#I think we have eggs in the fridge maybe I’ll have eggs and toast tomorrow morning isnt that another sick food it’s like eggs and toast and

[milo-is-rambling]

Made myself ramen noodles bc I’ve only had toast really since i got sick but I actually had standing energy today so I made a ramen noodle brick real quick and it’s raining and I’m watching all of the midnight gospel (like starting at first episode and curling into bed to watch the entire show) and I’m smoking a little bit bc my throat hurts but my body hurts more so I’m gonna smoke a little so my muscles will relax

[irb-pascalito-99]

Worship You

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Word Count: 5.7 k

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Summary: After she experiences a death in the family, Joel tries to give his girl some space to grieve. When she tells him all she wants is him, he makes sure to show her how much he cares about her.

Warnings: grief, mentions of death, mentions of driving under the influence, smut, unprotected p in v, creampie

A/N: This is an excerpt from chapter fourteen of my fic Always an Angel, Never a God. To read more of this pairing please visit a03.

By the time we finally get to Joel’s house, the sun is beginning to rise. The girls are asleep upstairs when we get in, but Tommy and Maria wait in the living room for us.

When I enter the room Tommy stands up, walks across the room, and gives me a hug. I stand with my arms at my side as he holds me for a minute.

“I’m so sorry,” Tommy says as he squeezes me. I blink a couple times, my tired eyes hurting from fighting the sleep that I need.

When Tommy pulls away he holds my shoulders and analyzes me for a moment. I can feel all the eyes in the room on me, waiting for some sort of reaction. I take a step away from Tommy so he will let go of me.

“Anyone hungry?” I ask. I walk past Maria and Tommy into the kitchen, looking at the contents of Joel’s fridge for something to cook. “I could really use some dinner, but I guess at this point maybe breakfast is the better call…”

The others follow after me as I pull the eggs out of the fridge and grab some bread, cinnamon, and sugar out of the pantry. Joel says my name softly to get my attention while I search the cabinets for some bowls.

“French toast sounds good to me, anyone else want some?” I glance over at the others. Tommy looks confused while Maria and Joel share a similar look of concern. “No?”

Joel says my name again. I pull my attention away from him, grabbing an egg and cracking it into one of the bowls I pulled out. I feel Joel walk up behind me. He grabs the second egg out of my hand before I can add it to the bowl with the other. He holds my hand still as he says my name again.

“You need to sleep,” he says softly.

“But I’m making french toast,” I say. I keep my eyes on the counter.

“I’ll make you french toast when you wake up,” Joel responds.

“It’s already tomorrow though,” I retort. “I have work, Ellie has school. There’s no time to sleep.”

“Work and school can wait for another day. They’ll understand.” I let Joel pull me away from the kitchen, but he doesn’t get farther than the living room. Maria and Tommy stand back and watch our conversation.

“I don’t have anywhere to sleep,” I say, continuing to argue.

I can feel how heavy my eyes are, but I’m not ready to sleep. Sleep cements everything that just happened into reality. I have too much to do, and I don’t want to think of what dreams may bring me.

“You can sleep in my room, I’ll stay on the couch until you guys are ready to go home.” I shake my head. I can’t take Joel’s room from him, even though I know he won’t let me refuse.

“I don’t have anything to wear.”

“I’ll give you some of my clothes to sleep in, and we can stop by your house when you wake up for new clothes.” I try to wrack my brain for other excuses.

“There’s too much else to do. I have to get my car from the school. I have to tell Bill and Frank. I have to call Ellie’s school. I have to call the funeral home. I have to write the obituary.” I count each item on my fingers, staring at the floor as I think of more items to add. Joel places a finger under my chin and tilts my head up to look at him.

“Sleep first, we’ll figure out the rest later.” He says with a look in his eyes telling me there’s no room for argument. I sigh and let him direct me toward the stairs. He keeps his hand pressed lightly between my shoulder blades as he walks behind me up the stairs.

I can barely hear the muttered voices of Maria and Tommy downstairs as Joel drags me away. When we get to his room he walks me inside and lets go of me as he closes the door. He turns away to start rifling through his drawers for something I can wear to sleep in.

I hadn’t thought about the fact that I didn’t have clothes at his house before. We may be together in some sense, but every time I’ve spent the night before we slept with our naked bodies tangled in the sheets. It feels more intimate to be wearing his clothes to bed.

I start to take my clothes off while his back is still turned to me, figuring it’s nothing he hasn’t seen before. He immediately averts his eyes when he turns around to see me standing in only my underwear. I feel a rush of rejection at the movement. He’s never looked away before. Joel clears his throat and holds the shirt and sweatpants out to me.

“Here you go, might be a little bit but it should do.” He keeps his eyes on the floor, even when I take the clothes from his hand.

He doesn’t look in my direction until I’ve pulled both the shirt and sweatpants over my body. It feels absurd that only 24 hours ago I had my mouth wrapped around his cock while he slept and now he can’t even look at me while I change. I can’t tell if it hurts more or if I’m angry that he's treating me like I'm delicate.

“I’ll be downstairs,” Joel says motioning his head to the door. “You get some sleep.”

He walks to the doorway while I stand in the middle of the room watching him. What just happened?

“Joel,” I call after him when he opens the door to leave. He turns his head in my direction. “Thanks for the clothes.”

“You’re welcome,” he says and leaves the room.

—

We spent the first full day after my father’s death at Joel’s house. Despite my attempts to keep things normal, my friends are constantly watching me as though I’m seconds away from falling apart. I know it stems from a place of concern, but it only sets me more on edge. My every move is being observed and analyzed. Everyone is walking around me like they’re walking on eggshells. I don’t know how to convince them I’m fine without them thinking I’m in denial.

Ellie still doesn’t want to go home yet, so Joel offered to let us stay at his house at least until after the funeral. Maria comes by in the mornings and doesn’t leave until after we all go to bed. Joel sleeps on the couch. I haven’t been alone with him since he handed me his clothes to sleep in the morning we came back from the hospital.

When Joel offered to let me sleep in his room, I thought he would make his way into the bed after the others had fallen asleep. After the awkwardness of when he handed me his clothes, I thought maybe he just wanted to give me some space to actually sleep for a bit, or maybe he was concerned about others perceiving the relationship we’ve attempted to keep quiet. I held out hope that maybe come night time when everyone left I’d feel the warmth of his body next to mine again. I stayed awake for hours that night, just in case, but he never came. It’s been a couple days since then, and still nothing.

Today I have to do a couple of errands to ensure things are ready for the funeral tomorrow, the first of which is picking up clothes from the house. Maria stopped by the house a couple of days ago to pick up clothes for Ellie and I to where while we stay at Joel’s, but I haven’t been back since I left with Joel to pick up Ellie and Sarah from their trip.

Maria parks the car in the driveway alongside mine and, upon my insistence, waits outside for me while I go in. On top of the lingering stares, and the constant pressure of being surrounded by people, between Maria and Joel I have not been allowed to drive at all in the last several days. They went so far as to pick up my car from the school parking lot while I was asleep that first morning. They brought it back here after and hid the keys.

When I go inside the house it seems exactly the same as it always does. Mine and Ellie’s things are strewn about the various rooms. I’ll have to make sure to come back and clean before we have the wake here tomorrow. Sunlight streams through the open blinds, sending beams of light across the hardwood floors. I feel like I’m disturbing things in a way, like our home has been preserved in a world before the news and my presence forces the grief upon the space.

I move slowly up the stairs, taking in the tranquility of my surroundings. I don’t have to watch myself here, I can just be. I go to Ellie’s room first, delicately opening the drawers to her dresser. I thumb through various shirts until I find the black sweater she wore to our mother’s funeral.

I run my fingers over the soft cotton of the yarn. I remember her tears that day, the way she refused to look at me for weeks after the accident. I remember asap the fights we had in the months I first moved back. She used to scream at me and remind me that I’m not her mother.

We’ve made so much progress since then. It’s been hard to get the relationship to where it is now, but I can’t help but wonder if we’re headed back to that kind of relationship with the passing of our dad. She’s been so quiet since his passing, it’s hard to read where she’s at. I do my best to push the thought out of my head as I grab the black slacks that finish her outfit and move on to grab mine.

I keep my funeral dress in the back of my closet. A simple black piece with short sleeves, it used to be a dress I would wear regularly. I can’t stand to look at it now, the memory of my mother’s loss dripping off of its fabric. I made sure to save it for the next one though. I grab a small bag from my closet and throw Ellie’s clothes, along with my dress and a pair of opaque tights and black heels, inside.

I glance at my bed from the doorway before I leave. Joel took the time to make it before we went to pick up the girls that afternoon. I stood back and watched him after he declared I wasn’t doing it right. His eyebrows pinched together in concentration as he tucked the corners in neatly. I close my eyes and sigh as I move on.

The last of my father’s things are hidden in the far corner of the closet in the art studio. We kept his nicest suit in a garment bag there, anticipating the need for exactly this, the outfit he will wear to his own funeral. Because the room was originally the master bedroom, the closet is large and I’ve put a lot of things inside to store. Which means I have to walk past stacks of art, both mine and my mother’s, to get to the bag I’m looking for.

The large canvas Joel and I painted last weekend rests by the door among my stack of Joel paintings. My eyes linger on its bright colors as I pass. It feels silly to be so insecure after only days of little romantic interaction with him. It’s not like he’s gone, or even like he’s ignoring me. I see him everyday. I talk to him every day. He shows me he cares every day. However, I can’t help but play the moment with the clothes over in my mind again. I remind myself of his absence in the bed each night. I know there’s a possibility he’s just trying to maintain our secret, but I can’t help wondering if he sees me as weak now. What if that spark is gone?

I tear my eyes away from the painting and grab what I need. Then I turn out the lights and head back down the stairs. When I walk outside with the two bags in my hands. Maria rushes to my side to grab one of the bags when I pause to lock the door again. I ignore the way my stomach clenches in frustration. She just wants to help, but I can’t help feeling like everyone is treating me as though I’m fragile.

We put the bags in the back seat of her car. I don’t look at her as I get in the passenger seat, eyes peering at my car in the driveway next to hers. A lump forms in my throat as I continue to fight against my anger. They won’t even let me drive my own car.

“You good?” Maria asks as she gets in beside me. Her eyes scan my face while I adjust my seat belt.

“Yeah, let’s go.” I reply, keeping my eyes on the front windshield. Maria looks over me once more before putting on her own seatbelt and pulling out of the driveway.

Despite my arguments against it, Maria does go into the funeral home with me. She follows me awkwardly through the building, observing my every movement. She stays quiet, but always just a step behind, while the funeral director asks me questions and we pick out options for the service.

I wasn’t very present with the planning for my mother’s funeral. Bill and Frank took over most of that for me, claiming I needed to focus my energy on Ellie. It was a reprieve I gladly accepted then, but one I refuse now. It’s nice to have something to do, to have a distraction amidst it all.

A good number of things had already been decided beforehand since his health had been declining for so long. The last steps are really just finalizing the details. Who will be performing the service? Where? Which coffin did we want to use? What will he wear for the viewing? Working out the details has given me a chance for some normalcy in my life while everyone attempts to get me to step back. Even now, when we drop off the clothes my father is to wear at the viewing tomorrow. I’m acutely aware of Maria’s wandering stare beside me.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” She asks, her hands toying with the edges of the garment bag I’ve placed on the counter. I drum my fingers across the counter while we wait for the funeral director to come get the clothes so we can be on our way.

It’s just the two of us in the empty showroom up front. The funeral director went to the backroom for a moment to put the file of our selections away. She offered to bring me back there as well, to give me a chance to view the body before tomorrow. I declined. I don’t want to see him, not now and not at the viewing tomorrow. I just want this to be over. My refusal just seemed to set Maria more on edge.

“I’m fine,” I respond. I keep my attention on the door to the back room.

“It’s okay if you’re not…” Maria pushes. My fingers tighten on the edge of the counter. I take a deep breath and try to keep the bitterness out of my voice when I speak again.

“I said I’m fine okay?” There’s some movement through the window in the door to the bathroom as the funeral director makes her way back to us. “I know he died, but he’s been gone for a while. This doesn’t change anything. If anything, it’s for the best actually.”

Maria and I both go silent when the director comes back out to collect the rest of our items. Maria’s eyes don’t leave the back of my head as the director and I discuss the last few details before the funeral tomorrow. I try to ignore the way her eyes burn into me as I talk.

I walk quickly when we leave, Maria trailing behind me with the car keys in her hand. I wait at the passenger door of her locked car in the parking lot while she catches up with me.

“What do you mean it’s for the best?” Maria asks when she gets to the car. She doesn’t unlock the doors. I sigh and stare up at the sky.

“Maria…” I huff, but she isn’t letting go.

“What do you mean it’s for the best?” She asks again.

I debate on taking off and walking instead. Despite the fact it’s still early February, the weather is extremely nice. There’s a slight chill to the air but with the sun it should be warm enough to walk. That is, if I knew Maria wouldn’t follow me down the road in her car.

“I mean, even if he had by some miracle lived, he would have gone to prison,” I say. Maria and I stare at each other over the hood of the car. She looks concerned, but doesn't judge as I continue. “He decided to drive drunk and he killed two people, now he’s dead. It really is the best possible outcome for him. His little angel will clean up all the pieces for him. The rest of us just go on living and he never has to face the consequences of his actions.”

The weight of what I’ve said lingers in the air. It sounds callous, said out loud. I’m not even sure if that’s the full extent of what I’m feeling right now, but it’s the simplest version to explain. Mourning him doesn’t feel right, so I won’t. I settle on the anger instead, partially because it’s so overwhelming in the face of everything else, and partially because I don’t want to deal with the rest of my grief.

“He’s still your dad,” Maria says quietly. I bite my lip and look away. I know she’s right, but I can’t think of it that way.

“Maria, just drop it.” I plead quietly. She exhales and unlocks the door. I immediately open it and get inside.

—

Joel already has dinner prepared when we get home from our errands. Everyone sits down to eat together, but we maintain an awkward silence through the whole meal. Maria’s eyes keep glancing over at me as I shovel potatoes in my mouth and keep my eyes on the table. Tommy watches the friction between us from his seat beside Maria. He looks as though he wants to say something, but has no idea how to bring it up.

Ellie sits next to Sarah, quietly playing with her food. She hasn’t eaten much lately, but she takes bites from time to time so there’s something fueling her. Joel and I sit on opposite ends of the table. He watches everyone closely, noting the tension in the air as he cuts a piece of his pork chop.

“Is there anything you need help with for tomorrow?” Joel asks, his eyes on me. I look up at him, his expression soft as he offers his help.

“No,” I reply, trying to keep any emotion out of my voice.

“How was-“ Joel tries to ask but I cut him off.

“It was fine. I’m fine.” It comes out harsher than I meant it to.

I can see Joel and Maria exchange a glance in my periphery, which makes the anger turn in my stomach again. I take another bite of my food and get up to clear my plate. I rinse the dish and leave it in the sink before heading upstairs without speaking to the others.

A couple of hours after we all go our separate ways I hear the quiet sound of the doorknob turning and then a gentle click as it latches behind whoever entered the room. I don’t turn to see who it is. Moments later, the mattress sinks under the weight of another body as someone lays down next to me.

“You asleep?” Joel whispers. His breath fans against my shoulder. I nearly sob at the sound of his voice.

“No,” I whisper back. He wraps his arms around me and pulls me into his chest.

I close my eyes as I feel his face bury into my hair. He presses soft kisses to the back of my head. His hands rub gently up and down my arms. I inhale the scent of vanilla and wood I’ve come to associate with Joel’s presence.

“I really am fine you know,” I murmur. He kisses my hair again.

“I know,” he whispers back. I have a feeling he doesn’t fully believe me, or maybe he does but doesn’t expect it to last. Either way I don’t attempt to convince him any further.

I retreat into him, allowing his gentle caresses to pull out the most vulnerable sides of me. It’s exhausting trying to keep up the balancing act, being sad enough that my friends don’t think I’m psychotic while not being so sad that they think I’m drowning in grief. It has felt like I’m putting on a show instead of simply existing ever since my father passed. I’m too tired now, and Joel’s warmth is too comforting to keep up the facade.

“I’ve missed you,” I say into the dark room. Joel’s fingers brush against my arm again.

“I’ve been here,” he says. I shake my head.

“Not like this.” I murmur. Joel’s hand moves up my arm to pull the hair out of my face. He kisses the skin under my ear.

I turn my body around in the bed to face him. His hair falls in messy curls around his face. He’s wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants. He maintains a soft expression on his face, but I notice a hesitancy in him. I softly press my lips against the patch in his beard.

“I don’t want to push you.” Joel murmurs as I move my lips to his. I kiss him softly, our noses brushing against each other. “I don’t want it to be like how it was when Ellie was in the hospital. That wasn’t fair to you.”

I don’t understand what he means by ‘it wasn’t fair to me’. I wanted to be with him at that time just as much as he wanted to be with me. I didn’t feel like he pushed me to do anything, why would he?

“I know you have a lot on your mind right now,” Joel continues. “I don’t want you to think I expect anything. I don’t want you to feel like you have to do anything you don’t want to. That’s not what this is for me.”

“I want you,” I mumble against his lips. I kiss him again. My lips are firmer against his this time as I swipe my tongue against his bottom lip. “Please, I want you. I’m not weak or broken. I can drive my own car and make my own decisions. I want you.”

I try to be patient, to let him lead, but I wrap my hand around the thick muscles of his arm anyway. Going from an entire weekend of constant intimacy with Joel to nearly a week without touching him has made me hungry for his attention. His hands spread across my back, holding me delicately as he allows me to take what I need.

“You have me,” He responds while resting his forehead against mine.

“I want more of you. I need more.” I’m feeling desperate now. It’s not enough to be beside Joel, to feel his body wrapped around mine. One of his hands leaves my back and travels down to my bare thigh.

I’m only wearing panties and the oversized t-shirt he let me borrow to sleep in on the first night here. When he looks down at my clothing it’s as though he just now realized I’m wearing it. He grips my thigh harder, eyes darkening with lust when he pulls me in for another kiss.

His tongue slides into my mouth as I pull at the fabric of the shirt he is wearing, fighting to get him closer despite his entire body being pressed tightly against mine. He breaks the kiss only to allow me the space to pull the shirt over his head and then begin to kiss my neck softly.

Joel takes his time with all of it, his fingers delicately sliding under my shirt to glide against my bare skin. I twitch when his thumbs brush my nipples.

“Joel,” I whine. I push my hips against him, his hardening length making contact with my core.

He growls at the feeling, his hands squeezing me harder. He climbs on top of me, finally pulling my panties down my legs. I whine and attempt to grind against him but Joel presses my hips back down to the bed.

“Patience baby, let me do this for you.” I lose myself in his eyes, his hand slowly snaking between my thighs.

There’s something different about the way he touches me tonight. Each brush of his hand is deliberate. Just the slightest movement sends sparks across my skin. He doesn’t break eye contact with me as he runs his finger through my folds. I push my head back a little, my lips parting though I’m careful to keep my eyes on his.

There’s a deeper connection between us this time around. His eyes communicate with mine wordlessly as he begins to rub circles against my bundle of nerves. He puts all his energy into showing me the words that fail him. It makes me squirm, not just from the pleasure he’s providing me but from the emotions involved in all of it. It’s too much to handle, too much to feel right now.

I move my hand down and pull him out of his underwear, hoping to pull some of his attention off of me. He hisses through his teeth when I grip his cock. I twist my wrist as I move my hand slowly up and down his shaft. His hips chase my hand despite the way his hand grips my wrist to get me to stop.

“Enough,” he growls, squeezing my wrist as I pump him again.

“Then fuck me already,” I whisper back. He pulls my hand off of him and pushes his boxers the rest of the way down.

I spread my legs further apart so he can nestle in between them. He rests against me, rubbing his swollen head through my folds as it leaks pre-come. I whine as he runs his length over where I need him most, but doesn’t push inside.

“Joel,” I plead. I push my hips up, the tip of him breaching my hole. He shivers as I pull him in, not moving from where he rests against me.

“Okay, okay sweetheart.” He keeps one hand on his cock as the other grabs my leg and hitches it around his waist. I have to bite my lip to keep from calling out as he pushes inside. My eyes flutter shut, but his fingers squeeze my leg and he pauses his movement. “Oh no you don’t. Keep your eyes on me darlin’.”

I force my eyes open again to make contact with his. He continues in one long, slow, motion until his hips are flush with mine. I expect him to immediately drive into me with the intense passion he normally does, but when I’m completely full of him he freezes again.

He drops his head to my shoulder and I huff in frustration as I wait for him to move. I can feel every ridge and vein of him as I pulse around his length, my wetness dripping around him. The house is silent aside from our hushed breaths. I’m desperate for some sort of motion, but he does not grant it to me.

I start to move instead, pressing my hips up and down the best I can while stuck between his body and the mattress. I go fast, settling for short bursts as I desperately try to get enough friction to build the pressure in my core again.

Joel pulls back slightly to give me more room, but it’s not enough. None of it is enough. He watches me through hooded eyes while I desperately attempt to set a good pace.

“Baby,” Joel murmurs. I feel something vaguely simmering inside me, but it’s nothing like what Joel normally provides. He mutters my name and grabs my hips, pressing them back to the mattress. I throw my head back on the pillow as he stills my movements. “Not like this, not tonight.”

He pulls out of me and kneels back on the bed, looking over my form carefully. I adjust my body on the bed, self conscious from his observing eyes.

“As much as I love this on you,” Joel says, tugging at the shirt that covers me. “I need to see all of you.”

He pulls his shirt over my head and throws it on the floor. I am bare to him now, his eyes roving over me not in lust but in worship. He looks over my body but stares into my soul. His hands skim my form delicately before he positions himself over me again and presses a delicate kiss to my lips.

I watch closely as his lips trail down my entire body. He kisses softly at my skin as though he’s trying to memorize how my skin feels pressed against his lips. He kisses down my neck, over my shoulders, across my chest. My stomach tenses as he kisses further down my body. I jolt when he lightly presses against my core, not in a sexual way like he has before but gentle and loving. He moves to my thighs next and down my legs, then back up again until he reaches my hips once more.

“You’re perfect,” he whispers to me and lines himself back up with my center. I pull my arms around his neck, my eyes staring into his as I await his next move.

He cages me in with his body, wrapping my legs around his waist while his arms rest on either side of my head, holding his upper body above me. He pushes back inside me with a languid thrust and sets his pace.

I moan against him, finally getting the reprieve I need. His hands grip the sheets by my head while he watches my face contort in pleasure. I pull lightly at the ends of his hair, my toes curling as I gasp. I start to lose myself in the feeling of him, allowing the warmth of his body to float me away to some other place.

His body melts into mine. I’m no longer aware of where he ends and I begin. He doesn’t retreat fully, not wanting to leave my body long enough to do so. He thrusts slow and deep, each one knocking the breath out of me. We share the air between us, our breaths mingling in soft pants as he cages me in. The world fades away until all I feel is him. All I see is him. All I know is him.

Sex with Joel has always been great, but this is on another level. The word sex can’t even encapsulate what is happening right now between us. This time it’s not about finding release, or the pleasure that builds in my stomach. This time it’s about the way I can feel the sweat on his skin and each pulse of his member inside me. It doesn’t take long for him to bring me back to the precipice of my orgasm.

I feel tears well in my eyes as I clench around him. It’s everything I needed and too much at the same time. I thought this would provide me a distraction from my grief. Instead Joel holds me like he’s trying to prove how much he truly sees me, trying to prove he’s here to help me hold the burden.

I’ve never felt this vulnerable. It scares me that he doesn’t look away. If anything he seems to hold me closer. The hand that rests by my head moves closer to my face, his thumb brushing the tear on my cheek away. He moves his thumb out of the way to press a kiss to my tear stained cheek.

“I’m gonna-“ he says hoarsely, his lips ghosting my cheek.

“Me too,” I reply. It feels like my entire being is about to explode, and despite how overwhelming the experience already is I need to know what it feels like to be one with him. I desperately want to feel every last moment of this. I don’t want it to end. “Do it inside, please.”

He looks at me with wide eyes, a silent question of ‘Are you sure?’ passing between us. He knows I’m on the pill, but we’ve always been extra careful. We have enough going on with Ellie and Sarah that we don't need to risk any other surprises. Right now, nothing else matters but having all of him.

I nod my head, giving him a final approval. We keep our eyes on each other as he groans and I feel his warmth begin to release inside me. I let go as well. His body wraps tighter around me as I pulse around him. He pushes deeper while ribbons of his seed spread inside me. We kiss passionately, our lips pressed hard against each other as both of us struggle to stay quiet with the pleasure coursing through our bodies.

Once the shockwaves begin to subside, and Joel’s twitching frame subsides into one of heavy pants, he drops his forehead to mine. He holds me close while he rolls us onto our sides, keeping one of my legs hooked around his waist so he doesn’t slip out. I fall asleep with him still inside me, his body intertwined with mine in every way.

To read more visit a03

[holylulusworld]

The Roommate (2) - Living together

Summary: You and John try to get used to each other.

Pairing: AU John Winchester x fem!Reader

Characters: Charlie Bradbury

Warnings: language, cocky John, flirty John, angst, a hint of mutual pining, mentions of sex, virgin reader

A/N: The idea for plot and some details came from @shooterere per request.

Divider by @firefly-graphics

The Roommate masterlist

“Doll, can you tell me how this crazy coffee machine works?” John looks at your coffee machine, furrowing his brows. “That monster doesn’t want to give me my coffee.”

“Oh, you must push the red button, choose the coffee you want, press the blue button, and put a cup there,” you explain, pointing at your coffee machine. “Let me do this, you can check on the toast meanwhile.”

“I like your toaster, it leaves a nice pattern on the toast,” laughing John looks at your toast. “Is that a kitten or a dog?”

“That’s Hello Kitty, Mr. Winchester, “you tut. “It was a gift from my friend Charlie. She was in Japan and bought it for me.”

“It’s cute, somehow,” John tries. “I never saw a pink toaster. What else can it do?”

“Only toast,” shrugging you get the coffee ready. “What are you doing for work? We talked about everything but your job.”

“I own a garage,” he lies, hiding he owns more than one. “My sons and my best friend work with me. I like to get my hands dirty once in a while. Sadly, I’m busy doing paperwork most of the time.”

“Sounds interesting. I work part-time at a library and study economics,” you say, snatching the toast out of John’s hands. “I’m usually home till eleven and can prepare dinner for us. I made a list of what we will need this week. You can add what you like to eat. Maybe you want a sixpack of beer too.”

“Give me the list and I’ll check if you forgot something,” John watches you pour him a cup of coffee, smirking as you ask him how he likes his coffee. “Black, doll. Like my soul.”

You giggle at his comment, give your cocky new roommate a wink before you usher toward the living room. “I got time left to have breakfast and to load the washer before I go to the grocery store. Do you have dirty clothes?”

“Only my underwear and a shirt,” he grins, stepping inside the living room to lazily lean in the door frame. “I don’t know if you want to wash an old man’s boxers.”

“You’re not that old,” you stuff the toast into your mouth before you say something you might regret. Yes, John is elder than you thought when you talked to him on the phone but there is something about the man that makes your heart flutter.  

“If you say so, doll,” John purrs the words, pushing off the door frame to sit next to you on the couch. “I’ll be out of your hair till six. Do you want to cook? I can grab a snack on my way if you don’t want to.”

“I got the day off, John. I will cook if you tell me what you like. Do you eat meat or are you vegan?”

“Fuck no,” John shudders, looking at you in disbelief. “I want meat. I love meat in any form, Y/N. Soft and juicy.” eyes glued to your thighs John licks his lips. “And I love to eat it too.”

“Mr. Winchester,” you gasp, slapping his chest. “Don’t say something like that.” giggling nervously you look up at John who grins wolfishly. He set his eyes on you and will be damned if he can’t sink his teeth into you sooner or later.

“It’s true, baby doll,” he husks, leaning closer. “I would kill for a steak or a good burger. How about I bring the wine?”

“I’m not into alcohol, but you can have some wine if you want to, John. I can put it on my list,” you say, glancing shyly at John.

“Nah, sweetie. You cook and take care of the groceries and I’ll bring the wine. Tell me how much I owe you for the food and groceries.”

“Beer, toast, eggs, milk,” looking at your list you cross out what you got. “Charlie, I need steak and apples.”

“So, how’s it going with Johnny boy?” Charlie smirks when you giggle nervously. “Babe, give me the juicy details. It’s been a week now. Tell me if you already fucked.”

“Charlie!” you tut, looking around the store to make sure no one heard what your friend said. “I did not sleep with John. He’s my roommate, okay. I don’t think it’s a good idea to hit on him and,” you sigh deeply, “even if I wanted to flirt with him, I’m not his type. I saw the pictures of his girlfriend on his phone. She looked like a supermodel.”

“Y/N, you’re hot, smart, and sexy. Don’t underestimate your value. I can tell, that guy almost ate you alive when he picked you up.”

“No, he didn’t, Charlie. Now let’s get the rest from my list and forget about John for a while. He’s a nice guy but not interested.”

“I bet he wants to do dirty things to you,” rolling your eyes at the quirky redheads’ words you follow her silently toward the next shelf. “Do you have condoms?”

“CHARLIE!”

“What? Better safe than sorry, babe. We will buy you a package of condoms and lube. Maybe some booze to loosen you up a little,” Charlie exclaims.

“I don’t want to be drunk when I finally have sex for the first time. And again, I don’t think a man like John would ever show interest in me. I saw him look at the pictures of his ex-girlfriend just yesterday. Maybe he even moves out again.”

“Doll, that smells amazing,” John licks his lips. His stomach grumbles and you laugh when he drops his jacket and bag to usher toward the table. “It looks even better.”

“I thought as you moved in and all we could celebrate a bit. I made steak, potatoes, and green beans. I got the beer for you and juice for me,” you explain, handing John a bottle of his favorite beer.

“Baby doll, that’s amazing,” John pecks your cheek, smirking when you don’t shy away. “Thank you, sweetie. That’s the best day since ages for me.”

“You’re welcome. I got you everything you put on the list too. I made space for your things in the fridge,” you explain where John can put his groceries and how much he must pay you for everything. “Let’s eat first, I don’t want the food to get cold.”

“Let’s get back to the rules. We already talked about the rooms you can use and the costs but,” biting your lower lip you try to gather the courage to talk to John about the women he will bring home.

“I get it, doll,” John smirks, sitting on the couch next to you. “You want to know if and when I will bring women to your home.”

“It’s your home now too, John,” you stutter. “I don’t want you to feel like a guest and I’m not a prude. I know men have needs and that you will find a girl sooner or later.”

“I’m not looking for a girl right now. The disaster with Sharon was worse enough, Y/N,” John watches you nervously tug at your sweater. “Except you want to become my girl,” he smirks, leaning closer to brush his fingertips over your hand. “I wouldn’t mind.”

“If we want this to work out we need more rules. A man like you would never be interested in me, I get it, but that’s no reason to make fun of me, John,” watching you storm out of the living room, angrily wiping your eyes John sighs deeply.

“Doll, I didn’t want to make fun of you,” he grumbles. “You’re sexy, so goddamn cute and I like you.” whispering the words John curses himself for being too pushy.

“Doll?” knocking on your door John sighs deeply. “Y/N, can I come in, sweetie. Listen, I’m sorry. If you get to know me better, you’ll know I’m flirty around pretty girls. I’m sorry if you got it wrong.”

“John, I’m not pretty,” you sniff, opening the door to your bedroom. “I know you try to be friendly and get in my good graces, but this is not necessary.”

“Y/N, this was not about getting in your good graces. You are a cute girl and I like you. Please let me make it up to you. How about I get us dessert and we watch a movie?”

“Oh-okay,” nodding you look at John who gives you a soft smile. “I like vanilla ice cream the most.”

“Vanilla, got it, sweetie. You can choose a movie while I get the ice cream. Do you want anything else?”

“Maybe some strawberry sauce,” you grin. “I like strawberries.”

“Noted, doll-“

“How was work?” watching another movie, the one John chose, you prefer to look at your roommate. He wanted to watch a horror movie and now the girls scream in terror. “Anything new?”

“I worked on a car today,” John says. “Bobby, my partner said we are ready to buy another garage.”

“Oh, that’s great – I guess,” you shrug. “The library called today and told me I’ll get fewer hours. Sucks. I worked there for four years and now there is that new girl and she gets more hours.”

“I’m sorry to hear, doll. Why not looking for another job?” stopping the movie to talk to you John frowns. “Hey, don’t cry, Y/N.” he says softly when you choke out a sob.

“It’s just, I finally could pay for everything. With my job, the part you pay, and the money from Mr. Talbot I had enough money.”

“Money from Mr. Talbot?” John asks.

“I help him with his papers, bookkeeping and everything else and he pays me a few bucks. You know, he’s eighty and got no one to help him,” you explain. “He was a good friend of my granny.”

“You got experience in bookkeeping?” nodding you tell John about your talent with numbers and that you love to work for Mr. Talbot. “You know, I could need help at my office. How about you give me a hand and work part-time for me and my partner?”

“John, I don’t need your pity. We shouldn’t live and work together,” you’d like to work for John but mixing work and your private life is a bad idea in your opinion.

“Y/N, I offered you a job to have someone at my office I can trust with my papers. Let’s talk about it with my partner Bobby, you’ll like the old geezer. He’s not as charming as I am but a good guy.”

“You want me to work for you?”  

“Sure, doll. Let’s watch the rest of the movie and tomorrow, you’ll come with me and we can talk to Bobby. I bet he’ll love you,” John grins, glancing at your cleavage. “Old geezer always had a thing for pretty girls like you…”

SPN Forever Tags

@donnaintx

@screechingartisancashbailiff

@fallen-wolf22

@sister-winchesters99

@mogaruke

@the-is13

@helloitsmeamie203

@sandlee44

@strayrosesbloom

@notyourtypicalrose

@thewinchesterco

@marvelfansworld

@hobby27

@gh0stgurl

@flamencodiva

@jay-and-dean

@valsworldofcreativity

@h-o-l-l-i

@dayasvalkyrie

@wittysunflower

@supernaturalenchanted

@shikshinkwon

@yolobloggers

@hhiggs

@laxe-chester67

@ilovefanfic86

@linki-locks11

@eggingamazinglove

@trumpettay

@fandom-imagines1

@waywardbaby

@straycuties9

@drakelover78

@stuckys-whore

@zxph-yr

@i-love-superhero

@ten-tenya-iida

@deepmuffinspymaker

@katsav17

@heyitscam99

@fandom-princess-forevermore

@exo-nova

@echoesofpassion-blog-blog

@shatteredabby

@anaelsbrunette

@sea040561

@lemondropirwin

@lonewolf471

@wronglanemendes

@juniorhuntersam

@helpmeluci

@goodgodimaweirdperson

@shadowkat-83

@alltimesamantha

@officialmarvelwhore

@miraclesoflove

@maniacproffesor

@hollymac79

@kayla-2000-art-admirer

@gracefultrenchcoat494

@babygirls-fav

@spnwoman

@amiquette

@tornadochaserchick33

@geekofmanyforms

@jessica-marsh09

@spnficgirl

@shut-themoonscone

@thequeenreaders

@countrygal17a

@atomicfandombomb

@kteelou

@soryuwifeyxx

@defenderrosetyler

@shortwinchester

@maybesomedaygayyyy

@sabascio

@that-place-called-middle-earth

@bunnybaby89

@pandabiiissh

@maddiedott

@lilulo-12

@05supernatural20

@mblaqgi

@justsomedreaming

@cassiopeia-barrow

@its-the-timey-wimey-winchesters

@mscarter213

@jo-like-josette

@mep6811

@prettydeaneyes

@rvgrsbrns

@deanwanddamons

@tearsforhan

@waywardbabie

@certaindeanwinchesterforcastiel

@belovedcherry

@amandamdiehl

@sycochick

@abeautifuldiaster124

@matsumama

@rynabarnesrogers-reading

@homeorbust

@emoryhemsworth

@lunaticgurly

@spnbaby-67

@wonderlandfandomkingdom

@heartislubbingdubbing

@kitkatd7

@doctor-hp-mcu

@lovefromthewinchesters

@coffeebooksandfandom

@moosekateer13

@miss-nerd95

@caffeinefueledfangirl

@vicmc624

@mariaenchanted

@bxnnywriting

@lady-pswrld

@thinkaboutmara

@coldmuffinbanditshoe

@suckmyapplejacks

@princesssterek

@lexy586

@notbrooklynsblog

@xoxabs88xox

@doozywoozy

@moshymosh

@soccer-100000

--------------------------------------

The roommate tags

@boogiewoogiebutt​;

[thadelightfulone]

All I Want... Mama’s Birthday

This is a request for some more DeeDee & Erik from @shaekingshitup. ENJOY!

DeeDee stretched out her arms and legs in her seat. Erik looked over at her as she curled into herself and put her legs down before she sat straight up. He rubbed his face and yawned while DeeDee bounced in her seat, waiting for the plane to roll to a complete stop. 

They got on this flight at 6 am PST and it was now 2 pm CST in Louisiana. When the seatbelt light turned off, Erik slowly stood up and stretched himself out. He reached up and grabbed their carry-on luggage, then waited for DeeDee to move past him. They walked hand-in-hand through the airport terminal to pick up their rental car.

