#It was a GREAT car it drove like a fuckin tank and it had a bench seat in the front that was tilted at the back

[eleanorfenyxwrites]

The Romance of Anonymity

Part 1 / 2

@polyshipweek 2023 Day 1 - Road Trip

What universe is better for road trip vibes than the 90's strip mall AU? As per usual in this universe there's virtually no plot to this, just flirting and Vibes™. Part 2 will be 'Bed Sharing' for day 3 of the prompt list ♥

--//--

Sunlight flickers red and burning orange against Meng Yao’s eyelids, the searing heat of it tempered slightly by the intermittent ruffle of the breeze through his hair. Under the monotone rush of the wind past the cracked-open window and the hum of the asphalt beneath their tires, he can just barely hear his boyfriends talking quietly together in the front seat, a soft, safe countermelody to the road noise that had lulled him to sleep some indeterminate amount of time ago.

“I can’t believe he’s short enough to lay across the seat like that,” Mingjue marvels, snagging Meng Yao’s pleasantly wandering attention away from contemplating a second nap.

“Well darling it’s not like he doesn’t have his legs curled up as well,” Xichen laughs quietly. “He only barely fits on it better than you or I would.”

“Still!” Mingjue protests, on the verge of laughter that Xichen quickly shushes through his own chuckling. “I feel like I always forget how small he is and then he pulls shit like this.”

“I may be asleep but that won’t stop me from kicking your ass, da-ge,” Meng Yao pipes up, smiling blindly up at the roof of the car when his boyfriends laugh without muffling themselves, all of them a little giddy from the hours they’ve already spent in the car over the last day and a half.

“A-Yao, sweetheart, you’re going to get a crick in your neck,” Lan Xichen frets with a soft hand laid on his bent knee. Meng Yao cracks an eye open and turns his head enough to squint through the sunlight on his face at his boyfriend turned around halfway to reach over the top of the front seat of Mingjue’s Cutlass. “Do you want us to pull over and get the pillow out of my suitcase?”

Meng Yao stretches his arms straight up towards the roof before he turns onto his side to face the front seat with a sigh, one eye still stubbornly shut against the early-afternoon sun cutting through the window above his head. Lan Xichen lifts his hand to allow the movement but puts it back the moment he’s settled, palm rasping pleasantly over his jeans as he rubs it back and forth, calf to knee to thigh and then back down.

“Mmm maybe. How long did I sleep?” he asks around a yawn.

“About an hour and a half,” Mingjue tells him, head lifting a bit as if to look at him in the rearview mirror though Meng Yao can’t see the mirror well enough to meet his eyes at this angle. “A-Huan and I were planning to switch at the next rest stop in about ten miles, so we’re pulling over anyway.”

Meng Yao spends another long moment indulging in the sleepy lassitude of the hot sun, the rumbling of the car, the road, and the attention of his boyfriends before he lets it slip away in favor of waking up properly.

He sighs again, mutters a grumpy, “No, I’ll wake up it’s fine,” and props himself up with a hand on the seat beneath him, forcing himself upright with the promise of kissing Xichen for a reward. Xichen smiles and goes up on one leg to lean back over the bench seat and accept his kiss easily, the both of them ignoring Mingjue’s grumbling about the unfairness of being the driver and why doesn’t he get any kisses just because he has to pay attention to the road.

“Ten more miles, da-ge,” Xichen soothes when they break apart. Meng Yao gives himself a little shake to wake himself up properly as Xichen turns to lay his head down on Mingjue’s shoulder, beseeching and teasing as he tuts over Mingjue’s many hardships and how he’s so brave to endure them anyway just to get him riled up.

Smiling at the familiar tune of his boyfriends’ banter, Meng Yao reaches down to the beat up igloo cooler from the gym down in the footwell behind the driver’s seat to rummage around for something decent to snack on. (The problem with dating two health-conscious gym rats is that they think grapes constitute a snack. Which…fine, maybe, but Meng Yao is of the opinion that cheap, filling junk calories of any kind are far superior, and he’d insisted they pack accordingly.)

“A-Yao?” Mingjue calls when they seem to notice his foraging up front.

“Hm?”

“Did we bring beef jerky?”

Oh of course, how could he forget the only other acceptable snack for the non-vegetarian gym rat boyfriend?

“I could never part you from your one true love, da-ge.”

This time he’s in the perfect spot to look up at meet Mingjue’s eyes in the mirror when his boyfriend sighs and raises an eyebrow at him, unimpressed.

“Sassy. Go back to sleep, you’re still grumpy.”

Meng Yao withdraws the package of teriyaki jerky and pinches it delicately between thumb and forefinger to slowly drape it over the middle of the seat between Mingjue and Xichen, wiggling the package back and forth a bit to make it crinkle.

“No thank you, da-ge. You’re going to eat what you want of this, brush your teeth at the rest stop, and then we’re going to make out in the back seat while Xichen tries not to run somebody off the road from trying to watch us.”

Nie Mingjue’s eyes in the mirror crinkle up as he grins widely enough Meng Yao is sure his dimples are as deep as they can go.

“A-Yao,” Xichen doesn’t quite pout but it’s close, turning to look at him again to better hit him hard with his best pleading eyes. “Can’t we stop somewhere for a while so we can all…relax?”

Meng Yao offers Xichen a sweet smile and stands up a little, hunching over to avoid hitting his head on the roof (though his hair still rubs against the microfiber lining) and leaning over the seat to bury his face in the crook of Xichen’s neck. He presses a few kisses to one of the spots that makes him shiver and punctuates them with a little nibble.

“Of course, er-ge, that’s why we’re stopping at a motel tonight,” he purrs. He’s still getting used to so many things: being wanted – by two handsome men – and telling one or both of them ‘no’ (even temporarily) are probably the biggest ones. But he hopes he never gets so used to the effect he has on them that it becomes mundane. Xichen tips his head to the side to give him better access and swallows thickly, turning into putty even from such a light touch.

“The faster you drive when it’s your turn the sooner we can make that happen,” Mingjue adds, always his partner in crime when driving Xichen up the wall is on the table. Meng Yao feels Xichen shiver again and he peeks an eye open to see Mingjue’s taken one hand off the wheel to rub it slowly up and down Xichen’s thigh with clear intent. “Just, you know…If you need an incentive to drive faster than the average 90-year-old.”

Meng Yao snickers into Xichen’s neck, effectively ruining the sexy vibe he’d been going for but he doesn’t mind. He smacks another kiss to the skin under his mouth before he sits back down again and resumes his hunt for his own snacks as Xichen sighs and opens up the bag of jerky to start handing pieces to Mingjue while he drives, the 5-mile sign for the rest area flashing by the window just as Meng Yao sits up with a triumphant cry for having found his bag of goldfish tucked safely in a separate bag where they wouldn’t get crushed.

--//--

As all motel rooms are, theirs is dingy and unimpressive. Meng Yao lugs his suitcase in first with a grunt, sticky in the small of his back and under his arms even just from the short walk from the parking lot up to their room on the second floor. He steps aside to let Mingjue and Xichen through, relieved when Xichen immediately heads for the AC unit under the window to flip up the lid and start fiddling with the dials. Mingjue barely even bothers to kick the door shut behind himself before he yanks his shirt off over his head by the back of the collar and rolls his shoulders with a sigh of relief.

“Mingjue, darling, you have got to get a car with a working air conditioner,” Xichen whines from where he’s draped himself over the humming unit, cold air fluttering the strands of his hair hanging damp with sweat over his forehead.

