

The way back inside seemed to me, much more difficult to traverse than the time before. Luckily we had a sober Martie to guide us.

We returned to my room and the festivities were several decibels louder than when we left. Again, maybe it was the weed. 

Roughly an hour ago we were a room full of strangers, but alcohol and possibilities had transformed the mood to resemble revelry amongst life long friends…there even seemed to be inside jokes that had been established while we were away…how long had we been gone? 

Me and Noel returned with the self conciseness of being the only two stoned people in the room…

We sat on my bunk and commented on the happenings of our friends. The image of scrooge and the ghost of Xmas present, looking in through a window crossed though my mind. We addressed our awkwardness and took it’s power away, well some of it at least. We created our own inside jokes & laughed at ourselves and others…

Noel’s sister intermittently shooting not so subtle disapproving glances in her siblings direction. Our direction. The festivities continued through the night and into the next morning. One by one our new friends disappeared. 

Time has a way of getting away from you in Alaska. With not much separating night from day…it’s easy to count a 48 hour binge as a single day. A side affect, or benefit, depends on who you’re talking to, of a never setting sun.

We were in the Great White North and ready for sleep…we hung the blankets from the unused bunk over the window, to create some semblance of night. 

I hit my bunk and drifted to sleep with a slight grin. 

The next several days passed in similar manner. I grew comfortable with Noel & preferred her company most of all. We got close fast in the way that new friends do.

Our paperwork, orientation, & job assignments were complete. 

Me, Ben & PJ were in the laundry room washing endless amounts of towels, and bedding for the cabins. Noel, Beth & Abe stayed on as ‘maids’ cleaning out the rooms & preparing them for the next occupants. 

We moved in to the employee village. I kept Ben & PJ as bunnies. Noel & Martie stayed together. Beth & Abe got their own room.

The whole employee village was more than 6 acres. The cabins were not much more than 2 bunk beds and a table. Each unit connected to the next. Five on the ground level, and five on top. Making a single standing unit. Ten of these made up the entire employee housing. 

During the 1st few days I saw less of Noel. Work being the only reason…we would still make time to hang out after work though. Usually at Beth & Abe’s room. They had a 2 bed couples room.