DeeDee was excited to be home. Yes, her life was now in California with Erik, but she would always call Louisiana home. They were here for a week and she planned to make the most out of it. It had been almost a year since she left, and she was excited to make her return in such a grand fashion. 

Erik took his hand off the steering wheel and reached out for DeeDee’s. He laced his fingers with hers and kissed the top of it. The diamonds gleamed in the afternoon sun. DeeDee giggled and squeezed his hand.

“So, are we headed to the Juke Joint first? Or did you want to get settled in our hotel room?” Erik kissed her hand again before settling it in his lap.

“I’m hungry, E.”

“And so am I, Dee.”

“For food, man.” DeeDee shook her head, “If we go to the room, who knows what time we’ll surface.”

“Can you blame me?” Erik stopped at a red light and looked at her.

“Erik.”

“Oh, I’m Erik now?” He pouted at her.

“Don’t you start that.” She rolled her eyes, “At least, feed me before you try to put me out of commission.”

Erik focused forward as the light turned green. He released her hand and gripped her thigh. 

“As long as you know what you’re in for.”

“Boy, stop.” DeeDee pushed his shoulder and looked ahead as they drove to Miss Carrie’s restaurant.

---

“My babies are home!”

Miss Carrie yelled when she saw Erik and DeeDee walk through the door. They all shared hugs and Miss Carrie showed them to their booth. 

“How have y’all been?” She spun DeeDee around, “Let me get a good look at ya.” She smiled at them, “Love looks good on you, child.”

“Thanks, Mama,” DeeDee responded as she sat down. 

“And you?” Miss Carrie looked up at Erik, “What do you have to say?”

“It was definitely worth the wait.” He slid into the booth and picked up DeeDee’s hand. 

Miss Carrie’s eyes went wide. She reached across the table for their hands. 

“I am so happy for you two.” She glanced at DeeDee once more, “Anything else you need to tell me?”

“MAMA!!! You and my mom need to stop that.” DeeDee covered her stomach. 

“Girl, your hips have spread. But don’t pay me no mind. I only had 6 of my own.” Miss Carrie shrugged and picked up their menus.

Erik smirked at DeeDee. She punched his thigh under the table. 

“So, I know what I want-”

“Smothered pork chops, with home fries and fried eggs. You still eating that nasty wheat bread, Erik?” Miss Carrie threw out. 

“How do you do that?” Erik shook his head, “Yes, ma’am. But for you and today only, I will do sourdough.”

“Sourdough, huh?” She tapped her pencil on the table, “So, DeeDee is rubbing off on you. Thank god.”

DeeDee and Miss Carrie shared a laugh while Erik frowned. 

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed that weight you put on either, young man.”

Erik lifted his hand to cover his mouth and pointed at DeeDee.

“Not my fault. He loves your cooking, Mama.” She shrugged at him. 

Miss Carrie smiled at her knowingly. “I taught you well, child.” She slapped a towel onto her shoulder.

DeeDee bowed her head at her great-grandmother. Erik laughed at the two of them.

“Mama, I’ll have the -”

“Cheddar, spinach, and mushroom omelet with a side of bacon and sourdough toast.”

“And what are we drinking?” Erik asked Miss Carrie.

“You like that god-awful black coffee and she loves her cranberry juice.” She picked up the menus. “So, how long are you two here for? You’re a few days early for my birthday party.”

“We’re here for the entire week, Mama.” DeeDee answered.

“Great. Can you be here tomorrow at 9am?”

“Ma’am?”

“No need for you to be locked up in some hotel room. Come help me organize my files in the office.”

DeeDee laughed at Erik’s frown. “Sure, I can be here.”

“Wonderful. I’ll be back with your order.” Miss Carrie looked over at Erik, “I’ll make sure you don’t have to go back out to eat tonight.” She winked at him and walked away. 

---

“And you were worried about me overfeeding you?” DeeDee says as she put multiple containers of food into the fridge in their suite. She returned to the counter and folded up the bags.

Erik walked up and wrapped his arms around her, “But you do. Miss Carrie just feeds me differently.” He nipped at her ear.

“Didn’t I tell you to stay over there?”

“But you were so far away from me. I hate being alone.” He kissed her neck.

DeeDee turned around in his arms, “I really wasn’t looking forward to helping, but maybe she has a point.” 

Erik lifted DeeDee up and wrapped her legs around his waist. DeeDee squealed as his hands found her ass to hold her up. 

“Then let me make sure you sleep well tonight. Don’t want you to be late for your first day back at the restaurant.”

---

DeeDee walked into the office the next morning and put away her keys. Miss Carrie and the rest of the staff were in the kitchen getting their day started. She sat down at the desk and took in the moment.

She officially stopped working at the restaurant almost 5 years ago. Miss Carrie wanted her to focus on her Ph.D. program and knew she needed a job in her field. DeeDee would help during the holidays and summer when things were busier than usual, but that was it. 

It felt weird being back in that chair after so long. Dee hadn’t done her great-grandmother’s office work in years. But she knew how meticulous she was with her records. So, it should be easy enough to finish today. 

DeeDee looked up when she heard a knock on the door. Miss Carrie walked in as she tied her apron around her waist and made her way to the desk. 

“Good morning, baby. I wanted to get you started for the day. Just like old times.”

“Thanks, Mama.” DeeDee stood up and kissed her great-grandmother. “So, what do you actually need me to do in here?”

“Well, you know I’m good at keeping all the receipts and such together. But everyone wants me to back it up online.” Miss Carrie pointed to some filing folders on her desk.

DeeDee nodded her head, “Of course. It’ll be easier to update any documents if you have a spreadsheet for your expenses and revenue.” 

“Yeah, that’s the stuff they be sayin’. So, can you do that for me?” Miss Carrie looked up at DeeDee. “You already know my filing system so it makes sense to have you create any report I may need.”

“I can definitely do that for you.” 

“Great, thank you, baby. I’ll let you get to work.” She walked to the door and turned, “Oh, and I’ll send Brenda by with some milk and a freshly baked cinnamon roll for you.”

“Thanks, Mama.” DeeDee smiled at her as Miss Carrie closed the door behind her. 

DeeDee sat back down, grabbed the folders of receipts, and turned on the computer. 

---

DeeDee worked for a few hours and then took a break for lunch. She walked to the kitchen and placed her order before going outside to take a stroll around the property.

She spotted the old house in the back, which is more like a museum now. The house that started it all. Miss Carrie learned how to cook in that house. She taught all her children and grandchildren how to cook there. When they built the current house/restaurant, she started teaching her great-grandchildren how to cook. DeeDee was the only one who took to it and began working at The Juke Joint when she was old enough. 

DeeDee stood in front of it and smiled at the memories of running through the house with her cousins. 

“Were you lucky enough to spend time here?”

She turned to find Erik standing beside her. “Not a lot, but it was enough.” DeeDee hugged Erik, “What are you doing here?”

“I came to tell you lunch was ready.” She looked at him confused and he shrugged.

“Mama.”

“Who else? Now, come on. She said she had something new for me to try.”

DeeDee shook her head and laughed as they walked back towards the restaurant. 

---

On her way back to her seat after a quick bathroom break, Deedee knocked a blue folder off the desk.  She bent down to pick up all the papers that fell out and the first page caught her eye. 

“Ownership? Why would she have these papers out?”

She sat down at the desk and looked through them. DeeDee knew that her great-grandmother was the sole proprietor of The Juke Joint. Miss Carrie completed the restaurant side after her husband died, so she never had a partner. 

As she read through the document that was updated in August 2014, her hold grew tighter and the paper crinkled in her hand. 

“What the fuck?” She slammed it down on the desk. “How could they keep this from me?” 

DeeDee ran her hands over her face, then sat back in the chair. Staring at her on the page were the names of the current owners of The Juke Joint, Carrie Ann Taylor and Erik Stevens.  

She knew Erik had money from being royalty, and she knew he cared about this place as much as she did. During all those chats about how much she loved it here, how did this never come up? It would be different if he had helped with a few thousand dollars to help rebuild and keep the restaurant afloat. 

But he shares ownership with her great-grandmother. This is bigger than that. 

She sighed, “Dammit, Mama. Why didn’t you just tell me?”

DeeDee shoved the paperwork back into its folder and tried to clear up the desk. She was done for the day. The reports were created and she filled in all the expenses. Her great-grandmother could have someone add the revenue later. 

“I can’t believe they lied to me.” 

She got up and grabbed her things just as the door swung open. DeeDee looked at her great-grandmother. 

“You good? I heard some banging around in here.”

“Yes, ma’am. I’m exhausted. I forgot what it was like to stare at spreadsheets all day.” She walked to the door. “I’m gonna call it a night. Everything’s done now. You just need your people to work on it.”

“Oh ok. Thank you, baby.” Miss Carrie turned to DeeDee, “I wanted to tell you Erik was here.”

DeeDee’s face fell, “Oh.”

“Hey pretty girl.”

“I have to go to the bathroom.” She shoved her bag in Erik’s hands. “Be right back.”

DeeDee rushed out of the office. Erik watched as she turned the corner and quickly disappeared from his view.

“What happened?” He asked.   

“I don’t know. I heard a lot of noise coming from here. So, I came in to see what was going on.”

“Did I do something? She wouldn’t even look at me when she ran out.”

“No, baby. I don’t think it was you.” She pointed to a chair, “Have a seat and we can wait for her.” 

Erik took a seat on the small brown armchair in front of the desk while Miss Carrie looked around the office. 

“Oh, shoot.” She exclaimed. 

Erik looked over at Miss Carrie, who was staring at an open folder on the desk. She frowned and met his stare.

“Erik, we have a problem.” She lifted the top sheet and handed the slightly crumpled page to him. “She knows.”

“Fuck,” he shouted and then lowered his voice. “I’m sorry, Miss Carrie.”

She waved away his apology “As much as I wanted you to keep this a secret. I guess it’s time for you to tell her.”

“I was really hoping I would never have to explain this, honestly.” He stood up. 

“You and me both. She doesn’t do well with deceit.” Miss Carrie sat down at the desk. “Sure, she’ll understand why you helped. But that’s not gonna matter.”

“I’ll try to fix this tonight.” Erik took Miss Carrie’s hand, “Hopefully, she’ll talk to me because she definitely did not look happy to see me standing there.”

“I know you will.” She squeezed his hand, “Don’t let her show up to my party mad at the world.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Erik stood up and walked out. 

He walked to the front of the restaurant in search of DeeDee and found her outside waiting by the car. 

“DeeDee.” He called out to her. 

She stared at him as he came around to her side and unlocked the door. Then she hopped in and reached out for the door handle. Erik stood in front of the open door, blocking her.

“DeeDee say something, please.”

“Move Erik.” 

She reached out again, and he grabbed her hand. 

“I know what you saw. So talk to me.” He rubbed her hand, “What are you thinking?”

“Why? It’s not gonna change anything?” DeeDee said and pulled her hand away. “I’m ready to go back to the hotel, please.” 

“DeeDee.” 

“I’m ready to go, Erik.”

He moved away from the door and stepped out of the way as DeeDee slammed it shut. 

“It’s gonna be a long night.” He got in the car and drove off.

---

Erik watched as DeeDee walked to the bed. 

She was quiet on the ride back to the hotel. She didn’t talk as they ate dinner at the restaurant. And DeeDee made herself scarce by staying in the bathroom most of the night. He sat on the chair in the corner of the room. 

“DeeDee, please.”

“Please what? I have nothing to say to you right now.” She punched the pillow and pulled back the covers.

Erik sighed, “DeeDee, you know we have to talk about this. And I would prefer now rather than later.”

“Later, much later.” She mumbled into the pillow as she turned her back to him. “Good night, Erik.” She turned off the light on her side of the bed. 

Erik sat there for a moment with his phone in hand and pressed send. 

Erik: Can you and Serena meet me for lunch tomorrow? At Miss Carrie’s place. 

Quis: Yeah, we can be there. It’ll be nice to see DeeDee before the party.

Erik: She’s not coming.

Quis: You good?

Erik: I’ll explain everything when I see you.

Quis: Alright, man. I’ll see you at 1 after my class. 

Erik: Kool. Night Quis. 

Quis: Night E.

He got up and went to the bathroom to get ready for bed. Erik looked over at DeeDee as she faked sleep. 

“I love you, pretty girl.”

---

DeeDee woke up the next morning and sat up in the bed. She looked over and saw that Erik’s side was made up. He was already gone. She sighed and climbed out of bed to get ready for the day. 

DeeDee looked at her phone as the call connected. 

“DeeDee, Mama told me you and Erik were here. How are ya?”

“Ma, are you free today?” she muttered.

“Dee, is everything ok?”

“I need to talk to you. It’s important.” DeeDee’s voice cracked.

“Yeah, come by the house. I’ll be here.”

20 minutes later, DeeDee arrived at her mother’s house. 

“Hey babygirl.” Gloria pulled her into a hug and DeeDee burst into tears, “What’s wrong?”

“‘He lied to me. They both did.”

“Who lied to you? And why does it have you so upset?”

Gloria held DeeDee’s hand and led her into the house. 

“Go sit down and start from the beginning.” 

They walked over to the couches in the living room. Gloria sat across from DeeDee. 

“Erik and Mama lied to me. Well, Erik lied but Mama kept the truth from me and I’m mad at the both of them.”

DeeDee explained how she found the ownership paperwork while helping Miss Carrie. 

“That was Mama’s choice not to tell anyone about how she got out of trouble.” Gloria said.

“Wait! Everyone knew the restaurant was in trouble? See this is what I mean. Why couldn’t she tell me about that, too?”

“DeeDee, your great-grandmother is just like you. Do you think she wanted anyone to know that she was having issues keeping the family business afloat?”

DeeDee shook her head.

“Right. And no. We knew nothing until we noticed she was slowly putting the place back together after the fire.”

“HA, the fire. I asked her if she needed me to come back and help her again after the fire and she said no.”

“DeeDee, you’d just started your research. Mama was not gonna let her issues hinder anything you were working on. You are the biggest worrier we know. Taking on the entire world’s problems like they are yours.”

“Ma-” 

“Tell me, you wouldn’t have placed your doctorate on hold for Mama?”

DeeDee hesitantly met her mother’s eyes, “I- I can’t.”

“Exactly. Now, what does this have to do with Erik?” 

“He’s the other owner.”

“Wait a minute, you mean to tell me that your young man is the one who helped keep The Juke Joint open?”

“Yeah, he’s a-” DeeDee sighed, “His family has money, so it makes sense that he could help Mama.”

“So, what’s the problem?”

“He didn’t tell me about it.” Gloria gave DeeDee a blank stare. “Mom, we are supposed to be getting married and he can’t even tell me that he’s co-owner of my great-grandmother’s restaurant?”

Gloria looked at her daughter and shifted over to the same couch as her. “DeeDee, have you and Erik ever had a fight?”

“Not really. We’ve always talked things out.”

“So, why are you talking to me about how you feel and not Erik?”

“I don’t know what to say to him. I keep thinking if he kept something like this from me, what else would he keep from me.”

Gloria nodded and grabbed DeeDee’s hand, “He is not your father, Deidre.”

“Wh-what?”

“Erik is not your father. You can trust him, Dee.”

“But what if the only reason he is with me is because of Mama.”

“Girl bye.” Gloria sighed, “I’m so sorry, DeeDee. I never thought that my relationship with your father would have such an impact on you.”

“I- I don’t get it.”

“My lovely daughter. I have no idea how you could trust your own feelings for Erik and then not trust him to be completely honest with you.”

“It’s not the same thing.”

“Really? Because you were floating when he came into town, for you, might I add. And then when those offers from Cali rolled in, you knew exactly where you wanted to go. You wanted to be near and have a relationship with him. Look at what the two of you have built over the last year and some months?”

“Then why am I so mad about it?”

“You don’t do lies, of omission or otherwise. I am sure there is a perfectly good reason that Mama and Erik kept this from you and everyone else. But you also let the fear that he would turn out to be a compulsive liar like your father seep in.”

“Oh.” DeeDee breathed out. 

“Have you spoken to him about this at all?”

DeeDee shook her head, “No, every time he tries I shut him down.”

“Don’t make him pay for something that you won’t let him explain.” Gloria squeezed and released her hand. 

DeeDee sighed, “Yes, ma’am.”

Gloria stood up and stretched, “Now, you hungry? I got some gumbo on the stove. I just need to make some rice.” 

“Yeah, I could eat.”

“Come on, then.”

--- 

Erik showed up at The Juke Joint before Marquis and Serena. When they arrived, he walked over to Miss Carrie and asked her to join them for lunch. She filled a pitcher with sweet tea and handed it to him.

“How did it go last night?” Miss Carrie asked Erik as they made their way to the table.

“She wouldn’t let me explain at all.” 

“What did you do, Erik?” Serena interjected. 

“Now, now. It’s not his fault, suga.”

Serena and Marquis stood to give Miss Carrie hugs. Erik pulled out her chair before they all sat back down.

“Thank you, baby.” She bumped his shoulder, “He was honoring our agreement and keeping his promise to me.”

“What agreement?” Marquis jumped into the conversation.

Miss Carrie nodded at Erik. 

“About the restaurant. Miss Carrie and I are partners.”

“How can that be?” 

“Since when?”

Serena and Marquis spoke over one another.

“A few years back, I was having a lot of trouble keeping things together here. Business was steady, but not enough for when I needed to repair the kitchen after that grease fire. I was barely breaking even and didn’t have enough to cover all the costs. I couldn’t take out a second on the property because of the original deal.” Miss Carrie picked up glasses and poured everyone some tea. “So, I called in a favor. Erik said if I ever needed his help to give him a call.”

“But he would have given that to you freely. No questions asked.” Serena said. 

“You are right about that. And if I still had DeeDee around, it would have turned out differently. But I wanted her to focus on school and getting out of here like she always wanted.” Miss Carrie sipped her tea.

“Silent partner?” Marquis spoke up. 

Erik nodded, “I wanted to make sure that Miss Carrie never ran into any issues ever again. After speaking with my lawyer, he said that the best way besides just giving her the money was to build an agreement with her.”

“Erik quietly flew out here to meet with me and we set up our partnership. I run the business and Erik financially backs everything. To everyone else, it appears as it always has. Miss Carrie’s place - The Juke Joint with one owner.”

“So, what happened and why is DeeDee mad?” 

“Yesterday, she found out.” Erik mumbled. 

“DeeDee didn’t know?” Serena shook her head.

“No one knew besides the two of us.”

“It was the only way she would accept long-term help from me. No one was supposed to know, not even my wife if I ever got married,” Erik shrugged.

“But you have a fiancée and she -”

“Is my great-granddaughter, yes. So, now you see the issue.” Miss Carrie took another drink from her glass. “She’s mad at the both of us, but she is taking it out on Erik.”

“And when she’s mad, there is no talking to her, which I was not aware of.” Erik sighed, “I don’t know how to fix this, especially if she won’t let me explain.”

Serena looked at Marquis and they both laughed. 

“Finally, some flaws. Thank you, Jesus.” 

“You love to see it.”

Miss Carrie smacked their hands, “You two stop that. The boy don’t know it yet.”

“Uh, what don’t I know?” Erik asked, confused.

“I bet she was quiet all night.”

“Stayed in any room that you weren’t in.” 

“Probably scooted to the edge of the bed as far away from him as she could.” Miss Carrie added. 

“Miss Carrie, we’ve never had a fight.” Erik whined.

“WE KNOW.” Everyone responded. 

“And it shows. Oooh boy, does it show.”

Erik rolled his eyes at Serena’s comment. “I need to get her to speak to me. I just need her to understand.”

“Good luck with that.” Marquis mumbled.

“Just accept that you are going to a party with a madwoman.” Serena said.

“I can’t. Not when that madwoman is also mad at the birthday girl.”

Miss Carrie pinched Erik’s cheek, “He called me a girl, so sweet. It’s ok, baby.” She tapped his arm, “As long as you can still get her to come tonight, it’ll be alright.”

Serena touched her arm. “Everything will be fine, Miss Carrie.” 

---

Erik was sitting in the living room area. DeeDee was in the bedroom, still getting dressed. 

“DeeDee. The party starts in 20 minutes. Are you ready to go yet?”

“Yeah.”

He stood up and walked to the doorway. DeeDee was in front of the full-length mirror. She smoothed out her dress, checked her gloss, and grabbed her clutch. 

“Don’t forget Mama’s present.” She said as she walked past him to the front door. 

“I got it.” He followed her as she walked out of the room.

He picked up the present and locked the door behind him. Shaking his head, Erik knew not to expect her to be waiting for him at the elevator. DeeDee would be at the car on the passenger side. 

Erik clicked the unlock button as he entered the 2nd story garage. He heard a door open and close. She let herself into the car. 

He put the present in the back seat and got into the car. He turned to face her. 

“DeeDee.” He waited until she turned to face him, “I know you are mad at me. But we need to talk about this.”

“Can this wait?” She looked at him, “Not tonight.”

“Then when? Because I was hoping we could have this resolved before the party.”

“We are good right now. So, just drop it.”

“But you won’t talk to me. How are we good?” He asked her.

“Erik, please let it go.” 

“We can’t go home like this. You know that, right?”

“Just drive, Erik.” DeeDee turned forward, “We’re already gonna be late for her party.”

---

Music was blasting from outside the house. They could hear it as they drove by. Erik parked in a spot further down the block. He locked the doors before DeeDee could jump out.

“Really?”

“Can we at least act like we’re happily together?” He reached behind him and handed her the gift. 

“We’re fine, Erik.” She unlocked the door and hopped out. DeeDee walked in the center of the road back to Miss Carrie’s.

Erik jumped out of the car, hit the alarm, and ran to catch up with her. He pulled up in front of her and stopped.

“You know this is the most words you have spoken to me in the last 24 hours?” 

DeeDee tried to move around him, “I know. I just have a lot on my mind.”

“And why can’t we talk about it?” Erik moved again, blocking her path. 

“Erik.”

Erik folded his arms over his chest. “Why can’t you talk to me?”

DeeDee looked at him, then down at the present in her hands. “I don’t trust you.”

Erik shook his head, “I don’t -”

“There you guys are.” 

“Miss Carrie has been looking for the two of you.”

Erik turned around while DeeDee looked up to face the voices. Marquis and Serena walked up to them. 

“Come along, you two. The birthday girl is ready for cake and presents.”

Serena grabbed the present from DeeDee and pushed her into Erik. Marquis flanked Erik’s other side and nudged him into DeeDee. 

The group walked to Miss Carrie’s house together. Serena led them to the side of the house into the backyard where all the action was happening. 

Erik reached for DeeDee’s hand and she pulled it away. She followed closely behind Serena and never looked back. 

Marquis clapped Erik on the back, “Let’s go get a drink.”

Erik watched as she greeted everyone before walking in the house. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

“Has it gotten any better?” Marquis led them to the outdoor bar along the back wall. 

“Nope. In fact, it may have gotten worse.”

“Worse. How is that possible?” Marquis grabbed two tumblers and filled them with whiskey.

“She told me she doesn’t trust me.”

“I’m sorry, man,” Marquis handed Erik a glass. 

“First, she won’t talk to me,” Erik knocked the drink back and refilled it. “And now, she doesn’t trust me,” he knocked back the second drink, “I don’t know what the hell’s going on.” Erik refilled his drink again and downed it.

“Okay, that’s enough for you.” Marquis took Erik’s glass away. “Don’t need you drinking your feelings.”

“One secret, Quis.” Erik lifted up his index finger, “One. I have never lied about anything else or kept anything from her. Hell, I told her I’m a fucking prince, and she didn’t flinch. But this is the breaking point?”

“Erik, lower your voice, man. People are starting to stare.” Marquis looked behind Erik and waved.

“You’re right. It’s not about me. It’s about Miss Carrie.” Erik rubbed his temples, “Is there a water cooler around here?”

“Yeah, we passed it on the way back here.” 

---

Serena and DeeDee walked over to the gift table. 

“How long have you guys been here?” DeeDee asked. 

“We got here about an hour ago.”

“Early birds. Should have been us.” DeeDee looked over at the bar where Erik and Marquis were standing. 

“So, how are things with you two?” Serena grabbed DeeDee’s hand and inspected the ring, “This is some beautiful craftsmanship.”

DeeDee pulled back her hand, “We’re good.”

“That’s not what it looked like when we found you.”

“We are fine, Serena,” DeeDee gritted out. “So, drop it okay.”

“Then why isn’t he here?” Serena pointed next to DeeDee, “Erik’s always at your side.”

DeeDee stared at the space next to her then back at Serena, “Reena.”

“Don’t Reena me.” Serena glared at DeeDee, “Sweetie, what is going on?”

“He lied, okay. Erik lied to me.” DeeDee bit out. 

“Okay and have you talked to him about it?”

“No.” DeeDee deflated, “I mean I can barely look at him, Serena.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes, it just makes me mad and sad all over again.” DeeDee’s voice cracked, “He didn’t trust me enough to tell me and that hurts Reena.”

“Did you tell him that?”

“That I don’t trust him? Right, before you two came up to us.”

“DeeDee. You know that’s not true.” She shrugged at Serena, “Wow. That’s how you really feel?”

“I don’t even know. Mom told me some stuff today and I just- I can’t bring myself to talk to him about everything yet.

“But if you won’t hear him out, then how can it be resolved?”

“Whose side are you on, Serena?”

“The side that wants to see a summer wedding next year.”

DeeDee rolled her eyes, “I’m gonna go inside. I’ll see you around.”

“Don’t make me come find you, DeeDee.”

She waved off Serena’s comment and went to the backdoor of the kitchen. DeeDee walked inside, saw a pile of dishes near the sink, and started to wash them.

“So, this is what we are doing now?” DeeDee looked up to see Miss Carrie. “Hiding out in the kitchen?”

“Hi Mama.” DeeDee dried off her hands and pulled her great-grandmother into a hug, “Happy Birthday Pretty Lady.”

“Thank you, baby.” Miss Carrie pulled away, “Now, where is that handsome fiancé of yours?”

“Somewhere. I don’t know or care.” DeeDee nonchalantly replied.

“Deidre Marie Chabert! What is wrong with you?” Miss Carrie looked at DeeDee and groaned. 

“ME? Shouldn’t I be asking you two that?” DeeDee yelled.

“Little girl, who do you think you are talking to?” Miss Carrie snapped back, “I know you are mad at us, but you will respect me in my own damn house!” 

DeeDee turned around and focused on the dishes. 

“You got some nerve.” She spun DeeDee back around, “Why are you so angry, child?”

“Mama, why didn’t you tell me?”

“Tell you what?”

“That The Juke Joint was in trouble.” DeeDee pulled on the edges of the dishrag.

Miss Carrie waved her off, “If that’s why you mad, then get in line.” 

“Mama, I’m serious.”

“And so am I.” Miss Carrie took the dishrag out of DeeDee’s hands, “You aren’t the only one who is upset that I didn’t tell anyone when I was in financial trouble. Hell, ya mama just stopped asking me who gave me the money like six months ago.”

DeeDee looked over at Miss Carrie, “But you pushed me away, Mama.”

“The Juke Joint has always been my responsibility, not yours DeeDee. I wanted you to earn your degree without worrying about me or this ole place.” Miss Carrie leaned against the counter, “I knew Erik would help, but I never imagined he would be there for me and our family like that. So, if you want someone to be mad at, then it should be me and not him.”

“But he lied to me.” DeeDee mumbled.

Miss Carrie walked to the door and yelled through the screen, “Erik, bring your ass in here.” 

“Mama, are you ok?” A voice called out. 

“I’m good, suga. I just need to speak with these two. Keep everyone outside.” 

She opened the door for Erik, who slowly walked up the steps. 

“Is everything ok, Miss Carrie?” He asked as he walked into the kitchen.

“Could be better. How is she treating you, baby?” 

“How am I treating him? He’s the one who lied to me.” 

“For me, Deidre.” Miss Carrie rolled her eyes at DeeDee, then turned to Erik. “I’m so sorry, Erik. If I thought for one second -”

“There the two of you go. I’m right here. What about me?” DeeDee whined.

“What do you want me to say, DeeDee? I have spent the last two days trying to talk to you and you shut me out.” He walked towards her, “I have nothing to say to you. We have nothing to talk about. We’ll talk about this much later.” Erik mocked DeeDee. He stopped a few feet away from her, “Oh, and my new personal fave - I don’t trust you.”  

DeeDee crossed her arms over her chest. Miss Carrie stood back and shook her head.

“Is there anything else you need to say to me? Please let me know if anything else I have done has changed the way you feel about me.” His voice rose.

“Erik, I-”

He clasped his hands in front of him and waited for her to continue.

“I didn’t mean that.” She watched him roll his eyes at her, “Okay, fine. I meant it.” DeeDee rubbed her temples. “Why did you lie to me?”

“Did I lie? No. Did I keep something important from you? Yes.”

“Why? I thought we could tell each other everything. And as many times as we have talked about Mama and The Juke Joint, this should have come up.”

“It wasn’t my business to tell. And don’t you think if I could I would have?”

“What was stopping you from being honest about owning my great-grandmother’s restaurant? Tell me why you couldn’t say that part.”

“First of all, Miss Carrie is still the owner. I am only a financial resource and that was all it was ever meant to be.” 

Erik looked over at Miss Carrie, who nodded at him. 

He continued, “She only agreed to let me help her and with those terms if I never told anyone. We added it to the contract, and I never thought about it or what it meant again.” 

Erik took a few steps forward and grabbed DeeDee’s hands. He stared at the ring on her finger and grazed his thumb over it. 

“And then I met you.” He sandwiched her hands between his, “The love of my life. My heart and soul. The person I knew I would share my life with and have the kind of forever love I desired.” Erik entwined their hands together.

“When she told me you were her great-granddaughter, I couldn’t believe it. Even though I told you how special this place was to me.” He looked back at Miss Carrie, “I couldn’t break her trust or our agreement without talking to her about it first. But we spent so much time together that week I spent here, I never got the chance.”

“What about when I came to Oakland for New Year’s?” DeeDee spoke softly.  

“I was so excited to see you again so soon. I figured it would’ve been months before I got the chance. And then when you shared your news with me -- told me that you were moving to Cali and wanted to give us a chance.” He chucked her under the chin to make her look at him, “I know it’s no excuse, but I honestly forgot about it.” 

“How do you forget something like that?” She asked him. 

“Have you seen you?” Erik smiled at her. 

DeeDee laughed. “I’m serious.”

“And so am I. Do you remember when I finally came clean about thinking I didn’t deserve a love like my parents had?” Erik swung their hands together and his voice softened. 

She nodded at him. 

“I wanted to make sure that you knew that you did not make a mistake by giving us a chance and trusting me with your heart. So, I focused on building our relationship and truly forgot until a few weeks ago.”

“What do you mean a few weeks ago?” DeeDee looked at him. 

Erik shrugged, “This was supposed to be her announcement to make.”

“Whose?” She followed his line-of-sight back to her great-grandmother.

“We dissolved the partnership, DeeDee.” Miss Carrie said. 

“Wait. What? Why? What’s going on?” DeeDee pulled away from Erik and walked over to Miss Carrie.

“Calm down, child. It’s nothing you did.” She winked at Erik, “Ok, that’s not true. You are the reason for the change, but it’s not a bad thing. I promise.” 

DeeDee gave her a hug, “So, then what is it?”

“I’m giving up my ownership, DeeDee.” Erik said.

“Don’t do that. You don’t need to do that for me. I’ll get over this.”

Erik walked over to DeeDee and Miss Carrie. He took each of their hands. 

“I just felt that The Juke Joint should go back to being family owned.” He squeezed DeeDee’s hand, “I’m relinquishing my ownership to you, baby.”

“You’re the only one who has ever loved this place more than me. Even more than Erik.” Miss Carrie interjected.

“I never meant to keep this from you or hurt you in the process. You were only supposed to accept when Miss Carrie offered you co-ownership and then I could share my part.” Erik spoke.

“I can’t just become an owner of the restaurant. My life is in Cali with Erik.” DeeDee looked at Erik and her great-grandmother, “Mama is something wrong?”

“Erik, talk this girl off the ledge, please. I have guests to entertain.” Miss Carrie tapped his arm and hugged DeeDee, “Let him finish explaining everything.” She whispered to her.

Erik led DeeDee to the kitchen island and pulled out a stool for her. 

“You want some water or something?” 

“No, I’m fine. I just want someone to tell me what is going on.” DeeDee rushed out.

“DeeDee, nothing about the arrangement changes. You will be Miss Carrie’s financier while she continues to run the day-to-day as she always has.”

“With what money, Erik? I am still paying off grad school loans.”

“You wouldn’t be if you would let me help you. But I don’t want to start another argument.” He grabbed her hands, “DeeDee, you will be my wife. You will have access to everything I have. Which will allow you to do exactly what I have done for the past 7 years; wait until Miss Carrie calls with a need or concern.”

DeeDee looked up at him, “You mean I’ll be a silent partner like you.”

Erik laughed, “No, absolutely not. Miss Carrie wants everyone to know that you are the other owner of the restaurant. The Juke Joint is a family run operation.”

“But you will be family, too. Why give all that up for me?”

“Because then I would have to continue to keep this from you. It wasn’t worth that for me.” He pulled her up from the stool. “I didn’t want this to ever become an issue. But we never thought you would find the paperwork either. She had it out for me to come by and pick it up. I was dropping off the new agreement that you would sign.”

“Oh.” DeeDee looked down.

“DeeDee, I love you.” Erik wrapped her in his arms. “What did I tell you before I left Baton Rouge?” 

“That you found me and you weren’t letting me go.”

“And I mean that shit.” DeeDee giggled into his chest, “So, do you forgive us for keeping this secret? She thought this would be the best time to do it with all your friends and family around for her birthday. A dual celebration in her honor.”

“Uh huh, I forgive you.” She leaned up to peck his lips. “But that old woman has got it coming.” DeeDee wiggled in his arms.

“You better leave Miss Carrie alone.”  

 “Let me go.” She turned around and tried to pull his arms away from her. 

“Woman, what did we just say? You ain’t going nowhere.” He tightened his grip on her, “You’re mine now.” He whispered in her ear. 

“Ewwwww.”

“Get a room.”

DeeDee and Erik look up to see Serena and Marquis standing there with looks of disgust on their faces. 

“Oh, you two can go to hell.” Erik barked at them.

“What did we do?” Serena asked. 

“Nothing. Absolutely, nothing.” Erik said. 

“I gave you water. An irresponsible friend would have let you keep drinking.”

Erik shook his head. “I had it under control.”

“No, you did not. You were going to drink away your pain.” Marquis explained. 

“Pain? What pain?” DeeDee froze, “OMG. My trust comment.” She turned around to face Erik. “Baby, I am so sorry. I really didn’t mean to say that. I was projecting my feelings about my father to you. And you don’t deserve that.” She reached up on her tippy toes and kissed him, “I am happiest when I am with you. I do trust you and I can’t wait to become your wife.”

“Say it again.” Erik said. 

“I love you and I can’t wait to become your wife.” Erik lifted DeeDee up and spun her around as she squealed.    

“Glad to see y’all are all happy again.” 

Everyone turned toward the new voice. Miss Carrie walked back in with a knife in her hand. 

“Now, let’s go have some cake and enjoy the rest of my birthday party.”

Taglist: @teakturn @ghostfacekill-monger @shaekingshitup @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @woahitslucyylu @ladymac82 @bugngiz @eyeknowmywrites @ajspencer1892 @arafatih @issimplyaamazinggg @tchallasbabymama @killmonger-fics @beautifullmelodyxx @raysunshine78 @fd-writes @ljstraightnochaser @just-peachee @kaleidoscopeofsoul @sincerelykas

[potionsprefect]

A Day at Home

Pairings: Ethan Ramsey x Victoria Clarke

Word count: 2.4k

Summary: Ethan spends a day with his kids whilst Victoria works

Rating: G

Category: fluff

The peaceful sleep was interrupted by the blaring alarm on the bedside table. Ethan cracked one eye open before realising it wasn’t his alarm going off.

Ethan tried to hide a smirk as his wife beside him groaned as she sat up in bed. She turned off the alarm with a sigh.

“Have you missed that sound?” Ethan grinned reaching out to stroke her back.

“Definitely not. Night shifts were more tolerable.” Victoria replied rolling her eyes.

“Maybe you should stay here today. Spend the day us.” Ethan sat up and moved closer to Victoria, wrapping his arms around her.

“Mmm. And who would cover the intern rounds?” Victoria sighed contently.

“Plenty of other doctors Rookie.” Ethan smiled leaning in to kiss her neck.

“As tempting as that sounds, I think many of the interns have missed the kinder Doctor Ramsey than the grumpy one.” Victoria turned her head towards Ethan.

Ethan leant forward and gently pressed his lips to Victoria’s tightening his arms around her. Seconds passed before they broke apart. “Go and get ready. I’ll make a start on breakfast.”

Victoria grinned as she hopped out of bed and headed to the en-suite. As Ethan got out of bed he heard the shower running as he headed down the hallway.

He briefly checked in the two bedrooms of the two small humans who occupied his life, smiling to himself when he saw them fast asleep.

Ethan made his way downstairs, heading into the kitchen. As he turned the lights on in the kitchen, a golden retriever suddenly sat up, startled by the bright lights.