“Can’t hear you!” Mingjue shouts back from where he’s soaking a rag at the bathroom sink to scrub over the heat-flushed back of his neck. Xichen rolls his eyes at the blatant lie but seems a bit too wilted to bother arguing. Meng Yao drops a kiss to his sweaty hair in consolation before he makes what is, objectively, the best decision out of the three of them and goes to monopolize the shower.

“There is absolutely not room for two in this shower, da-ge,” Meng Yao hums a few minutes later when the man pulls the curtain back about halfway, enough to lean against the wall so they can chat without the floor getting soaked.

“Could be, you don’t know.”

“Considering what happens when we shower together, yes I do know.”

Mingjue smirks at him and gives him a long, appraising look down the length of his body while Meng Yao turns to grab the complimentary bottle of shower gel that contains enough soap for roughly half a grown man’s body.

“Fine, suit yourself. We’re thinking about ordering pizza from that spot we passed on the way in, A-Huan’s too hot to pretend like he doesn’t want to be spoiled with junk food. I’m assuming you have no complaints?”

“Not a one. Don’t let him order mushrooms though, he doesn’t have to pretend to like them for our sakes.”

“Sure. You want soda?”

Meng Yao shrugs and preens under the way Mingjue’s watching him attempt to stretch the shower gel as far as it can go to clean the sweat-salt off every inch of his skin, looking very much like he’d absolutely be the one doing it for him if Meng Yao would let him.

“Coke’s fine, or there’s always water from the sink.”

Mingjue nods, pushes off from the wall with a sigh, and finally looks up to meet his eyes again, clearly unembarrassed by his own brazen behavior.

“ ‘Kay. Hurry up, that looks really fucking nice and I think A-Huan’s actually going to fuse with that air conditioner if I let him lay there too much longer.”

“Him you can send in to share,” Meng Yao turns his face out of the spray to say, earning himself a heartfelt, “Oh fuck you,” that makes his laughter bounce off the walls of the tiny closet of a bathroom when Nie Mingjue turns to head back out into the rest of the room.

Xichen, when he arrives just as Meng Yao is finishing his rinse, plasters himself to his back and crowds him under the weak spray with eager kisses along his neck and shoulder that make Meng Yao laugh, quieter this time, as he reaches back to pat clumsily at Lan Xichen’s thigh.

“Hi, Huan-ge,” he hums. Xichen nuzzles into his hair and wraps strong arms around his chest to hold him close as he turns them around with shuffling steps to sigh as the cool water hits his back. Meng Yao chuckles again and leans his head to the side to pillow his cheek on Xichen’s bicep, eyes drifting shut to better appreciate the contrast of smooth, warm skin and the cool slide of water between and over them both tangled up together.

They stay there like that for long, quiet minutes, just standing together under the water, swaying ever so slightly as Xichen hums something that they’d had on in the car earlier under his breath. Meng Yao relaxes his (yes, sore) neck a little further until his cheek is fully smushed against Xichen’s arm, lazy and utterly unconcerned with how he looks. He’s just held and comfortable in the too-dim bathroom of a Motel 6 in some tiny town where no one but his boyfriends knows him.

They’ll be gone in the morning, a few strange faces in a rotating cast of them through this place, a battered blue car on the road going somewhere no one around them will care about. Meng Yao feels the weight of years fall off his shoulders in the anonymity of it, secure in the knowledge that he won’t be lost, he’s still known by the most important people in his life and they’re right here with him, but outside of his partners no one else cares.

It’s more freeing than he would’ve ever expected.

They get out of the shower when Xichen decides to unstick himself from Meng Yao’s back with a few parting kisses tender enough to make Meng Yao’s eyes sting. Xichen pats him dry, smiling, with the scratchy motel towels that smell of strong industrial bleach. Meng Yao returns the favor with another identical towel, ruffling up Xichen’s long hair for good measure to stop it dripping on his shoulders and making his boyfriend wrinkle his nose at him when he emerges from the towel, rumpled and soft around the edges.

“Hi,” Meng Yao says again and earns a kiss to the tip of his nose for it. The careful brush of knuckles against his cheek.

“Hi, sweetheart.” Not fair not fair not fair. Meng Yao tries not to melt at the tenderness in Xichen’s voice and realizes immediately that that will be impossible while stuck in this tiny bathroom looking up at him and his stupid kind eyes. He needs Mingjue.

He returns the kiss to his nose with a smacking one to Xichen’s bare chest and then he’s wrapping his towel around his waist to head out into the room again in search of something sharper to force him back into the shape of his body.

Mingjue’s sitting on the edge of the bed nearer the door still in just his jeans, hunched over enough to rest his elbow on his knee to better hold the room’s phone to his ear. Meng Yao climbs up onto the bed behind him and knee-walks his way across the slippery (stained? Ew) bedspread to drape himself over his back the way Xichen had done to him in the shower, arms over Nie Mingjue’s shoulders and his cheek resting against the back of his head.

“I told you Xichen left food in the fridge for you to have for dinner,” Mingjue snaps in the way he only talks to Nie Huaisang – beleaguered and affectionate in equal parts. Meng Yao has been reliably informed that that’s simply the curse of having a little brother. He privately thinks his own brother wouldn’t feel like that if they were on speaking terms. (Or...’acknowledging each other’s existences’ terms.)

Nie Mingjue covers his eyes with his free hand at whatever Nie Huaisang says in reply. Meng Yao ghosts his fingertips up and down the familiar contours of Nie Mingjue’s chest as he focuses more on the vibration of his boyfriend’s voice thrumming through him where they’re pressed together chest-to-back while Xichen putters around them, getting dressed and turning down the covers on the other bed for the evening.

“Okay, fine, whatever, but if you spend all of your allowance eating at every restaurant in town I’m not giving you more. It’s your choice, money for the arcade for the week or dinners with your boyfriend.”

Meng Yao smiles a little as Nie Huaisang whines on the other end of the line, too garbled up for him to hear from here, and brings one hand up to card lazily through Mingjue’s hair, brushing it back from his too-warm forehead.

“Alright, A-Sang, whatever! Did you go help Zonghui with the gym today like I asked?”

Meng Yao ducks down a bit to start pressing featherlight kisses along the shell of Mingjue’s ear, smiling when his boyfriend leans his head further to the side to allow it as well as hold the phone receiver between his shoulder and his head to grab Meng Yao’s hands in both of his to squeeze his fingers, raise them to his mouth to nip at his fingertips in between his own little kisses in return.

Meng Yao sharpens his kisses into little bites the longer Mingjue spends hemming and hawing to his brother on the phone, until finally he’s gnawing on his boyfriend’s earlobe (much to Xichen’s entertainment where he’s pretending to meditate on the other bed) and Mingjue gives up with a huff of irritation, sitting up straight again abruptly and catching the receiver before it can fall away from his ear.

“A-Sang I have to go, we need to order dinner and get to sleep. I’ll call you tomorrow night, okay?”

Meng Yao smirks in triumph as Mingjue practically slams the phone down to turn and tackle him to the bed, teeth bared as he lunges in to return the favor with hard bites up and down the expanse of Meng Yao’s entire neck.

“No fair!” he gasps around breathless laughter, “I only went for your ear!!”

“I’ll order dinner,” Xichen offers, reaching for the phone and the laminated page of listings for restaurants that deliver in the area off the nightstand. Meng Yao doesn’t even have time to chide him for this betrayal in not rescuing him before Mingjue is kissing him hard and dirty, fitting all the too-soft parts of him that Xichen drags out into the light with barely an effort back under the surface where they belong.

For now.