“Sorry Jenner.” Ethan chuckled as he bent down and stroked the dog who lolled his tongue happily. Ethan filled his food bowel and he tucked in happily.

Ethan got a frying pan out the cupboard and turned on the hob, pouring a little oil in before heading to the fridge and taking out some eggs. With a swift move, he cracked two open and cooked them in the frying pan.

It didn’t take long for them to cook and soon, Ethan was serving them on top of some toast. Victoria entered the kitchen not long after greeting Jenner before sitting at the kitchen island.

“This is nice.” Victoria smiled as she ate the eggs and toast. Ethan knew it was her favourite, he had watched her make it many times.

“Only the best for you.” Ethan cupped her cheek in his hand.

Once Victoria had eaten her breakfast, she made her way to the sofa, ready to absorb the last few minutes of silence before she headed out to work.

“How longs your shift today?” Ethan asked sitting down next to her and pulling her into his arms.

“Only 6 till 5. I’ll try and be back as quickly as I can. Luckily you and I have tomorrow off as well and the kids are going to your Dads. We’ll have to make some plans.” Victoria replied, laying her head on Ethan’s chest.

“Plans you say?” Ethan smirked stroking Victoria’s hair.

“Do you remember what it was like having sex in the middle of the day?” Victoria asked looking up at him.

“I vaguely remember saying it was some of the best sex in my life.” Ethan chuckled.

“I thought we could relive some of those days.” Victoria grinned kissing his cheek.

“You don’t want to give me a sneak peek now?” Ethan tightened his arms around her.

“If I did, I wouldn’t go to work today. And at least one Ramsey is expected to show up for their shift.” Victoria smirked.

“You’ve become very much like me. Sensible.” Ethan said.

“You’ve rubbed off me.” Victoria smiled getting up and grabbing her bag.

“Have a good day. Try not to get into trouble.” Ethan walked her to the door.

“Trouble? You set the bar pretty low.” Victoria grinned.

“Alright no need for sarcasm.” Ethan rolled his eyes but then leans down to press a short but sweet kiss to Victoria’s lips before pulling away. With a smile she headed out the door and Ethan watched her walk down the road before she disappeared down the corner and Ethan shut the front door.

By the time Ethan had headed back into the living room, Jenner was snuggled up on the couch under a blanket.

“Great idea Jenner, it’s freezing outside.” Ethan chuckled as Jenner wiggled happily. He sat up and moved so Ethan could sit down and then rested his head on Ethan’s lap.

Ethan grabbed the medical journal on the coffee table and read it whilst he waited for the kids to wake up. It was still relatively early but Luke and Lily were always early risers and Ethan knew he would have to wake them at some point.

“Should we go and see if your brother and sister are up?” Ethan looked down at Jenner who sat up at his words.

Ethan put the book down and headed up the stairs to see if he could hear any movement from the twins rooms. He hovered outside Lily’s room before gently opening the door and found her sat on the floor playing with her Barbie dolls.

“Hi Daddy.” Lily looked up and smiled at Ethan.

“Hi sweetheart. How comes you’re awake?” Ethan sat down on the floor next to Lily.

“Heard you and Mummy.” Lily shrugged.

“You’re funny you know that.” Ethan said stroking her hair. “Mummy will be back later this evening. So it’s just you, me and your brother today.”

“Yay!” Lily grinned as she threw her arms around Ethan hugging him tightly. “Will you play with me?”

“Of course. What are we playing?”

Lily handed Ethan a tiny plastic tiara that was far too small for his head. He eyed it suspiciously before taking it.

If him looking utterly ridiculous for a make believe game made his daughter happy, he was willing sacrifice his dignity.

Lily giggled when Ethan put the tiara on and pretended to serve him make believe tea. The two played this game for a while before Ethan headed out the room towards Luke’s bedroom to wake him up. Luke was still fast asleep when Ethan crouched down and gently picked him up.

“Time to wake up Luke.” Ethan gently stroked his back.

“No Daddy. I’m still asleep.” Luke mumbled laying his head on Ethan’s shoulder.

“You don’t sound asleep to me.” Ethan chuckled.

“But I am.” Luke whined as he rubbed his eyes.

“Look it’s a lovely day outside. How about we get some breakfast and then we go to the park.” Ethan walked over to the window to look out to the sun peaking out in the distance.

“Okay if we must.” Luke sighed as he forced Ethan to put him down as he headed to the bathroom.

Ethan chuckled as he followed him. With Luke, it was always about making a deal, just like Victoria. He definitely had her traits whereas Lily was a lot like Ethan.

It didn’t take long for both kids to get ready and soon the three, alongside Jenner were heading to the park.

“Can we go on the swings Daddy?” Lily looked up at Ethan.

“Of course you can.” Ethan smiled as the twins ran off towards the swings.

There were times where Ethan couldn’t believe that this was his life. Less than 5 years ago, having children would never have been an option, yet here he was, watching his two children run around the park.

Ethan followed the kids round the park as they went on the swings and slide and then played fetch with Jenner before they headed home.

“Would you like to help me make lunch?” Ethan looked down at the twins.

“Yeah! Pancakes!” Luke grinned.

“Why not?” Ethan chuckled as he got out the correct ingredients.

Ethan helped the twins onto their separate high stools so they could reach the counter. Luke and Lily loved helping Ethan cook in the kitchen even though there was always a big mess at the end of it.

“Wow! They look so good!” Lily beamed as Ethan served them up.

“When Mummy gets home, we have to tell her all about our pancakes.” Ethan sat down at the table.

“Why?” Luke asked.

“Because Mummy thinks I can’t make pancakes. But between us.” Ethan leaned forward like he was telling them a secret. “I can. And Mummy should know that.”

Luke and Lily giggled as they ate their pancakes.

“You can do a lot of things Daddy. You’re the best Daddy in the world.” Lily beamed.

Ethan’s heart swelled at Lily’s comment. He would’ve been lying if he said that he wasn’t scared when he found out that he was gonna become a father. Naturally, he was excited but there was always that underlying fear of “what if I’m not good enough?” or “what if my children don’t like me?”

But every time his children smiled or laughed, he knew he was doing a good job.

The kids finished their lunch and decided to play with their toys whilst Ethan read his medical journal. As Ethan turned the page, his phone sounded from the coffee table.

“Who was that?” Luke looked up from his race car.

“It was Mummy. She wants to know if you two are behaving.” Ethan said in a stern voice.

“We are! We are! Tell her I ate all my lunch!” Lily looked at Ethan with pleading eyes.

“Okay I’ll tell Mummy Lily has been a really good girl today.” Ethan pretended to type out the message on his phone.

“Hey what about me?! I’ve been good as well!” Luke folded his arms.

“Good point. I should tell Mummy Luke has also been very well behaved.” Ethan chuckled.

“When will Mummy be home?” Lily asked.

“Later this evening sweetheart. But she misses us and she’s thinking of us. She hasn’t forgotten about you.” Ethan smiled stroking Lily’s hair.

“Do you think of us Daddy when you work?” Luke asked.

“Of course I do. Every minute I’m away from you two and Mummy.” Ethan cuddled the twins tightly

“We miss you too. Mummy says you have a very important job and that you save lives.” Luke said.

“That’s right. I help make people better. And so does Mummy.” Ethan smiled.

“That’s so cool! Do you wave a magic wand?” Lily sat up.

“Not quite Lil. But there is a lot of magic involved.”

“Cool! I’m gonna go grab my doctors kit.” Lily said getting off the couch and running out the room.

“Wait for me!” Luke said sprinting after her.

Ethan chuckled and went back to his medical book.

— — — — —

A few hours later, Ethan had made dinner for the kids and they were drawing in their colouring books in the living room. Ethan was washing up in the kitchen when he heard the front door opening.

“Anyone home?” A familiar voice called out.

“Mummy!” Luke and Lily cried as they ran towards their mom who bent down and embraced them.

Ethan headed towards the hallway where he saw Victoria cuddling Luke and Lily, the twins holding onto her as tightly as they could.

“I missed you both so much! Have you been good for Daddy?” Victoria pulled back to look at them.

“Yeah? He told you! He told you we were being good.” Lily said with a confused look.

“I had to see for myself didn’t I? You’re always good for Daddy.” Victoria tickled Lily making her laugh a little.

The twins ran back into the living room and Ethan made his way over to Victoria.

“There’s no way I could’ve told you they were behaving after what you sent me.” Ethan chuckled wrapping his arms around Victoria.

“Just keeping you on your toes. Give you something to look forward to later on.” Victoria smiled standing on her tip toes to kiss him.

“How was your day?” Ethan said breaking the kiss.

“Long. Although the interns were not as bad as you make them out to be. Much more manageable under my care.” Victoria teased.

“You clearly have some magic I don’t have.”

“I do. It’s called patience.”

Ethan laughed as he tightened his arms around Victoria.

“They noticed someone was texting me so I pretend to text you back. But you’re right. They were well behaved today, as usual.” Ethan said.

“Sounds like we’re doing a good job.” Victoria replied.

“We are.” Ethan said kissing Victoria.

The couple headed into the living room and watched their children colour in.

“So what did you two get up to today?” Victoria asked as she sat on the floor and cuddled the twins.

“We went to the park with Jenner and then came back and made pancakes!” Luke said.

“I see. Sounds like Daddy’s pancake making skills have the Ramsey seal of approval.” Victoria looked at Ethan with a smirk.

“They were yummy in my tummy! And then we played doctors in the afternoon. We made Daddy feel better.” Luke continued.

“Is that right? Sounds like Daddy was looked after by two budding doctors today.” Victoria said.

“I was. They made me all better.” Ethan said sitting on the floor and pulling Lily into his arms, tickling her, making her laugh.

The twins then stifled several yawns between them so Victoria and Ethan carried them to bed. The twins were pretty much fast asleep when they hit the mattress and Victoria and Ethan quietly made their way back downstairs.

“Finally alone.” Victoria sighed, flopping down onto the sofa.

“Remember, we’ve got tomorrow to ourselves as well. I text Dad earlier and he said he’d be round at 8:30 to pick them up.” Ethan pulled Victoria into his arms.

“Fabulous. Plenty of alone time tomorrow.” Victoria grinned.

“Speaking of alone time. Are you sure you don’t want to give me a sneak peek of what you’ve got planned tomorrow?” Ethan asked.

“Well...” Victoria trailed off pretending to think, then sat up and straddled Ethan’s waist. “It sounds like you’ve earned serious brownie points today, therefore, I think you deserve a little treat.”

“Only a little treat?” Ethan grinned, gripping Victoria’s waist tightly.

“No need to rush things, I’ve got bigger plans for you tomorrow.” Victoria smirked pressing her lips to Ethan’s.

“I see. And how big are these plans.” Ethan replied.

“Let’s just say you won’t be left unsatisfied.” Victoria smiled.

“And with what I’ve got planned for you, you won’t be able to walk.” Ethan kissed her again.

“Maybe we should have a warm up to prepare ourselves for tomorrow.” Victoria said cupping Ethan’s cheeks in her hands.

In a swift movement, Ethan unbuttoned Victoria’s shirt before leaning in to kiss her neck. “Excellent idea Mrs Ramsey.”

— — — — —

Anyone want a part 2? Let me know!

Hope you enjoy this! Let me know if you would like to be tagged.

Tag list: @ohchoices @openheartfan @queencarb @genevievemd @iemcpbchoices @choicesaddict5 @schnitzelbutterfingers @alina-yol-ramsey @stygianflood @malakemads-blog @gryffindordaughterofathena @magicalshepherdtreeprofessor @openheartfanfics @rookie-ramsey @sophxwithers @caseyvalentineramsey @romewritingshop @ethansramsey @codykosuckmytoe @mrsethanfreakingramsey @coffeeheartaddict

[pretty-setter-bois]

slow dancing in the dark

request; none! just me indulging in self-induced fantasies (listen to the album while reading, save the song for last) ღ

summary; you’ve been day-dreaming about this moment since middle school, and he flies out in your first year of college to make it true.

word count; 1994™

warnings; swearing, someone almost falls off the roof.

     OIKAWA TOORU. MANY know him as the previous setter for aoba johsai’s volleyball team, the handsome captain with a fanclub (wherever he goes), or even the grand king. you know him as your up-to-no-good, determined, and impulsive best friend.

the one you’ve been in love with on-and-off since middle school, that is. iwaizumi is the last to figure it out, but scolds you for it the most.

how can you not fall in love with those beautiful brown eyes? especially when they’ve come all the way to tokyo, and currently reside on the rooftop of your dorm, over a smug smile.

your groceries slip, and you almost slip trying to catch them. your first instinct is to scold him, yell at him because he might slip, or that he’ll injure his knee.

how’d he even get there in the first place? how’d you even get there in the first place? let’s back track a little, shall we?

     “(Y/N),” YOUR ROOMATE, kiyoko calls. “we don’t have any food in the fridge. it’s your turn to go grocery shopping.”

“i’ll go tomorrow, i promise!” you answer, being too engrossed in your music to even think about doing anything else. “can’t you see i’m working?”

“you said that yesterday." kiyoko deadpans. "besides, you’re just listening to ‘BALLADS 1′ on repeat. go buy the groceries.”

“you’re too cruel, yoko-chan.” you grumble, pausing the music you’ve been annoying kiyoko with.

you walk into your room — well, shared room, considering the dorms consist of one bedroom each — and change. you decide to second guess your outfit, knowing there was no one you’ll want to impress in the middle of the night at the grocery store.

you grab your phone and wallet, slipping your device into the pocket of your pants and yelling one last annoying phrase to kiyoko before closing the door, knowing she’ll lock it after you.

the two of you live on the second floor dorms, so the walk to the exit was much longer than it was from the first floor. it only took a few steps away from the stairs before you hear a buzz from your phone.

kiyoko (❁´◡`❁)

8:57 PM

Eggs, toast, milk, cucumbers, lettuce, carrots, tomatoes, rice.

me

8:58 PM

is that all?

kiyoko (❁´◡`❁)

8:58 PM

No, just all I can remember off the top of my head.

me

8:58 PM

don’t tell me there’s more-

kiyoko (❁´◡`❁)

8:59

Start capitalizing your words and I’ll tell you.

me

8:59 PM

but capitals arent pretty!

kiyoko (❁´◡`❁)

8:59 PM

Aren’t*

Aren’t you an English major? Why do you still type like this?

me

9:00 PM

do you want groceries?

kiyoko (❁´◡`❁)

9:00 PM

Do you want to kicked out? I can tell the headmaster who has actually paid  rent for last month...

me

9:00 PM

No ma’am, I apologize for breathing your air.

kiyoko (❁´◡`❁)

9:01 PM

as you should.

you chuckle at the irony, tucking your phone back into your pants as you assume that kiyoko would send you the rest of the list after checking the contents of your mostly-empty kitchen.

you pick out the groceries she sent you, and sure enough, get another list, which you also buy. you stand in the checkout lane, scanning and paying for all of your items.

you can’t help but notice the air around you get chilly, but that doesn’t matter. you’re almost home, where kiyoko has promised a warm dinner with the ingredients you bought.

you turn around the corner, navigating the ever-long rows and columns of dormitories of your university. once you find yours, your grip loosens on the bags.

oikawa tooru. many know him as the previous setter for aoba johsai’s volleyball team, the handsome captain with a fanclub (wherever he goes), or even the grand king. you know him as the dumbass, standing on the rooftop of your dorm, “yahoo, (Y/N)-chan!”

     “WHAT THE HELL?” you ask, though it was more like a question for yourself. 

“you’re going to get cold in that t-shirt, (Y/N)-chan!” he answers, his teeth shining through his smile.

maybe you should have dressed to impress, instead of going out looking like you've just rolled out of bed.

“what are you doing here?” you ask, long forgetting the groceries set on the floor. “aren’t you supposed to be in argentina?”

“ah, we got an early vacation.”

“in the middle of fall? you just arrived, like, two months ago.”

“yeah.”

“how long have you been in japan?”

“since this morning.”

“aren’t you tired?”

“no, not much.”

that wasn’t a lie. the adrenaline in oikawa’s veins was more than enough to keep him awake.

“why are you on the roof?”

“so that i could look for you.”

“how’d you even get up?”

“i climbed the balconies.”

“do you know how to get down?”

“um...”

“dumbass...” you facepalm, before climbing the balconies to make your way up to him. “you’re the stupidest person i know, you know?”

he gives out his hand to help pull you up.

“but you love me, (Y/N)-chan!”

“sadly...” you mumble. “you can’t even last two months without me or iwaizumi keeping you in check.”

“take a seat.” he says, patting the spot on the roof next to him.

“just so you know, my roommate is still awake, so if i fall, she’ll avenge me.”

“i’m well aware.” he chuckles, his side profile glistening in the moonlight. “are you cold?”

“no.” you lie, teeth clattering and arms frozen to the touch.

he wordlessly takes off his jacket, draping it over your arms. “i have a hoodie on underneath.” you nod.

“so, why’d the grand king come to visit me of all people?” you giggle, to let him know you were joking.

“i missed you.” he says, his playful tone no more.

“you met up with iwaizumi this morning, right?” you clear your throat, trying to diminish any hope of the love you held for him being reciprocated.

“yeah, but just for a bit. i came to japan because i wanted to talk to you.”

“about what?”

“dance with me, (Y/N)-chan.”

you’re confused, scared of falling off the roof, and freezing.

“okay.”

he stands, moving higher up for a smaller chance of falling off. he extends his arm to you, the look of plain serendipity on his face. you grasp his fingers in yours, feeling them hoist you up close to him.

since the dorms only consist of two floors each, the rooftops were mostly flat, making it easier to maneuver on them.

you could faintly hear the music you’d been listening to before you’d left your flat. you could’ve sworn you’d turned it off.

“i didn’t know they taught slow dancing in argentina.” your voice was low, and he only hears it because he was that close.

“you’d be surprised.” he chuckles, continuing to dance with you.

you forgot about the jacket on your shoulders until it almost falls off, being whisked away by the light breeze of the night.

you catch it, and oikawa catches you.

the jacket hangs off of your hand loosely as your grasp on it tightens. oikawa’s grasp around your own wrist tightens, as he pulls you close to his chest.

an arm around your head, the other around your back, he says, “i love you, (Y/N)-chan.”

you turn to face him, heart pounding in your chest as your mind swells with disappointment. 

i wasn’t going to get my hopes up.

“i know, tooru.”

“no,” he holds you tighter. “you don’t.”

you try to look up at his face, but his hold stays strong.

“just let me have this, yeah?”

you nod, staying silent.

“it’s not the type of love i have for iwaizumi, and hopefully not the type of love you have for iwaizumi.” he cards his fingers through your hair. “i think about you all the time, about how it’d be like to hold you. to see your smile everyday. to know you’d be there for me, and i’d be there for you.”

“but i am?” you look up at him.

his face is a mix of something melancholic and something hopeful.

“i think about how it’s be like to call you mine.”

you don’t say anything, instead trying to stop the overflowing tears that pool in the corners if your eyes.

“you can’t just say that!”

he stays quiet, his grip on your biceps staying firm. you were sobbing.

“y-you can’t just come t-to tokyo, a-all the way fr-from argentina, to t-tell me that you love me!”

you look at him. you can’t help but think your tears make you unattractive, but that doesn't matter to him.

“not after all these years...” you sniffle. “this better not be one of your stupid jokes, shittykawa!” you point a finger at his chest and continue to poke. “i’ve been in love with your dumbass since fucking middle school, you idiot! do you know how many times i’ve day-dreamed about you saying those words to me?”

his eyes widen, looking down at your shorter figure.

“yeah, stupid! even coach irihata knew! i had to bribe kunimi and ask for kindaichi’s help to keep him quiet!”

“well, i don’t think an impulsive plane ticket could make up for that,” he says. “but let’s make up for lost time?”

you cross your arms, pouting as you look off to the side. he has to admit, you look adorable. he moves his arms up to your shoulders, wrapping them around your back.

“wh-what are you doing?” you ask.

he tackles you, laying over you as his arms move beside you. your faces were mere inches apart.

“my knee hurts from all that dancing, (Y/N)-chan.”

you know he’s lying, but you’ll be lying if you say you don’t like the proximity.

has the music always been this loud?

“this is your favourite song, isn’t it?”

you nod, your face flushed. you can’t help but sneak a small peak at his lips.

he notices. “hey, (Y/N)-chan?”

“yeah, tooru?”

“kiss me.”

“h-huh?!”

“timid as always, aren’t you?” he shakes his head as he chuckles, leaning in slowly.

you close your eyes, awaiting the contact of his lips against yours.

they were soft, almost as soft as the moon made them out to be under its reflection.

more than that — they felt so right against yours.

extra:

     IT IS AROUND midnight when you get back to your dorm, the grocery bags are messy and your skin is red from the cold. kiyoko doesn’t seem to mind instead telling you to place them on the table and offers you a cup of tea.

“hey, yoko?” you ask, keeping the tea close to you as a second source of warmth.

“yeah?” she answers, taking the groceries.

“you didn’t happen to be playing ‘BALLADS 1′ while i was gone, where you?” you sip on the tea, almost downing half of it in one sip.

“i don’t recall doing so, no.” she turns to the sink to wash the rice, and you can see the smile on her face despite her attempts to hide it.

you finish the rest of your tea, hugging her from behind as you place the cup in the sink.

“well, tooru told me everything! he told me you were the one who told him where to find the dorm, and when to come. you even set me out to buy groceries just to find him on the roof. you do have a soft spot for me after all!”

she chuckles, your arms still around her. “did he tell you about how i emailed your professor for an extension on your essay?”

“you did?!” you beam at her. “what’d he say?”

“he said you have until friday, so you better spend the next few days with your boyfriend and get right back to school afterwards, okay?”

“yes ma’am!” you smile widely, dashing out the door to find a certain brown-haired setter.

NOTES ♕❣⁂ღ

going thru an oikawa phase, this just felt so right in my head bahaha-

also stan kiyoko.

[lastbluetardis]

Chemical Reaction (20/22)

Summary: Though their chemistry class is now over, the chemistry between James and Rose is just getting started. Together, they navigate the highs of new love and the lows of coping with past trauma to forge deep and unbreakable bonds of love and commitment. Part 2 in the Catalysis series. Tagging @doctorroseprompts

This chapter: ~8000 words, explicit

If you like my stories, consider leaving me a tip? I know these are trying times, but if you are able, I would really appreciate it xoxo. And as always, comments and reblogs are very much appreciated as well.

AO3 | FF | TSP

Ch1 | Ch2 | Ch3 | Ch4 | Ch5 | Ch6 | Ch7 | Ch8 | Ch9 | Ch10 | Ch11 | Ch12 | Ch13 | Ch14 | Ch15 | Ch16 | Ch17 | Ch18 | Ch19 | Ch20 | Ch21 | epilogue

James awoke slowly, groggily. His head was pounding and his eyes were scratchy and blurry. He had slept deeply and dreamlessly, and now that he was drifting towards consciousness, he had absolutely no idea where he was or what day it was. If he’d had to give the year or month, he wasn’t sure he would have been able to do it.

He would have been perfectly content to close his eyes and try to fall back to sleep; however, the cat yowling at the foot of the bed was making that impossible, as was the sharp, pulsing ache in his bladder. Had he gone out drinking the night before? That might explain his throbbing head, his desperate need for the toilet, and the reason he was asleep in a strange bed.

“Pippin, shut it.”

James blinked through the haze of his vision. Rose lay next to him, but they weren’t in his bed. And they definitely weren’t in Rose’s bed; he had way too much room to splay his legs without them falling off the mattress. But the room was familiar. They were… in his guest room?

The events of the past night finally clicked. Rose was here. Rose was here after they’d made up from their awful fight, and she’d stayed the night with him.

His chest warmed with love and gratitude at the sight of Rose pulling a pillow over her head as Pippin began meowing more earnestly upon realizing both humans were awake.

“I hate your cat,” Rose mumbled, her voice nearly inaudible.

“You love him,” he cooed. Pippin paced in the thin strip of space between their bodies, then stepped onto James’s lower belly. James yelped and swiped his cat to the floor, ignoring Pippin’s cry.

Rose snorted. “All right?”

“I really need a wee,” he squeaked. He vaulted out of bed and sprinted across the hall to the guest bathroom, ignoring Rose’s laughter behind him.

After attending to his over-full bladder, James stumbled to the kitchen—noticing with a grumble it was only seven in the morning—and he filled Pippin and Merry’s food dishes. Preemptively, he went into the basement and placed their bowls down there, knowing he would start painting before too long. Neither cat realized what he intended to do until he trekked up the stairs and closed the door behind him. He heard the frantic sounds of racing feet, then the scratching of paws and claws at the door, followed by the most piteous mewl he’d ever heard.

“Oh, you’re fine,” he said. “Go eat your breakfast, bud.”

Not particularly wanting to stand there arguing with his cat, James turned away from the basement door and went into his guest room. Rose was snoring lightly, her chest rising and falling with her even breaths.

He hadn’t been sure if he would see this sight again, and he knew he would never take it for granted. Though wide awake, thanks to his stupid cat, James instead slipped beneath the sheets once more, nestling deep into the mattress. It wasn’t as cozy as his mattress, a little too firm for his liking. He suddenly wondered whether Rose liked his other bed or favored this one; in all the months they’d been sharing a bed, he never once thought to ask if she preferred firmer or softer mattresses. Maybe they could invest in one of those fancy, dual-firmness mattresses he was always seeing commercials for on the television.

James began getting antsy after only a few minutes of lying beside Rose. He tried to ignore it, to take advantage of snuggling with her, but his mind was awake and itching to do something. Plus, they weren’t really snuggling. He was on his side, watching her sleep.

Not creepy at all, he muttered to himself.

Noticing that he was beginning to fidget, James relented with a sigh. Pecking a soft, barely-there kiss to her forehead, he slipped out of bed again and padded into his kitchen to start coffee and clean up the dishes from the night before.

Quietly as he could, he emptied the dishwasher and hand-washed the few dirty dishes in his sink while his coffee brewed. He had the belated realization that the scent of coffee might be enough to disturb and wake Rose. Oops.

Well, there was nothing he could do about it now. He grabbed his hazelnut-flavored creamer from the fridge and poured a healthy dollop into the bottom of his caffeine molecule mug. He took his coffee to the kitchen table and grabbed a crossword puzzle book to keep himself busy; he didn’t want to start painting yet, since the fumes and the noise would probably wake Rose, if she wasn’t already awake.

Surprisingly, it was another hour before Rose joined him. James was deeply engrossed in his crossword and didn’t hear her soft footsteps; he jumped when she linked her arms around his neck and rested her chin on the top of his head.

“Morning,” she murmured, voice gravelly.

“Morning.” He tilted his head up, accepting her kiss.

“Did you sleep well?” she asked.

“Mhm. Like a rock. Which is nice, since I slept for maybe four hours last night. Well. Last morning. I didn’t actually try to go to bed until six, and I didn’t really sleep. Just sorta dozed on and off and…”

“You went to bed at six?” Rose interrupted, a frown evident in her voice. 

“I was busy,” he said, a little defensively. “Gollum wee’d on my bed and the guest bed, so I had to wash all the sheets and duvets. D’you know how long it takes those things to dry? Oh, by the way, Gollum’s got a UTI. He’s at the vet. I should be able to pick him up today or tomorrow. But I was busy washing all of the blankets and sheets, and then I figured I would vacuum and wash my bathrooms between loads, and then I realized I hadn’t dusted in a while, so I—”

Rose leaned down and silenced him with a swift, hard kiss. His mind went blank as he cupped his hand around the back of her neck to hold her in place. She pulled away too soon for his liking and utterly ignored his pout.

“I love you, but blimey, you need to work on not talkin’ so much before I’ve had my first cuppa tea,” she drawled, ruffling his hair.

She moved away from him to start the kettle and to grab a mug and tea bag. James stood and refilled his mug with his third cup of coffee.

“Did you sleep well?” he asked, filling the mug to the brim to finish off the coffee in the pot.

“Not really,” she admitted.

James’s shoulders slumped. “Oh. Was it the mattress?”

Rose blinked. “What? No.”

“Is that mattress too firm?”

“No, it…”

“Do you like the mattress in my bedroom? I was thinking this morning that I never really considered the type of mattress you like, and if you don’t like what I have we can go shopping together for something you and I can both comfortably sleep on and…”

“Jesus Christ,” Rose muttered under her breath, rubbing the heels of her hands into her eyes.

James abruptly stopped speaking, his ears and cheeks burning. “Er, sorry.”

“Your mattresses are fine,” she said. “If you would’ve let me finish, I was about to say I had weird dreams that kept waking me up. I dreamt Jimmy showed up. In one of the dreams, you and him became best friends…”

“Fat fucking chance,” James blurted, irrationally irritated at his dream self. “Rose you know I would never…” 

Rose rolled her eyes. “I know. Didn’t keep my subconscious from dreamin’ about it though. And in another, Jimmy kept shoutin’ at me for the most ridiculous things that I can’t really remember. I didn’t want to keep dreaming about him, so I figured I’d get up and we could start painting your bedroom.”

James stepped up to her, arms outstretched for a hug, if she wanted it. She did, and tucked her head beneath his chin, linking her arms around his hips.

“I haven’t responded to Jimmy yet,” she said quietly. “I didn’t tell him I got his letter. I don’t know what to say to him. Or if I even should say anything.”

James gave her a tight squeeze. He wanted to tell her to block his number and burn his letter, but ultimately the decision was hers. He would simply be there for comfort and support, a shoulder to lean on, an ear to vent to.

“I’m proud of you,” he whispered, kissing the top of her head. “So proud. I’ll be here for you no matter what.”

She tightened her hold around him, nearly clinging to him and ignoring the beeping of the kettle.

“Thanks.” She sighed and pressed a kiss to his collarbone. “I’m gonna make an effort to tell you when I talk to Jimmy. If I talk to him.”

James ran his fingers through her hair. “I’ll be here to listen when you’re ready.” He kissed her gently. “Can I make you some tea and toast?”

She nodded and loosened her arms from around his hips, then allowed herself to be guided to an empty kitchen chair.

They ate a meager breakfast of toast and scrambled eggs while they sipped their respective hot beverages. When they’d finished eating and their plates and mugs were in the sink, James led Rose to the guest bedroom and found some old, ratty clothes she could borrow. He donned the shorts and paint-splattered t-shirt he’d worn the day before, and gave Rose a pair of mesh shorts and a frayed, stained t-shirt he often wore to do yard work.

“Right! Ready to get painty?” he crowed, clapping his hands together,

Rose giggled and nodded, but paused and asked, “Are Merry and Pippin gonna get in our way?”

“Locked ‘em in the basement,” he assured. As though to alert the world of his displeasure, Pippin began meowing very loudly from the basement door.

Ignoring his wailing cat, James took his phone with him in case the vet called, then he walked down the hall and flung open his bedroom door. The paint smell had dissipated somewhat overnight, and to his delight, all the walls looked dry enough for a second coat of paint.

They took a few minutes to discuss a plan of attack, wherein it was decided James would put the second coat on the ceiling while Rose started on the walls. That was how the next few hours passed, with James climbing up and down the ladder and working around Rose.

When the ceiling was completed, James opened up the can of glossy white paint to get started on the crown molding. Rose had finished two of the four walls, and they looked beautiful; the paint was even, with no brush or roller marks left behind.

His legs and core were getting sore from balancing on the ladder, and he wanted to say sod it to the crown molding. But he hadn’t been particularly careful when applying the paint to his walls and ceiling; as a result, the trim work was speckled with blue-gray paint. With a sigh, James dipped one of his smaller brushes and began the arduous, painstaking task of painting the trim around the ceiling.

After about an hour of scaling up and down the ladder, of reaching up and out to apply the paint, his back and shoulders were nearly burning with exertion. While he wanted nothing more than to stop for the day, he was eager to have this damn project finished. He was tired of his house smelling like paint and of needing to keep his poor cats sequestered in the basement.

He climbed down the ladder and returned the lid to the paint can, figuring they were due for a lunch break. With a groan, James leaned down and touched his toes, twisting slightly. It crackled like a bag of crisps. He exhaled as he straightened, then lifted his arms up and over his head. His back popped loudly, spreading relief through his entire spine.

“God that felt good,” he sighed, raking his hands through his hair. It felt a little damp with supposed perspiration.

“You’re covered in paint.”

James glanced over to where Rose was working the paint roller up and down the walls to apply a clean, even coat. His focus narrowed to the flex of her shoulders, visible even through the over-large t-shirt she was wearing. His mind’s eye could easily see the soft, smooth expanse of her back, the jut of her shoulder blades, the flesh on either side of the valley of her spine, the subtle dimples that peeked just above the waistband of her trousers. His fingers itched to push her shirt up, to map out her back and her belly, to press himself against her and kiss the side of her neck and her shoulder and… 

He forgot she had spoken until she glanced over her shoulder at him expectantly.

He cleared his throat. “Well, you’re one to talk. You’re covered in paint too.” She’d pulled her hair up into a messy bun at the beginning of their venture, and several strands had escaped over the course of the morning, billowing around her face. Small streaks of paint adorned her forehead and cheeks from where she no doubt impatiently pushed her hair aside. “Besides, we’re painting. By default, that means we’re going to end up covered in it.”

Rose grinned, her tongue poking out of the side of her mouth. His stomach gave a funny little lurch, and he wanted to chase her tongue with his.

“Your hair is practically white,” she teased.

“No, it’s not,” he said, rolling his eyes fondly. “Don’t be dramatic.”

“Oh yeah?” she challenged. “Look at your hands.”

He blinked at her, then glanced down. To his horror, he saw that most of his right palm was coated in paint. He looked to the ladder: the brush he’d been using had wet, sticky paint all along the handle.

“Oh, no,” he moaned. He raced into his en suite and saw that Rose was right: paint was streaked and clumped in with his hair.

He groaned.

“Told ya.”

Rose stood behind him and linked her arms loosely around his middle. She rested her palms on his stomach and began to rub long, lazy lines up and down his torso. Goosebumps rippled across his skin and he tried to keep himself from shuddering at her touch.

“You ought to be more careful about where you set your brush,” she murmured, stretching onto her tiptoes to plant a kiss to the nape of his neck, right above his shirt collar. “Want some help washing it out?”

“My beautiful hair,” he whined, mostly to hear her laugh.

He succeeded; she giggled and reached up to ruffle his poor, paint-splattered hair. He could feel how stiff it had gotten with paint.

“C’mere.”

Rose dropped her arms from around his middle and skipped into the bedroom for the roll of paper towel they’d been using to try to keep their hands relatively clean. Clearly he had failed in that regard, and his hair had paid the price.

While she did that, James washed his hands, scratching at the dried paint with his nails until his hands were spotless and pink once more. He then angled his head at Rose when she finally joined him in the en suite. But she shook her head and boosted herself up onto the vanity countertop instead. She ripped off a few sheets of paper towels and ran them under warm water to moisten them.

She gestured for him to step closer, and he readily did. He was not expecting, however, for Rose to link her legs around his hips. She hooked her ankles over one another behind his thighs and pulled him even closer. He sucked in a sharp breath as the front of his hips met with hers.

Automatically, he rested his hands on her thighs. Her borrowed shorts had ridden up, and he couldn’t help but touch her bare skin. Her legs tensed, drawing him in, before they relaxed again.

“C’mere,” she repeated, and he leaned into her.

He dropped his head so it was in easier reach for her; his new vantage gave him a teasing view down the front of her shirt, which had gaped low in front as she leaned forward and up. He couldn’t see anything beyond the soft swell of the tops of her breasts and he had the ridiculous urge to rip the front of her shirt open.

Rose sank her fingers into his hair as she began to scrub the damp paper towel through it. He bit his lip as sparks of pleasure shot across his scalp whenever she used her nails to scratch at a particularly stubborn bit of paint.

“God, you really worked it in deep,” Rose muttered, voice an octave lower than normal.

“What can I say? I’m very thorough.” His voice cracked, and he cleared it impatiently.

Rose’s hands gradually stilled in his hair. She set the damp cloth to the side and he took that to mean she had given up on his hair. He lifted his head and met her gaze, as dark and hungry as the desire churning in his gut.

He wasn’t sure who moved first, but suddenly their lips met, softly at first them more urgently as Rose flung her arms around his neck to pull him closer. Not knowing where to put his hands, he cradled them at her lower back, splaying his palms across her spine. James groaned and shuddered as her tongue slid against his, mapping out the contours of his mouth. She flicked her tongue along the roof of his mouth, then the backs of his teeth, then his upper lip. Next she sucked his lower lip into her mouth and bit it gently, scraping her teeth across it before she released it.

Heat unfurled low in his stomach, twisting and tightening his guts as it concentrated into a steady, dull ache in his groin. He could feel himself getting hard as Rose tightened her legs around his waist, pulling him in, in, in. 

God, he wanted her. He wanted nothing more than to bury himself in her, body, mind, and soul. He wanted to make love with her, to hold her tightly as he pleasured her. He wanted to make her forget all about the heartbreak of the last twenty-four hours and to simply feel.

But after what she’d told him about makeup sex with Jimmy, would she even want to have makeup sex with him? He didn’t know, and so he would be perfectly satisfied to simply lose himself in her kisses for the rest of the afternoon. It would be enough to cradle her in his arms and let their breaths mingle in the same space as they shared kiss after kiss.

“You’re thinking too loud,” Rose mumbled into his mouth, reluctantly pulling away. Her lips were red and slightly swollen, her eyes dark and hooded. He recognized that expression, and his stomach clenched with anticipation.

“Sorry,” he said, leaning in to kiss her.

However, she pressed her hand to his chest. “Wait. Do you want to be doing this?”

“You can’t feel my interest in this?” he drawled, smirking. He wasn’t fully hard yet, but was hard enough that there was no way Rose couldn’t feel it. Even so, he pressed himself lazily into her.

“There’s a difference in you wanting it versus your body reacting to it,” Rose said with a shrug. “If you’re not into this…”

“I am,” he promised. After a moment’s hesitation, he decided to share with her what had been going on in his head. “I was just wondering if maybe you weren’t. What you said yesterday about makeup sex with Jimmy…”

He trailed off with a small shrug. Rose’s expression softened, and she leaned forward to press a gentle, brief kiss to his mouth.

“We used to have angry sex instead of talking,” she said. “You and I spent an hour last night talking things out and apologizing. You opened yourself up to me and made me feel comfortable to open myself to you. You let me know how I hurt you without raising your voice, calling me any rude names, or swearing at me. And you let me tell you how you hurt me without getting all defensive or dismissive about it.”

James’s blood began to boil as his hatred of Jimmy Stone was rekindled. He pushed it aside, however, to stay in this moment with Rose. Jimmy didn’t get to take up space between him and Rose, especially when they were sharing such intimacy together.

“That’s what I want from a relationship,” Rose concluded. “And now I would like to make love with my best friend because I want to make him feel good and show him how much I love him. And I want to forget about anything else because nothing else will ever be more important than him and me and what we share together.”

James’s chest tightened and he swore he had never and would never love anyone more than he loved Rose. He covered her lips in a frantic, hungry kiss, feeling as though he couldn’t get close enough to her. She moaned into his mouth and slipped her hands beneath his shirt, mapping out the planes of his stomach, his obliques, his chest. He shivered at her touch, nerves sparking.

He stuck one of his hands under her shirt, walking it up to her breast, while his other dipped into the front of her borrowed shorts. They were loose, giving him plenty of room to work. He groaned when his fingers met with her wet heat.

“Got hot and bothered watchin’ you,” she gasped as his fingers teased her, tracing long, slow lines through her. “Was gonna snog you on the ladder but figured that probably wouldn’t end well. Don’t really want you breaking your back falling off the ladder ‘cos I couldn’t keep my hands to myself.”

James snorted lightly. “I was getting distracted watching you too. I love seeing you in my clothes.”

“Good thing I like wearing your clothes. God.” She hissed when his fingers circled that wonderfully sensitive bundle of nerves. Her hips arched into him, urging him on.

He eagerly complied, keeping his touch light and unhurried, relishing the variety of sounds she made. From the low moans to sharp inhalations, the noises she let out tightened the coil in his belly. He was so hard and desperate to rub against something, or to shift aside their clothes and enter her. But he also wanted to continue pleasuring her, so he worked to ignore the demands of his body.

Rose, however, was as in tune with his body as he was, and must have sensed how tense he’d become. She stuck a hand down the front of his shorts and wrapped her fingers around his hard length. He groaned at the sensation, at the friction of her hand moving lazily up and down. Her rhythm was as slow as his, mirroring the motion of his fingers against her.

All the while, James kissed her. Their kisses grew clumsier as their breathing turned ragged. He gave up on kissing her and instead lavished attention to the side of her neck, concentrating his efforts on the sensitive skin beneath her ear and where her neck joined her shoulder. 

“Rose, I want you,” he rasped, his belly clenching impatiently. “I want to be inside you. Let me make love to you. Let me make you feel good.”

She let out a whimper, her fingers tightening around him. He arched his hips greedily, urging her to continue even as he fumbled with the best way to shift her clothes.

Sensing his deliberation, she reluctantly took her hand out of his pants. She moved them to the edge of the vanity on either side of her hips.

“Here,” she panted.

She unhooked her legs from around his waist, then tightened her abdominal muscles and arms as she lifted her bum off the counter. Wasting no time, James hooked his fingers in the waistband of her shorts, grabbing them and her knickers. He slipped them down her hips and thighs in one smooth motion. She impatiently wiggled her legs, helping him remove her cumbersome clothes, before he finally got them free of her feet. He threw them to the floor, then made to drop to his knees in front of her.

“No,” she said, grabbing the front of his shirt to halt his movements.

He blinked. She loved oral, just as he liked giving it. “But…”

“Later.”

“Promise?” he asked with a pout.

She grinned. “You can go down on me for as long as you like later. But for now…” She cupped her hand around his erection through his shorts, stroking him slowly. He shuddered as his breath escaped him in a low groan. “I want you inside me. Right now.”

Carefully, she lowered his shorts to free his erection. He worked them all the way down his legs and kicked them off behind him. He next grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head. Rose scrabbled with her shirt as well. She threw it to the floor, then reached behind herself to unclasp her bra.

The heat in James’s belly tightened as her breasts were revealed. In his (totally unbiased) opinion, they were the most beautiful pair of beasts in the world.

Now that they were both naked, it dawned on James that there were far comfier places to do this. 

“Let’s move to a bed, love,” he said, even though it was so, so tempting to stay right as they were. It would be easy to step between Rose’s legs and push himself into her wet heat; it would feel incredible, being surrounded by her, making her moan, feeling her clenching and throbbing around him. 

He shuddered violently as his need spiked, but Rose was already hopping down from the vanity countertop in all of her naked glory. He couldn’t help but catch her in his arms and kiss her. He hissed when his erection pressed to her hip. He grabbed her arse and pulled her into him.

“Y’know, standing-up sex is much more difficult and uncomfortable than countertop sex,” Rose drawled, though her words died on a gasp when he covered her breast with his mouth. He flicked his tongue against her nipple and scraped his teeth across it.

It became too awkward to keep his neck bent like that, so he instead replaced his mouth with his hand and moved his lips to the side of her neck.

“You are utterly irresistible,” he breathed, repositioning his hips so his erection was stimulating her as well. He flexed and arched his into her, ignoring that primal urge to enter her, to make hard and fast love with her.

“Counter’s right there,” she sighed, threading her fingers through his hair and hooking a leg around his waist.

Oh, God, that was the angle he needed. On his next forward grind, the tip of his cock slipped through her folds, teasing him with a hint of heightened pleasure. Fire blazed through him, a desperate, aching, burning heat as his body exploded with sensations.

He thought he would never again get to do this with her, yet here he was, mere seconds from joining with her in that most intimate way that belonged just to them. She was the only one he would ever share this with, the only one he wanted to share this with.

“Rose,” he gasped helplessly, grinding into her harder and faster.

Raw desire overwhelmed him, and he could hardly do anything but cling to her.

“Bed.”

Rose lowered her leg from around him, causing him to slip away from her. He grunted in displeasure as his cock was met with the cooler air of the en suite.

A small, soft hand slipped through his, pulling him into the bedroom. The smell of paint was all around them. Brushes and rollers and paint cans were strewn around the room, but in the center of the room was a beautiful, glorious, comfortable bed. It was covered in a protective cloth canvas, but it would be a simple matter to shift the canvas aside. 

Rose, evidently, had the same idea. She grabbed the edge of the canvas and shoved it to the foot of the bed, leaving them enough space to crawl onto the mattress.

They moved in perfect synchronicity, with Rose settling on her back, legs fallen to the sides, and James hovering atop her, his hips cradled in hers.

Rose wasted no time; she took him in hand, lined him up, and guided him inside of herself. He couldn’t help the soft cry as he was surrounded by her. She echoed his moan, locking her legs around his hips and digging her nails into his shoulder blades.

James began to shake. Hot shivers pricked across his body, and he had the mortifying dread that he was about to come any second. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to think about anything other than how good it felt to be inside Rose, how safe and loved he felt, how relieved he was to be making love with the love of his life when, for a long, exhausting, harrowing day, he thought he’d lost her and broken this beautiful life they shared.

It was then that he realized his body had been telling him he was about to start crying. Hot tears slipped down his cheeks, before they were brushed away by gentle hands.

“James.” Rose caressed her thumbs beneath his eyelids, a silent request. He opened his eyes and saw that hers, too, were glistening with tears. “I love you. More than I can say. More than you’ll know. More than I thought I could ever love someone. You are my happy ending, the happy ending I never thought I’d have, and I want to spend the rest of my life loving you and laughing with you and crying with you.” 

A choked sob bubbled up his throat and he spared a thought for how ridiculous they must look, lying on a bed in a paint-strewn room, connected as intimately as two people could physically be, and yet they were both crying.

“I love you, Rose,” he answered, voice raw. “Thank you for…” For what? For loving him and letting him love her? For letting him apologize and giving him an apology in return? For being patient, kind, and loving? For making him feel at home for the first time in a long, long time? “For everything.”

She brought his face closer to hers and brushed a ghost of a kiss to his cheeks overtop the tear tracks, then to his lips. She planted kiss after kiss to his lips, gently at first, then more frantic as he slid his arms under her shoulders to hold her closer. Their mouths moved greedily together, falling into a rhythm they each knew well as James began to move atop her.

Rose broke the kiss with a sigh, arching her hips into his. Their kisses grew more sporadic, with James concentrating his efforts on her neck and collarbone. She felt amazing, the slick drag of her tightening muscles around his cock sending frissons of pleasure across his entire body, head to toes.

He gathered her impossibly closer, burying his face into her neck as he breathed her in, her scent overpowering the smell of paint in the room. He was surrounded by her, by her warmth, her body, her love. With every thrust of himself into her, he was being consumed, giving himself willingly to her and receiving all of her in return. 

Rose began trembling, clenching around him as her breathing hitched. Shifting his weight and balance, he took one of his arms away from her to slip his hand between their bodies to rub the place they were joined. Her back arched, thrusting into him as she squeezed him tighter, tighter, tighter…

She cried out his name, the sound full of pleasure and relief as she was swept away by the force of her orgasm. Shuddering and shaking, her nails dug hard into his spine as she clung to him. He could feel his own pleasure mounting, feel the urgency building within him as he quickened his pace. 

His body was too small to contain the maelstrom brewing inside of him. His lungs constricted, leaving him panting raggedly at her shoulder as he moved within her. Rose had stopped pulsing around him, so he returned his arm to the mattress, bracing himself as he snapped his hips harder and faster, chasing his release.

Rose scraped her nails up and down his back, raising goosebumps across his skin and pulling a low groan from deep in his throat. Fuck, she felt incredible. He never wanted to leave this moment, yet he was desperate to reach his climax, to join her in that overpowering ecstasy.

Her lips were at his ear, her hot breath tickling it deliciously as she whispered, “I love you, James. My James. I love you.”

He cursed and cried out as the tension in his belly flared sharply, then rolled outwards, boiling his blood and leaving pleasure in its wake. He’d never felt so good and was sure nothing else would ever feel as amazing as this, despite the past four months proving to him that making love with Rose would always be addicting and overwhelming.

He was thoroughly exhausted when the tide receded and he slumped bonelessly into Rose. He could hardly catch his breath and he was sure his arms would never stop shaking.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Rose mumbled, sounding as worn out as he felt, “but if makeup sex with you is always going to be that intense, we’re gonna need to find things to argue about at least weekly.”

James snorted, then giggled, before he was full-on belly laughing. Rose was laughing just as hard beneath him, her shoulders shaking as she gasped for breath. His abdominals ached by the time he managed to pull himself together.

“Your hair is still a mess,” Rose said, running her fingers through it.

Shivers prickled across his scalp. He moaned and pressed closer.

“I think a shower is gonna be the only way to get all the paint out,” she continued.

“Mmm. I could use a bit of help. To make sure my hair is utterly paint-free.”

She grinned. “I s’pose I could be persuaded to join you. After all, I might’ve gotten paint in my hair and need someone to check it out for me.”

“See? I’m doing you a huge favor,” he said.

Rose pinched him, then sighed and melted into the mattress and pillows. “We probably ought to get more painting done before we shower though.”

“I dunno about you, but it would take an act of God to move me from this bed right now.”

At that moment, James’s phone began to trill with an incoming call. He grunted in annoyance, unsure where he’d left his phone, and figured whoever was calling couldn’t be more important than his post-coital cuddle with Rose.

“Aren’t you gonna get that?” she asked, trailing her nails lightly up and down his spine.

He huffed. “Unless God is calling, no.”

“It could be the vet,” Rose said as his phone continued to ring. “Didn’t you say Gollum could come home today or tomorrow?”

With a displeased groan, James pushed himself up to his forearms, then carefully rolled off of her. His muscles complained at the movement; his legs barely held his weight as he stumbled around the room, searching for his phone. The call had ended by the time he found it sitting precariously top of the canvas-covered nightstand. Rose had been right: it was the vet. He learned upon listening to the voicemail message that he could pick Gollum up any time that afternoon before six o’clock.

“Let’s shower then fetch him,” Rose suggested. “We got a lot done today and can finish up tomorrow, if that’s all right.”

James was sure he would be even sorer tomorrow, but he absolutely did not want to do any more painting today. He enthusiastically agreed, and then waggled his eyebrows and said, “Shower time?”

Rose rolled her eyes but a small smile crossed her lips. She shifted off of the bed, looking as stiff as he felt; hopefully the warm water would help loosen their muscles.

James should have known it would be impossible for their shared shower to be purely functional. As they washed themselves and helped each other scrub off stubborn flecks of paint, they found any excuse to stand closer than necessary. Their damp, soapy bodies rubbed together deliciously and James couldn’t help but trail wet kisses across her skin as his body thrummed with renewed desire. When Rose shampooed his hair and dug her nails deep into his scalp to scrape away all of the paint, James thought he was going to combust on the spot. All of his blood pulsed into his cock with dizzying intensity; by the time Rose rinsed the suds from his hair, he was grinding himself firmly into her hip.

“Again?” she asked with a smirk.

“Please,” he rasped. “I want you.”

“Shower sex requires more balance and strength than I currently have,” she said, sliding her palm down his belly to take him in hand. “But I can think of something else I can do with this.”

With that, she dropped to her knees before him and wasted no time in slotting her mouth over him. Pleasure sparked up his spine and goosebumps prickled across his skin despite standing beneath the warm spray of water. Her tongue drummed across his cock while her hand stroked the base of him.

She built him up with a steady rhythm, and James let himself be lost in her ministrations, for once unbothered that he wasn’t going to last very long. He couldn’t bring himself to care, not when the friction of her hand and the suction of her mouth felt so bloody good.

He grunted out a warning when the heat in his belly coiled in on itself. Smirking, she took her mouth off of him and pumped her hand harder and faster down his cock. She arched her chest closer, the overhead lights shimmering off her wet, flushed skin as the head of his cock brushed the swell of her breasts, and oh God, he was done for.  

The tension unsnapped in a sharp wave of pleasure and relief that left him moaning and curling his toes into the wet, textured floor of his shower. He thrust into the sensations rocking through his body as her hand continued moving on him, drawing out his orgasm for as long as she could.

He cursed when his ears stopped roaring and his head stopped swimming. Rose was still crouched in front of him, evidence of his pleasure spattered across her breasts as she lazily stroked his softening cock. He shivered.

“Thanks,” he croaked a bit stupidly.

She grinned. “My pleasure.”

“Pretty sure the pleasure was all mine, actually.” He helped haul her to her feet, and he crashed his mouth to hers. Between kisses, he murmured, “That felt incredible. Thank you.”

“I love doing that to you,” she replied, sighing when he tilted her head back to kiss her neck.

“Looks like you got all covered in paint again,” he drawled, trailing his fingertips across her breasts.

“Really? That’s your line?” she snorted.

He pouted. “What’s wrong with my line? That was a brilliant line.”

She simply rolled her eyes, but another smile tugged at her lips. “That was a terrible line and so cheesy and so dorky.” Before he could splutter out a rebuttal, she kissed him and said, “But you’re my cheesy dork.”

His blood warmed and he hummed, his body overflowing with love and appreciation for her. He kissed her softly and whispered, “Since I got you messy, it’s only fair that I wash it all off.”

“Hmmm?”

James trailed his fingers up and down her sides, from her breasts to her hips, in long, slow strokes. Her nipples pebbled and tightened so invitingly, and he couldn’t keep himself from taking one into his mouth. She arched into his touch, fisting her fingers through his hair to hold him in place. As if he would ever want to move.

Time ceased to mean anything as he lavished attention to her breasts, letting his tongue and the spray of the shower rinse her chest clean. Her breathing turned ragged the longer he allowed his teeth and tongue to tease her nipples and the curve of her breasts. When his back and neck grew too sore to remain hunched as he was, he dropped to his knees before her and gave the same attention to her hips and lower belly.

She thrust closer to his touch, trying to get him where she wanted him, but he smiled to himself and grabbed her hips, halting their impatient movements.

“James,” she whined, tugging at his hair. “I didn’t make you wait.”

“As I recall, earlier you told me, and I quote, You can go down on me for as long as you like later. It’s later, isn’t it? And I am nowhere near satisfied yet.”

“James, please,” she begged, and fuck, if she didn’t know what that did to him.

He shivered and tried to continue kissing her hips and thighs, but he was desperate to taste her, to hear her sounds of pleasure.

“C’mere.” He tapped one of her legs, encouraging her to drape it over his shoulder. “I won’t let you fall.”

Rose obeyed, bracing her back on the shower wall for balance and leverage. She gripped his hair tightly with one hand while her other shot to the washcloth holder. Her knuckles went white from how hard she clung to it.

“Relax,” he breathed, planting barely-there kisses right above where he knew she wanted him.

She growled in frustration and arched into him. He caressed her leg, then finally lowered his mouth and lick a long, slow line through her folds. She cursed and squeezed his hair, before loosening her hold.

He feasted on her as though he were a starving man. He couldn’t get close enough, couldn’t taste enough of her. Her urgent moans spurred him on, and he redoubled his efforts.

“James. I’m gonna…”

He hummed into her, loving her sharp cry as she trembled apart around him. Her thighs shook and he made sure to brace himself to take on more of her weight in case she lost her balance. Rose dug her heel into his spine, pressing him closer to her as she sighed his name and a string of curses.

Many long moments later, Rose shakily unhooked her leg from his shoulder and urged him to his feet. He held her to him trailing his fingers up and down her spine as she worked to slow her breathing.

“I love you,” she mumbled, face buried in the side of his neck. “You are so good at that.”

He puffed up with pride. “You deserve nothing less. Besides, I love doing that to you. Though I’m miffed you wouldn’t let me go on for longer.”

As though to contradict him, their hot water turned lukewarm, then went suddenly frigid. James, who had his back to the spray, yelped and leapt out of the water’s path, knocking Rose into the wall.

“Christ that’s cold!”

Rose cackled and ruffled his wet hair before she reached around him and turned the water off. “See. It’s a good thing I didn’t let you carry on. I would’ve been furious if a jet of cold water interrupted that.”

James sighed, then grudgingly stepped away from Rose to exit the shower.

“Dunno about you, but I’m starving,” Rose said while they towel dried themselves.

“Worked up quite an appetite, did you?” he asked, winking.

“Nah, I think it’s just ‘cos it’s way past lunch time,” she replied sweetly.

When they were dried and dressed once more, they exited the bedroom and closed the door behind them, then released Merry and Pippin from the basement. 

They inhaled a quick lunch of turkey sandwiches and sour cream and cheddar crisps, with half of a cupcake for dessert. As James cut the cupcake in half—horizontally between “happy” and “birthday”—he remembered the gift he’d had stashed away in his backpack all month long.

“Oh, bugger,” he muttered to himself, ignoring Rose’s look of confusion as he abruptly dropped the knife and rushed to the front door where his bag hung from a peg on the coat rack.

He rifled through it until he found the thin, rectangular velvet box. He had nearly decided on a thicker square box until he realized the box looked like it might hold a ring, and he hadn’t wanted to send mixed messages. If—when, he thought hopefully—he proposed to Rose, he wanted that to be the first and only time she thought a proposal was coming. He didn’t want to tease it in front of her without following through.

Necklace box in tow, he returned to Rose and held it out to her. “Happy birthday. I’ve been carrying it around all month to give to you whenever you told me it was your birthday. It slipped my mind last night.”

Rose’s cheeks turned a delightful shade of pink as she accepted the box from him with a mumbled, “Thanks,” and a brief kiss. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and rocked on his toes and heels as she took the lid off of the box.

“Oh, it’s beautiful,” she breathed, running her fingertips delicately across the silver chain and pendant. She looked up at him and smiled. “Thank you. I love it.”

He exhaled in relief; he hadn’t been sure what her response would be, since she had an aversion to gifts. But he’d seen the infinity heart design and hadn’t been able to resist.

Rose must have noticed his reaction, and she smiled sheepishly. “I’m trying to be better about accepting gifts. Especially since you enjoy giving them. I really love it, James. Thank you. Will you put it on me?”

She took the necklace out of the box and handed it to him. He draped it around her neck then clasped it, brushing a kiss to her nape to sign off on a job well done.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, unable to resist kissing her again. 

She hummed and melted into him, resting her head on his shoulder. He leaned forward to press a kiss to her lips as she said, “Let’s finish lunch then we can collect Gollum.”

“I’d rather continue kissing you,” he countered, leaving kisses along the side of her neck.

“We can keep kissing when we get home,” she answered, though with how she threaded her fingers through his hair, she was in no rush to put an end to their activities either.

“Or… we can kiss now.”

Rose breathed out a laugh. “You should be a responsible pet owner. Let’s fetch Gollum, then when we get back, we can snog on the couch for the rest of the night.”

“Hmmm, you drive a hard bargain.” He planted a final kiss to the patch of skin right below her ear, enjoying her slight shudder, then pulled away to guide her to the kitchen and their shared, halved cupcake.

[strawberrysoup]

Let’s Review || Chapter 3

Peter Parker knew that his big sister would do anything for him to be safe and happy. She’d given up everything for him twice over already and would do it again in a heartbeat. And that’s why, when the criminal mastermind Tony Stark started inextricably following him around, he didn’t say a word. Because he knew without a doubt Penny would do whatever she had to if it meant keeping Peter safe. He had to protect her, just like she always protected him. He never considered what would happen if Stark decided both Parker siblings were worth taking. Never considered who else in Stark’s inner circle would agree. He just wanted to protect her and yet somehow, they both ended up with needles in their necks.

relationship: Steve Rogers/Original Female Character/Bucky Barnes, background Peter Parker/Tony Stark

rating: Explicit

warnings: Dark Steve Rogers, Dark Bucky Barnes, Dark Tony Stark, Dark Avengers, kidnapping, non-con/dub-con elements, underage Peter Parker, emotional and psychological abuse, very dark

Penny had sent Peter off to bed before allowing herself to cry for a solid two hours until she passed out on the couch in her work clothes. Waking up was a trial, her head was pounding and she hadn’t pulled the curtains over the living room window closed before falling asleep so it was ten times brighter than it needed to be. She hadn’t set an alarm, but she could hear Peter moving around in the bedroom so it was around 6 AM.

“Peter, you good?” She called out absently, the usual morning greeting that meant ‘are you moving fast enough to make it to school on time?’

“I’m good,” his voice was quieter than usual, dejected in a way that broke a piece of her heart.

She sat up on the couch and put her face in her hands, elbows digging sharply into her thighs. Everything felt off, like the earth had shifted on its axis but only by a few degrees. There had been several times in her life when everything had changed in the blink of an eye. Her entire world stopped spinning, first when her mom and dad died, then again with uncle Ben, and again with aunt May. Every time it had eventually started back again, but she’d always had an anchor.

She’d always had Peter, when everything went wrong. Having to start from scratch, to rebuild her entire life, was always possible because she had Peter. He was her rock, her reason for pushing forward to fix everything that went wrong. To restabilize.

When she’d been date raped in a club in Queens half a year ago, it had been traumatic. Brock had been sniffing around for ages before she finally agreed to go out with him and then he turned into a fucking monster at the drop of a hat, the piece of shit. She hadn’t meant to let Peter find out about any of it. She’d called a friend to get her from the club, to help her home. She’d been traumatized and angry, half drugged by the time they got to the apartment and screaming about the injustice.

Peter had helped her into the shower, sent her friend off for food, and held her while she screamed and cried and otherwise lost her fucking mind. By the next morning she’d gotten a note slipped under the door, essentially telling her to fuck off and keep her mouth shut or else. As if she’d even considered going to the police— what would she have said? ‘This dude I talked to for months slipped me drugs and raped me in the back of a club. No, there were no witnesses. No, I didn’t call the police. No, I didn’t go to the hospital.’ Stupid. She’d been stupid, as always.

Getting into such a stupid situation had spiraled into a rabbit hole of almost inconceivable bad luck. If she hadn’t let herself get duped in that stupid club, Peter never would’ve gone to Stark Tower. Never would’ve gotten spotted by the man himself. And now, she wouldn’t have Peter with her when she rebuilt after this most recent, life altering tragedy.

But he would be safe. There wasn’t anything else that she needed, or could hope for, other than Peter’s safety. Besides, prison might be a nice reprieve from the 108 hour work weeks she currently endured. And they had hospitals in prison, maybe they had dentists? She hadn’t been to the dentist since before aunt May died. Would she go to prison or jail? Penny didn’t know the difference between the two, honestly.

Standing up from the couch, her eyes landed on her laptop. It was sitting open on the dining room table, plugged in because it was so old it never held a charge. She should make a to-do list for the day, starting with calling into all three of her jobs and making Peter breakfast before he had to leave for school. There was a lot she had to get done before her brother got home from school today.

“Hey Pen, have you seen my biology textbook?”

“No babe, check the table by the front door,” she stretched her arms over her head and yawned, trying to work some of the kinks out of her body from sleeping on the couch, “do you have enough time to stick around for breakfast?”

Peter stopped on the other side of the couch, watching his sister act like it was a normal day, a frown on his face. They always joked that he was the smart one. Peter could recite pi to the 40th digit, explain thermodynamics, and had gotten into a super prestigious science academy on scholarship. Usually, he’d call himself the logical sibling, the one who could see the best course of action and follow it.

But looking at his sister he was realizing there was a level of maturity missing from his logical thinking. He might’ve been the smarter one, but Penny was the one who was going to get them through this hellscape. She was calm, he could see in her eyes that the wheels were turning and that she was in so much pain, but she was calm and collected and was going to work through the day to make sure her batshit crazy plan worked out so that he would be safe.

“Yeah, I’ve got time.”

“Sounds good,” she stripped her socks off clumsily while walking into the kitchen, dropping them on the floor as she went, “hey, open up all of the bills on the counter and leave them scattered around while I cook. I want it to look like I’ve been ignoring them and they’re covered in crap.”

Peter dropped his head back, staring up at the ceiling blankly. Penny was pretty good at covering up her emotions but the level of dissociation she was currently displaying was impressive. He retrieved all of the bills from the basket on the kitchen counter and brought them into the living room, dropping them onto the laptop’s keyboard and kicking his feet up on the table before he began ripping them open. He tossed the empty envelopes over his shoulder absently as he went while arranging the bills into a pile to be thrown strategically around later.

“Maybe I should see if Flash will beat me up today at school,” he cringed at the $95 electric bill, knowing that was pretty high for them, “some bruises and cuts might help us when the social workers show up.”

“Don’t get yourself beat up, bud, you don’t have enough padding on your bones to keep everything from snapping under pressure.”

“Well maybe if you actually fed me sometimes, you neglectful monster.”

“Savage, Peter!” Penny’s gasp from the kitchen was full of laughter despite the painful conversation, “keep that up for the social worker.”

“So aside from trashing my things, throwing out anything edible in the kitchen, and destroying the apartment, have anything fun planned today?”

The sound of Penny cursing, followed by the loud clang of a pan hitting the floor had Peter shifting in his seat, angling around to see through the doorway to the kitchen. She hadn’t hurt herself and there was no mess, so he didn’t bother getting up to go help.

“Actually,” she made a pathetic sound upon realizing the milk in the fridge was expired, “fuck. Oh, actually I’m gonna go get my hair and nails done. So it looks like I blow our money on frivolous things instead of like, food and clothes for you.”

“Nice, you should get one of those stupid expensive coffees from those hipster places on your way back. Just for emphasis.”

Once Penny actually managed to cook, she was pretty good at it. She usually cooked what she could for all major Jewish holidays when their budget could stretch to accommodate it. Otherwise she didn’t get around to it all that often, except on her days off, so Peter considered it a treat when she made breakfast for him before school. She shoved the laptop back on the table and put a plate down in its place, revealing a heaping egg scramble and toast.

“I think we have some major issues,” Peter stated casually as they ate, avoiding the chunks of turkey bacon to save for the end, “I’m pretty sure we shouldn’t be joking about today. Or tomorrow. Or any of it.”

“I figure we’ve got two options,” Penny kicked her feet up next to his, balancing her plate in her lap, “Cry about it or laugh about it. We cried about it last night and it gave me a headache. So, might as well try laughing.”

Peter shrugged but nodded in agreement, “So I think I’m gonna become a supervillain.”

“Oh? Why?”

“I could break you out of jail, bring down Tony Stark and all his minions, steal a whole bunch of money and then we could abscond off to some private island and live the rest of our lives in peace.”

“Except for when you have to go be a supervillain?”

“Yeah, exactly.”

Penny gave a barking laugh and leaned over to shuffle a hand annoyingly through his hair, letting him slap her away like usual. The casual, relaxed attitude they shared was obviously forced, their eyes were full of despair, but they could at least pretend for a while. Pretending that everything was okay would at least get them through the next few days.

“Alright you dope, head to school. I’ll see you when you get home.”

Peter stood up from the table and pulled Penny up after him, wrapping her into a tight hug. He’d grown over the last year and stood several inches taller than her now. Sometimes, hugging her now felt weird because for so long he’d been smaller than her. He vividly remembered being engulfed in her arms, being surrounded by her scent and warmth and how safe it always made him feel. He hoped that she felt the same way he used to, that his hugs made her feel warm and fuzzy.

“See you after school,” he choked out after a moment, pulling away and darting out of the room without looking at her too closely.

It would hurt too much.

***

Nobody had left the living room, other than Rhodey, in over 12 hours now. Steve and Bucky were still in the recliner together, eyes glued to the TV screen showing the Parker’s living room. Peter had left for school about 20 minutes ago and Penelope Actual Angel Parker had disappeared into the bathroom.

Clint had ordered food from the kitchens about an hour ago and was waiting by the elevator for the chefs to drop it off. They’d all lamented the fact they couldn’t eat the breakfast Penny made with the Parker siblings but had satisfied themselves by listening in on their conversation with stalkerish intensity. Usually Penny didn’t leave the laptop sitting open when she wasn’t using it, so it had been another shocking revelation into their lives.

“Peter’s face while he was opening those bills makes me wonder if she usually hides them from him,” Bruce commented absently, cheek resting in his hand as he scrolled through the files on his laptop.

Instead of the lab reports from the previous night, he was looking through Penny and Peter’s medical histories—HIPAA be damned. Peter got regular physicals each year, was up to date on all of his vaccinations, had minor asthma but no other chronic issues. Penny’s medical history stopped around when her uncle Ben died and she dropped out of high school. She had all her vaccinations and was in the 2nd year of a 3 year birth control implant, no known conditions except for possible anemia. She hadn’t gone to the hospital after the rape, so he would need to run an STD panel just in case. A diet meant to promote weight gain might also be a good idea.

“I’m sure she didn’t want them to know how dire their situation was,” Wanda stated, “If given the chance, I would’ve hidden things like that from Pietro.”

“So they’re Jewish like y’all, right?” Sam squinted at the screen, pointing to a wall decoration in the apartment, “or is that a Buddhist thing?”

“A Hamsa,” she didn’t look up from her phone, having seen the wall decoration next to the window the first time she’d watched the webcam stream nearly a month ago, “they have it because they’re Jewish but it’s used in other cultures too.”

“Do we need to make sure we have anything… particularly Jew-y for them?”

Wanda finally looked up from her phone, eyebrow raised derisively, “did you get anything particularly Jew-y for me when I moved in?”

“I’m going to learn to make Challah,” Bucky intervened in the conversation before it could become a fight, having been looking up traditional Israeli and Jewish dishes for several hours now, “do you have any recipes Wanda?”

The two devolved into a conversation about homemade breads and the nuances of kosher foods, all the while Wanda scrolled through Peter and Penny’s bank statements. She was looking for their overall spending habits, what was bought for Peter and how often and when and what Penny bought for herself. The former list included the amount of clothing one would assume necessary for a growing teenage boy, along with an above average amount of groceries. There was far less fun stuff, like video games and extensive Lego sets (which they knew Peter loved). Usually those were bought around Peter’s birthday or near Hanukkah. Penny’s spending on herself was generally relegated to work clothes and toiletries, with the occasional splurge on nail polish.

“We had a Jewish neighbor growing up, you remember Buck? Ms. Goldstein made that soup,” Steve scratched his head, trying to remember the name of it but failing.

“Matzah ball soup,” Bucky supplied, glancing at the screen of Steve’s phone from his position in the man’s lap.

He’d started going through the Parker sibling’s social media accounts early in the morning, wondering who was going to put up a fuss over their potential disappearances and how much it was going to interfere with business. Not that it mattered, business was business and home and family came first but it still would be good to have a plan for any fallout.

Peter had all the social media accounts a teenager could want; Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, Tumblr, Snapchat, TikTok, everything. He overshared on the internet just as much as any other Gen Z kid, although he seemed to favour Twitter and Instagram over the others. Instagram was updated almost daily with pictures of his friends, from school and clubs, pictures of scenery taken around New York. It was actually pretty cute and a touch artistic. He had a decent amount of followers on it too.

Penny on the other hand only had an Instagram page and a Pinterest. The former wasn’t updated much since their aunt May passed away, the recent pictures were mostly of food she’d made or of her and Peter on holidays. He wasn’t sure if the followers on her Pinterest were friends or strangers. There were a whole slew of cute pictures on her ‘Memories’ board, several of which Bucky watched Steve save to his phone. One in particular, of Penny squeezing Peter’s face close to hers while both stuck their tongues out at the camera, was saved as his new home screen.

It would be difficult to spirit either of the siblings away without some repercussions. Peter had some very close friends, MJ and Ned in particular, and was involved in tons of extracurricular activities. If he disappeared, an AMBER alert would go out within a day. Penny wasn’t particularly close to anyone, but she did have several coworkers who would notice very quickly if she went missing. She had been working in the same three places for 3 years and was a well-established and liked staff member.

“We may need to stage some sort of accident,” Steve rubbed a hand over his mouth as he scrolled through Peter’s Snapchat memories, “Peter’s friends are very close and Penny’s barely ever missed a day of work. People are going to cause a stink if they just disappear.”

“Car accident? Fire? Carbon monoxide?”

“Something that won’t leave behind a body,” Natasha drummed her fingers against her leg, humming in thought as the elevator opened and Clint retrieved the cart of food that had been sent up, “probably a fire. Or we could stage a kidnapping and blame it on someone else.”

“Both,” Clint had half of a croissant stuffed in his mouth, spitting out pieces as he spoke, “set up a kidnapping, burn some bodies, set it up to look like Penny and Peter.”

“Who’s the kidnapper?”

“How about this dumb mother fucker.”

Rhodey’s voice came from the stairwell, the man himself emerging while shoving a heavily beaten and gagged Brock Rumlow through the door. His arms were bound from the elbow down and he lost his balance, landing with a heavy thud only to be kicked hard in the side by the very angry James Rhodes and forced back to his feet.

“He confess?” Tony’s back was to them as Rhodey pushed him farther into the room, making himself a cup of coffee from the French press that had been sent up on the cart.

“More or less.”

One of the things Tony had learned over his long career was that anticipation was almost worse than a beating. Adrenaline was a devastating drug when applied as a method of torture. He could almost feel Rumlow’s heart beating faster, the sweat dripping down his brow. He hummed quietly, taking a sip of his coffee before nodding to himself and turning around.

Rhodey had the man on his knees near the coffee table, head bowed in a mixture of panic and fear. He was bleeding from the head, from his nose, dark bruises were beginning to bloom across the bridge of his nose and around his neck. Rhodes had done a number on the man in the last couple of hours.

“Did you send a letter to Penelope Parker, threatening her younger brother if she went to the police?” His voice was low and he crossed the living room in with an unhurried stride, coming to sit on the couch just inches away from where the man knelt.

The reply was muffled but obviously not a yes or no answer. Tony was well versed in what begging sounded like through a gag, how ‘please’ and ‘don’t hurt me’ came out when one’s tongue was held down by fabric. Brock Rumlow might’ve been a big bastard, but when confronted with his own mortality he became a simpering baby just like all the rest. In all honesty, Tony had a thing for begging anyway.

“Now that didn’t sound like the answer to the question I asked you.”

From his position in Steve’s lap Bucky pitched an empty wine glass at Rumlow’s face. The stem snapped off, the bowl of the glass breaking against his brow bone and leaving a jagged cut in its wake. Bruce rolled his neck at the sound of the rest of the glass hitting the ground and shattering, the sharp noise irritating his always present headache.

“You’re making us upset Brucie here, my man,” Tony stated with a flippant wave of his hand in the scientist’s direction, still taking small, satisfying sips of coffee, “which is a huge mistake. He gets pretty dangerous when you make him mad.”