Xichen orders dinner and Meng Yao makes Mingjue leave him be long enough to get dressed in lounge pants at least before the pizza arrives. They all pile into the bed they won’t be sleeping in to eat, sitting cross-legged with knees knocking and toes brushing ankles, dinner piled up between and around them on the bedspread that has absolutely seen worse than some stray pizza grease. Meng Yao lets the feeling of it settle into his bones, and he decides that before this road trip is over he’s going to tell them both that he loves them. Out here, where it’s just them and the road and a string of motels they’ll never see again, he feels like this is the way he can say it first.

Unwatched.

Unmonitored.

Just a man who loves his chosen People.

One of many.

[atlafan]

My Everything - Part Ten

A Take it Slow Sequel

What happens with Harry and Y/N after he proposes? How will the two navigate the engaged life while also continuing to juggle their jobs, friends, and families? Let’s find out.

Warnings: Fluff and Smut! 6K

Masterpost

You and Harry let Buster sleep in the bed with you that night since you’d be away from him for so long. Niall drove you both to the airport the next morning. You were beyond excited for this trip. You and Harry were pros at flying together at this point. He knew to keep an arm around you while you slept, and he’d keep his head rested on yours.

When you get off the plane you each head into the bathroom to change into some lighter clothes. You brought a light green pair of shorts and a white tank top to wear, and Harry changed into a pair of light blue shorts with a black t-shirt. You both looked very ready for Florida.

“I can’t wait for you to bust out your real Florida clothes.” You giggle. “You know the ones that make you look like a grandpa in Miami?”

“Oh baby, I brought all that shit.” He winks. He reaches into his carry on and hands you your fast pass band. “We need ‘em when we get in line for the buses.”

You both navigate through the Orlando airport, and wait for the bus to your resort. You get on and about halfway through the ride you go into the Disney app to see if your room is ready.

“Oh look! Floor four, room 3000.” You show Harry your phone. “But our luggage most likely won’t be there until later tonight.”

“S’alright, we can at least stick our backpacks in the room for now.”

You hum your response. The two of you were in awe of the resort. You were able to use your wristbands to unlock the door, you didn’t even need to go to the desk in the lobby to check in. There was a note on the little table in the room.

“Listen to this!” You exclaim, and he turns to look at you. “Congratulations on your recent partnership, we thank you for wanting to celebrate your honeymoon with us. Let us know how we can make this experience even more magical for you.”

“That’s cute.” He pouts.

The two of you walk the grounds of the resort just to get familiar with where the pool and restaurants are.

“Alright, so we’re doin’ EPCOT this afternoon?” He asks.

“Mhm, look that’s where all the shuttles come.”

It takes a few minutes to actually get into the park, but once you do you couldn’t be more thrilled. They give you and Harry buttons that say “Just Married” on them for you to wear. You use your Fast Pass to go on Spaceship Earth first. You were mostly excited to get to the World’s Fair so you could eat a ton of the different food.

You and Harry have a lot of fun in Mexico, and go on the Donald Duck ride. You take lots of selfies as you go around from country to country. You ended up eating at a French restaurant that night and it was delicious. You both stayed in the park to see the fireworks and it was beautiful. Harry had his arms wrapped around you, chin resting on your head.

By the time you got back to your room, you were pooped. You both do your nightly routine and climb into bed.

“Oh my god, this is beyond comfortable.” You say.

“What’s on the itinerary tomorrow, sweetheart?”

“We are spending the day at Magic Kingdom. Our first Fast Pass is at Space Mountain. Once we use all three we can add more. Our reservation is at like 9AM, so we’ll have time for breakfast here.”

“It’s gonna be really sunny tomorrow, we’ll need sunscreen and all that.”

“We can also take a break in the afternoon if we feel like coming back for a swim before going back in for dinner. We’re eating in Disney Springs tomorrow.”

“Great first day, hm?”

“It was perfect.” You kiss goodnight and slowly drift off after getting comfortable.

//

“Are you sure you’re okay with goin’ on this ride? You hate roller coasters.” Harry says to you as you’re in line for Space Mountain.

“I think I’ll be okay. Oh shit…we can’t sit together?”

“It’s a single rider, you wanna go behind me?”

“Yeah.”

Harry couldn’t help but laugh during the ride when he heard you scream and then start to laugh like you always did.

“I did pretty well.”

“You did, I’m very proud of you.” He kisses your hairline. “What’s next?”

“We are meeting Princess Ariel.” You beam. “She’s my favorite.”

“Sounds good to me. Gives us a chance to really walk through the park.”

There was even more wonderful food to snack on at Magic Kingdom. You both were just having an amazing time. The weather was beautiful and you had no cares in the world. Over the next few days you did everything in the Disney book. You had dinner in Belle’s Castle, you screamed your head off on the Tower of Terror, and opted to let Harry go on the Rockin’ Roller Coaster alone. You took a ton of pictures, especially in front of Cinderella’s Castle. You also tried every Dole Whip you could find in each park. The only thing was that most nights by the time you’d finally get back to your room, you both would be too tired to be intimate. And then in the morning, you’d have to get up, eat breakfast and get to the park. It was an amazing four days, but you were excited to head to Fort Meyers.

//

Harry rented a car for the two of you, and to the West Coast you went.

“God, that was so much fun, I already wanna plan our next trip.” You laugh. “I think Sarah had the right idea about a group trip.”

“Oh, definitely. We could all stay on resort, drink around the world, it would be great.”

“Maybe in a few years, yeah? It took so long to save up and pay off.”

“I agree, this is something you do once in a while. Thanks for takin’ care of most of the plannin’ for it.” He rubs your thigh. “Wait until you see the place we’re headed, you’ll love it.”

“I’m very excited.” You check your phone. “I was hoping Mariah would have sent us some photos…”

“She said she wants it all to be a big surprise. She’s working on making us a book and all that. Just be patient, baby. Then we can take our time goin’ through all of it.”

“You’re right. Plus, now we can go through all the pictures we just took. The one of you and Goofy has got to be my favorite.”

“I liked the ones you took with Woody and Bo Peep, that was hilarious.”

“Should we stop off at a grocery store before going to the house just to get what we need for the next few days?”

“Good idea, I don’t see us leavin’ too much.” He smirks.

“You know…and I don’t want this to kill the vibe at all…but the day we come back our flight is in the late afternoon, and we’re only an hour from Nannie. I was wondering if maybe she could come have breakfast with us?”

“On the last morning? Sure.” He shrugs. “She won’t mind takin’ the drive?”

“Nah, plus, she’d bring a friend with her. Thanks, I just feel guilty being in Florida and not seeing her, even though we just saw her.”

“No, I get it. I’d wanna spend time with her too.” He smiles. “She was so cute when she danced with me at the wedding.”

“She couldn’t wait to get her hands on you.” You laugh and put your hand over his. “Neither can I. Oh! Seth just texted a picture of Buster, our little baby boy.” You pout and show Harry quick. You can’t help but start laughing.

“What?”

“Nothing, I just…sometimes I think back, and like, did you ever think Seth would be one of your best friends?”

“No.” Harry laughs. “He really is a great guy, I’m glad he’s in my life.”

“I think he wants to marry Isaac, they could be next out of all our friends.”

“I wanna know what the fuckin’ hold up with Niall and Sarah is. I feel like something’s comin’ soon with them, but I can’t put my finger on it.”

“Sarah’s looking at new schools to work at…she, uh, really wants to get in at a prep school. They may start looking at houses soon.”

“Yeah, Niall mentioned something about that. He really likes living in the city, it would suck to commute like that.”

“I know.” You sigh. “They have a lot to consider. At least Rach and Mariah seem to be staying in the city for a bit longer.”

“I think Mariah wants to have a baby soon too.”

“Oh really?!” You squeal.