The exact state of being of most of Tony’s close associates was more… fantastical, than most of the population. Mad scientists had been around for centuries and so had horrible things, like eugenics and human experimentation. He had a tendency to pick up strays at the best of times and the exciting strays, the ones who were really special, he fought to keep. It had started with Rhodey and Clint. They weren’t genetically altered, just insane at the best of times.

He’d met Rhodey in university. At the time, the man was being paid to watch Tony by his father and report back on his activities. Tony had paid better and overtime gained Rhodey’s loyalty as well as friendship. They’d been inseparable and Rhodey had been the one who thwarted Clint’s assassination attempt on Tony. It hadn’t been anything personal, of course, Clint was a world-renowned assassin and was one of the best—if you could pay him the right amount, he was willing to take out anyone. Then he’d been waylaid by a Very Angry Colonel Rhodes. Clint was easily persuaded to switch targets for the correct amount of money and soon Tony had come to see him as less of an employee and more of a friend.

Natasha and the Old Men had come next. From a situation similar to Clint’s, Natasha had been sent to off Tony. Not only had he offered her a better deal, but also protection from the Red Room, a branch of the former KGB that specialized in stealing little girls and genetically altering them. She didn’t hate the violence or the killing, she hated being controlled.  

The freezer burned boyfriends had come along looking for Howard Stark, who had apparently betrayed them (and the United States as a whole, actually) in the 40’s in a whole bunch of exciting and horrible ways. Bucky had been traumatized, a veritable murder machine and Steve hadn’t been much better off. Tony had kept them out of the public eye so they could live in relative peace and in turn had become emotionally attached. Especially upon realizing that Bucky was likely his father’s unknowing murderer, which was endearing.

Bruce had been Tony’s next acquisition and the only deliberate one. There had been reports of some sort of monster raging across the globe. It had taken ages and lots of illegal activity in the form of JARVIS hacking satellites and cameras all over the world but they’d found Bruce hiding away in India, providing illicit medical attention to the poor. He’d been attempting to copy the Super Soldier Serum used on The Olds and turned himself into a monster in the process. Tony adored the man.

Then came Thor and his adopted brother Loki, who had been experimented on by their father from a very young age. They’d lost an older sister to a process of attempted Berserker serums and they themselves were forever genetically altered. Thor was in slightly better control of his rages than Loki, but both came to Tony seeking asylum when their father had decided to end his experiments and terminate all test subjects. They were strong and brutal and Thor’s loyalty was unwavering, which was nice because Loki’s only loyalty was to his brother. It was a compromise Tony could live with.

Sam and Wanda and Pietro had been picked up by Steve and Clint respectively, the former a veteran and counselor who turned to murder for hire after being honorably discharged from service and the latter a pair of genetic experiments who’d accidentally stumbled upon Clint after escaping imprisonment. All three had been brought back to the Tower and into the fold.

Pepper and Happy had been picked up along the way of course, his right and left hands for all intents and purposes. Pepper had helped him build the legitimate face of his business and Happy had run interference in all illegal aspects, as well as literally putting himself between Tony and danger.

A short whimper of sheer terror escaped Rumlow before he seemed to almost crumple in front of them, folding in half and hitting the ground. Tony raised an eyebrow as the man landed just a few inches from his foot and groaned in annoyance before dumping the rest of his coffee on the man.

“Don’t pass out on me now, Rumlow, we’ve got— Oh, would you look at that.”

Tony drew the attention of the whole room to the TV screen, where Penelope Precious Parker had emerged from the bathroom in clean clothes. Her long hair was dripping down her back, dampening her white t-shirt just enough that Tony sent Clint a look that said Watch Yourself, Pervert. The same look was not given to Steve or Bucky, although with the way their eyes followed the woman, it should’ve been.

Rhodey bent over and hauled Rumlow back to his knees, turning him to face the TV and yanking his head back, “You see her, Rumlow? You remember her?”

Another whimper, this one with enough inflection to mean ‘yes’. Tony nodded and let out a deliberate, disappointed sigh.

“Yeah, I thought you might say that. You see, that precious little thing has just become one of the most important people in the world. In my world. Her little brother, who you threatened after hurting her in such a despicable way? He is my world,” Tony rolled his shoulders and stood up, walking around the table to get a closer look at the TV.

Penny had sat down on the couch, still well within view of the webcam, and was pulling on a pair of socks. A pair of beat up tennis shoes were on the floor next to her, having been fished out of the trunk that doubled as an end table. Bucky shifted out of the corner of his eye, watching as her shorts rode up higher on her shapely thighs as she contorted to pull on her sneakers. She continued on to gather all of her wet hair into her hands, tying it into a big messy bun on the top of her head.

“I can’t imagine what you’re feeling right now,” he continued after a moment, “being confronted with your mistakes like this. You see, I go out of my way to not make mistakes. Or mistakes that could come back to haunt me, at least. I tie up my lose ends, I like pretty packages.”

“She’s a real pretty package,” Steve fucking sighed like a swooning school girl as Penny stood up and started shifting through some things on the table in front of her, bent over enough to offer an excellent view of her ass.

Tony snorted along with Sam and waved a dismissive hand in the blond’s direction. Steve and Bucky had been half infatuated with Penny when they thought she was a cruel, neglectful monster; now that they knew the truth, that Penny was precious and kind, they were falling in love just watching her through a screen.

“Now the point of this whole thing, unfortunately for you, is that you hurt Penny and you threatened Peter and by extension, you hurt and threatened me.”

There was a muffled ‘I didn’t know!’ through the gag and Tony Stark once again Did Not Roll His Eyes, because he was above that sort of thing.

“Of course not, that’s why this has to sting. You see, maybe if you just didn’t rape anyone this never would’ve happened. You never would’ve been in this situation. But instead you had to go and drug some poor girl and stick your disgusting dick in her and hurt her,” Tony rolled his head to the side and cracked his neck, “And once again, unfortunately for you, everything just kind of got more complicated from there. Because I’m not sure what to do with you at the moment.”

“Tones?” Rhodey’s eyebrows were furrowed, his hand still keeping Rumlow’s head in place.

“Right, right, let me explain to the room at large,” a flamboyant wave of Tony’s hand made everyone sit slightly straighter, “we have a couple of options going forward. The first, is take Peter and Penny, frame and kill Rumlow and be done with it,” several noises of agreement followed the sentence but Tony shook his hands again to quiet them, “Or, we could take the babies, frame Rumlow, but not kill him.”

“Why not kill him?”

“Because then we could let Peter do it. Or Penny,” Tony tapped chin and began to pace, “or, because they’re both going to be very upset in the first few months, we could use him as… incentive, to be good.”

“Hm, killing him in front of them is ballsy,” Sam stood over next to the cart of food, making himself a plate and a cup of coffee, “You want to induce Stockholm Syndrome, but the shock might be too much.”

“Are you worried about them reacting to a murder in general or like, feeling bad he was killed because of them?”

“Both, either,” Sam shrugged, “pick your favourite.”

“Why don’t we keep him around for a bit, we don’t necessarily have to make the decision today,” Steve suggested, shifting Bucky off of his lap and standing up.

The imposing man made his way towards Rumlow with his usual level of heavy swagger, natural as a result of his musculature and dimensions. Rhodey took several steps back at the approach, recognizing the glint of near ferality in the former Captain’s eyes. Getting in the blond’s way was in no one’s best interest and besides, Rhodey trusted the man implicitly. The man’s hand came down on Rumlow’s head almost gently, his fingers carding through his hair and tilting his head back to look him in the eyes. His face was swollen from Rhodey’s heavy hits already, but he could still see.

“Besides, me and Bucky are gonna need a playmate for a while. All that pent-up aggression—it’s gotta go somewhere, right, Brock?”

[nyxicnymph]

I walk out of my dorm and into the common area. Most of the hero class is just vibing in there already, so my entrance goes pretty unnoticed. I decide to sit with Momo and the girls while they do their homework.

It’s all going fairly smooth, they’re all happy and chatting over logarithms and square roots. A bunch of the boys walk in and settle down all over the room. I wave at Bakugo, Midoriya, and Todoroki in specific, but it really applies to the whole group. The three I wave to wave back with varying levels of enthusiasm, and a few of the others wave at me as well.

I look at my watch and see the time. I stand up and make my way to the kitchen. I pull stuff out of the fridge and freezer, contemplating what I can make out of what we have.

“Hey, can we send someone to go grocery shopping tomorrow? We’ll need vegetables for tomorrow, among other things,” I mention, closing the fridge and turning to the stove.

A few voices acknowledge my request, so I feel pretty sure it will actually get done. I take the sausage and start thawing it out under warm water, and turn to the chives. I quickly chop those up as the water runs, then I put the chives in a warm pan with some onion bits.

I unwrap the sausage, and toss it in the pan with the vegetables. I grab some eggs and start scrambling them up in a bowl, then mix some spices in. I pull a bunch of bread slices out of the oven where they had been getting toasty, and dunk them in the egg mixture. I start laying them on a griddle, letting them cook on one side before turning back to the sausage and mixing it around before it burns.

A solid twenty minutes pass before I’m actually done, and by that time, many of my classmates have stopped by and looked, if not directly asked what I was making.

I set the French toast and the sausage mix on the table, hoping there’s enough for everyone. I call out, “Dinner’s done!”

The kids swarm the table, talking excitedly. I had already eaten a bit while I was cooking, so I let them eat their fill. I listen to the general tone of their conversations, noting that they’re really happy and cheerful. I smile at that.

“Dang, Natsumi, we didn’t know you could cook so well!” Kaminari says as he waves his toast around on a fork.

I smile at him. “Thank you. I just noticed we didn’t have anything for dinner, so I decided to remedy that. I learned a lot from my parents and my step-dad.”

Sero chimes in. “Well you did a great job! They did a good job when they taught you.”

I shuffle my feet in mild embarrassment. “I mostly just watched whenever they cooked.”

Kirishima looks over. “I’m glad they switched Mineta out for you, honestly. It was a good idea on their part.”

“That’s... reassuring, I guess.”

I get many compliments on my cooking, which confuses me, because it wasn’t a hard meal to make. I accept the compliments, however, albeit shyly.

I start collecting the pans and things I used to cook and take them to the sink so I can wash them. I look up as I grab the griddle to see Todoroki looking at me from across the room. I flush slightly, unsure as to why exactly he’s staring, but then he looks away. I force my head to clear, and take the griddle to the sink.

Kaminari and Sero walk up, both with their own plates, and start trying to chat with me. I mostly tune them out, but then the both of them back up. I don’t question this, as they seem to share a braincell for most things, and I haven’t really been responding to their conversation.

Then I feel arms wrapping around me, and I tense up.

“Uh,” I start. “Hi?”

“Mine.” Todoroki’s voice shocks me to my core.

I start blushing, even though I’m trying not to. “Ah, what do you mean by that?”

He rests his head on top of mine. “You’re mine now, if that’s okay. I get jealous when the others talk to you, Natsumi. I don’t like it when that happens, and it hurts me to not say what I’m feeling.”

My face feels like it’s on fire, and I wonder if his feels the same. I do my best to articulate a sentence, however.

“So, you... you like me?”

He picks his head up. “That sounds childish. And ambiguous. I like Yaoyorozu, but I don’t feel the same way towards her. It’s more like...” He goes silent, thinking. “I don’t want anyone to hurt you, I would do almost anything for you, and when other boys talk to you, I want to freeze them and shatter them.”

“Uh, maybe don’t do that.”

“I know, it’s not heroic. That’s why I try not to look at you, and I’ve avoided you for a while.”

I stop scrubbing the pan. “I had wondered about that.”

He lets go of me, and stands next to me, his back to the sink as he leans on the counter. “All of these... feelings had me really confused, so I tried to avoid you to see if that would help. When it didn’t, I didn’t know what to do. The only solution I could come up with is claiming you as mine? Whatever that entails.”

I flush, returning to the pan. “You’re not very good at this, are you?”

He runs his hand through his hair. “No. Please help.”

I giggle. “Well, do you want to go on a date, like just one? Or do you want to date, like as in, more than one single date? Or do you just want to say I’m your...” I trip over my tongue. “Uh, maybe.... maybe you should ask Mina. She’ll be able to help more than me. I’m just a flustered mess.”

He nods, and stands up straight. Before he walks away, he stops next to me, and gently kisses my cheek. “I just want to be with you, Natsumi.”

I blush, desperately trying not to drop the scrub brush. “I might as well admit that it’s a mutual feeling.”

“OH FOR THE LOVE OF—COULD YOU TWO PLEASE JUST START DATING ALREADY?!” Mina yells from across the room, causing me to completely drop the scrubbie.

I grab the brush, blushing furiously. Todoroki is also red, and mumbles, “I don’t know how.”

Kaminari walks up. “Just ask her to dinner or something.”

“I’m right here,” I say, looking at him.

He raises his hands in defense. “I’m just trying to help you two out!”

Todoroki thinks for a moment. “We can go out tomorrow, and get the shopping done while we’re out?”

I nod, too flustered to say anything else. I ferociously scrub the pan, hoping to work things out in my head while I do so.

“Let me help. You did all the cooking. It’s unfair for you to do all the washing, too.” Todoroki takes the scrub brush out of my hands and gently moves me aside.

I cross my arms. “But—”

“No. I’m doing the dishes.” There’s no changing his mind.

I watch as he washes them clean, fairly easily. However, I did make sure none of the food stuck to the pans. When he finishes, he sets them aside, and I dry them off. I put them away while he wipes the counter down.

When we’re both done, we kind of stand awkwardly for a moment, and then he extends his hand out to me, almost shyly. I take it, just as shyly. He guides me over to the couch and sits down. I hesitate before I sit down, leaving a little space between the two of us.

He pulls me closer. “Don’t make me suffer, please.”

I giggle, just a the sheer cringiness of the situation. “Uh, I’ll try not to.”

He lays his head on mine. “Good. That means a lot to me, Natsumi.”

“Evie,” I say, relaxing.

“Then you call me Shoto.”

I agree, and together we watch our classmates dork off for the remainder of the night. We only separate when we decide to go to our rooms so we can sleep.

I fall asleep with the most euphoric feeling in my heart.

-Timeskip-

I fidget nervously, playing with the end of my sleeve. He said he was going to pick me up, but I don’t know what exactly he means by that. He just said to wait outside the school gate, so here I am. Waiting.

I hear an engine and step back. Usually vehicles don’t pass through here. Interesting.

The car pulls up in front of me, and I take another step back. Then the window rolls down. I relax as I see Shoto’s face in the window.

“I thought you were a kidnapper,” I joke as I get in the passenger’s side of the car.

“I would never kidnap you. There’s no need.”

“I didn’t know you could drive, Shoto,” I say, looking around.

He smiles slightly. “I got my license a month ago. Somewhere around there. This is my dad’s car, though. He said I shouldn’t just make you walk all over town.”

I giggle slightly, which might seem out of character, but I can’t help it.

“I did suggest a rental, but he called those...” He clears his throat. “Crappy.”

I snort. “Or he didn’t want you to spend money!” I have to restrain myself from laughing anymore.

But then he turns all serious. “Oh, yes, probably.” He stops at a red light, reaches his hand into his pocket, and whips out a slim card. “Little did he know what I have planned for this evening.”

I grin. “Is that his or yours?”

“His.”

I snort again. “Naturally. Okay.” I calm myself before I continue. “I’ll be quiet now. I don’t want to talk your ear off.”

“I doubt that’s possible, Evie. Conversation works two ways, so we’d be talking each other’s ears off.” He smiled softly, looking at me out of the corner of his eye.

I blush at the sight, looking away and tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear. I get all fidgety, and with nothing to do, I end up twisting my fingers in my dress and drumming them against my thighs.

I look up as the car slows, noticing a fancy restaurant beside us. I twist my fingers together, unsure as to whether or not I would be able to be comfortable in such a place.

Shoto parks the car, and places his hand on top of mine. “You’ll be fine, Evie. I’ve seen you adapt to any situation, good, bad, or somewhere in between. This will be a small thing.”

I flush again, and hesitantly place my other hand over his. “Ok. I’ll do my best. I won’t be awkward.”

He smiles softly at me, making blush deeper. He takes his hand away, and exits the car. I clear my head and do the same.

I meet him at the walkway towards the door. He gently takes my hand and pulls me into the restaurant.

“How can we help the lovely couple this evening?” A waiter asks.

I blush more than I ever thought I could, reclaiming my hand and using both of my hands to cover my face. Shoto takes this in stride, and lays his hand on one of my shoulders instead.

“I should have a reservation, a table for two?” He says calmly.

The waiter’s eyes widen. “Oh.... The Todoroki table!” He walks off hastily.

“I think he was expecting my father,” Shoto says, watching the waiter mildly freak out at a distance.

“I would, too, if the name ‘Todoroki’ was on my evening shift,” I respond, bringing my hands down where they belong.

“You work at a noodle shop, Evie. You don’t get reservations, and it would only be me. Or Natsu,” he adds thoughtfully.

“I was being metaphorical,” I tease.

He just shakes his head at me, still holding my hand. I look down at our hands, almost admiring the sight. He pulls my hand up, and gently presses his lips to my hand.

I flush, but I let him keep my hand, even as the waiter comes back. Even as the waiter shows us to our seat. Even as we sit down across from each other.

He lets go only when we get our menus, and only then because the menus are quite large. I look over the menu, wondering if there’s something simple to eat.

He looks over at me, probably noticing my furrowed expression. “Here, try this page. This stuff will be more towards your tastes.”

I turn to the page he indicates, mumbling in excitement at the choices before me. He smiles in amusement before turning back to his own menu.

The rest of the evening passes in a blur of happy conversation, nice food, and cautious glances between us. When we’re done, we stop at the nearest grocery store, picking up another week’s worth of supplies for the dorm kitchen.

We walk outside to the car. He hands me his grocery bags so he can unlock it. He pops the trunk, and reaches for a few of the bags.

“These are mine,” he says as he takes them. As he reaches for the next set, he adds, “And these are mine.”

He takes the last of the bags, closing the trunk. He then takes my hand, and says, “And this is mine.”

My face burns more than it would if he had just lit on fire, but I’m grinning like an idiot at the flirtiness of that line. I can’t say anything at the moment, but I giggle.

“That’s cute,” he tells me, then leans in. “Do it again.”

I can’t help it. I giggle again, covering my mouth with my free hand.

He pulls away, laughing quietly as well. “Too bad I was a coward and didn’t say anything earlier. I would have been able to hear you... giggle... beforehand.”

We both get in the car, and he drives me back to the UA gate. He lets me out, but he stays in the car. He rolls the window down.

“My old man told me I have to bring the car back tonight, so I’m just dropping you off right now,” he explains. “Can you come here?”

I walk up to him quizzically. “Yes?”

He pulls me towards him, and presses a gentle kiss on my lips. It’s only a second or two at the most, but somehow it feels like longer. He pulls away.

“Sorry if I caught you off guard, Evie,” he says, looking at the steering wheel. “You’ve been so cute and precious all evening. I probably should have asked before.” He sighs. “I’ve heard you talk about stuff like that.”

“Shoto,” I stop him, laying my hand on his arm. He looks up at me, and I kiss him again. I pull away. “I don’t mind if you kiss me. We both agreed to date each other, and if that entails kissing, then I’m okay with you kissing me. I’m yours, after all.”

He smiles at me, whispering, “Thank you.” The window rolls up, and the car pulls away.

I watch it go, knowing he’ll be back, but still treasuring the moment.

I walk inside, noting that it is still early in the evening, and wondering what else could possibly top what’s already happened.

-End-

[teejaysnow]

Here's a fluffy prompt! Breakfast in bed on a chilly morning :)

Thank you very much a lot - you helped!! <3

(also, this turned out a lot longer than expected...)

Do you want toast with all that cheese?

Isak was not happy. Not with the world, not with the temperature outside (which was way too far below zero for happiness anyway), and not with the landlord who ”wouldn’t be able to fix the heating until tomorrow - sorry, boys”. There was a small space heater noisily blowing warm air towards a very limited area of their combined dining room/living room/bedroom, but the kitchen was a complete no heat area and the floor’s arctic climate laughed in the face of his knitted socks. So no, Isak was not happy.

And who in their right mind had their birthday in February anyway? What was wrong with a nice, clement June birthday when their boyfriend wouldn’t have to freeze his bollocks off while preparing breakfast in bed? Not that Even was expecting breakfast in bed - or breakfast anywhere else for that matter. Even was much too familiar with Isak’s very reluctant acquaintance with mornings and was happy enough to make breakfast for both of them, birthday or not. Which was the reason that Isak had had to get up at fucking arse o’clock in the morning to make the fucking breakfast before his boyfriend woke up and ruined the surprise. (Did I mention that Isak wasn’t happy?)

Isak glared at the scrambled eggs (and yes, Even, he had remembered the spoon of sourcream, thanks), willing them to cook faster so he could finally get back into bed and warm his cold feet on his hot (heh...) boyfriend's toasty warm legs. The breakfast tray was already decked out with a red rose in a small vase, two badly wrapped presents, and two mugs full of wonderfully warm coffee. The toast was toasting along while the scrambled egg scrambled, and Isak was just about to get the small cake - that he’d somehow managed to keep hidden from his annoyingly nosy boyfriend - out of the refrigerator when a hand on his lower back and a chin on his shoulder made him start.

“Breakfast?” Even asked, still sounding half asleep. “Also, fuck, it’s cold!” he added as an afterthought.

Isak hummed in agreement with both those statements - as well as in appreciation of Even sneaking his arms around Isak’s waist, his nose finding its favourite spot just at the junction between Isak’s shoulder and neck.

They were interrupted by the toaster spitting out two more or less unburned pieces of bread and Isak turned around and shoved petulantly at his boyfriend’s chest.

“Move over, arsehole! Why are you awake already, anyway? Except for spoiling your surprise, obviously,” Isak complained.

“The bed was too cold without you,” Even said with a small shrug, grabbing at Isak’s waist and pulling him into a tight back hug. Isak rolled his eyes, the toast burning his fingers as he transferred it onto the tray.

“And you thought it would be warmer in the kitchen? Really?”

“Noooo, but I’d rather be cold with you than warm without you...?” 

Even leaned in over Isak’s shoulder and twisted his head to the side so he could flutter his eyelashes up at him, but Isak only wrinkled his nose and gave Even an unimpressed look.

“And do you perhaps want toast with all that cheese,” he scoffed.

Even kissed him on the cheek and removed the frying pan from the hob.

“Well, I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give me.”

“Oh God, please just go back to bed without saying another word,” Isak begged, turning his head to give Even’s cheek a quick kiss before turning back towards the scrambled eggs and distributing them onto two plates.

“Aww, it’s like you don’t love me anymore.” 

Even sighed mournfully, eyes widening into the expression of an unusually hurt and confused puppy. This time Isak turned his whole body around and leaned his head back so he could look up at Even with heavy-lidded eyes.

“I’m sorry, this was not the way I intended you to find out, but… yes, there is someone else. Sorry.”

Even put a hand to his chest in feigned shock, collapsing - cautiously - against the stove.

“Whaaaaat? Why? What’s he got that I haven’t?” he asked, taking a step back to flex his biceps in a feeble attempt at muscled manliness.

Isak couldn’t keep his grin under control any longer so he leaned over and gave Even another quick kiss, “Well, first of all, he stays in bed when his boyfriend tries to do something nice for him. So… why not be more like him and maybe I’ll grow to love you again? Now, fuck. off. back. to. bed!”

Even grinned back and repaid Isak’s kiss with two hard kisses on the mouth and a third that was originally aimed at Isak’s cheek but hit him in the eye instead.

“What the fuck, you uncoordinated giraffe,” Isak protested as Even quickly scurried off and threw himself headfirst on the bed.

“Sorry, can’t hear you, I’m in bed, sleeping. Waiting for my wonderful boyfriend to bring me breakfast in bed,” came the unrepentant reply and Isak smiled fondly down at the plates of scrambled eggs he was holding.

“Your wonderful boyfriend just has to butter the toast and then he’ll be right there,” Isak promised, fetching the cake from the fridge and stabbing a birthday candle into it, actually buttering the promised toast, and then remembering to grab the bacon slices peacefully degreasing on a paper towel, before carefully carrying the tray towards the bed. 

He was met with loud (and very fake) snores from his boyfriend - who in the short time between leaving the kitchen and Isak’s arrival at the bed had managed to turn himself into a very well wrapped burrito. Isak kneeled on his side of their bed and placed the tray between them before leaning over and kissing Even on the nose.

“Happy birthday, baby. I love you!”

Even opened his eyes and grinned up at Isak before trying to force his expression into something that could, in a good light, be described as shocked. Possibly.

“Oh, you remembered! I have never been so surprised, like, ever!”

“Idiot,” Isak muttered, slowly stroking his index finger down the small part of Even’s cheek that wasn’t covered in duvet. 

“Your idiot,” Even agreed, turning his head so Isak’s finger got better access.

“Mm, yeah,” Isak hummed before abandoning Even’s cheek in favour of burritoing into his own duvet, only sticking out a hand to grab a fork. “Now enjoy your surprise before it gets cold.”

Even quickly unburritoed and sat up to cross leggedly enjoy his meal, duvet loosely wrapped around his shoulders.

“Best breakfast I’ve ever had,” he complimented after a few mouthfuls, happily chewing on a slice of bacon. “How have you managed to get the eggs so moist? That’s Gordon Ramsay quality right there, that is.”

“Old family recipe, you know how it is,” Isak replied with a shrug and a toothy smile. “I could tell you, but I’d have to kill you afterwards.” 

“Still worth it, I think.”

“Well, in that case…” Isak flopped over so he was back on his knees, leaning up towards Even, eyes flitting between Even’s eyes and lips, “The secret is…”

“Yeah?” Even whispered back, licking his lips as his eyes followed Isak’s every movement.

“...a tablespoon of… shit!!”

Isak quickly replaced the coffee cup the right way up and pushed Even’s presents out of the way - the toast not faring quite as well as it met with a swift but wet coffee related death. 

“‘Shit’ is the secret? Really?? I would never have guessed.” Even’s voice sounded muffled as he tried to look like he wasn’t laughing at his irate boyfriend.

“You suck!” Isak informed him on his way back from fetching paper towels to clean up the mess, his temper not helped by the floor still being just on the warmer side of zero degrees.

“Mmhm. Just let me finish breakfast first,” Even agreed, thus significantly improving Isak’s mood.

Dropping the now coffee drenched paper towels on the floor beside the bed, Isak crawled back under his duvet and pushed one of the gifts towards Even.

“Can’t wait, baby. Now go on, open this!”

“Still eating,” Even protested, taking a careful bite of a small piece of still uncaffeinated toast. 

“Don’t care. Open it.”

“Fine.” Even looked around for somewhere to dry his hands but couldn’t find anywhere. Reluctantly he dried them on his pants before reaching for his gift. “What is it?”

“You’re really not up to date with how this whole birthday gift thing works, are you?”

“Open it and find out, huh?

Isak nodded. 

“Open it and find out,” he echoed.

Even fought a losing battle against the tape until Isak impatiently handed him a pair of scissors.

“Jeez, how many tape rolls did you use wrapping this thing?” Even wondered out loud.

“Less complaining, more unwrapping,” Isak huffed back, his fingers trembling like he was itching to help, only relaxing when Even finally uncovered the gift.

“Umm… thanks?” Even gave the bottle of beer a puzzled look. He knew that Isak was fond of beer, but… the enthusiasm that he’d shown over this bottle had been slightly more than Even thought it deserved.

Isak giggled at Even’s bewildered expression.

“It’s a hint for the real gift, okay? Any guesses?”

Isak was more or less bouncing on the bed now and Even quickly moved the tray to the floor before another accident happened.

“Beer tasting?” he hazarded, none too excited with the prospect.

“Beer tasting? Really? That’s what you think I’d get you? Oh, Even...” Isak shook his head in mock disappointment. “I mean, what kind of beer is it? Maybe there could be a clue in that?”

Even looked back at the bottle. London Pride? Not his favourite beer to be honest. Pale ale. Red label. Fuller’s. Nope. Nothing.

Isak sighed, “Good thing you’re pretty, baby... Now open the other one!”

This time Even reached straight for the scissors instead of battling it out with the tape.

“Gin? Do either of us even drink gin?” he mused, even more confused as he eyed his second birthday gift. 

Isak was still basically vibrating with pent up excitement.

“We can give it to Magnus, he drinks anything,” he shrugged. “It’s just another clue for your actual gift, get with the program here.”

“We’re giving my present to Magnus?” Even asked, feeling more confused than ever.

“We are not giving your present to Magnus. We are giving Magnus this bottle of gin because we two have standards when it comes to getting drunk - but the gin is just another fucking clue for your actual gift, okay?!”

“Okay.” Even kept staring at the bottle. Beer and gin. B&G? Well, apart from his boyfriend spending too much money at Vinmonopolet, there wasn’t too much information to be gained from that, was there? London Pride. Beefea… what the... “We’re going to London?” he asked hesitantly and Isak nodded, smile wide enough to almost reach his ears. “Really? We’re going to London?!”

“We’re going to London,” Isak confirmed.

“Really?” Even repeated, excited but not quite daring to believe it yet.

“Yep. London, baby!” 

Apparently Isak’s grin wasn't letting up anytime soon.

“But… how? When? And can we actually afford it?” Even’s brain was multitasking hard, partly already planning what to do in London, partly worrying about the state of their bank account.

Isak let his hand skim down Even’s arm, intertwining their fingers when he reached Even’s hand.

“We can afford it,” he assured him. “As for when… how do you feel about celebrating Pride in London this summer?”

Based on Even’s bright smile, Isak decided he was probably feeling pretty good about it.

“Wow. I’m… this is just… I mean, London!?”

“So what pretentious movie locations have you already decided we’ll have to visit?” Isak asked fondly, pulling at Even’s hand to encourage him to lean over and kiss him.

“Well, we have to visit Notting Hill and take a photo in front of the blue door!”

“‘Have to’, huh? You’re using those words again. I don’t think they mean what you think they mean,” Isak teased him.

“And we have to go to 84 Charing Cross Road, because that’s the most epic non-love love story there is,” Even continued, ignoring him. “And I guess we’ll have to do the 221B Baker Street thing, which… ugh. Oh, and we have to go to Leadenhall Market, and the Harry Potter studio tour, and…”

Isak let go of Even’s hand in favour of pulling at his t-shirt hard enough for Even to topple over into Isak.

“We already have tickets for the Harry Potter thing because I’m the world’s best boyfriend,” he stated, combing back Even’s hair and kissing his forehead. “The rest we’ll just have to fit in where we can.”

Even shoved at Isak and crawled up to lie face to face to him where he’d let himself fall.

“World’s best boyfriend,” he whispered reverently, cupping Isak’s cheek and looking into his eyes for a few long seconds before wetting his lips and leaning in to kiss him.

Isak hummed encouragingly into the kiss, dragging his boyfriend closer so he was half lying on Isak’s chest. They could continue the argument about who had the world’s best boyfriend later anyway - but Isak was pretty sure it was him.

[440mxs-wife]

You Say It’s Your Birthday

March 13th, Your birthday. When you turned the page for the calendar, you noticed that your birthday was going to fall on a Friday. Oh, great, you thought. Friday the 13th. Let's hope that it's smooth sailing and that the day doesn't live up to its "bad luck" reputation.

The morning of your birthday, you noticed that the bunker was unusually quiet. You looked around for a note, or some sign as to where the guys went, but didn't find anything. Probably went out on a hunt, you thought. Hope everything's okay.

You stumbled into the kitchen for some coffee. You could tell some had been made, because the aroma was still in the air. You went over to the coffee maker to pour yourself a cup, but noticed that there was none left in the pot. You replaced the empty pot and put your mug back in the cupboard.

Oh well, I guess I can do without coffee for one morning, you thought. I'll have some cereal. You opened the fridge only to find that you were out of milk. You closed the fridge door and sat down at the breakfast table. Usually, there is a loaf of bread or a bagel, but not this morning.

You closed your eyes and pinched the bridge of your nose. No coffee, no milk for cereal, can't even make toast. This was shaping up to be one fine birthday morning, you thought sarcastically. With a deep sigh, you pulled out a notebook and started to make a list of the supplies everyone would need for the next week or so.

After taking a quick shower, you got dressed and looked for your wallet. It had to be a quick one because there wasn't enough hot water for any longer of a shower. You found your wallet on your nightstand along with your car keys. You picked up your notebook with the list and headed to the garage, making sure to lock the door behind you.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Just after you left, Sam, Dean, Castiel and Jack all came back from an easy case, a simple salt-and-burn. The boys were trying to take Jack on some easy cases, since he had lost his powers. Cas was backup in case something went wrong.

The guys called out for you, but there was no answer. "That's weird," Dean said. "Wonder where she could be? I'll try her cell," he suggested. When he heard it ringing from inside your bedroom, he went on high alert. "She's supposed to have that with her at all times, what the hell is going on?" he snapped.

"Dean, calm down, maybe she just forgot to put it in her pocket. The fact that it's here doesn't automatically mean that something went wrong," Sam remarked.

"Yeah? It could mean that Crowley somehow got in here and whisked her away, or she took off in her car and got into an accident. She could've gotten herself locked in one of these rooms, it could mean any number of things!" Dean shouted.

"Perhaps we should just calmly wait for her here. Sam's right, there could be a perfectly simple and non-life-threatening explanation. I do not detect her presence here in the bunker, so we'll have to wait until she returns home," Cas replied.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

About an hour later, you pulled back into the garage. Baby was parked in her usual spot, so you knew the boys were home, hopefully safe and sound. You grabbed some of the grocery bags, figuring you or someone else could go back for the rest. You threw open the door and as you got to the bottom of the spiral staircase, you felt four pairs of eyes on you. "What?" you asked warily as you looked to each of the men.

Dean made a beeline for the stairs and yanked the grocery bags from your hands. "So this is where you've been? Couldn't bother to leave us a note? And I thought we agreed for you to have your damn cell phone on you at all times!! You had me-us worried sick that something had happened to you! I can't believe how irresponsible you are!" he ranted.

"I'm--" you started.

"Save it. For the time being, you're on house arrest. That way we know where you are. You can stay behind and do research because you're not coming along on hunts. Guys, go get the rest of the groceries, I'll take these to the kitchen to be put away," Dean finished.

Head down, you followed Dean to the kitchen to start putting away the groceries. You started taking items out of the bags, separating them between fridge, freezer and pantry items. Sam, Cas and Jack brought in the rest of the bags, and you did the same with the other items. Soon everything was put away where it belonged. Peanut butter in the pantry, fruit in the basket and beer in the fridge.

After putting away the groceries, you sat down at the breakfast table and put your head in your hands. You hadn't meant to worry anyone, in fact you figured you'd be home before they were anyway.  One more way that today is fulfilling the Friday the 13th prophecy, you thought. Dean was so angry, and it was the first time that the brunt of it had been directed at you. He was right though, you should've left a note, made sure you had your phone on you before you left. As a hunter, you always had to be on your guard.

You went to the library to do some reading, hoping it would take your mind off of what a rotten birthday it's been so far. You picked up your book from where you left it on the table and settled into a corner of the couch, because your favorite chair was taken. You opened the book but for some reason, you kept staring straight ahead, not reading a word.

"What's the matter with you?" Dean muttered.

You slammed your book closed and glared at Dean. "I don't really feel like telling you, Dean. So drop it," you retorted.

Dean looked up from his project, trying to read your facial expression. "Well, you're in a mood. What is it, that time of the month?" he asked. You heard audible gasps from Sam, Cas and Jack, who all knew Dean had crossed a line.

"Let's see. I woke up to an empty bunker, because you all had left. I didn't find any note either, come to think of it, but I figured you were on a hunt. I remember thinking that I hoped everything was okay," you answered. "There was no coffee left in the pot, no milk left in the fridge for me to have cereal, no bread or bagels for toast. Not enough hot water for a decent length shower. Then I do the unthinkable and go on a supply run," you continued.

"Now wait a minute--" he interrupted.

"I'm not finished. Only I forgot to leave a note or take my cell phone with me, which caused great unrest in the house of Winchester. As a result, I get put on 'lockdown' without an opportunity to defend myself, which is what I'm doing right now. Spare me the lecture, Dean. Friday the 13th is bad luck enough as it is. If you're going to yell at me, though, please wait until tomorrow when it's not my birthday anymore!" you concluded. You rose from your place on the couch and went to your room, tears threatening.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Wait, today's her birthday? Why didn't she say anything?" Sam asked.

"I don't know, but it's still her birthday, we should do something for her," Jack suggested. "She does so much for us every day, the least we could do is help her to celebrate her birthday."

"I agree with Jack," Cas replied. "What can we do, what are her favorite things?"

"We can run into town and get some Chinese food. That's usually her go-to when she's feeling upset," Sam offered.

"Her favorite rock group is Queen, and I know there were a couple of T-shirts she was looking at last week when we were out," Jack mentioned.

"She loves to read, so maybe she would like a gift card from the bookstore?" Cas suggested.

Sam, Jack and Cas all looked at Dean, because he had yet to chime in. "I suppose I owe her an apology, for starters. I'll run into town and pick up the stuff you guys mentioned, then add something from me," he remarked.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

A couple of hours later, you carefully opened your door to see if anyone was around. You didn't hear much noise, so you figured they'd all gone out again. You put on your robe, then gathered up your towel and clothes. You wandered down the halls to the room where you'd found the large and inviting bathtub while exploring one day.

As the water ran nice and warm, you added a peach blossom bath bomb to it and watched it fizz. Once the tub was filled at the proper level, you carefully lowered yourself into the water. You leaned back and closed your eyes in relaxation, letting the day's earlier memories drain away from you.

After no less than twenty minutes had gone by, you were sufficiently relaxed, so you got out of the tub. You dried off your body, then pulled on undergarments, your pajama pants and a long-sleeved T-shirt. You went to your room to hang up your robe and towel, then put on your slippers.

You decided to try reading again, now that you were more relaxed, and you thought it may help you fall asleep. You became concerned when all the lights were off, so you called out to Sam, Dean, Cas and Jack.

All of a sudden, you hear, "SURPRISE!!" and all of the house lights came back up, with the boys standing around a table. Sitting on the table was a birthday cake with lit candles, and brightly colored gift bags. Tears sprang to your eyes when you realized the effort they had put into helping you celebrate your birthday. Especially given how it had gone up to that point.

"Guys, thank you. I'm sorry about earlier. I should've---" you started.

"Never mind that for now, time to celebrate your birthday!" Sam exclaimed. "You should probably blow out the candles, since they're dripping wax on the birthday cake," he grinned.

"Make a wish," Dean said softly. You closed your eyes, thought of a wish, then you blew out all the candles in one breath. Everyone cheered and suggested you open your gifts.

The first gift you opened was a big red bag from Sam, and inside was Chinese food from your favorite restaurant in town. "Aww, thank you, Sam! These guys make the best egg rolls, you have to try some!" you exclaimed as you passed around the container with the egg rolls in them.

The next gift bag was blue, and was from Jack. You reached in and pulled out the two Queen T-shirts you'd had your eye on since last week. "These are perfect, Jack! Just the ones I've been looking at," you remarked.

Cas leaned over and grabbed an envelope from the table and handed it to you. You looked at him in surprise and tore it open. Inside the birthday card was a gift card to the bookstore in town. "I know how much you like to read, but you won't find anything current on these shelves. I thought you could use it to find something new," Cas explained. "Thank you, Cas. I'm sure I can put this to good use," you replied.

Since you had opened all of your gifts, you suggested breaking into the Chinese food and then cutting the cake. As Sam started opening the trademark white cardboard boxes, Dean went to the kitchen and brought out some plates. He seemed to be taking extra effort not to make eye contact with you. He must still be upset with me, you thought, as you tried to concentrate on enjoying the celebration.

After dinner, you all decided to watch one of your favorite movies, The Princess Bride. During the movie, one by one everyone started to get sleepy. Sam, Jack and Cas each gave you a kiss on top of your head as they left or went to their rooms.

You tried to make it to the end of the movie, but after the fire swamp scene, you also gave in and decided to go to bed. Dean was relaxing in the library with his tumbler of whiskey when you softly wished him good night.

A little while later, you awoke from a horrible nightmare. A demon had captured you all, but it killed each of the boys one by one, while it forced you to watch. You sat straight up in bed, breathing heavily, trying to get your bearings. You reached for the glass of water you kept on your nightstand and drank its contents. You tried to get back to sleep, but each time you closed your eyes, you were taken back into the same scenario. After laying there for about fifteen minutes not sleeping, you got out of bed and wandered into the library.

To your surprise, Dean was still there, nursing his glass of whiskey. He glanced up to see who it was, and relaxed a bit when he saw it was you. "Can't sleep?" he asked.

You nodded. "Nightmare," was all you said.

"Want to talk about it?" he inquired.

"Not really, not now anyway," you replied, shaking your head.

Dean tilted his head back and drank the remainder of his whiskey in one gulp. You took a step closer to him and put your hand on his shoulder. He looked at your hand then at you, trying to tell what you were thinking.

"Listen, Dean, I'm sorry about before. You're right, I should've left a note, or at least made sure I had my phone with me. It was stupid and careless, and it won't happen again," you said, walking back towards your room.

Dean caught your hand and stopped you. "Nah, I'm the one who should be apologizing, I overreacted. When I called out for you and you weren't here, I....got worried that something terrible had happened to you. I panicked, and then when you showed up, all that just kind of exploded in me.

“I was so relieved to see you, but instead of seeing my relief, you saw my anger for making me worry. I am sorry for that, and for not realizing it was your birthday," he finished. "I didn't even get you anything."

"You didn't have to get me anything, Dean. I'm not into getting stuff. Don't get me wrong, I appreciate the gifts, but all I really ever want is to not be forgotten. For someone to say, 'hey, you're somebody special, and I'm glad you were born today'," you explained.

Dean thought for a moment, then a grin spread slowly across his face. "I have an idea. Get your shoes on and grab your coat," he said.

"What? Why?" you asked.

"No questions, just go get your shoes and your coat on and meet me in the Impala," he grinned then winked at you.

A few minutes later, you slid into the passenger seat of the Impala. Dean backed out of the bunker garage, then headed down the highway. You cast a sidelong glance at him, trying to figure out what he's up to, but he kept his eyes on the road, a mischievous grin on his face.

Seeing his destination, he pulled the Impala over onto a small side road with a clearing. Dean got out of the car and rushed over to the passenger side to open the door for you. He held out his hand to assist you. You placed your hand in his, feeling the strength and safety you knew it and the man himself offered. "Thank you, Dean," you blushed. "What are we doing here?" you asked.

"Look up," he replied softly. You leaned against the Impala, then did as he asked. You couldn't help but be awestruck by the seemingly limitless number of stars present in the moonlit sky. "It's breathtaking," you whispered. "I've never seen so many stars. I wish I knew what some of the constellations were, other than the Big Dipper," you remarked.

Dean came over to where you were standing. He placed his hands on your shoulders, turning you so he was behind you. "I happen to know a thing or two about astronomy, I'll show you. Pointing to his left, he said, "See that bright dot over there?" You nodded. "Well, that's not a star, that's the planet Venus. The clouds on Venus trap the sun's rays, making it glow."

"Tell me more," you prodded.

He rubbed your shoulders a bit before moving his hands a little lower to your sides. You started to feel slightly warm, like you may no longer need the jacket you brought with you. Dean pointed to his right and upward. "That's Cassiopeia, a very vain and naughty Greek queen. There's Orion, the Greek hunter, trying to hold up his pants with his belt," he grinned.

You giggled at his joke. "There's sure a lot of stars up there, how do you know so much about them?" you asked.

"Truth?" he responded, to which you nodded. "Well, if you're ever lost, you can navigate by the stars. And maybe....to impress women," he added sheepishly.

You turned to face Dean, his hands still on your sides. "I'd say it worked on this woman," you replied softly, reaching with your hand to cup his face.

Dean searched your face as if he were truly seeing it for the first time. "You sure look pretty, especially in the moonlight. I don't know how I didn't see it before," he marveled. He pulled you closer, then leaned in to capture your lips with his. You were amazed at how tender his kiss was, compared with his tough side that he shows the rest of the world.

Your mouths moved fluidly with each other, tasting and exploring with your tongues. Dean's hands left your sides to roam freely up and down your back. Your hands had gone from stroking his cheek to running through his hair. When you paid particular attention to the ones at the base of his neck, he groaned in appreciation. "Woman, you're going to be the death of me, you know that?" he growled.

"But what a glorious way to go, hmm?" you teased, causing him to grin against your mouth.

"By the way....Happy Birthday, sweetheart," Dean replied softly.

"Thank you, Dean. For the stars and for making my birthday wish come true," you said.

[nachtgraves]

Fic: Lotta’s Boys

Started this when episode 3 or 4 came out and got my shit together to finally finish it. It is... much longer than I thought it would be.... woops.

Read on AO3

Pairing: Jean Otus/Nino Word Count: 8.500 Warnings/Tags: G. Post-canon, sick fic, lotta’s pov, fluff, obvious and oblivious boys. Summary: Lotta loves her brother and his best friend, she just wishes they weren't so oblivious.

Lotta loves Jean, she really does. He’s a good brother, and a hard worker even if he complains about how his transfers never go through. He always brings back presents from the other districts, delicious treats to make up for the time he’s away.

She also loves Nino. He indulges her in exploring bakeries and restaurants and he gave her candy when they first met. He watches out for Jean when Lotta manages to ask him for a favor first.

She loves them both, dearly. If only they weren’t so stupidly oblivious.

Lotta’s making breakfast when Jean stumbles out of his room and into a chair at the kitchen table. Eggs and sausages sizzle in the pan and the toaster is set to go off in another minute.

“Morning,” she calls to him. “Did you sleep well?”

Jean nods but he looks exhausted. He’s been away again for work, ACCA in a bit of a mess after Furawau’s secession, and only returned late last night. At least he has the day off, and even if he didn’t, one call to Owl would make sure he did.

“What do you want to drink?” Lotta asks, moving easily between the stove, toaster, and fridge. She has a system and when the toaster goes off, she is ready with a knife slathered with butter, jam standing by on the side. “I can start a pot of coffee, or we still have some of the tea you got from your last trip.”

“Coffee,” Jean mumbles. He rubs his face and stands up, bracing himself on the kitchen table. “I’ll make it, you want some?”

“Sure, thank you!”

Before long, breakfast is ready and plated. Lotta sips at her coffee and watches Jean eat as he skims the paper. His posture is lax and his eyes are glossy and droopier than usual and she wasn’t blind to the way he stumbled around the kitchen nor deaf to his attempts at covert sniffling.

“Jean, how long have you been sick?” Lotta questions. She sees the moment Jean tries to deny the accusation, but he’s learned in the past few years and only sighs.

“Not long. I think it’s just exhaustion and I should be fine after some rest,” he concedes. “I’ll be good to go back to work tomorrow.”

Lotta isn’t having it. “Well that’s tomorrow. Today, and right after you finish eating, you’re going right back to bed.”

Jean smiles and shakes his head in amusement. “Yes, ma’am.”

He doesn’t manage to finish his plate, barely able to do more than nibble on the toast and sip at his coffee. The eggs and sausages are barely touched. Lotta ushers him back to bed when he can’t make himself eat much more.

“I’ll make some porridge and see if we have any cold meds.” She brushes his hair from his face and worries her bottom lip. “You’re a little warm.”

Taking her hand in his, Jean links their fingers. “I’ll be fine, Lotta. I just need rest. There’s no use in you worrying yourself sick.”

Lotta pouts but she sighs and agrees. “Let me know if you need anything. I’m going to find medicine and make that porridge.”

Or so was the plan, but Lotta discovers that they’re out of any sort of cold medication. Lotta could pop out to grab what she needs but she doesn’t want to leave Jean home alone. He doesn’t fall sick often, but when he does, he falls hard.

“Ah, what to do…”

Her thoughts and contemplation are interrupted, however, by the buzz of a phone, her phone, sitting on the kitchen counter. She picks it up and sees that Nino’s sent her a bunch of photos. They’re all of a cat with gold fur. It’s asleep in the first picture but Nino must have woken it up since he catches the moment it blinks open blue eyes and yawns. Then it looks bored and unimpressed, but in the next picture something out of frame catches its attention. Its head is tilted and its tail is up and looks loose, not tight and puffed out in fear. Its blue eyes are wide and it stands facing Nino head on. In the next photo it’s munching on a small piece of bread, eyes shut in pleasure and Nino’s fingers rubbing its tiny head.

If Jean were a cat is the only accompanying text. It makes Lotta laugh because it’s far too accurate, and then she realizes her current dilemma is easily solved, and she can move on the solution to another one as well.

She calls Nino and he picks up almost immediately.

“Nino! Are you free right now? I need a favor.”

The doorbell rings and Lotta makes sure the chicken and ginger porridge won’t burn while she gets the door. Nino has perfect timing.

“Nino, you’re a lifesaver!” Lotta grins up at the photographer.

“Hi, I got some other things as well,” he says, holding up bags from the pharmacy. “Some energy drinks, pudding, jello. And some fever patches, because you know he runs high whenever he’s sick. They’re also good for headaches. And…what? Why are you looking at me like that.”

Lotta shakes her head, “Nothing! Nothing. You’re a really good friend, Nino.”

“Ah, thank you?” he replies.

“Thank you,” Lotta says. “Oh! Almost forgot about the porridge. I’ll take these, could you go check on Jean for me?” She doesn’t wait for a reply, taking the bags out of Nino’s hand and hurrying back to the kitchen. She quickly checks the porridge before putting away Nino’s shopping, noting he got all of Jean’s favorites, smiling when she hears Nino knock gently on Jean’s door and low murmurs follow.

Lotta’s just finished putting everything away and stirring the porridge when Nino comes out of Jean’s room. “Smells good.”

“I made extra if you want to eat with Jean,” Lotta says. She dips a spoon into the porridge and tastes it before frowning and adding a bit more salt. “It’ll be done in another five minutes. How’s he doing?”

“He’s definitely got a fever and needs a box or two of tissues within reach. If he tries to get out of bed, I’d suggest tying him down, duct taping if you don’t have any rope. There’s not a chance he’s going to be well enough to work tomorrow.”

“I know. The only person Jean is fooling is himself. I was going to call Owl later.”

“Good thinking,” Nino laughs. “You and Owl are the only people he’ll listen to.”

“He listens to you,” Lotta says casually, keeping her smile down when Nino scratches his cheek and looks away.

Nino clears his throat. “That’s debatable. You’re his beloved sister, Owl is like his second father, even if he doesn’t realize it yet.”

“And you are one of the closest people in his life,” Lotta says. “And if you say anything less, you don’t get any porridge. Speaking of, get me two bowls. Oh, and there should be a tray in that cupboard over there.”

Nino does as bid and Lotta ladles porridge into the bowls while Nino fills up a glass of water and grabs the medicine he bought. Lotta puts everything on the tray and hands it off to Nino. “I already ate and have a couple things to do. Take this in and keep Jean company? There’s nothing worse than being sick and having to eat alone.” For good measure, she looks up at Nino with with a slight pouty frown.

Nino takes the tray from her. “As you wish, your highness.”

Lotta lightly smacks Nino’s arm. “Hush. Go feed your prince.” When Nino’s cheeks pink, Lotta has to turn her back on him in a pretense of being busy cleaning up to not give anything away.

She hears him walk away and the low murmurs pick up as he elbows Jean’s door open to walk inside. Lotta can’t help herself, far too curious and very invested. She sneaks over to the door and peeks through the crack. Nino’s got his back to her, bent over Jean’s nightstand to set the tray down. Lotta catches him smack Jean’s hands away with a spoon.

“Food first. And then you get two pills.”

“I’m not hungry,” Jean sulks, and if he’s being so openly pouty he’s definitely running a fever. “I want drugs.”

Nino laughs and Lotta presses her hand to her mouth to keep herself from being noticed. Jean’s turned towards Nino, all of his attention on the blue haired man.

“Just have a few bites. For Lotta, at least.” Nino puts one of the bowls in Jean’s hands and settles on the edge of the bed with the other bowl. “You’re not getting any drugs until at least a quarter of that is in your stomach.”

Jean huffs but he spoons a bite. “Don’t you have work today?”

“Being my own boss means I can take the day off whenever I want,” Nino replies. “Lotta called me and I know how you always overdo it when you’re sick. Lotta will guilt you into resting, but I have no qualms about manhandling you into bed.”

Jean’s flush becomes more pronounced and Lotta sees the moment Nino’s words registered to his own ears. His ears go pink and he freezes, back ramrod straight and tense. Even Lotta feels her cheeks grow warm at the easily misunderstood declaration.

“To force you to rest,” Nino hurriedly tacks on, clearing his throat. “You’ve got at least another day or two of bed rest with the state you’re in.” He swallows down a few bites of porridge while Jean just stirs his. “Your confinement will only be longer if you don’t eat something, Jean. No food, no drugs.”

Jean rolls his eyes. “I forgot how mean you are when I’m sick. Aren’t you supposed to be nicer?”

Lotta wishes she could see Nino’s face when he says, “What? Want me to feed you or something?”

Jean’s however, she sees clearly. Even his fever can’t explain how red he gets in the face, up to his ears, and his jaw drops, eyes wide. But he picks up his jaw by shoving porridge into his mouth and chewing, choking out a, “No.”

Lotta has to back away from the door so her barely restrained laughter doesn’t out her eavesdropping.

Lotta’s trying to work on an assignment for one of her classes on the couch when Nino comes out of Jean’s room.

“Nino!” She hops up, maybe a bit too eagerly. She looks for any sign of, she doesn’t even know what. Just a sign of something. She almost wishes she had continued to eavesdrop at the door.

“Lotta,” Nino returns, brows furrowing in wary confusion.

It’s incredibly hard to control her expression. She nods towards Jean’s bedroom, trying to change the subject. “Did he eat all the porridge?”

Nino gives her a suspicious look but doesn’t press. “Yeah. Once he started, he managed to get it all down. I gave him the pills and he was asleep by the time I finished stacking the bowls. ”

At the mention of bowls, Lotta goes to reach for them. “I can take those.”

Nino lifts the tray out of her reach and walks on to the kitchen. “It’s fine, I got it. What were you working on?”

“Readings for one of my classes.” Though she had kept looking up at Jean’s door and didn’t get much done. She follows Nino to the sink and despite his insistence grabs a bowl he finishes washing and dries it before putting it away.

“You have class tomorrow?”

“Yeah. My first class is at 11 and I’m usually gone through lunch until just before Jean gets home from work. I’ll just make something easy for Jean to grab and eat while I’m gone.”

Nino lingers with the spoons under the faucet. “I can come over again, if you want,” he offers. “I can cook and keep an eye on him, make sure he eats and doesn’t try and go to work while you focus on school.”

“But you’ve got work, don’t you?”

“I have two memory cards of photos to go through and then editing,” Nino says, dryly. “And you guys have a better coffee machine than I do.”

Lotta laughs. “If you don’t mind, that’d be great, Nino.” She wraps her arms around his waist, pressing her cheek against his chest as she squeezes him tight. “Thank you. I don’t know what Jean I would do without you.”

Nino hugs her back and ruffles her hair. “Don’t know what I’d do without you two, either.”

The next morning, after showering and getting dressed, Lotta checks in on Jean. She finds him out of bed going through his closet. Over his arm is a familiar black and red jacket. He’s reaching for one of his ties when Lotta clears her throat. He freezes and turns to meet her frown.

“I was going to shower?” he says and sniffles.

Lotta stares him down with her hands fisted at her hips until he sheepishly moves away from the ties and puts his jacket back on its hanger.

“I’ll call in sick,” Jean concedes. “But I’m still taking a shower.”

“Nino said he’ll be by in an hour,” she says, satisfied. “Do you want to eat in bed or in the kitchen?”

“Kitchen,” Jean answers. “Am I allowed coffee?”

“If you’re good,” Lotta teases and leaves to start a pot.

When Jean comes out of the shower, he’s dressed in lounge pants and an old shirt that swallows his frame. Lotta rewards him with a steaming mug of coffee and a bowl of oatmeal with chopped strawberries and blueberries. His appetite’s improved and he even asks for some toast and jam as Lotta makes some for herself.

“You know, I don’t need a babysitter,” Jean says once Lotta’s settled at the table, spreading jam on her toast.

“Maybe,” Lotta replies. “But it’s nice to have someone take care of you when you’re not feeling well.”

Jean smiles into his coffee. “Yeah. Nino’s been taking care of us for a long time now.”

“Mhmm.” Lotta peeks up at her brother. “When I was a kid, I thought I wanted to marry him.”

Jean startles, so surprised he starts coughing, and Lotta’s glad she waited until he had swallowed his coffee before throwing that at him. Even though it might be a bit of a test, it was true. She’d thought herself in love with her brother’s best friend who charmed her with candy when they first met and helped them through the loss of their parents while dealing with the loss of his own father. And even knowing the truth of how Nino came into their lives, Lotta is grateful for Nino’s presence. He might have been assigned to watch over them, but it was easy to see that his feelings went far beyond an assignment.

Lotta hands Jean a glass of water and Jean takes a few steady swallows and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. He clears his throat. “And, uh, do you still?”

“Oh no.” Lotta is quick to shake her head, laughing. “Not at all. I quickly realized I don’t love him like that. I love him like I love you.” She pauses, looks down, and adds casually, “But I do wonder who Nino would ever get married to. I’ve never even seen him in a relationship before.”

With perfect timing, the doorbell rings. Lotta all but bounces to the door to let Nino in and Jean mull over her words.

Nino’s running a hand through his hair, almost as if he were fixing it, when Lotta swings the door open. In place of his usual camera bag is a laptop bag slung over his shoulder, and he’s got a plastic bag from a nearby convenience store in hand.

“Morning. Jean ate all the jello yesterday so I bought a few more,” he says. “They had a different flavor I thought he might like.”

Lotta just beams at him. “I’m sure he will. He’s in the kitchen finishing up breakfast. There’s extra oatmeal and fruit if you’re hungry.”

“I already ate, but thanks,” Nino says, toeing off his shoes before following Lotta to the kitchen to where Jean waves as Nino approaches.

“Morning.” Nino reaches over and puts the back of his hand against Jean’s forehead. Jean closes his eyes and sighs at the touch. “Your hand’s cold.”

“That’s because you’re burning up. Finish this and back into bed,” Nino tuts.

“Yes, sir,” Jean mocks, but he doesn’t move away from Nino’s hand and Nino lets his hand continue to rest against Jean’s skin.

Lotta hurries to put her back to the two so they don’t see her pleased grin.

When Lotta has to go, Jean’s convinced Nino to let him huddle on the couch with some jello instead of in his bed and Nino’s on the floor in front of him, laptop on the coffee table and the TV turned on to a baking show, the volume low.

She comes back several hours later to playful arguing in the kitchen. Jean’s wrapped up in a blanket at the kitchen table and Nino’s at the stove with his sleeves rolled up, heating up leftovers from their lunch. She’s just in time to be the tie-breaker on the matter of which bakery had the better tomato bread.

Neither boy is even close to being right and when Lotta provides the correct answer, they move to argue but pause, thinking, before admitting that she may be right.

“Of course I am,” she says, before coming around to kiss Jean’s cheek and see what Nino’s cooked because it smells delicious. They eat together, the boys filling Lotta in on what they did and Lotta talking about her classes. There’s laughter and smiles around the table and Nino and Jean keep looking to each other when they think no one else is watching.

Jean seems to be doing better the next day, but he’s still running a fever and overfilling wastebaskets with snot-filled tissues. Lotta’s only class is in the evening but she says she has a group project meeting during the day and Nino offers to come by again. She feels a little bad about lying but it’s for a good cause and is only validated when the doorbell rings and Jean insists on getting the door.

Lotta tiptoes after him and watches on as Nino’s expression softens as he greets Jean and Jean sways into Nino’s touch when Nino checks his temperature with his hand like the day prior. Nino’s face turns pink at Jean’s sigh, his smile soft and affectionate. “You seem better than yesterday.”

“Lotta won’t let me go to work though.”

Nino chuckles and brushes Jean’s hair back. His hand lingers before he takes it back and stuffs it into his pocket. “I said better, not fully recovered. Going to let me in?”

Lotta hurries away to not get caught and greets Nino when he’s passing the living room where she’s finishing up packing her bag for the day.

“What’re you two going to be up to today?” she asks.

“Finish a show we started yesterday?” Jean suggests, looking to Nino who makes no objections. “Will you be home for dinner?”

“I might be a little late, but yes,” Lotta answers. “But you don’t have to wait up for me if you get hungry.”

“I can cook something again. Save some for you when you get home so you don’t have to either,” Nino offers.

Lotta beams. “That would be great, if you don’t mind. We owe you, really.”

Nino shakes his head. “It’s nothing. Now you better get going or you’ll be late.”

Lotta pushes down the touch of guilt that spikes up. She’s just going to be going to a cafe near her school that she’s been wanting to try out with a few friends. But it’s for a good cause. “I’ll see you both tonight, then. Listen to Nino, Jean!”

She closes the door on Nino’s laughter and Jean’s mock-indignant shout that turns into hacking coughs and Nino’s worried alarm.

When Lotta gets home, she walks in on Nino coming out of the kitchen, which isn’t unusual but for the fact that he’s carrying Jean, one arm under Jean’s knees and the other supporting his back. Jean’s asleep, head pillowed against Nino’s chest.

“He fell asleep at the kitchen table,” Nino says quietly. “Just taking him to bed.”

And that’s all fair and innocent. It’s not the first time Lotta’s seen Nino carry Jean, especially after their nights out drinking since Jean’s never been able to hold his liquor well. But Nino’s ears are red and he isn’t meeting Lotta’s gaze, and he’s never carried Jean like this before.

“I’ll get the door,” is all Lotta says and she leads the way to Jean’s room, holding the door as Nino maneuvers through it sideways so Jean’s legs don’t hit the door frame.

Lotta hurries after to pull back Jean’s sheets and Nino gently lays Jean down. They both freeze when Jean grumbles, rolls onto his side facing Nino and grabbing onto Nino’s arm. Nino almost falls on Jean but catches himself against the headboard, braced over Jean who shifts around, ends up hugging Nino’s arm to his chest before he’s finally content and relaxes.

Lotta bites her lip to keep from giggling. Nino looks like he can’t pick between being panicked and thoroughly endeared.

Nino waits a beat before he slowly wiggles his arm free. Jean frowns, whines in the back of his throat but Nino frees himself and Jean doesn’t wake up. Only grumbles before turning over onto his other side and nuzzling into his pillow. He looks upset for a moment before his face smooths out in sleep.

Lotta and Nino quickly and quietly leave Jean to it, Lotta closing the door behind them with a quiet click.

“I’ve never seen him do that,” Lotta says innocently, glancing up at Nino.

Nino scratches the back of his head, his cheeks dusted light pink. “He’s just sick.” He sounds like he’s trying to convince himself of the matter. Lotta doesn’t do anything to help.

Day three of Jean’s cold he’s doing a lot better. His coughs aren’t as harsh and his sneezing and sniffling has reduced considerably. He’s still feverish and tired though but will probably be well enough to return to work by tomorrow. Lotta’s somewhat impressed he didn’t fight so much to go to work earlier but she has a feeling she knows the cause.

Nino comes over again in the afternoon with a bag of the best tomato bread in Badon and a sheepish smile. Lotta had only had a morning class and Jean had still been asleep when she got home. There weren’t any plans for Nino to come over and help again, but like with Jean, she isn’t all that surprised.

“How’s Jean?” he asks, following Lotta to the kitchen so she can cut the bread and make some tea to go with it.

“Much better,” she replies. “Oh can you get me a plate? And a small bowl? But yes, his fever’s almost completely gone.”

Nino grabs a large plate and Lotta arranges the sliced bread on it. She goes into the fridge and grabs what she needs to make a quick salsa to go with the bread. Nino helps, getting olive oil and salt and helping her chop the vegetables. They work together and Nino asks about her class that morning and Lotta asks after his work and any upcoming assignments for the newspaper he’s freelancing for.

He’s talking about a work trip he’s going on next month to Dowa and then Suitsu, in the middle of promising to bring back regional specialties, when Jean stumbles into the kitchen. “Lotta, have you seen my—Oh, Nino?”

“Hey, J—!” Nino cuts himself off with a bitten back curse. Metal clatters and alarm blooms on Jean’s face.

Alarmed, Lotta turns to check on Nino and the first thing she sees is blood. It’s all over Nino’s fingers, the cutting board, and the cilantro he’d been chopping. She quickly ushers him to the sink and tells Jean to go and get their first aid kit. Luckily, the blood had made the cut look worse than it actually was and doesn’t look like a trip to the emergency room.

“Hold this to the cut,” Lotta says, handing Nino a paper towel. She has him sit at the kitchen table just as Jean returns with the first aid kit.

“Here.” Jean sets the kit on the table and opens it up. He takes out the packet of antiseptic wipes and a box of waterproof bandages, pulling out a strip and removing the wrapping.

“You’re sick, why are you running around with wet hair and no shirt?” Nino doesn’t look at Jean.

“I was looking for the flannel shirt you got me a few birthdays ago.”

Lotta knows exactly which shirt Jean’s talking about. It’s the softest thing he owns because of how often he wears it. It’s about two and a half sizes too big and always sliding off one of his shoulders. Nino’d offered to exchange it for a size that fits but Jean said he was happy with it as is. And he has been. He’ll always wear it when he’s not feeling well or wants to have a comfy, lazy day. Lotta’s also noticed he tends to pull it out when Nino’s away for work and they don’t see him for a while. She’s not sure Jean’s aware of that particular habit.

“It’s in the dryer, I haven’t had a chance to fold up the laundry yet. Take care of Nino, I’ll go find it.”

Jean’s in the middle of saying no but Lotta’s already up and heading to their laundry closet, leaving Nino with Jean. She finds the shirt quickly, shaking out the wrinkles, before returning to the kitchen. She hides for a moment at the corner before revealing herself.

Jean’s taken her seat and is in the middle of applying a bandage to Nino’s finger. Nino’s looking everywhere but at Jean, or at least trying to. His flushed face is angled to the side but his eyes keep drifting back to Jean bent over carefully applying the bandage.

“There.” Jean sits up and Nino takes his hand back.

“It’s really not a big deal, I could have taken care of it myself,” Nino says. “Seriously, where’s your towel, you need to dry your hair. And put on a shirt.” There’s a hidden please, tense, just shy of desperate.

Lotta makes her appearance then, brandishing Jean’s shirt. “Found it. Here. And Nino’s right, you should to dry your hair. It’s still dripping, Jean.”

“Okay, okay.” Jean takes the shirt. “I left my towel in the bathroom.” He heads back to his room while tugging the shirt on.

Lotta and Nino share a fond, commiserating look at Jean’s behaviour. There’s no one else he’d behave spoiled and childish in front of, whether he was sick or not.

While Jean dressed and dried his hair, Lotta returns to the almost finished salsa. She cleans up the bloodied cilantro, staring Nino back into sitting when he tries to get up and help. They still have plenty of the herb left and Lotta quickly chops enough to finish up the salsa, adding a squeeze of lemon as a finishing touch.

Jean returns with his shirt buttoned up but the neckline hangs low on his sternum and the sleeves inch just past his fingertips. His towel is hanging around his shoulders and while his hair looks more ruffled than it had been, it’s still visibly damp.

“Oh come here,” Nino says. He pulls the towel from Jean’s shoulders and shepherds him to a chair, sitting him down and standing behind him. He drops the towel on Jean’s head and starts properly drying his hair.

“I’m sick, not a child,” Jean grumbles, but he laughs and he tilts his head to make it easier for Nino and Nino’s got a smile of his own. Lotta finishes the salsa and heats slices of the tomato bread for a few seconds on the stove, just to lightly toast them before setting them on a large plate around the bowl of salsa.

Nino’s done with Jean’s hair when she sets the snack on the table. “There we go. Oh, what do you boys want to drink?”

“Sit down, Lotta,” Nino says. “I can make a pot of tea for all of us.” Lotta goes to argue, but Nino folds Jean’s towel over the back of Jean’s chair and rounds the table to gently guide Lotta into a chair, his hands on her shoulders. “I cut my finger, barely. Just, relax.” He goes to fill up the kettle and pull out three mismatched mugs, Lotta’s favorite, Jean’s favorite, and the one the Otuses bought specifically for Nino. “How’s that project going?”

“Oh, uh, good.” The question catches her off-guard, takes her a moment to remember the little lie from earlier. She busies herself from the lie by helping herself to bread and salsa. “We’re pretty much done.”

Jean’s watching her from across the table, a brow slightly raised. “What’s it about again?”

“Just something for my poli-sci class.” Lotta takes a large bite of bread so she can’t talk anymore. Jean’s eyes narrow slightly and Lotta widens hers innocently.

When Nino joins them, tea brewed and made to each person’s liking, he looks between the two siblings. “Did I miss something?”

“Just the bread. Told you it’s the best tomato bread in the city,” Lotta chirps. She doesn’t respond to Jean’s suspicious look over his mug.

With the exception of a few sniffles and the odd cough, Jean makes a full recovery and is back to work by the end of the week. He could have used up another sick day and just gone back in on Monday, none of his coworkers or Owl would mind and in fact encourage it, but as much as Jean complains of his transfers never going through, he’s got his fair share of workaholic tendencies.

Lotta’s preparing dinner when Jean gets home.

“Hey! Wash up and help me with dinner. I’m making pasta.”

“Hey, yeah, give me a minute,” Jean replies. His gaze drifts around the apartment, looking for someone, and Lotta can tell it’s an unconscious action. She doesn’t say anything until Jean’s swapped his uniform for comfy pajamas and is by her side grilling chicken.

“Got used to having Nino around,” she says idly. “Reminded me of the past.” Even though she has ulterior motives, it’s an honest comment. Nino and Jean were attached at the hip when they were in high school and even through college despite their different departments. Granted, Nino had an agenda, but the relationship he forged with her and Jean and even their parents was authentic.

Jean laughs. “If Nino wasn’t over, I’d be at his.”

“And he always brought me treats or sent you back home with them.”

Jean hip checks her gently. “So easily bribed by baked goods and sweets.”

Lotta checks him back. “At least I get something in exchange. Nino just has to smile at you and you’ll do whatever he says.”

It may have been too direct, but Jean flusters and nearly flings a piece of chicken breast into the wall. He composes himself, or at least tries to. “That’s—he’s my best friend.”

Lotta could continue to press, but fast-tracking a decade of mutual pining and obliviousness is a delicate matter and she can’t push too much too quickly. “We should do something to thank him, though, for helping out this past week.”

“You know Nino’ll brush any thanks off.”

“Yes, but we could treat him to dinner or something. It’s been a while since we all went out for a nice meal anyway.”

She can tell Jean’s considering it, more than considering it. His hesitation is from trying not to seem too eager, but his unconscious smile and excited energy betray him.

“True.” His lips purse in thought before he seems to recall something. “He mentioned a hotpot place near the park he wants to try. Early dinner on Sunday?”

“We haven’t had hotpot in forever! I’ll invite him.”

“No!” Jean rushes. His ears warm as he collects himself, “I mean, I can tell him. I was the one he, and you, had to deal with. Let me handle everything.”

Lotta bites back her grin. “If you insist. Why don’t you call him now? I can finish up here.”

Jean hesitates for a moment but hands over the spatula and goes off to get his phone. Lotta lowers the heat to medium and keeps her ears open when Jean’s call connects. She stifles a laugh when Jean’s voice cracks at his first attempt at hello.

“No, I’m fine,” he says after a pause. Lotta can imagine him rolling his eyes by his tone. He clears his throat. “Actually, I was, uh, well, Lotta and I were wondering if you were free Sunday night, say six? It’s been a while since we went out to eat together and you said you wanted to try that hotpot place. Yes, I know. Doesn’t mean I can’t want to thank you anyway. Let me—us—treat you to dinner.”

It’s almost painful listening to Jean stumble and stutter and correct himself while doing something he’s obliviously done for years, but all Lotta wants is to hear Nino’s side of the conversation. She can imagine he’s doing no better than her brother.

“We’re treating you, Nino, whether you like it not.” After a pause, Jean’s voice softens. “Yeah, see you Sunday.”

Lotta and Jean walk up to the hotpot place to find Nino already there by the entrance. He’s in his usual turtleneck and jeans, but his combat boots have been swapped out for shiny leather loafers and he’s thrown on a fitted blazer. And he’s not alone. There are two girls giggling around him. Nino doesn’t seem as interested in whatever their conversation keeps glancing at his phone. Jean starts slowing down.

Lotta is not about to have silly misunderstandings detract or even slow down her progress with the two boys, especially when they’ve been doing so well. Jumping up and waving, she calls out, “Nino!” and hurries over. Nino’s face lightens in a sincere smile and he excuses himself from the girls.

Lotta runs into Nino with a full bodied hug, wrapping her arms around Nino’s waist. She peeks around him to the girls who are looking on in disappointment and barely holds back from sticking her tongue out at them as they turn around and walk away. She looks back up at Nino. “Did you wait long?” They aren’t late, but they’re not early like they usually plan to be. Jean had a crisis over what shirt to wear, though he won’t admit it. But the shirt Lotta helped him pick brings out his eyes and accentuate his waist and Nino’s eyes are fixed on him.

“Just got here myself,” Nino says almost absently. Lotta pulls out of the hug and waits for Jean to catch up to them. When he does, the two just stare at each other after saying quiet ‘hi’s like they’re high schoolers on their first date. Lotta considers pretending to have an emergency and have to leave the two alone for dinner. But they’ll have plenty of time for dates without a little sister third-wheeling in the future. Besides, she read the reviews for the restaurant and had been looking forward to trying several dishes all weekend.

“I’m starving,” she chirps, jarring the two out of their little world. “Let’s go in? I looked them up and they have rolled ice cream.”

The two laugh at that, Nino ruffling Lotta’s hair. “That’s how I heard about this place. A client recommended the matcha.”

“Let’s have dinner before we start thinking about dessert,” Jean says. He leads the way into the restaurant while Lotta shares a knowing look with Nino. They never leave without ordering dessert, even if they have to take it home for later.

They get a booth against the wall, glossy black with cushioned benches. Nino takes a seat on one side, Jean slides into the other, and Lotta beside Jean. Nino tries to keep his orders simple and towards the cheaper end but Jean orders all of Nino’s favorites for him, Nino glaring from across the table and Lotta laughing at their antics. They end up with a spread that’s more than enough for three, maybe even four. Nino takes charge of cooking until both Lotta and Jean bat his chopsticks away and Jean threatens to confiscate Lotta’s to preside as designated hotpot cook.