“Yeah, she’s mentioned it a couple of times. They haven’t talked about it much, but she wants to be the one to get pregnant and carry it if they do.” Harry chuckles. “Isaac even offered up his sperm.”

“Aw, what a sweetie.” You giggle.

You and Harry go grocery shopping quickly before getting to the house he rented.

“Oh my god.” You gasp as he pulls up.

“The boat’s already at the dock out back too. Got my license online and everything. We’ll be able to go out and enjoy a few rides.”

“Oh, I can’t wait, babe.” You get everything into the house and go outside. “Wow, this is really private.”

“Mhm, we can screw out here and no one would know.”

“Oh, stop it.” You swat a hand at him. You walk down further and feel the sand between your toes. “I can’t wait to swim. The boat is perfect too, honey, well done.”

“Wanna explore the inside?”

“Definitely.”

You both go back in. It was a simple ranch style home, but it was beautiful. The master bedroom was ginormous and it had a giant en suite. The kitchen was open concept and flowed naturally into a living and eating area. There was a nice patio out back as well.

“It’s perfect, Harry. Thank you.” You wrap your arms around his neck. “So…I spoke with Dr. Mara a few weeks ago, and I didn’t say anything to you, but I switched medications.”

“You did?” He steps back from you. “Seems like an odd thing not to tell me, Y/N.”

“I know, we just had a lot going on. I…wanted to be able to have alcohol for this part of our honeymoon. It was really hard not to get anything in Disney, especially while you were trying a bunch of stuff, but I was afraid of going overboard too soon. I want us to be able to be romantic and have wine and just really enjoy this part of things. Anyways, the new medication I’m on allows me to have alcohol in small amounts.”

“So that’s why you were so adamant about getting wine at the store.” He says in understanding.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I wanted to see how my mood changed and all that.”

“I literally didn’t notice a difference.”

“I know! So it’s doing its job.”

You both were feeling a bit nervous since you wanted this all to be special.

“Okay, what do you say we put our suits on, and head to the boat. We can bring some of the snacks we just bought and just have some fun on the water.”

“I think that’s a great idea.” You smile.

You put on a cute light blue two piece, and Harry had his yellow trunks. You pack up some snacks and water. You both lather each other with sunscreen, and go down to the boat. Harry uses a map so he knows where he can go. There was a sandbar that the owners of the house told him about.

“There! Where the other boats are parked.” You point out to him. “How do you even know how to do drive this thing?”

“I’ve driven a boat before.” He scoffs. “Have you met me? I’m good at everything anyways.”

You roll your eyes and nudge him. He parks the boat and throws the anchor. You open the bag of baby carrots and pop a couple into your mouth.

“Should we swim? It’s fuckin’ hot out.”

“You’re just full of great ideas today.”

You both get in the water and swim around. You splash and giggle and just have a great time. You both sit out and get some sun as well. Eventually, you go back to the house and Harry grills some veggie burgers for the two of you. As the sun sets, you both change into some warmer clothes, and he gets a fire started in the pit. He grabs some sticks and you get some marshmallows.

“What do you say, want some wine?” You ask.

“Mhm, if you do.”

“I do…I should probably stick to one glass so I don’t get fucked up.” You laugh.

You sit together outside and roast your marshmallows. You clink your glasses and enjoy the sweet red wine.

“Mm, I forgot how good wine tasted.” You giggle.

Harry’s arm was around you. He set his glass on the ground, and tilts your chin up to look at him. He presses his lips to yours and swipes his tongue along your bottom lip. He pulls away and smiles.

“I agree, very sweet.” He leans back and kisses you again. “Is it helpin’ yeh relax at all? I don’t want you to feel pressured.”

“It’s helping, yeah. I know there’s no pressure, I’ll either come back pregnant or I won’t. It could stake a few tries, and that’s fine. This is all just so romantic, I want it so badly.”

“Me too, and when it’s meant to it will.” He assures you.

You both finish your glasses, and it definitely hit you. Your tolerance had gotten really low. You both clean everything up and head inside.

“That was a nice fire.” You wrap your arms around his neck and his go around your waist.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.” You get on your tip toes and kiss him.

He walks you into the bedroom and you both fall onto the bed. He gets you far back so your head can rest on the soft pillows.

“You looked so sexy in your swim suit today.” He kisses on your neck and you giggle. “I wanted to take it off with my teeth.”

“Aw, why didn’t you?” You pout. “Tomorrow I’ll put it on just so you can take it off that exact way.” He grinds his hips down against yours and you groan. “Knew you’d like that.”

“I’d love it.” He growls as his hands slide up under your shirt. Your hips buck up towards his. “Tell me what you want, angel.” His eyes were locked on yours now.

“I want to make a baby with you.” You say just above a whisper.

“Fuck.” He says under his breath.

He lifts your shirt off you and practically rips your bra away. He pulls his own shirt off and attaches his lips to your right nipple. Your hand tugs at his hair as he sucks on you. His other hand kneads your left breast. He moves to start kissing down your body, sucking wherever he pleases, leaving behind all of the marks he wants. Your body felt hot all over with every touch he left behind. He tugs your shorts and underwear off, and he licks his lips as you open your legs for him.

“We’re gonna take our time, okay? We have nowhere to be, so we’re in no rush.” He says, planting kissing on your inner thigh.

“Okay. I want this to be really good for both of us, it’s not just about me.”

“Tonight it is, but we have three more nights here after tonight, don’t you worry.”

You gasp when you feel his tongue lick through your folds and up to your clit. He does this a few times just enjoying the way you taste. His hands spread you further apart as he swirls his tongue around your clit. Your hands grip at the roots of his curls. He works two fingers inside you slowly, and it makes your head spin. He was really feeling around, he knew the territory well, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t still occasionally explore. Plus, he knew you liked the way his fingers would stretch you out.

He nibbles and sucks on your clit as his fingers curl up against that spongey spot. You grind against him and let out soft whimpers. He was giving you exactly what you needed. He knew you were under a lot of pressure. Erica had been trying to get pregnant ever since her wedding, and she had a lot of trouble. She was only three and a half years older than you, and you weren’t sure if you’d run into the same issues.

“Oh fuck, oh my god, shit.” You were panting as his fingers picked up the pace. “Harry, oh my god!” Your head rolls back further into the pillow as you release onto his fingers. He retracts them slowly and sucks them into his mouth. “Get your pants off, now.”

He smirks and gets the rest of his clothes off. He hovers over you as you grip him in your hand. You drag his tip against your clit and folds, almost teasing yourself.

“God, I can’t wait to really feel you again, it’s been way too long.”

“I can’t wait to feel your come inside me again.” You line him up with you and he slowly starts to push in.

You both moan out once he’s all the way in. You clench around him, never wanting him to leave.

“If you do that m’not gonna be able to last long.”

“I’m sorry, you just feel incredible already.”

He smooths your hair away from your forehead and kisses it. He kisses your nose next, and then slots his mouth over yours as he rocks in and out of you. You wrap your legs around his waist and drag your nails down his back as his tongue molds to yours.

You were both sweating even with the A.C. on. It was pooling between your stomachs, but neither of you cared. You both were so caught up in just feeling good. He hooks an arm under one of your legs and drive in a little deeper. It hits just the right spot, and your nails sink into his ass.

“Right there, Harry, fuck.”

He sponges kisses to your neck and bites down on you. You lose it at that and he feels you come around his cock. He drops your leg and pulls out. He grabs your hips and flips you over. He spreads you apart with his thumbs and slides back in. One of his hands grips the back of your neck while the other presses into your hip. You loved this part. Sometimes harry would start out so sweet, make sure you came a couple of times, and then he’d get a little rough.

“How’s this?” He grunts.

“So good, so fucking good, rail me babe.”

He thrusts in and out of you faster and faster, but then he slows down. He pulls out of you again and flips you back on your back.

“What’s wrong?” You out.

“Nothing.” He slides back in. “I just wanna be able to see your face, that’s all.”

You smile at each other as he thrusts in and out of you again. His tip brushes against your g-spot so you grip onto his biceps to relieve some of the pressure building. You groan when you feel his muscles flex.

“Harry, please, I want you to come.”

“You do?” He grunts.

“Yes, please, I want us to come at the same time.”

He strokes your cheek and leans down to give you a kiss as his movements get sloppier. You can’t hold on much longer, but it doesn’t matter because the second you feel his warm come paint your walls, you release again. He moans your name as he continues to fill you up. You clench around him while he slowly pulls out so you don’t lose a single drop.

“You might wanna sit with your legs up for a few minutes, angel.”

You clamp your thighs together the second he’s out. He helps you shift and turn around so you can rest your legs up against the headboard. He sits next to you and looks down at your flushed face.

“How long do you think I should stay like this?” You giggle.

“Don’t know.” He shrugs. “Five minutes maybe?” You reach your hand out and rest it on his thigh.

“That was really nice. I feel like we haven’t been close like that in a long time.”

“I know.” He rests his hand on yours. “Things got really hectic, huh?”

“Mhm.”

You both slept really well that night. The next morning, Harry fucked you in the shower, and then again while you were trying to make breakfast. You had promised him he could take your swim suit off with his teeth, after all. You both enjoyed the sun and sand on your little private beach.

“I’m gonna dip my feet in the water.” You tell him and he hums his response, not looking up from his book.

Harry stretches and sets his book down. He tips his sunglasses down his nose to properly watch you strut down to the water. As you walk back you notice him looking at you. He makes a “come here” motion with his index finger. You giggle and go over to him, straddling him in the long beach chair.

“You’re hard.” You say into his neck.

“Mhm, can’t help it. My wife is just so sexy.” He grips your hips tightly.

“I could say the same about my husband.”

He reaches between the two of you and moves your bathing suit bottom to the side to rub your slit. His fingers easily slip inside you and you bite down on his neck.

“Can I fuck you our here?” He grumbles as his fingers work your insides.

“Yes.” You breathe.

Your hands roam down his stomach to the top of his swim suit. You pull out his hard cock and line it up with your center. He takes his fingers out of you so you can slip him in. It was the middle day, you two were out in broad daylight, and you were fucking in the open air. Normally you wouldn’t do something like this, but you really did have a lot of privacy.

He rocks you up and down on his cock. You prayed the chair underneath you wouldn’t break. He gets a little frustrated, so he picks you up and lays you on the towel you had laid out between your chairs. You giggle as he puts your legs over his shoulders.

“Tell me this isn’t more comfortable?”

“It is, you’re just cute.”

“Can’t get enough of yeh.”

He sucks on your neck in multiple spots, really making a mess of you. Your bathing suit top loosens from the way your breasts are bouncing up and down and he nearly comes at the sight. He grabs the front of it and rips it away. He dips his head down as he drops your legs to suck one of your nipples into his mouth. You rub your clit as he does all of this and you start moaning out a little louder. He loved when you both would work together like this. He comes inside you just as you release.

After Harry goes inside to grab some waters, he sees you still laying on your back, spraying some sunscreen on your chest.

“What are you doin’?” He chuckles, handing you a water.

“When do I ever get the chance to just openly tan my entire chest? I’m taking advantage of the privacy.”

That night for dinner, you pack up some sandwiches, and harry takes you for a boat ride. You end up giving him a much deserved blow job. The rest of your trip was just sort of like this. The two of you making love any time you felt like it. There was one day you didn’t even really leave the bedroom, you could barely walk by the time you needed to meet your Nannie for breakfast before you caught your plane home. Needless to say, Harry wore you out in hopes of getting you pregnant, and you didn’t mind one bit.

//

Isaac and Seth had dropped Buster off before you got home so he’d be there waiting for you. You drop to your knees and let him lick your face when you see him.

“My baby! Mummy missed you soooo much!” Harry joins you on the floor with him and hugs him. “Daddy did too.”

“Should we, uh, buy some tests tomorrow?” He asks, petting his boy.

“Yeah, we could. I don’t know how soon you can tell though. We might have to wait a couple of weeks.”

“True, might not be a bad idea to just stock up on ‘em.”

“I’ll go to the drug store tomorrow after work.”

“Ugh, work.” He gets up and helps you to your feet. “Not lookin’ forward to that.”

“Me neither.” You sigh.

“Well, I shouldn’t say that, I just wish we could stay like this.”

“I know what you mean. If I could relive the last two weeks over and over, I would.” You walk over to the living room and gasp when you see the photo album sitting on the coffee table. “Harry, look!” You squeal.

You both sit down and snuggle up with the album. You both get glossy eyed when you look over everything. Mariah did an incredible job, not that either of you were worried.

“Your dress really was stunning, baby.”

“So was your suit.”

You look at each other. It didn’t take long until you were both naked and fucking on the couch.

//

“Look at how beautiful the castle was at night.” You were showing Niall a ton of your photos.

“The lights look incredible. Sarah’s been talkin’ about going now, I think you put a bug in her ear.” He chuckles.

“You two should definitely go! She loves the princesses and all that.”

“Believe me, I know. We were thinkin’ of going at the end of this summer.”

“Oh?!” You smile.

“Yeah, I, uh…well…” He takes his phone out and shows you a picture of a ring and you gasp. “Do you think she’ll like it?”

“Oh my god, she’s going to love it!” You hug him. “And she’d love a Disney proposal, are you kidding me?”

“She won’t think it’s cheesy?”

“No! She’ll die, oh my goodness.” You hug him again. “This is wild, we’re all so adult.”

“Well, I figured if we’re gonna buy a house together, I might as well put a ring on it before her dad kills me.” He jokes.

“What towns have you guys been looking in?”

“Right now, just the Milton area. We don’t wanna be too far from the city since I don’t plan on lookin’ for a new job any time soon.”

“It’ll be weird not having you across the street, but I understand wanting a home.”

“Do you think you and Harry will start lookin’ for a house?”

“Not anytime soon. We like living in the city.” You shrug.

“What about when you start havin’ kids?”

“Our apartment can handle a child. If we have more, which we probably will, then I’m sure we’ll need to move. But for now we can stay where we are. I’m kind of nervous. Erica’s been having trouble getting pregnant, and…”

“Hey.” He puts his hand on your shoulder. “It’ll happen when it happens, okay?” He smiles reassuringly.

//

When your period came, Harry seemed more upset than you.

“I guess I just don’t understand how it all works.” He sighs.

“We knew this could happen, we’ll just have to try again when I’m ovulating next.” You give his hand a squeeze and smile. “We need to try not to think about it as much. A lot of people conceive when they’re least expecting it.”

“I know, you’re right.” He kisses your cheek. “We’ll get there.”

//

Two more months had gone by, and you still hadn’t gotten pregnant. Harry was getting ready to take you away for your birthday. Just a simple weekend at a spa to relax. Your summer had gotten sort of stressful. You had gotten hired as a TL at your old college to teach a class online for the summer. It was going really well, and the class was just about over. Your passion for teaching students about media was growing stronger.

This meant, though, many of your nights had been long. You would often stay in your office after hours to get some grading and other work done. Harry hated it, of course. The stress couldn’t have been helping. It was nearly 7PM, and the office was empty. You just needed to get through some emails from your students and then you could go home to start your much needed long weekend for your twenty-seventh birthday.