At first, there’s visible awkwardness between Nino and Jean, the two taking turns at being flustered and sneaking glances when the other isn’t looking. It’s adorable if ridiculous. But eventually, conversation flows smoothly as they argue over when a vegetable or meat is done and Jean forgetting to give himself food once it’s ready. Jean gripes about trips, talks fondly about the new addition to his team even though the new kid makes Jean feel like he’s a hundred years old.

“Imagine that,” Nino says with wry grin.

Jean kicks him gently under the table. “You could pass for being younger than me.”

Nino laughs like it’s a joke, but Jean’s right. Ever since he revealed the truth, he’s stopped hiding the signs of his age but Lotta still thinks he looks of an age with Jean, and not nearly a decade older. He’d looked closer in age to Lotta when he spiked his hair and hid the creases around his eyes. Even the bits of silver coming into his hair didn’t age him much. Jean’s grays were just better hidden in his blond hair.

They steadily eat and soon there’s nothing but the broth left. Nino finishes his glass of water and wipes his mouth with his napkin. “That was great. Thank you both.”

“This was our thank you,” Jean says, “So no thank yous from you tonight.”

Nino rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling wide enough his crows feet he’d worn glasses to hide make an appearance.

Lotta leans back and sighs happily. “I’m so full. One of you will have to carry me home.”

“Too full for dessert?” Jean teases. But when he flags down their waiter to ask for their bill, he asks for three orders of their rolled ice cream to-go.

When they step outside, Nino walks with them to the curb to flag down a cab. They catch one fairly quickly, it was still early enough in the night on a Sunday, and Jean slides in first, Lotta right behind him.

“What’re you doing, get in,” Lotta says when Nino bends into the open door and tries to say goodnight. She lightly shakes their bag of take out. “We’ve got ice cream to eat.”

Nino seems to hesitate but he looks past Lotta’s shoulder and his mouth quirks into a reluctant smile before he gets in and closes the door behind him. Lotta looks up and catches Jean’s expression in the rear view mirror, a pleased little grin, as he tells the driver their address.

When they get home, they make their way to the living room to enjoy their dessert. Lotta hands out the three plastic boxes—strawberry for Jean, chocolate for Nino, and matcha for herself—and the packed plastic spoons and get settled along the couch. Lotta takes the corner and grabs the TV remote. She puts on an episode from a food documentary series she’s been watching after Jean and Nino say they’re fine with anything and gets comfortable.

The three watch the episode, which takes place in Rokkusu, and eat their dessert in a comfortable, cozy silence with occasional commentary on something the show covers. Nino recognizes an area in one of the b-roll footage from a freelance job a while ago and Jean asks someone to remind him to check out one of the places the show mentions the next time he’s in the state for work.

They lose track of time, or at least Jean and Nino do, ending up more invested in the series than Lotta, her scheming aside. Ice cream long finished, empty containers left to be dealt with later on the coffee table, the two had sunk into the couch, and, as time went on, seemed to drift towards one another. Nino’s arm is stretched along the back of the couch, a hair’s breath from Jean’s neck and Jean’s drawn his legs up, knees directing his body towards the photographer. Neither seem to notice the way the space between them has been gradually diminishing. Lotta almost doesn’t want to disrupt the moment, but it is a Sunday night. Besides, there’ll be more nights.

About a quarter of the way through a third episode, Lotta yawns and stretches, and makes startled noise when she makes a point to check the clock on the wall. “I didn’t realize it had gotten so late.”

Nino looks up. “Oh wow. You’re right. I should get going.” He sits up and pulls away from Jean, starting to clean up.

But Jean stops him, reaching out and catching Nino’s arm. “It’ll be even later by the time you get back to your place,” he says. “Stay the night.”

Nino starts to shake his head. His eyes flash down to Jean’s hand curled around his bicep and he wavers.

Lotta goes for the second of weakness. “You’d have to wait for a cab and everything. Here. I’ll take care of that. Jean, get the blankets and prepare the couch and find something for Nino to sleep in.”

Before either can say another word, Lotta sweeps up the take-out containers to dispose of them in the kitchen. When she walks by the living room on her way to her room, Jean’s got an armful of blankets and Nino’s arranging pillows and cushions. She hides around the corner, just to observe.

Jean drops the collection of blankets on the coffee table, says, “I can sort this. Grab something of mine and take my bed tonight.”

“I’m perfectly fine with the couch.”

“It’s not good for your back,” Jean counters.

“Couch isn’t any good for your back either.”

“But you’re much older than me, remember,” Jean teases. Nino throws the pillow he’s holding at Jean, who catches it just before it hits him in the face. He’s grinning as he lowers it and hugs it to his chest. “But really. We dragged you out and brought you here.”

Nino walks over and reaches for the pillow. “I didn’t do anything I didn’t want to,” he says softly, Lotta almost can’t make out the words. Louder, her says, “Now give me that. One night on the couch won’t kill me. Besides, your couch is comfortable.”

Feeling guilty, like she’s intruding (she’s aware she’s being nosy and spying already) Lotta quietly makes her way to her room to get ready for bed.

An hour or so before her alarm is set to go off, Lotta wakes up, thirsty. She considers just going back to sleep but gets up and shuffles out of her room to go grab a glass of water from the kitchen. All the lights are off, only the faint glow of the sun rising bleeding through the drawn curtains lighting the apartment. She gets her water and makes to head back to her room to read for a bit before getting ready for the day, makes a slight detour to check in on whoever ended up taking the couch for the night.

She’s careful to tiptoe as she nears the living room but notices a distinct lack of blankets and middle-aged man on the couch. The bathroom door is cracked open, lights off, unoccupied. Frowning, she detours to the front door but all shoes are accounted for, Nino’s loafers lined up neatly next to Jean’s.

Confused, she walks back to her room. The boys will turn up for breakfast. As she passes by Jean’s door, it quietly swings open and Jean comes out, already dressed for work, coat folded over his arm. His eyes widen at seeing Lotta and he closes the door quietly behind him. “Morning,” he whispers. “You’re up early.”

Lotta shakes her glass of water, matches his quiet tone. “Thirsty.” She doesn’t point out that he’s up and dressed earlier than usual as well. “Where’s Nino?”

To Lotta’s surprise, Jean’s ears turn bright red and he glances off to the side. “He’s, uh. We argued about who would take the couch last night. Comprised and shared my bed.” He adds, almost a little defensively, “It’s big enough. He’s using my bathroom.”

Lotta does her absolute best not to betray her thoughts on her face. Jean’s bed is big enough for two, but only just. Especially when the two people are men over 180cm. “I was thinking pancakes for breakfast? We have chocolate chips, I think. I just need to wash up.”

Jean seems relieved that Lotta doesn’t comment on what he’d revealed. “ I got it, you go get ready for the day.”

“Okay, thanks. Start some coffee too, please?”

Jean nods with a smile and ruffles her hair before heading off to make breakfast for everyone. When Lotta’s done getting ready, she comes back into the kitchen to Jean pouring pancake batter into a pan and Nino nursing a mug of coffee at Jean’s side, looking down at her brother with the softest, fondest expression as Jean talks too quietly for Lotta to make out the words.

She quietly tiptoes back to her room. She can take a little longer to get ready.

The next week or so go by with nothing too unusual. Jean ends up appointed to staff a recruitment table at a local high schools’ career fairs for the next week or so with the new kid and ends up coming home earlier than usual. Nino’s out of town for a job and swinging by Jumoku to get some photos of a local festival that will coincide with his travels. And Lotta prepares for her upcoming exams. She spends more time at school or the library, her food science class has a standing study group session twice a week before the final, coming home late enough that Jean’s taken charge of meals so Lotta can focus on school.

After the last study session that had ended up running later than usual since they all decided to treat themselves to dessert crepes as a reward for all their studying, Lotta cheerfully makes her way home. She can’t wait to tell Jean about the food truck, knowing he’d love the strawberry cream with lemon drizzle option and Nino the double chocolate brownie.

“I’m home!” Lotta calls out, closing the door. She toes off her shoes and puts them away, noticing a familiar pair of boots. “Nino, I didn’t know you—!”

Clapping both her hands to her mouth, Lotta stares at the scene in the living room, lit by the soft golden late-afternoon sun, doing her best not to make any further noise.

Cuddled up together on the couch are Jean and Nino, fast asleep. Jean’s wrapped up in his favorite blanket and curled up against Nino, using Nino’s shoulder as a pillow. Nino’s got his arm around Jean, his cheek resting against Jean’s head, his breath gently fluttering Jean’s hair with each exhale. In the late afternoon glow, they look soft and peaceful and Lotta’s grateful she didn’t accidentally wake them up.

She means to quietly leave, go back out and kill some time at the bakery or a cafe. Let the two continue their nap, wake up without interruption, have some time to themselves. Knowing Jean, knowing the both of them, really, if Lotta were home, any further progress would be halted if not undone.

But the scene is too sweet to not capture for the future.

Doing her best to be as quiet as possible, Lotta digs out her phone from her bag, wincing at every little sound that seems to echo ten times louder than usually. She quickly pulls up her camera app and lines up the shot, zooming in to frame the two men perfectly. She takes the photo and freezes in horror when she realizes she forgot to make sure her phone was on silent as the shutter sounds.

For a long second, Lotta holds her breath. Jean’s forehead creases in a frown. His nose scrunches up. But he turns his head, snuggles further into Nino’s and his expression smooths as he lets out a light snore and his chest rises and falls in slow, even breaths. Lotta closes her eyes, breathes a sigh of relief.

When she opens them, she meets Nino’s gaze.

Lotta fumbles her phone but just manages to catch it and hug it to her chest. Nino’s lips quirk into a held back laugh. In his arms, Jean shifts and mutters a quiet groan. To Lotta astonishment, Nino murmurs to her brother, words too quiet for her to make out, and lifts the arm that’s around Jean’s shoulders to stroke Jean’s hair. Jean smiles, mumbles something back but it must get lost in Nino’s shirt. When he’s settled again, Lotta’s heart is full and she can’t help her smile even if she wanted to. Nino looks up at her and there’s a light flush on his cheeks. He brings his other hand up, holds his index finger to his mouth. Lotta returns the gesture, grinning wide, and tiptoes back to the door.

Lotta is all smiles when she goes to her favorite cafe. She just shakes her head, lips sealed, when asked if anything happened by the familiar cashier. She orders a slice of her favorite cake and drink and fights the urge to text her grandfather, Owl, and Maggie. She can’t wait for Jean to tell her. Wonders if Nino will tell him Lotta saw them.

Almost an hour later, she gets a text from Nino asking if she would be fine with curry for dinner. He was spending the night and wanted to cook for them.

Lotta is more than happy with curry, and tells him so. She also says she’ll bring dessert. When asking for her check she asks for a to-go order of one of their small chocolate cakes that’s easily shared between three people, though Nino could polish off more than half on his own if he let himself.

Looking forward to it. See you soon, he replies. He also asks if she can send him a copy of the picture she took.

Nope! she replies, without any explanations. She’s already decided to get the photo printed and framed as part of her engagement gift to them. Hopefully that doesn’t take another fifteen odd years.

[blu-joons]

Looking After You When You’re Ill ~ Min Yoongi

He tried for the eleventh time in the day to ring you as he got in the car, heading home from the studio, only to be greeted by your voicemail. It was most unusual for you not to pick up the phone, especially when he’d already called you so many times.

He couldn’t go home, he needed to see you, make sure that you were okay. Instead of turn left to his home, he turned right to yours, putting his foot down on the accelerator to get there as quickly as possible.

Using the spare key you’d gave him, he let himself in, sighing when he saw you fast asleep on the sofa, tucked under a blanket. An empty mug of tea was on your coffee table, as well as a box of tissues besides you on the floor.

“Jagi,” he whispered, kneeling beside you, brushing his hand over the top of your hair. It was damp, where you had gotten so hot, but he didn’t mind. “It’s just me, I came to see you.”

His voice stirred you, your tired, groggy body waking up, eyes opening to see him leaning over you. “What are you doing here?” You whispered, your voice cracking from the pain in your throat. “Were we meeting up tonight?”

“No, but I’ve been trying to call you all day, but I got no response. I was worried. You left me no choice but to come over just to make sure everything was okay.” He glanced around the room, spotting your phone on the other side of it.

You sighed, reaching out for his hand to take in yours. “Sorry,” you mumbled, snuggling further into your pillow. “I didn’t hear my phone.”

“It’s alright, just as long as I know you’re safe.” He leant forward and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “Are you sick? Why didn’t you call me last night, I could’ve come over.”

“You don’t want to be sick,” you chuckled, clutching at your chest, suffering from a vicious chesty cough. “I didn’t want to burden you, you’re busy with other things. I didn’t mean to worry you today though, my mistake.”

The last thing he wanted was for you to feel guilty, he understood. He walked over and grabbed your phone, placing it in your hand. “Can I get you anything?” He asked, as you unlocked your phone, seeing several missed calls from him.

“Yoongi, go home.”

“No. Not when you’re like this.”

“I don’t want you suffering because of me, I’ll be fine. If you get sick, everyone will hate me, I don’t want that for you or I.” He sat back down, taking a hold of your hand, grazing his thumb against the back of it, feeling how hot you were.

Slowly, he took the blanket away from you, as you laid back, not protesting. Your temperature was through the roof, even if you still felt a chill. “What I want is for you to get better, I don’t care if I get sick, I can deal with it, but I don’t want you to have to.”

“Do you think you could help me up? I might try and make myself something to eat.” He nodded, placing his hand on your back, helping you to sit upright. You stretched your legs out, a horrendous ache travelling down them.

His arm moved down your body, around your waist once you were up, supporting you as you moved your weary bones into the kitchen. It was only when you stood up, did you realise how tired you still were, relying on Yoongi just to keep you standing. He pulled out a chair around the kitchen island, sitting you down on it.

“Whatever you want, I’ll make it. Just tell me what you want.” He spoke, turning the hob and oven on, opening up your fridge to see what you had.

The cupboards were bare, but he was sure he could make something up with what you had. Jin had taught him enough recipes from the basic ingredients in the old dorm to help him come up with something.

“Nothing fancy,” you whispered, “I don’t think I’d be able to keep it down. Maybe scrambled egg on toast, is that in your remit?”

“I’ve never tried it, but I’ll give it a go for you.” He grabbed a pan from your cupboard, placing two pieces of bread in the toaster, grabbing the ingredients from around your kitchen to give it a go. “What’s the worst that could happen/”

You were apprehensive watching him in the kitchen, but too tired to try and intervene. He gave off a smug confidence that he knew what he was doing, cracking two eggs perfectly into a jug, dismissing the shells.

“If you give me food poisoning, I’ll hate you,” you teased, laying out across the table.

“As if, it’s a bit of egg and bread, nothing bad can come of it.” The more he spoke, the more self belief he had, as things slowly come together into an appetising meal.

Whilst he made you food, he also boiled the kettle, making you another cup of tea, and himself a cup of coffee. He found a jar of honey, and a sprig of ginger, adding them both to the mug to create a herbal masterpiece that would soothe your cold.

The warmth of the mug felt nice in your hands as moments later, a steaming plate of food was placed before you, one for Yoongi arriving beside you.

Surprisingly, it was a tasty meal, and one you felt happy eating. Your body was still sore, but the hearty food had helped heal you slightly.

Yoongi was feeling proud of himself too, attentively caring for you whilst you ate, fetching you tissues, grabbing you drinks, and giving you tablets to help with your pounding headache. He’d even managed to tie your hair up into a bun so it was out of your face.

“How do you feel after all that? Any better?” He asked, taking your plate away.

You nodded, leaning back on the chair, stretching your arms up as high as you could. He walked back over, intertwining his hands with yours, squeezing them gently. “You don’t have to stay.”

“I want to,” he smiled, kissing the top of your head. “I could stay here tonight, make sure that you’re alright through to the morning.”

“If you get ill, it’s your own fault.”

“It’s a risk I’m willing to take,” he smartly responded, “just hours ago I was worried something serious had happened to you, I’m sure I’ll be able to take care of you through a sickness bug, no problem at all.”

He helped you back onto your feet, leaving the mess in the kitchen to clean up for tomorrow. You were his priority right now, as he carried you up the stairs, laying you out on the bed. He stripped himself down into just his boxers, not wanting to create too much heat for your already sweaty body.

“If you need anything through the night, just shake me,” he whispered, softly pressing a kiss to your cheel. “I love you, get some rest, and you’ll feel better in the morning.”

“I love you too, thank you for being here to care for me,” you smiled, shutting your eyes peacefully.

“You’re welcome jagi, I’m always here for you.”

---

Masterlist

[rozemieke]

A new story I wrote! It does have underage drinking so if you don't want to read that this story is not for you! The characters are 17 years old and I made up Richies birthday.

Enjoy some soft Reddie!

****

It was a nice, hot day, June was comming to an end and the summer vacation was about to start. The Losers were hanging out at the barrens. They were sitting on some rocks near the water and were chatting. Their exams were over, they defeated IT four years ago and Henry Bowers wasn't there anymore to bully the group. They had nothing to worry about, only their parents and home situations. Not that they were thinking about that right now, when Bill was telling a story without stuttering, Bev was listening with eyes filled with love, Richie was leaning against Eddie who for once, didn't minded the contact, Ben who was happy to have such good friends, Stanley who was listening to the story and looking at the birds and Mike, who was humming a song and enjoying the sun on his skin. It was great.

They were all tired from weeks of studying but it all didn't matter anymore.

It was Richies birthday tomorrow and they would all celebrate at his house, probably by eating a shit tone of candy, drinking a little and watching movies. Nothing big.

"Should we bake a birthday cake?" Eddie suddenly asked. They all looked at him. "Not in my kitchen though." He added quickly.

"We can, I don't mind. I know how to bake." Mike said.

"Do we all want to be covered in eggs and flour though?" Stanley asked. Bill and Ben shrugged. "C'mon it will be fun Stan!" Bill said, looking at the boy. Stan sighed. "Okay."

"Guys you don't have to I mean it's just my birthday." Richie complained.

"It's not just your birthday Richie! We gonna make you the most beautiful fucking cake you've ever seen, fuck you!" Eddie yelled, jumped up, just like Bev and Ben did, and grabbed his backpack.

"Cmon losers. Get your lazy asses up!" Mike laughed and stood up. Just like the rest of the group.

"Who's house were going to?" Asked Bev. "Mine's fine, my parents are at work anyway." Said Ben.

"Of we go then!" Bill yelled.

A few hours later Bens kitchen was a mess, just like the Losers. Eddie was yelling at Richie for being a stupid asshole, Mike was trying to calm everyone down, Bev and Bill were eating the chocolate dough, Stan was kind of done with all of his friends because he was covered in eggs and flower, Ben was yelling at Eddie because Eddie pushed a bowl on the ground and his parents kitchen was ruined.

Bev rolled her eyes.

"SHUT IT ASSHOLES!" she yelled as loud as she could, wich was fucking loud. All the boys went to silence and looked at Bev.

She herself was also covered in flour.

"If we want this cake we need to do something. Stop yelling at each other."

When they all calmed down Mike started to give everyone a chore to do and soon they were all laughing and baking and working together.

Still covered in flour Stan laughed at a joke that Bill made, not angry anymore.

When the cake was baking in the oven they took the time to clean everything up and take showers. Ben didn't really like that caus his kitchen was already ruined and now the bathroom was too, but when the cake came out of the oven it was lopsided and a little ugly but they didn't care. It was tasty after all.

"Beautiful present guys, I love it so much!" Richie said sarcasticly, and got a hit on the head from Bev as reply.

"You know, why wait until tomorrow when we can just eat it now already? It's still warm so it's delicious now." Richie suggested.

Eddie sighed. "It is supposed to cool down otherwise it isn't tasty you dumbass."

"I do want to eat something now though, have you smelled that?" Ben said, looking at the cake.

Eddie rolled his eyes. "We are going to eat the cake as a birthday cake! Not a-day-before-birthday cake!"

"Eddie Spaghetti, let us just eat the cake, we can always make a new one." Richie said, looking at Eddie with pleading eyes. Eddie blushed and rolled his eyes.

"Okay then."

Soon they were all eating the still warm cake. It was perfect. Richie was sitting on the kitchen counter with his mouth stuffed, Eddie was laughing at something Ben was saying, Bev tried not to choke becasue she took a way to big bite of the cake, Bill was laughing at the for being so dumb and Mike was cutting the cake in more pieces.

"I said that it would be a god idea to eat it already!" Richie said with a grin. Eddie rolled his eyes.

"What even are we gonna do tomorrow?" Mike asked, not wanting the boys to fall into their usual bickering.

Richie looked up. "We are gonna get fucking waisted Mikey, my parents promised me to go away all night, they'll probably sleep over at my aunts house out of this shitty town so we have the house for us alone. So we are gonna get waisted."

Stan tolled his eyes when Bev whooped.

Eddie was staring at the ground and Ben and Bill were grinning.

"I need to be home early tomorrow otherwise my mom will be mad, I can't get waisted and I don't want to."

"Eds! It's my birthday! Cmon!" Richie whined.

Eddie shoved Richie away.

"No! I can't! And I don't like you when you're drunk!" He yelled, walking out of the kitchen. Richie jumped off the counter and followed him to the living room.

"It's fine Eds, calm down." He said as he tried to place his hands om Eddies shoulders. Eddie shrugged them off.

"No it's not." He said, a little grumpy.

"Yo Eddie I'll stay sober with you while the others wreck themselfs alright?" Mike yelled from the kitchen. Eddie shot him a thankful look.

"Okay, now let's go get you guys stuff and let's go over to my place! Let the party begin!" Richie yelled.

Five hours later they were all starting to drink. It was maybe 10pm, and Richie wanted to make a toast.

"Dear friends!" He started of, standing on the couch, speaking with a terrible British accent. "Shut up already!" Eddie yelled. Ben trew a piece of wrapping paper from a present that previously had been opened to his head. Richie ducked away and laughed.

"No I just want to say that I love you all very much, thank you for being my friends, and thank you putting up with me!"

Bev started to laugh. "Bohoo! Shut up!"

Richie laughed as he jumped from the couch.

"No but I mean it."

The others cheered as they took gulps from their beers.

Eddie and Mike were just drinking apple juice, and Eddie felt a little guilty because he knew that Mike liked getting drunk with Bill.

Eddie sighed. "Fuck it Mike, drink whatever you want, I don't care, my mom isn't here anyway and she's not the boss of me." Eddie suddenly said, getting up to get some beers.

He didn't care. Fuck his mom and her rules and her weird ass behaviour. She made him think he was sick for so many years! So fuck her, he wasn't gonna sit here and be all sober because of her!

"Richie do you have anything else then beer? Because beer's disgusting!" Eddie yelled from the kitchen to the living room.

"I don't know, wait!"

Richie got up and got the kitchen. "What do you want do drink?" He asked, looked at the stuff in the fridge.

Eddie shrugged. "Something that isn't as disgusting as beer."

Richie grinned. "I got some shit in the liquor cabinet but that's, like, you get wasted of that pretty quickly."

Eddie shrugged, a twinkle in his eyes, looking al rebellious and ready to not give a shit.

Richie loved it when Eddie was all against his mothers rules. How his behaviour changed in a way and how he was more himself, not caring and not in control of someone.

"Give me it. I don't care." Richie grinned. "That's the spirit Eds, fuck them all."

Eddie nodded and followed Richie to the living room. "Eddie Spaghetti wants to crack open the good stuff! Who's in?" Richie yelled.

Stan smiled. He loved his dumbass friends, and he didn't like the taste of beer either so he was happy when Richie opened a bottle of cherry flavoured vodka. Eddie grabbed the bottle with a furious look in his eyes.

The others eyes went big, all yelling and whooping when Eddie took a big ass gulp from the bottle.

"Eddie! What the fuck!" Bev yelled trough a giggle, taking over the bottle from him. Eddie grinned, taking over the bottle from Mike who also had taken a gulp.

When Bev decided to play some music and it escaleted quickly to all the losers yelling while acting dramaticly along with the music.

Eddie was having a blast, he knew that he was a lightweight, and he knew that he was already on the verge between drunk and tipsy, but he felt amazing.

Richie was grinning when he saw Eddie all happy, the smaller boy being alive and cute and with a blush on his cheeks. Way to cute Eds, Richie though before taking another gulp of the bottle. Eddie smiled at him and walked over to him.

"I want the last bit." He said as he took the bottle and shugged what was over from it. Richies eyes went big. "Eds, I mean, do whatever you want but you don't want to be all hangover in the morning do ya?"

Eddie wasn't listening, he had closed his eyes and had thrown his hands up and was singing along to a song. His hips swaying and his pink lips moving along with the words.

Richie rolled his eyes and danced along. Eddie opened his eyes, looking up at Richies face. Eddie giggled. He fucking giggled, grabbed Richies hands and they danced togheter.

When the song ended Eddie was laughing so hard he needed to sit down. "Richie, you dance like shit!" He wheezed. "What?! Shut up dickhead!" Richie complained.

"You're like, an awkward moving stick Richie! You do need to loosen up when you dance, don't be so stiff!" Eddie yelled, still laughing.

Richie plopped down on the couch. "Mean, fuck you Eds."

Eddie grinned. "You can come and call me that after you learn how to dance!" Eddie yelled, making the others laugh. Ben raised his hand for a high five.

"I'm gonna go outside for a smoke, since I'm being bullied in here anyway, you comming Bev?" Richie asked, walking outside.

As soon as they were both gone Eddie let out a groan.

Mike looked up. "What's wrong?"

"He just doesn't fucking get it doesn't he? He's so dumb!"

Stan and Mike shared some confused glances.

"Wait w-what?" Bill asked, as confused as the others.

Eddie sighed, sliding of the couch so he was now sitting on the ground. He pouted.

"Richie! He's a dumbass."

Ben sat down next to Eddie on the floor. "What isn't he getting exactly?"

"That I want to kiss him on his stupid mouth! How doesn't he realise that I like him!? It's not like it isn't fucking obvious anyway!"

Stans eyes widened, the others looked at each others with confusing looks and big grins.

"Well maybe you should tell him Eddie. Richie's not good at taking hints." Stan said, sitting down on the couch.

"But then why does he calls me nicknames and calls me cute!?" Eddie yelled.

Ben laughed. "Well that's just Richie." Mike said.

"That tall ass is going to fucking kill me with his stupidness." Eddie whined.

Bill tried to hide his laughter.

"Well Eddie, I'm not saying you should totally kiss him tonight but maybe I am." Mike said. Eddie rolled his eyes. "I don't want this to be another dumb as drunk kiss he doesn't remember Mike."

"ANOTHER??!!" Ben yelled. Eddie hid his face in his hands, trying not to blush.

"Yea shut up alright? Richie doesn't remember anyway."

"What didn't I remember shortcakes?" Richie said as he entered the room. All the boys looked up. Eddie blushed, looking at his socks.

"Tell me Eds!" Richie said, scooting next to Stanley on the couch.

Eddie shook his head. "Fuck you Trashmouth." He whispered. Richie looked at Stan with a questionable look on his face. Stan shrugged, acting like he didn't know.

"Come with me Eds." Richie suddenly said, getting of the couch. Eddie looked up, frowning, but letting Richie pull him up from the ground.

"What do you want Richie?" Eddie asked, as soon as they entered Richies bedroom.

Richie sighed. "I do remember."

Eddies eyes widened. "Fuck of." He said as he sat down on the bed, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"No. I do! I remember us, sitting on the roof, right there," Richie pointed outside to the roof of the garage right out his bedroom window.

"I remember us talking about this boring town, and you suddenly saying that you never kissed anyone."

Eddie blushed, but it was true, everything Richie was saying was true.

"I remember me, taking another gulp from something we were drinking and not going in on the subject. I remember you, cheeks pink, hair ruffled from the wind, all cute and chivering, telling me you wanted to go inside because you were cold. I remember us climbing trough the window and sitting on my bed."

Eddie sighed.

"Okay, I get it! You remember, so what! It happened, we can't turn back the time, and I'm sorry if you regret it."

Richie looked at Eddie and sat down next to him, a little closer than needed.

"I don't regret a single second from it Eds."

Eddie didn't answer, so they sat in an awkward silence for a lot more minutes then Eddie wanted.

Suddenly Richie turned around to face him, placed a hand on Eddies hip to pull him even closer and looked at Eddie with his big brown eyes.

Eddie gulped." Is this okay?" Richie asked, his voice soft. Eddie could smell his breath. Beer and cigarettes, normally he found that disgusting, but not now, now he liked it.

Eddie nodded, knowing what was about to come next. Knowing that one of them only had to lean in to let their lips touch.

"Is it okay if I kiss you again Eddie?" Richie asked.

Eddie didn't know what to answer. He just leaned in, placing his hands on the sides of Richies face before deepening the kiss.

Richie smiled against Eddies lips.

"Your glasses are in the way." Eddie said before taking them of of Richies face.

"Now I can't see how beautiful you are Eds!" Richie whined. Eddie giggled and leaned in for another kiss, pressing him down on the mattress so they were now laying face to face, still making out.

"I like kissing you Eds. You're quite good at it, you know." Richie said when they broke the kiss to breath.

Eddie grinned.

"I learned that from your mom."

Richie laughed, pulling Eddie closer, hugging him.

"Touché Eddie Spaghetti, touché."

"Hey Fuckos! Stop being horny and get your asses down! We want to watch a movie and we need to decide which one!" Beverly yelled trough Richies bedroom door.

Eddie jumped up, blushing, and Richie just grinned.

"We're comming Bev!" He yelled as he got up too.

"Do I have sex hair?" Richie asked. Eddie turned even redder. "What the fuck is sex hair Richie."

"Ya know, a fresh fucked look, all ruffled and pulled on, standing in different directions, fresh from the sex."

"Ew. Disgusting. And no."

"Great, wouldn't want to spread any rumours about what we did in here."

Eddie shoved him to the side. "Shut up! We didn't even have sex!" Eddie yelled.

Richie leaned in closer. "I would want to." He whispered in Eddies ear. Eddie shivered and pushed him off.

"Yeah no not here and not now. I don't even know what we are Richie. What is this? Us? Friends? Friends with benefits? Boyfriends?"

"Do you want us to be?" Richie asked, grabbing Eddies hands and looking in his eyes.

Eddie was looking everywhere except at Richie.

"Eddie? Do you want us to be?" Richie asked again.

"Yes." He whispered, blushing.

Richie smiled. "Okay, Eddie spaghetti, my beautiful boyfriend, let's go downstairs and blow the others socks of with this news."

Edie laughed, pressed a little kiss to Richies cheek and followed him downstairs.

"Hey fuckers! Meet my boyfriend!" Richie yelled as he entered the living. Eddie rolled his eyes but couldn't hide a small smile on his face.

"Yeah well no shit that took you guys long enough." Stanley said, grinning.

The others just laughed and asked stupid questions, but Eddie didn't mind.

When they picked a movie and Eddie was sitting on Richies lap, his back leaning against Richies chest and Richies hands tabled with his, he couldn't hide the big smile.

And for Richie? For Richie it was the best birthday present he could ever wish for.

****

That's it! Enjoy!

[citrinekay]

I've got a prompt! Sick Holden though, so I hope that's okay since you seem to be getting a lot of them... Holden's been throwing up all day, and Bill has to man-handle him to get him to shower, eat, drink, etc. (I'm not sure if Bill can physically carry Holden, but damn would that be so super sweet to read!)

Luckily this trope goes perfectly with their dynamic and I could probably write this scenario to infinity 😭 And this is fiction so if I want to make Bill carry Holden bridal-style NO ONE CAN STOP ME! Enjoy:

Flu season could not have attacked Holden at a worse time. He blames it on the soggy atmosphere in Oregon, the constant rain, the fluctuating temperatures. They’re supposed to be helping the local police with canvassing the morning he wakes up with a headache pounding through his temples and his stomach churning with nausea. He stumbles to the bathroom to dry heave into the toilet bowl, expelling remnants of previous night’s dinner and acidic bile. 

He’s still lying on the cool tile of the hotel bathroom when Bill knocks on his door. Holden shouts for him to come in, and presses both hands over his clammy cheeks. 

The door squeaks open, and Bill’s footsteps shuffle across the carpet. 

“Holden?”

“In here.” Holden calls, suppressing a groan. 

Bill comes around the corner to poke his head into the bathroom. Immediate concern washes across his expression when he sees Holden sprawled on his back in his underwear. 

“What happened?” Bill asks, rushing to his side. 

He kneels down to press the back of his hand to Holden’s forehead, searching for an elevated temperature. 

“I don’t know.” Holden whispers, pressing his eyes shut. “I felt fine yesterday.” 

“I think you have a fever.” Bill says, “How long have you been laying here?”

“Not long.” 

“Can you get up?”

Holden nods. His head spins as Bill clutches his hands, and pulls him upright. Holden pauses, lowering his head and squeezing his eyes shut against the loud ringing in his ears and the darkness infringing on the corners of his vision. 

“Are you going to be sick again?” Bill asks, worriedly.

Holden shakes his head, vehemently. It’s more of a command to himself than a reasonable affirmation. 

“Okay, come on.” Bill says. He slips one arm around Holden’s back, and the other under his legs. “Put your arm around my neck.”

“Bill, no. I can walk.”

“If you pass out, I’m going to have to carry you as dead weight.” Bill says, “Help me out here.”

Holden sighs heavily, and slips his arm around Bill’s neck. 

Bill climbs to his feet, hoisting Holden bridal style in his arms. Holden clings onto him with both arms, his stomach swaying despite the fact that he’s not trying to walk. 

The thought that Bill might have been right doesn’t cross his mind as Bill carries him out of the bathroom and back to the bed. He’s gotten through a bout of the flu on his own plenty of times before when he was single. Despite the fact that he doesn’t have to do everything on his own now, he still resents the idea of being dependent on Bill - especially for something as simple as walking. 

Holden quickly retrieves his arms from Bill’s neck as his backside meets the sheets. He leans back against the pillows, and presses his eyes shut. 

“I just need a minute.” Holden says, “I’ll be okay.”

“Holden, you have a fever. You can’t go to work like this.”

“But-”

“No.” Bill says, more firmly. “You want to get everyone else sick?”

Holden slips his eyes open to cast Bill a resigned frown. “No.”

“Then you’re staying here.” Bill says, “I’ll go downstairs and get you some eggs and toast from the continental breakfast. You need to eat something.”

Holden nods, unable to scrape together any further arguments. 

“Okay, I’ll be right back.” Bill says, leaning down to drop a kiss on Holden’s forehead. 

After Bill leaves the room, Holden rolls over on his side and glares at the wallpaper in misery. He would rather tread through muddy crime scenes, talk to victim’s families, and spend twelve hours at a time down at the precinct than be forced to stay in bed with the flu. It’s the first time in a while that he’s been sick, and it had to happen while they were on consult. To be fair, they’re hardly ever not on consult these days, but maybe he would be more receptive of Bill’s care if they were at home where that type of affection belongs. 

When Bill returns with a plate of eggs and toast, he makes Holden sit up in the bed, and watches him eat the first half of the meal before announcing he’s going to head over to the precinct. 

“I might not be back until late.” Bill says, “Are you going to be okay here by yourself?” 

“Yeah.” Holden says, “I’ll call and order carry out later if I feel like eating.”

Bill gets up to grab a bottle of water from the minifridge, and digs for the Ibuprofen in Holden’s suitcase.

Holden swallows down two tablets with a few sips of the water, and caps the bottle.” 

 “Drink all of that.” Bill says, waving his finger at the water bottle.“There’s more in the fridge. You need to stay hydrated.”

Holden sighs, and casts him an impertinent gaze. “Yes, daddy.”

Bill scowls. “I mean it.”

“Okay.” Holden says, sinking down against the pillows. “I got it. You should go to work.”

“Try to get some sleep.” Bill says, bending down to plant another kiss on his cheek. “I love you, baby.”

Holden scrunches his eyes shut, and grumbles, “I love you, too.”

He hates to be treated like a helpless child, but the moment that Bill is gone, he wishes for the reassuring touch on his fevered forehead just one more time. 

He falls back into restless sleep that’s dogged by disjointed dreams and rising body temperature. When he wakes up a few hours later, he’s slick with perspiration, and the bedsheets are clinging to his back. He staggers out of bed, struck by a fresh wave of nausea. 

After vomiting once more and laying on the bathroom floor for what feels like an hour, he crawls back to the bed, and climbs onto the other side of the mattress where the sheets aren’t soaked through by fevered sweating. 

He drinks down some water, and turns on the television in an attempt to distract himself from his discomfort. 

The day crawls by into languid agony. The fever seems to break around noon, but the lack of sweating doesn’t ease the sharp pain piercing his temples or the nausea hedging at his belly the second he tries to sit up. He fades in and out of sleep between re-runs of day time soap operas and weather reports, and when the five o’clock news rolls around with another dead body to add to the tally, he shuts the TV off completely.

 Dragging the pillow over his head, he smothers a frustrated groan. Despite how poorly he feels, he despises the thought of lying worthlessly in bed while another woman goes missing. 

Some time later, the telephone on the nightstands rings, interrupting yet another drifting nap. Pushing the pillow away from his face, and he blindly grabs for the phone and presses it to his ear. 