There was a knock on the outside of your door. It was Harry with a bouquet of flowers. You look up and smile.

“What are you doing here?”

“Thought we could go to dinner. Dropped Buster off with Niall and Sarah.”

“God, I’m gonna miss them when they’re not right across the street.” You frown. “But I’m happy their offer got accepted.”

“Me too. And what great timing that they’re headed to Disney soon too. They can relax from all the stress they’ve been under. I’m glad they’ve gone through it first, to be honest.” He closes the door behind him and locks it.

“No one’s here, you could’ve left that open.”

“Eh, force of habit.” He shrugs.

You stand up to give him a hug. He looks you up and down. You had a red, short sleeve blouse on paired with a black pencil skirt.

“These flowers are beautiful, thank you.”

“Happy almost birthday, my love.” He cups your cheek with one hand and kisses you.

“I just need to finish up some emails and then we can go.”

You sit back down and he comes around to stand behind you. He starts rubbing your shoulders just as you begin typing. Your fingers stop and your eyes flutter closed. Harry would always be your favorite masseuse.

“You look good enough to eat, you know that right?” He whispers in your ear, sending a shiver up your spine.

You send your last email and turn your monitor off. He spins you around in your chair so you’re facing him. You look up at him through your lashes. For years you had told Harry you’d never have sex in your office. But you were ovulating and extremely turned on.

“So why not have your appetizer here then?”

His eyebrows shoot up. He was expecting you to say no or to tell him anything other than what you just said. His hands drag up from your knees to your thighs, bunching up your skirt to your hips. He grips your panties and takes them off of you. He drops to his knees and puts your legs over his shoulders, pulling you closer to the edge of your seat. His tongue was on you in seconds, but he takes it away just as quickly. He nips at your inner thigh, sucking a very dark mark into your skin.

“Fuck.” You breathe as he does it to the other one.

He licks into you again, getting a very good taste. He drags his tongue up to your clit and sucks on you.

“Harry.” Your head rolls back, and the chair nearly tips over, but he steadies it.

One of his hands reaches up to grip your throat, and your eyes roll into the back of your head as you come on his tongue. He stands up and undoes his pants. He licks his lips when he looks at you, he wasn’t sure what he wanted to do to you first.

“Take me on the floor, please.” You beg him.

“Get on your back then.”

You stand up and lay on the ground. Harry chuckles as he gets on the ground over you.

“What?”

“Thought you would’ve wanted me to bend you over the desk.”

“No, I want it like this.” His lips ghost over yours.

You gasp as he enters you, and his tongue goes into your mouth. Yours molds to his and he swallows your groans. He carefully unbuttons your blouse so he can cup your breasts over your bra. He was ramming into you, and it felt incredible.

“Oh my god, Harry.” Your back arches slightly. Something about doing it in your office after saying no for so long was really doing something for you. “Holy shit!” You scream as he rubs on your clit. “Don’t stop.” You groan.

“Baby.” He moans. “Fuck, you’re so beautiful like this.”

You wrap your legs around him to pull him closer to you. You knew your back was going to hurt tomorrow, but you didn’t care. He takes his other hand to grab yours, intertwining your fingers. He pins it next to your head. You use your free hand to grip his throat. You were thankful there was A/C in your office, or the two of you would be drenched in even more sweat than you were.

You tighten around him as you come to another release. He squeezes your hand as he comes inside you. Your grip loosens around his throat as you both catch your breaths. He sticks a finger inside you so nothing slips out, and then he grabs your underwear to slide up your legs.

“Hope you won’t be too uncomfortable at dinner.” He says as he helps you up.

“I’ll be fine.” You smile and kiss him. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

//

At the end of the month, on their trip in Disney, Niall proposed to Sarah, and she happily accepted. You couldn’t wait to celebrate with them when they got back. The class you taught got amazing reviews in the course evaluations. You were asked to come in for a meeting with the head of the Communication Department.

“Y/N!” Dr. Harrison calls you into her office. You knew her very well. “It’s so good to see you.”

“You too.” You shake her hand and have a seat. “Weird, last time I sat in this seat I was asking you about internships.” You laugh.

“Funny how things come full circle sometimes.” She smiles. “We were very impressed with how well your class went. We haven’t had students do so well with TL like this in a while. A lot of students who take summer courses take them to improve their GPA’s.”

“So I noticed. I had them send me intro videos for their first assignments, and a lot of them said they were grateful my class was being taught.”

“One of our faculty members is heading to another institution next semester. So she’ll only be here for the fall term. We have to start figuring out spring semester courses later this month. She teaches a lot of the film and media courses.” You nod. “You have your MEd, correct?”

“That’s right.”

“We’re going to be searching for a new teaching position soon. I’ve been speaking with the other faculty, you were such a rock star of a student, and we were wondering if you’d consider applying once we open it.”

“What?” You were in shock.

“I know that’s a lot to ask, obviously, you seem to really like your job. You’re good at what you do, but you also seem to be a great teacher. We’d like you to teach more of our students.”

“I…I don’t know…see, my husband and I are trying to start a family, and my work has amazing maternity leave options and benefits. I mean, I could be pregnant now, and if I was that would mean I’d literally just make it to the end of the spring semester, and then I’d be on maternity all summer, and I know being a junior faculty means a lot of-“

“Y/N slow down.” She chuckles.

“It’s just, I essentially get six months off for maternity at my work…”

“I could get you some information about our union benefits. We have nine month contracts and twelve month contracts. Lots of different options. I don’t have kids of my own, but I have to say our insurance benefits are really great. You don’t have to decide anything right now, just know we’d love to have you. We’re going to open the position up at the end of September. At least consider applying, alright?”

On your way home from the meeting you had to pull over on the side of the road to throw up. You had taken the afternoon off from work to go to this meeting, so you go right home. You throw up again the second you get inside, luckily you made it to the toilet.

“What the fuck?” You say to yourself, and then it dawns on you. You get your phone and call Harry. You promised him any time you took a test that you needed to be together.

“Hey baby, how’d the meeting go?”

“Can you come home?”

“Um…uh…I have a client coming soon, why?”

“I’ve been throwing up all afternoon…I think I should take a test.”

“Oh! This shouldn’t take long, could you wait until I get home?”

“Harry.” You groan.

“Okay, take it, but don’t look at the results until I get home, please.”

“Alright.”

You go into the bathroom and take a pregnancy test. You had been trying for five months now, and you hadn’t had a symptom like this yet. You stick the test on the counter in the bathroom and go out to the living room. You had so many things to think over. Teaching had just become a new passion of yours, but was this opportunity worth disrupting everything right now?

You sit down and look over the union information Dr. Harrison gave you. You pull up your benefits package from work on your laptop and try to compare the two. The university, believe it or not, actually had better insurance policies. Being protected by a union would also be nice. This was the shitty part about working for a good business. You felt guilty for wanting something new. You were so grateful for everything, but you did the same thing every single day, and it just wasn’t giving you the same fulfillment it used to. You had been there since you were twenty-one, fresh out of college. You were twenty-seven now, maybe something new would be good. Besides that, you knew Niall had one foot out the door. Sarah had gotten a position at a nice prep-school, and he was looking  at some other companies closer to their new house. He needed to be able to move up, and there were no positions opening up any time soon. He had been at Mark It even longer than you. A lot was changing all at once.

You take a deep breath and tell yourself you’ll talk things over with Harry later. A couple of hours later, Harry bursts through the door with Buster. You stand up immediately and walk with him hand in hand to the bathroom. You both look at the test sitting there and take a deep as you walk up to it. Both of your eyes widen when you look at it.

[spn-safeandsound]

18. Ways to Grieve

Safe and Sound

Dean Winchester x Original Character

Episode: 2x02; Everybody Loves a Clown

Word Count: 11,378

Warning(s): Mature language, canon violence + gore, grief, mentions of sexual activities

Author’s Note: Here’s Abby’s first hunt with Julia and the boys! I hope you like the chapter. Let me know what you think. Make sure to reblog and like!

Masterlist in Pinned Post!

Julia was tossed onto the bed by Dean—he was careful of her healing wrist—her semi-naked body bouncing a couple times. She gasped and lifted her head, watching with dazed eyes as Dean pulled his t-shirt off his body, throwing it in the corner of their temporary room at Bobby's house.

"Uh-uh," Julia clicked her tongue, eyeing his jeans.

Dean rolled his eyes and unbuckled his belt, sliding it from around his waist and letting it drop to the floor. "I was getting there."

"Sure."

"Keep talking," Dean stepped out his jeans and eagerly crawled onto the bed and over her. "I might have to punish you."

"Is that a promise?" she teased him; she reached up with her good arm and hooked around his neck. Pulling him only two inches away from her lips, she whispered, "Dean."

"Hmm?"

His green eyes were on her swollen lips, where his own had been only a moment before. She could feel his erection against her stomach and she hardly felt his bare chest against her.

She arched her back, pressing her breasts against him. "Fuck me, Dean."

Dean buried his face in the crook of her neck and groaned, pressing an open mouth kiss against her sensitive flesh. She could feel his rough hands trailing from her ribs to her thighs, spreading them so he could fit between them. "With pleasure, shortcake."

Julia rolled her neck under the warm spray of the shower, trying to relax her muscles. Last night had been another night of rough sex and while she enjoyed it just as much as all the sex she had with Dean, so many nights in a row were killing her body in the mornings before she could get it warmed up with yoga or a run.

This morning was one of those days; she had woken up at five o'clock and met with Sam so the two of them could take a run while the sun came up. Sam would talk about John, airing all the grief and regret he had about his dad and Julia would listen and comforted him when he needed it, just like a best friend should do.

It had been a week since John Winchester died and they'd been at Bobby's ever since so Dean could work on his car. Beth, Taylor, and Lizzie had stayed for a couple of days, too. They picked them—and John's body—up at the hospital and drove straight to Bobby's house, staying at one of the motels in town while Julia, Dean, and Sam stayed with Bobby. Sam was a wreck, though having Lizzie there for a couple of days distracted him from his grief, and Dean was worse.

It wasn't that he was having crying meltdowns—come on, it's Dean—but instead, he had stayed stone quiet at any mention of his dad. He didn't talk about John and he would walk away if anyone mentioned him—especially Sam.

Not that it matters, but that's what would lead to the rough sex Julia and Dean had been having. He took all of his frustrations out on her—being careful not to hurt her, of course—and Julia would let him. John had just died and if sex is what would make Dean feel better, she was all for it. Of course, she wished he would just open up but Dean wasn't that kind of guy. She stood by his side, though, doing whatever she could to help him process his grief.

When Julia and Sam were done with their jog at six, Dean was already up working in the junkyard. He had been getting up earlier than usual to fix up the Impala. It had been absolutely wrecked in the accident—and according to Bobby wasn't worth the time to fix it—but Dean was determined to fix Baby back up. Both of them muttered a good morning to Dean, but he just grumbled back, sliding under the car to fix whatever damage had happened there.

From there, Julia and Sam separated. Sam went up to the guest shower to wash off and after he was down, Julia would get a turn. While Sam was taking his time in the shower, she would make breakfast just as Bobby would wake up. It had been their schedule since they arrived a week earlier.

Hearing her stomach growl, Julia rinsed out of the rest of conditioner in her hair and turned off the water. She stepped out of the shower and dried off, inhaling deeply to get a whiff of bacon once again. She quickly dressed in some leggings and a long tank-top before heading downstairs.

Dean was still outside but Bobby and Sam were seated at the kitchen table, eating their breakfast with vigor.

"How's the breakfast?" she announced her presence as she walked into the kitchen, heading straight toward the cheddar and bacon quiche with a biscuit crust she had made.

"This is great, sweetheart," Bobby smiled at her as she served herself a piece and sat in her usual seat between Dean's chair—it was empty at the moment—and Bobby's chair. "Thank you."

Julia waved him off with a sheepish smile.

"Yeah, thanks, J, it's good," Sam added.

"Thank you," she took a bite of her quiche and sighed, enjoying the flavor. "Did Dean eat?"

Bobby nodded. "He shoved a slice down his throat and went back outside. He told us to tell you thank you."

"Did he say anything else?" she prodded. "Maybe about John or how he's feeling?"

"No," Sam answered her this time. "But I found an old voicemail on Dad's phone and I think it's something we could check out. I'm gonna go talk to him after I finish eating."

Julia nodded. "Okay. What did the voicemail say?"

"It was a voicemail from Ellen," Bobby told her, giving her a pointed look.

"Ellen Harvelle? As in Jo Harvelle?"

Bobby nodded.

"So you know her, too?" Sam turned to Julia with curious eyes; Julia nodded. "How?"

"I've never met them personally but Abby talks about them all the time," she explained. "Abby hooks up with Ellen's daughter, Jo, from time to time, so—"

"Abby hooks up with the daughter?" Sam asked, eyebrows raised. "I didn't know she was bisexual."

Julia shrugged, knowing that some people may judge her sister for her sexuality but she wasn't one of them. People could love the people that they loved; she wasn't bothered by it and she proclaimed herself a proud ally for her sister. "She doesn't hide it."

"Oh," Sam hummed before shrugging casually. "Anyway, do you know why Ellen would call my dad?"

"I have no idea," Julia's eyes flickered over to Bobby. "Don't they own that bar?"

"The Roadhouse, yeah," Bobby finished the rest of his food and stood up, taking the plate to the sink. "I'll get you the address."

"Thanks, Bobby," Sam gave the older man a grateful look as he left the room; he then turned back to Julia. "I'm going to talk to Dean. Want to come with?"

"No, it's okay," Julia insisted. She wanted the brothers to have a minute by themselves; usually they were together all the time and she knew that the Winchesters needed a break from her once in a while—the same went for her, too. "You go on."

Sam nodded and went outside to talk to Dean. Even from the kitchen, where she finished her meal and started the dishes, she could feel Sam and Dean's energies clashing together. Sam was sad for his father and annoyed with Dean while Dean was guilty and angry. Each boy had more than two emotions racing around in their auras but these were the two that she could feel the strongest.

Three hours later, they were on the road in one of Bobby's cars—a minivan that hardly drove past sixty miles per hour, which was a nightmare to Dean, and had no backseat so Julia had to sit on a sheet on the dirty floor.

-

For some reason, a five-hour trip turned into something much longer. They arrived at the Roadhouse a little before sunrise the next day and by the time they parked out in front of the run-down bar, Dean was severely annoyed with the van and so on edge that Julia and Sam felt like if they said one word, he'd blow up—it wasn't the best way to travel.

Dean turned off the van with a huff, got out of his seat and opened the sliding door so Julia could get out (the sliding door happened to not have a handle on the inside, which aggravated the crap out of her). "This is humiliating!" he slammed the sliding door shut once Julia was safely out of the way. "I feel like a fuckin' soccer mom!"

Julia exchanged a half-amused, half-annoyed look with Sam as she adjusted her Nike shorts. She didn't understand how Sam and Dean could wear multiple layers of clothing in the hot weather and not die of heat exhaustion.

Sam tried to placate his brother. "It's the only car Bobby had running."

Julia stuck next to Dean in the front of the building as Sam wandered to the side.