“Hello?”

“It’s me.” Bill says, “I’m about to leave the precinct. How are you feeling?”

“Terrible.” Holden whispers. 

“Are you hungry? I can pick something up.”

“I puked up breakfast. I don’t think it’s worth it.” Holden says, uttering a weary sigh. 

“You gotta eat something, baby.”

“The thought of eating makes me sick.” Holden complains, “I just want to sleep.”

“Okay.” Bill says, “I’ll be back in a little.”

They hang up, and Holden buries his head in the pillows again. 

A little while later, Bill arrives with a plastic bag from the grocery store in tow. He tucks several water bottles in the fridge, and crosses the room to where Holden is cuddled under the sheets in the fetal position. 

Holden pushes the pillows away from his face as Bill’s weight settles on the edge of the bed. Bill’s fingers stroke his hair back from his forehead to feel his temperature again. 

“Fever broke.” Bill says, his brow furrowed in concentration. “That’s a good sign.”

“Yeah, we need to let housekeeping in tomorrow morning.” Holden says, “I’ve never sweated so much in my life.”

Bill chuckles, softly. “You think you can get up for a bath?”

“Are you saying I stink?”

“In the kindest way possible.” Bill says, leaning down to kiss him on the forehead. 

“Ugh,” Holden groans, “Isn’t this exactly what you wanted to come back to after working for ten hours … bathing your sick as death partner and trying not to get puked on?”

“Yeah, it’s really sexy.” Bill says, unperturbed by Holden’s complaints. 

“Oh, yeah, this feels so sexy.” Holden says, “I’ve never felt sexier, in fact.”

“Come on,” Bill says, carefully dragging Holden upright from the sheets. “Let’s get you cleaned up. We can go over to my room.”

“Are you sure you want to sleep in the same bed as me tonight?”

“It’s a risk I’m willing to take.” Bill says, slipping his arm around Holden’s waist. 

Holden’s legs tremble as Bill helps him out of the bed, and he loops his arm tighter around Bill’s neck. They shuffle slowly across the carpet to the bathroom. 

“Can you stand?” Bill asks. 

Holden clutches the edge of the sink counter, and squeezes his eyes shut against the wave of dizziness. He shakes his head. 

“Here, sit down.” Bill says, easing him down to the closed lid of the toilet seat. 

Holden crouches with his head cradled in his hands while Bill runs water into the bathtub, testing it with his fingertips to make sure it’s the right temperature. When the tub is filled, Holden strips out of his underwear, and grips Bill’s shoulder to steady himself. 

He sinks down into the water with a heavy sigh, and runs wet hands over his flushed cheeks. 

“Better?” Bill asks, softly, sitting down on the edge of the tub surround. 

“Yeah, thanks.” 

Bill passes him each bottle of soap while Holden bathes slowly, making certain not to create any sudden movements that would disturb the careful equilibrium in his head. When he’s done, he leans back against the cool plaster, and shuts his eyes. 

The backs of Bill’s fingers stroke wet curls away from his temple and wander down his cheek. Holden turns his face into the caress, keeping his eyes shut over the relief swelling hotly against his eyelids. 

“You okay?” Bill asks, quietly, noting the tremble in Holden’s chin. 

Holden nods, carefully opening his eyes to glimpse Bill’s concerned gaze watching over him. “Yes.” 

They’re both quiet as Bill helps him out of the tub, and wraps the towel around his shoulders. Some of the dizziness has slacked off, but Holden allows his body to sway into Bill’s chest. When Bill’s hands instinctively curl around his waist to draw him closer, Holden nestles his forehead against his shoulder. 

“Thank you.” He whispers, his voice low and raspy. 

Bill holds him a little tighter, one hand patting Holden’s lower back. “It’s okay, Holden. This is what you do when you love someone.”

Holden sniffs, and nods against Bill’s shoulder. But he doesn’t know, and maybe no one has ever really loved him as much as Bill does. The thought clings to the back of Holden’s mind as Bill digs clean pajamas out of his suitcase, and helps him get dressed. 

He’s already feeling better by the time they walk over to Bill’s room where the bed is freshly made up and void of any hint of sickness. 

Bill puts him in bed, and goes to get a shower himself. When he comes back, he retrieves the saltine crackers he’d purchased at the store from the bag, and climbs into bed with Holden to coax him into eating a few. 

“Fine. I’ll eat them if you tell me about the case.” Holden says, snuggling down against the sheets. 

Bill props himself up on his elbow, casting Holden an exasperated gaze. 

Holden pops one of the crackers in his mouth, and chews deliberately. 

“Okay. Fine.” Bill says. 

He goes on to tell Holden about the progress they had made today, the new victim, and the witness statements they had taken. Somewhere around the boyfriend’s alibi, Holden feels himself drifting off again. This time, he isn’t agitated with fever, and he feels his limbs sinking heavily into the mattress. The last thing he recalls before drifting off entirely is Bill’s fingers wandering absently through his hair, and the sound of his voice, a low timbre, a cadence like a reassuring lullaby. 

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

A Place To Call Home (Part 3)

Summary: The reader is feeling down after what happened but quickly starts to feel like part of the family again...

Masterlist

Pairing: Jensen x foster daughter!reader

Word Count: 7,300ish

Warnings: language, angst

You heard your bedroom door open after an hour, JJ suddenly right in front of you where you still sat on the floor, Jensen holding her hand and JJ staring up concerned.

“Apologize to Y/N right now young lady,” said Jensen.

“Daddy I didn’t-”

“Look at your sister. Look how upset you made her and even though she put you to bed, you were lounging around downstairs way past your bedtime. You know better. Apologize,” said Jensen.

“She’s not my sister. She said so in the car,” said JJ.

“I was in the car and she said she was technically not your sister which is true and then she nicely explained why she was technically not but she is still your big sister and you will treat her like it and you will respect her. You are not a baby, JJ. You are not one of the twins that throws a tantrum because they don’t know better. You do. Unless you are a baby and you want to have a crib and diapers and a paci again? Hm?”

“No,” she said.

“I will not ask you to apologize again,” said Jensen.

“I’m sorry I was bad,” said JJ, staring at Jensen then at you. “And said you should go and that I lied and said you make mommy and daddy sad...and we all wish you weren’t here.”

“That was a horribly mean thing to say to Y/N, JJ. It’s a horrible thing to say to anyone but especially your sister. Do you know how many homes your sister has lived in?” he asked.

“Lots,” said JJ, Jensen kneeling down to her level.

“Not counting her first one with her parents, this is her 14th home. 14, JJ. Y/N had some very mean mommy and daddy’s at those homes. They were bad people. You don’t realize how lucky you are. What if Y/N thought we were mean people and she wanted to leave us? Do you know how sad we would be? What if she thought we were just another mean family?” said Jensen. “We would never see her again.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, scrunching up her face. “I didn’t mean it.”

“Why did you lie and say those things?” asked Jensen.

“’Cause Y/N said she wasn’t my sister so I thought she didn’t like me anymore,” said JJ, burying her head against her father’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“Are we mean and rude like that when someone doesn’t like us?” asked Jensen.

“No,” mumbled JJ.

“We talked about this many times before Y/N got here. You have to be a big girl and tell us what you’re feeling so things like this don’t happen,” he said.

“I…” she said, staring at you.

“Go ahead,” said Jensen softly.

“I don’t get why Y/N doesn’t love us. I tell her and she never tells me,” said JJ.

“JJ,” said Jensen, sitting down on the floor, pulling her into his lap, finally getting to the bottom of it. “We can never expect another person to love us when we tell them we love them. We can hope that they do and I know this is a little funny because Y/N is family and we always taught you that your family loves you. But Y/N hasn’t had a family that she was happy with in a very long time and it’s not fair to her to expect her to be like that. That’s why we talked about all this before she came. I mean, how happy do you think you’d be if no one gave you hugs and kisses for like, a year?”

“A whole year!” she said, as of that were the worst possible thing that could ever happen to someone.

“I know, right? Wouldn’t that make you a little sad?” asked Jensen. JJ nodded but you were smiling now. Not getting hugs and kisses had been the least of your problems but he wasn’t going to tell her all of that.

JJ climbed off him and gave you a big hug, Jensen smiling at you both.

“I’m sorry I was so bad. Can I be your sister again?” she asked.

“Of course,” you said, returning the hug.

“Okay, JJ. Now that you’ve apologized, you are getting that little tush in bed and going to sleep. You’ll have time out for a whole fifteen minutes tomorrow for this. Understand?” asked Jensen.

“Yes daddy,” she said, staring up, her eyes still a bit timid. She’d probably never got in trouble like that before after all.

“JJ,” you said, her attention back on you. “You have a great dad. He’s not acting like this to be mean. He wants you to grow up to be a good person is all, like him. My parents used to do this stuff too. He always loves you, no matter what.”

“That’s right,” said Jensen, JJ frowning for a moment before she reached up her hand for his. “You want me to bring you up to bed?”

“Please?” she asked.

“There’s my sweet girl again,” he said, picking her up and kissing her cheek. “Y/N, I’ll be back in a few.”

You headed across the hall to the bathroom and cleaned up your face, tossing on some pajamas too. Jensen was in your room, laid back on the bed with his eyes shut when you returned.

“We have really unlucky Friday nights,” he said with a chuckle, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. He patted the other side of the bed, waiting for you to sit and lean back against the headboard.

“Sorry I ruined your guy’s date,” you said.

“It’s no problem and we already ate. We were both very happy you texted us when you needed us to come home,” he said.

“I shouldn’t have had to have text you at all. She’s five. I’m not. I shouldn’t have overreacted like that,” you said.

“She is five and I don’t expect her to be perfect, or ever expect her to be perfect honestly. You either. I do expect her to behave when you’re in charge and not say things like that though,” he said.

“I shouldn’t have said she’s technically not my sister,” you said.

“Why’d you say it?” he asked.

“It’s true,” you said. “I wasn’t really thinking.”

“She overreacted. I was in the car with you both and you were very nice about explaining what it meant. We explained all of those things to her before you came too so you wouldn’t have to,” he said. You hummed and played with the bottom of your shorts.

“You know I care about her, right?” you asked.

“Yeah,” he softly. “Don’t go beating yourself up because you didn’t tell her you loved her. I’m starting to get a good idea of how that head of yours works.”

“Lucky guess,” you said, Jensen laughing quietly. “Why’s it so hard for me to just say it to her?”

“Words are just words sometimes, kiddo. Love isn’t always about saying the right thing or saying you love someone. I’ve found actions to be better. Trust me, you act like you love her. The word part will come,” he said.

“You always seem to know the right thing to say,” you said.

“I’m shit at knowing the right thing to say when it comes to you,” he said.

“Not really,” you said.

“I’ll disagree with you. Case and point, when stuff has gotten bad between us, it’s never been what I’ve said that got us through it,” he said. “You need words but you need that action to back it up too.”

“Like what?”

“Our walk in the rain. I gave you my favorite blanket to keep. The fact you let me give you a hug without frowning now...this is starting to get better, isn’t it?” he asked, glancing up with a smile but you saw the worry under it.

“For a second tonight I thought about it, about going, like maybe what she said was true. But I don’t want to go away,” you said.

“Good cause we totally bought a ton of Christmas presents for you tonight and it’d be such a pain to go bring them back and…” he said with a big smirk as you cocked your head. “I’m very happy you’re starting to feel better here.”

“Me too,” you said, both of you looking at the door when Danneel knocked.

“So someone could totally use some cheering up,” she said, wearing a smirk. “Christmas Vacation?”

“Never heard of it,” you said, Jensen immediately popping up from the bed.

“Never...oh we are fixing that tonight, asap.”

The movie had turned out to be hilarious but you understood why the kids weren’t allowed to see. Jensen popped on Die Hard afterwards and you figured you fell asleep at some point because you woke up on one end of the couch, Danneel passed out on the other and Jensen snickering as he picked up a few things in the room.

“Well good morning sleepyhead,” he teased. “You two fell asleep on me. Literally.”

“Well you kept me up super late,” you said, curling back into your blanket.

“No, no,” he said quietly, tapping your leg. You whined and he shushed you. “I need your help. Come on.”

You grumbled and wrapped your blanket around yourself, following him into the kitchen where he started to pull out a pan.

“I didn’t realize you were making me breakfast,” you yawned, draping your blanket over one of the counter stools.

“Oh, I’m not. We’re making De breakfast,” he said.

“Why?” you asked, sitting down on a seat.

“Because it’s nice and she likes little surprises like this,” he said.

“You made breakfast on yesterday though,” you said.

“We’re going all out this time. Eggs, pancakes, waffles, bacon, French toast…” he said with a smile, grabbing more pans and a few bowls.

“De can’t eat all that,” you said, sliding off your seat when he held out a bowl to you.

“We’re gonna get some too and the other munchkins will be up by the time we’re done,” he said. “Put some butter in that and stick it in the microwave. Then crack the eggs in there and use the whisk to mix em up. Don’t get any shell in though and wash up when you’re finished. Got it?”

“Sounds easy,” you said, melting some butter in the microwave. You grabbed the eggs from the fridge and set them down on the counter, Jensen working on waffles, pancakes and bacon at the same time.

“Get going, honey. I’m gonna need some of those eggs in just a minute,” he said. You picked up an egg and held it against the edge of the bowl and thwacked it. Nothing happened and you did it again, the egg shell still holding. You pouted at the stupid thing, remembering this being easier when your mom used to it for you, Jensen chuckling as he turned off the heat on the stove and slid some pans onto other burners. “Can I show you?”

“Okay,” you said. He took your hand holding the egg and moved your fingers around.

“Just flick your wrist and keep your arm still. There’s enough force to break it,” he said. “Don’t slam it but don’t be a pansy either.”

You tried once and it didn’t go, Jensen moving your hand up and moving it down on the lip of the bowl at a different angle. It popped open and you moved it over the bowl, Jensen nodding.

“Got the hang of it?” he asked, washing up his hands quickly, going back to the other food while you did the rest of the eggs. You hurried through them and whipped them up, Jensen whistling while he dipped a few pieces of bread in the bowl and then tossed them in a pan with some cinnamon.

“Now what?” you asked.

“Scramble up some eggs,” he said, nodding to an empty pan.

“I don’t know how,” you said.

“I know, silly. The pan is already hot so just pour all that egg right on in,” he said. You shrugged and did as told, grabbing the spatula nearby, Jensen tutting. “Give it a second to get it warm, then go to town on it.”

“Cooking is like a real pain,” you said, waiting before you started to move them around.

“Yeah but now you know how to make scrambled eggs all on your own,” he said, humming as he moved some things around, the kitchen starting to smell good. You moved the eggs to the side when you finished, starting to plate a few things when Jensen was pointing to them.

“How’d you cook all this at once?” you said.

“I had a helper,” he said with a smile. “Plus De made had take this cooking class when we were dating. It helped with the basics.”

“Oh,” you said, Jensen chuckling.

“She could teach you a lot if you want. I’m not that great at much beyond breakfast foods or the grill,” he said.

“Why’d you want me to help?” you asked, getting some glasses out from the cupboard.

“Cause family helps each other. Plus you’re old enough to be cooking. If you ever want to make yourself something or to try making something new, go ahead. Just don’t burn yourself,” he said.

“I don’t want to mess up your kitchen,” you said.

“Y/N,” he said.

“Our kitchen,” you said quickly.

“Better but no, you won’t mess up the kitchen. Cole mentioned you liked to bake when you were a kid. You used to do it with your mom,” he said. “You know De was planning on making some cookies with the girls today while I have a guy day with Zepp.”

“How exactly do you have a guy day with a two year old?” you asked with a laugh.

“We do manly things. Like watch Lassie for the 500th time,” he said with a sigh. The dog popped his head up from his bed, wagging his tail. “Yeah, I know you love your on screen girlfriend.”

He barked and hopped up, rushing over to you, staring up with a nose twisting every which way.

“You got doggie food,” said Jensen, pointing at his bowl. The dog just sat there, Jensen glancing around before he grabbed a piece of bacon and gave it over, the dog going nuts with it. “Don’t tell mom.”

“Don’t tell mom what?” asked Danneel, walking in, the little guy trotting over happily to her, showing off the bacon left in his mouth. “Oh, someone got a treat. Who did it?”

“She did,” said Jensen, pointing at you.

“Did not!” you said.

“Wow. That was horrible acting there, Jay,” she said with a laugh. “No more though so it doesn’t hurt his tummy.”

“Yes mam,” he said. Danneel stretching and taking a seat on one of the stools. “Surprise?”

“Mmm, yummy breakfast from two of my favorite people,” she said with a smile. “Thank you so much.”

“S’no problem, honey. I’m gonna get the kids. You guys dig in,” said Jensen, giving her a kiss until she started to giggle. He was laughing the whole way up stairs.

“Thanks for helping the goofball with breakfast, Y/N,” she said. “He’s never actually gotten it all done before.”

“Really?” you asked, starting to dish up some food.

“Yeah. Always burnt half of it or something was cold while other stuff was too hot. I always told him he needed an extra set of hands,” she said. “Thank you sweetie.”

“Can I ask a guy question?” you asked, Danneel smiling as you set a full plate down in front of her. “How long does it take for them to like...mature?”

“Mature mentally or physically?” she asked.

“Uh, De. I was so not talking about physically,” you said, quickly fixing up your own plate.

“Okay. If you ever want to talk about that stuff with me though, you can. I won’t tell Jensen either. I don’t encourage you be doing certain things at this age but if you do, I want you to be safe about it.”

“I used to make out with my old boyfriend but I’m not really doing that stuff. I understand it all but I know where to get protection and stuff,” you said.

“Good. I’m always here to talk if change your mind or decide you want some help with getting those things,” she said. “But you were asking about when do guys stop being so...idiotic?”

“Exactly.”

“Never,” she said. You stared a moment and she laughed, a smile breaking out on your face.

“Okay, I probably should have guessed that,” you said.

“Guys can be stupid idiots but so can everyone. Maturity is something that does come with age but it’s the person too. A good guy, whether he’s 17 or 70 is a good guy. Maturity is just a part of that. People that are super mature aren’t always what you want either,” she said.

“Kind of like Jensen?” you asked.

“He’s what I call playfully good. Can I ask what’s with the boy questions? Making a friend at school?” she asked with a smirk.

“No. Just curious,” you said.

“Is this about that boy that kissed you without permission last week?” she asked.

“No. Sort of. I don’t know. I just...I want to like a guy before I go making out with him or do other stuff,” you said.

“There is nothing wrong with that. I highly recommend going with that approach,” she said.

“Yeah but...I know I’m not like a lot of other teenagers. I have too high of a standard that an immature 17 year old isn’t going to meet,” you said.

“You’re 17. I didn’t even start dating De until I was almost 30. You got time. Enjoy freedom,” said Jensen, carrying both twins down the stairs, JJ on his heels.

“Freedom?” asked Danneel.

“Enjoy the growing pains?” he said with a wince. “Oh, that sounds much better. Remind me to use that in ten years on this one.”

JJ climbed up on a seat next to her mom, Jensen settling the twins into high chairs and giving them some pieces of pancake and eggs to munch on.

The breakfast was very good and you helped clean up, JJ drying a few dishes before Jensen sent her up to get dressed and to do her timeout.

“Hey, De,” you said, catching her before she went to get dressed. “Can I go to the mall today?”

“By yourself?” she asked. You nodded and she smiled. “Alright. Just be careful.”

“Thanks,” you said.

“Hold up,” she said. You waited in the living room, Danneel coming back with a brown cross body bag. “You can borrow it. I never saw a purse in your room.”

“I be you got me a purse for one of my presents, didn’t you.”

“...No,” she said, watching you raise an eyebrow. “Act surprised still.”

“Alright,” you said, opening the bag quickly, wide eyed for a moment. “De, you left some money in here.”

“No I didn’t,” she said.

“This is like a hundred bucks,” you said, holding up a bill.

“Well if you decide you want to go Christmas shopping, there’s a little money for you,” she said.

“I never said that,” you said.

“No, you didn’t,” she said with a smile. “I’ll drop you off in a little while then. The girls and I are going to make cookies after lunch if you want to join.”

“Sure. I haven’t done that in a long time.”

You picked up a few things at the mall, glad De gave you a little extra spending cash so you could get more. You put the things in your closet to try and wrap later on. Jensen and Zeppelin were out of the house by the time you got back and the girls were ready to go with the cookies.

They didn’t turn out the prettiest but they were yummy and Jensen ate most of his personal tub he was given by the end of the night. After dinner you got the presents settled and played some with JJ, another small apology coming from her that you hoped was the last of it.

Jensen left around 8 to go over a friend’s and Danneel had a few over, the few of them slowly trickling out over the hours by the time you were in bed.

You woke up at 2 to an alarming blaring. You shot up in bed and went to the hall, glancing up but it wasn’t the smoke alarm. You turned left and saw someone in a hat and dark clothes besides the door to the garage, fumbling with the panel.

You backed up quickly before they saw, wondering where the hell Jensen was when the alarm stopped. The figure turned around and you stepped out of the hall, the person pulling off their hat and ripping down their hood.

“Honey, it’s me, Jensen,” he said, holding up his hands. You shut your eyes and took a deep breath, a hard hand on your shoulder yanking you back.

“What the-“

“De! It’s me!” said Jensen, a bit louder now, Danneel dropping her head back. “Sorry. I hit the wrong button and then dropped my keys and took too long and...sorry.”

“It’s fine,” she said, turning around and walking past you. “I guess we forgot to go over that. You ever hear the security alarm at night, you stay in your room and lock the door. Use your discretion though.”

“I didn’t realize. I thought it was the fire one,” you said.

“It’s alright. Now you know the difference,” she said, Jensen sheepishly taking off his shoes and coming closer. “Don’t do that again, Jens. Scared the shit out of us.”

“I can tell,” he said, looking between you two. “Sorry.”

“Let’s go to bed,” she said, holding out a hand.

“Night,” you said, going beach to your room.

“Night, sweetie.”

A strong hand on your shoulder woke you up, some trickles of soft light coming in from your window while your heart felt like it was trying to beat out of your chest. You glanced around and saw Jensen with a smile.

“You’re alright, kiddo. You were having a nightmare,” he said. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, his hand running over your head. “You okay?”

“No,” you said. The bed dipped and you felt him sitting on the edge, moving some hair out of your face.

“Nothing’s gonna getcha,” he said softly. “I promise.”

You felt yourself get calm again, curling into your blankets after a moment.

“Better, honey?” he asked quietly. You hummed and peeled open an eye, a strangely sad look on his face.

“What’s wrong?” you asked.

“You got a nightmare cause of me,” he said.

“It wasn’t you. I get them a lot,” you said. “Not so much lately though.”

“That’s good,” he said, smiling when you leaned into his hand. “Everyone likes a good head massage after bad dreams.”

“Did I wake you up?” you asked.

“No. You weren’t shouting, just...I was up doing some wrapping before the kids get up. I was hiding them in the garage,” he said.

“How’d you know I was having a nightmare then?” you said, stretching a little bit but staying under your warm covers.

“You were saying Jensen,” he said. “I thought something might have been wrong until I came in and realized what it was.”

“It wasn’t you. In my nightmare,” you said. “You looked kind of worried about that.”

“I wasn’t,” he said.

“You’re a bad liar,” you said.

“Want to tell me what happened?” he said.

“I was at one of my old homes. The third one,” you said, Jensen nodding.

“I remember that one in the file and talking to Cole about it,” he said.

“I was back there and I couldn’t leave the house and I wanted you to come get me,” you said, glancing up at him.

“You will never in your life go to a place like that ever again. I’d never let it happen,” he said.

“I was only a kid. Why would someone want to hurt a kid?” you mumbled.

“I have no idea. Maybe it made him feel strong and powerful. Maybe he’s just a monster. Those are things you didn’t deserve, Y/N. You know that right?” asked Jensen, rubbing his hand up and down your back.

“Yeah,” you said, untucking your arm from your blanket, wrapping them around his waist to give him a hug. He stilled his hand for a moment, glancing at his lap with a big smile. “What?”

“I got a hug from you,” he said. “I must be special.”

“You’re such a dork,” you groaned, pulling your arms away but Jensen moved you upright giving one back. “Like I said, dork.”

“Fine, I’m a dork. It’s still a little early if you want to go back to bed,” he said. You nodded and shut your eyes, plopping back down in bed, Jensen fixing your blankets around you. “Sleep in. We’ll bring your breakfast burrito back for you.”

“Thanks,” you mumbled, nuzzling into your pillow. It was quiet for a moment, a ghost of air over your forehead for a split second before you felt a light brush of something on your skin. You blinked over your eyes as Jensen straightened up and started to walk around the bed, pausing when he saw you. “Did you kiss my forehead?”

“Yes. It’ll probably sound very stupid to you since you aren’t a small child,” he said with a smile. You shrugged and he sighed. “Whenever someone has a nightmare...they get a kiss so it doesn’t come back. De made it up after JJ got her first one a few years ago.”

“It’s cute,” you said, laying back down. “Hopefully it works. I’d like to not have that one ever again.”

“Y/N,” he said.

“I thought I told you if I had a problem with something, I’d tell you, right? Well there’s no problem. Everybody else around here gets all the hugs and kisses in the world, even the dog. You guys have more of my trust now so relax, alright?” you said.

“Okay, kiddo,” he said, offering a smile. You nodded and lay back down, the door pulling shut.

You woke up to something sniffing your face, eyes peeling open to catch the dog licking you.

“Icarus,” you groaned, the dog twirling around and settling himself on the other side of the bed in a ball. “Make yourself at home why don’t you.”

“Icky,” you heard Zeppelin say, wandering into your room. “Where he go?”

“He’s up here, sport,” you said, rolling out of bed and bending over to pick him up, setting him up on the bed. “How was breakfast?”

“‘Ummy,” he said with a laugh, pointing at your hair. You walked over to your closet mirror, some pretty intense bedhead going on from the looks of it.

“At least my hair isn’t falling all over my face, rascal,” you said, ruffling his head, plopping back on the bed. “Here.”

You rolled and grabbed a hair tie from your dresser, rolling back and scooping up some of his hair, making a little poof of hair that was sticking straight up.

“Now you’re good to go,” you said. He and Icarus hopped off the bed and decided to head out, a big laugh coming from down the hall when you started to change.

“Looking like Uncle Jared there bud,” teased Jensen, laughing again when you walked down the hall. “Okay, there is no way you guys aren’t messing with me.”

“Hm?” you asked, raising an eyebrow, stepping into the kitchen and straight to the fridge.

“Everybody’s got messy buns but me,” he said. You looked around and pulled out a styrofoam container, De wrapping a few things with the girls in the family room, all with their hair up.

“Jealousy is unbecoming, Jensen,” you said, sliding past him to heat up your burrito, Danneel snorting from the family room.

“Yeah, yeah. We’ll eat up because after, I’m taking you out driving,” he said.

“You said I could probably pass the test right now,” you said.

“Probably. Today you’re gonna practice the fun stuff.”

“Jensen. This is the opposite of fun,” you growled in the empty parking lot, Jensen whistling happily in the passenger seat. “I thought we were gonna do donuts or something.”

“We have no snow,” he teased. “Come on. You got the three point turn down immediately. What’s so scary about parallel parking?”

“It’s the hardest thing to do and I can damage this expensive truck but also other people’s cars,” you said. “Why can’t I practice with cones or lawn chairs?”

“Because you’re gonna park behind a real car, that’s why. The truck will start alerting you if you’re too close so don’t worry. Just pull up right next to the black one,” he said.

“De’s gonna be pissed if I hurt her car,” you said.

“Stop stalling,” he sang song, glancing at you. You grumbled and pulled up besides De’s car. “Backup and do it again. Get closer, like the same distance when you park next to another car in a parking lot.”

You sighed and did it again, Jensen humming this time.

“Put it in reverse, turn the wheel to the right and slowly let off the brake,” he said. You did as told until he said to stop and you looked at how far you’d moved. “Now turn left as you slowly keep backing in.”

You moved the wheel some, Jensen almost immediately having you stop.

“Now turn it left a bit faster as you back up, ” he said. You did that too, Jensen stopping you when you were behind the car. “Straighten out your wheels and pull forward just a hair.”

You did that and then put it in park.

“Look at that. You just parallel parked all by yourself,” he said.

“At least I didn’t make the sensor go off,” you said.

“Yeah, about that...sort of lied. I disabled the back up camera and sensor for our practice,” he said.

“What? Why?”

“You shouldn’t rely on technology to drive for you. If I let you do it the easy way, you wouldn’t have learned as well. Now when you take your test, you’ll be a natural,” he said. “Let’s practice a few more times.”

After a few hours, you had the hang of it pretty good and had driven out into farm country, Jensen letting you pick where to go.

“So,” he said, turning down the rock station that’d been playing. “Tell me a secret.”

“A secret? I don’t got those,” you said. “Everything about me is in a file.”

“Stuff that happened is in a file. It’s not you. Tell me a secret. What’d you want to be growing up? What do you want to be? Do you want to go to college? Or start a business? Something else? Do you have an affinity for gummy bears? Do you like pineapple on pizza? Have you ever snuck out and not got caught? Ever gone to the beach? Anything at all,” he said.

“I don’t have secrets,” you said. He hummed and stared out the window.

“I have one,” he said.

“Go for it,” you said, driving past a big field of grain.

“I specifically requested we get a 16 or 17 year old foster. We were told that was highly unusual. It almost got us denied to be fosters actually,” he said.

“What?” you said.

“Eyes on the road,” he said. “You know what? There’s a little hole in the wall burger place just a few miles down the road. We can stop and grab a bite there.”

You practically sped to the joint, Jensen halfway done with his burger before he started talking.

“They did a background check on me, on De, talked to the kids...someone thought it was weird we wanted an older kid, thought we might be up to something. Then the whole acting thing got dragged into it and what would be best for a child and me not being home a lot and we were about to be denied. There was this one women that just hated us for no reason and it all got escalated up to like a state level and I basically begged for them to let us try. Just one. Just let us try once and if we fucked it up, we wouldn’t get another. Then they gave us a stack of files a few weeks after we were approved and we sat down with Cole and he said someone gave us the high turnover pile on purpose. Someone really wanted us to fail at this.

“Me being me, I asked which kid had moved the most. It wasn’t you by the way. I asked which kid had been in the system the longest. Again, not you. I asked which one had given up on a family. About twenty files went to the floor and then there was this one that was thick and worn and guess who it was,” he said.

“Me?” you asked.

“Nope,” he said with a smirk. “Cole tapped it for a moment but scooped it up along with the others and told us to wait. He came back about five minutes later and gave us a file. He said we could go back to looking at the other pile or we could take a look at that one. So we asked what was in this one. He said if we were asking those kinds of questions, maybe we were good enough for the person in the file. I looked at the file, then at him and then at De and we said we weren’t playing games. It was for an infant, not what we were looking for but we got the gist he was trying to help us out. It was a baby so they would be adopted like that. It would have been a safe bet so we didn’t lose the kid. But we were looking for an older child to add to our family that met those conditions we laid out at the start and we were taking it seriously so he should too. He got up, left for an hour and came back. All he said was he had a girl, she was almost seventeen and said she needed to leave her current home as soon as possible,” he said. “We said yes.”

“You said yes? What if I was some horrible person? You would let the kids around that? You never even saw my file before you agreed,” you asked, Jensen chuckling. “I could have been like a degenerate that-”

“Someone’s protective of her not siblings,” he teased.

“Only technically not my siblings,” you said. He smirked and took a bite of a few fries.

“So that’s how we wound up with you. A week went by and we signed everything and then we sat down to look over your file. We weren’t expecting anything great but...it sort of made us…” he trailed off.

“What? Made you regret it?” you said with a smile.

“No. No, Y/N. I hate that that’s the first thing that pops in your head,” he said.

“Jensen. It was a joke,” you said, giggling a little. “I don’t think you do. Unless you’re this like amazing actor.”

It’s never really clicked with you before until the words left your mouth but he actually was a great actor of the few little clips of his show you’d seen.

“You’re not pretending, right?” you blurted out.

“No, sweetie. We’ve never once regretted any of this. It’s not been the easiest but we don’t care about that. What I was going to say was looking at your file made us fall in love with the idea of you. Your file told us you were a strong person but we got excited, like when we found out we were having kids,” he said.

“No you didn’t,” you said, stealing one of his fries and dipping it in your milkshake.

“Yeah, we did. It’s like you know you’re getting something awesome but you don’t know what it is yet,” he said. “Then we got you and it was better than we imagined.”

“I was better than you imagined,” you said, raising an eyebrow. “Oh yes, clearly because things went so smooth. I mean, I remember what you said, Jensen. After my birthday party.”

“You do, do you,” he said, lifting his chin, dipping one of his fries in your milkshake.

“It wasn’t the happy family you imagined. Sort of why I ran away,” you said with a shrug.

“Hm. You should have stayed for the rest of that conversation then. Probably could have avoided us both freezing our asses off,” he said. You cocked your head, Jensen chuckling to himself. “It’s true I said that. Then I said that’s okay it wasn’t turning out how I imagined because we had this amazing girl that we saw trying her best that day and that meant so much to us that you did that for us and the kids. We thought you really cared about us, in some little place you weren’t ready to admit. De and I talked about how it was probably all a bit too much too fast and we could try doing a half-birthday for you in June when you felt more comfortable. We were trying to figure out something fun to do with you on that Saturday. We thought maybe we’d go out to eat and show you around Austin some, just us three. But when I went to go ask about it that night, you were gone. The only times I’ve ever been that terrified in my life were when it had to do with one of the kids or De. I drove around for hours before I found you. I was this close to calling the cops when I saw you,” he said.

“If you’d called the cops, I’d be in a different home, wouldn’t I,” you said.

“Yeah,” he said. “I still should have. I had my friend who is one and his partner out looking but still.”

“So if I hadn’t stopped eavesdropping, none of that would have happened. Instead I left and scared you half to death and was mean to you guys even when you cared about me and thought I’d cared about you and…” you said, cutting yourself off, biting your bottom lip hard. “I’m worse than a child. I’m a grown up brat, aren’t I?”

“You are a teenager. It is a screwed up time for us all,” he said, popping a fry in his mouth. “Also, most of what you just said, comes with the territory of the whole parent-kid thing. The first time I was called the poopy stupid head that JJ hated, I thought I was a complete failure as a father. Until I realized she was just a pissed off two year old because I wouldn’t let her do something she’s not supposed to. It’s sort of a parent’s job, to teach kids how to work through those things.”

“I’m less scared but more scared now,” you said.

“I like the less scared part and I see that happening but what’s bothering you?” he asked gently.

“I care about you. You could use that to your advantage and hurt me and I just have to trust that you won’t,” you said.

“Your parents, were you ever afraid of them?” he asked.

“No,” you said.

“They had the same thing, that same ‘advantage’ over you. The only difference is you loved them and they loved you and you never questioned it, like it’s supposed to be. We’re a little different and that’s okay but if anyone ever has the advantage, it’s you. De and I would do anything for you, even if it hurt us,” he said.

“Why would you do that?” you asked.

“Kids come first,” he said.

“Why do you treat me like I’m one of your real kids?” you asked.

“Because you are-” he said, cutting himself off when a pair of young women stopped at your table. “Hi.”

“Hi! We don’t mean to bother you but we love the show,” said one, the other one nodding.

“Thank you,” said Jensen softly. “Do you ladies want a picture?”

“Could we? If we’re not interrupting,” said the second one, Jensen chuckling.

“No, no. I can spare a quick second,” said Jensen. “Y/N, mind taking a picture for these girls?”

“Sure,” you said, one thanking you as she handed you her phone. You got a pretty good one of the three of them, handing it back.

“Thank you so much!” said the girl as she looked back at the photo. The girls quickly left with a little bundle of squeals, Jensen smiling as he sat back down.

“Does that happen a lot?” you asked.

“Not really. I’m boring. No one cares what I’m up to thankfully,” he said. “And to answer your question, I treat you like one of my real kids because you are one of my real kids. Okay?”

“I don’t understand why-”

“I love you,” he said, a small smile on his face. “I have four kids. Three I made and the other one is a little new but I don’t love her any more or less than the other ones. It’s as simple as that.”

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to say,” you said.

“I don’t want you to say it, to any of us, unless you really mean it and I know three weeks isn’t enough time for you. I don’t think it’s something I could explain to you or anyone really. I’ve known since the first day,” he said with a smile. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable by saying so.”

“Yeah, because the foster kid just hates it when she gets told she’s loved for the first time in seven years,” you said with a smirk, glancing at your lap, taking a deep breath. “Asshole.”

“Don’t call me…” he trailed off, watching as you dug your fingers into your thighs and let out a small breath of air. “Sweetie, I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

“I’m not crying,” you said, pulling your sunglasses down over your eyes. “I have allergies.”

“No you don’t,” he said with a chuckle.

“It must be...something I ate,” you said, lifting your chin, wiping off one of your cheeks, knowing it was a mistake to look up and see him smiling at you. “God, you just had to say that here in a public place. You couldn’t have waited until I was like, in bed and could hide there?”

“I didn’t anticipate this reaction,” he said. “Has no one really said that to you in years?”

“No,” you squeaked out, throat getting tight. “Can we go home?”

“Yeah, we can go home, kiddo. I’ll drive.”

A/N: Read the Final Part here!