"Hello?" he called. "Anybody here?"

Dean rattled the doorknob and when it wouldn't budge, he turned to Julia. "Shortcake, do you have the—"

"Yup!" Julia exclaimed, digging her hand into her drawstring bag and pulling out one of their beloved lockpicks.

Dean gave her a grateful smile and a promising wink as he took them from her. Julia could practically feel the flush in her cheeks, though the hot air around her made her feel the same, temperature wise. Dean finished up picking the lock and handed the tools back to her as he cautiously opened the door.

Julia hadn't seen many bars at the side of the road but the Roadhouse met her expectation of what they would be like. It was an open room filled with dark, dusty wood—tables, chairs, the bar—a pool table, and a jukebox in the corner by the door. Somehow, it was still cute and homey.

Julia let the door close behind her and followed the Winchester brothers further into the large room, looking around at the bottles of alcohol on the shelves behind the bar, the numerous tables, and...yeah, there was a guy passed out on the pool table.

"Hey, buddy?" Sam tried to wake him up as they all drew nearer; the man simply snored, unaware of the three people watching him. "Yeah, I'm guessing that isn't Ellen."

Dean scoffed under his breath. "No kidding."

Julia wandered off and Sam joined her while Dean stuck near the pool table. She had just walked off the mini platform that the table was on when she felt the head of a gun prod the small of her back.

"Dean," she squeaked. "Please tell me that it's you behind me and not a rifle."

There was a second of silence and then there was the cock of a gun behind her. Okay, shit, it was a rifle.

"Okay, we're not breaking in—I mean, we did break it but it's for a good reason—"

"Don't move," a woman's voice came from behind her.

"Yeah, okay, I won't move," she agreed quickly.

From his place next to the pool table, a knife pressed against his throat and a warm body against his back, Dean shook his head. He'd have to give her some more training on hostage situations. She was talking too much—as usual—and playing right into the kidnapper's hands.

He looked over to Sam, who was being held by another woman—this one older than the blonde that held her gun against Julia's back—and then back to Julia. "Jules!"

When she looked over at him, he silently tried to tell her to do the move he showed her a couple weeks ago, but he didn't need to. A familiar voice spoke behind him. "Jules, is that you? Can somebody turn on the damn lights?"

Julia recognize that voice anywhere. "Abby," Julia sighed as Abby let go of Dean; he sent her a glare and quickly took the knife from her hand, earning himself an apologetic look. "Thank God."

"Wait, this is your sister?" the older woman behind Sam asked. "Then the boys must be Sam and Dean Winchester."

"Yes, I'm Julia, Abby's younger sister, and that's Sam and Dean," Julia said quickly. "So, can you please put down your guns?"

The girl behind Julia dropped her rifle and walked to the nearest light switch, bathing the room with light. Julia first looked over at her sister—who was standing beside Dean wearing only a camisole and boy shorts—then at the blonde—who was only a couple inches taller than herself and wearing pajamas like Abby—and then at the older woman—who was lowering her gun from behind Sam's back.

"Son of a bitch," the older woman mumbled, putting the gun back on safety and setting it down on the board. Her mood lifted as she chuckled, introducing herself to Julia, Sam, and Dean. "Hey, I'm Ellen and this is my daughter, Jo."

Julia smiled at her in greeting and then turned to Jo. Jo was one of Abby's closest friends. They hooked up a bit and she had heard her sister gush over her all the time. By the way Jo was giving her an apologetic look, she assumed she had a good heart—and she was super pretty, too.

"I'm Julia, Abby's younger sister," she introduced herself, pulling Jo into a hug that made her stiffen in shock. "Sorry, most of my family are huggers," she let go, not wanting to make the blonde uncomfortable. Then she gestured to her sister, "Except that one."

"It's nice to meet you," Jo smiled softly. "Abby talks about you all the time."

"Yeah, I've heard a lot about you, too," Julia laughed and then turned to her sister, who was apologizing to Dean about something; then she saw the nick on Dean's throat. "Excuse me for a second," she told Jo before walking over to her boyfriend and sister. "Abby, what the hell?"

Abby put her hands in the air, defensive. "I didn't know who he was!"

"You've known Dean since you were born," Julia pointed out. "How do you not recognize him?"

"It was dark?" Abby's statement came out as a question. "Look, it was an accident."

Julia rolled her eyes at her sister—she was so much like Dean; shoot first ask questions later—and grabbed Dean's hand, squeezing it tightly. He returned her action as she dragged him over to where Sam and Ellen were talking. "Hi, ma'am, I'm Julia. It's great to meet you."

"You, too, sweetheart," Ellen smiled down at her.

"Do you happen to have a first aid kit?" Julia wondered, gesturing to Dean, who was holding his hand against the small cut on his throat just above his collar bone.

"Of course."

Within minutes, Dean and Sam introduced themselves to Ellen and Jo, they had sat down at the bar, and Julia was cleaning up Dean's cut and sticking a bandage over it.

"So," Dean turned to Ellen for answers about the voicemail she left John. "You called our dad, said you could help. Help with what?"

"Well, the demon, of course," Ellen shrugged casually. "I heard he was closing in on it."

"What, was there an article in the Demon Hunters Quarterly that I missed?" Dean asked, scoffing in annoyance; he didn't like to have his business out there so everyone could know. "I mean, who are you? How do you know about all this?"

Julia spared at look at Abby, who smiled mischievously at her. Abby had always loved when Dean lost his temper for whatever reason. It just always brought a smile to her face; Dean absolutely hated when she did it and would just get angrier, which led to more amusement on her part. It was an endless routine that always had Julia annoyed. But, at that moment, Julia took Abby's smile to mean that she was the one who told Ellen what John and Luke were up to.

Julia shook her head at her.

"Hey, I just run a saloon," Ellen held up her hands, showing she meant no harm. "But hunters have been known to pass through now and again. Including your dad a long time ago. John was like family once."

"Oh, yeah?" Dean snarked back at her. "How come he never mentioned you before?"

Julia elbowed his bicep, whispering sharply, "Dean!"

He didn't really relax like he usually did; he kept his sharp eyes on Ellen, watching as she shifted uncomfortably.

"You'd have to ask him that."

Dean fell quiet for a second, looking back at Julia with sad eyes. Julia softened the annoyed look on her face and gave him a sympathetic look; he was lashing out because his dad was gone and suddenly there was a lady out of nowhere that knew his dad without him knowing it.

Dean's lips quirked at her before he turned back to Ellen. "So, why exactly do we need your help?"

"Hey, don't do me any favors," Ellen sassed back. "Look, if you don't want my help, fine. Don't let the door smack your ass on the way out. But John wouldn't have sent you if..." she trailed off in realization. "He didn't send you. He's all right, isn't he?"

It was quiet for a second before Sam spoke, "No, no he isn't," he told her while Julia took Dean's hand. "It was the demon, we think. It, um, it just got him before he got it, I guess."

Ellen frowned sadly. "I'm so sorry."

"It's okay," Dean told her gruffly as Julia rubbed the back of his hand with her thumb. "We're all right."

"Really, I know how close you and your dad were," Ellen said somberly.

"Really, lady, I'm fine," Dean bristled, his voice hardening.

Ellen didn't seem to mind his attitude for the moment but that didn't mean that Julia or Sam wanted Dean to continue to make things hostile.

"So, look," Sam changed the topic of conversation. "if you can help, we could use all the help we can get."

"Well, we can't," Ellen glanced at Jo before looking back at Julia, Sam, and Dean. "but Ash will."

Julia furrowed her eyebrows. "Ash?"

Ellen nodded and raised her voice. "Ash!"

The man who was still passed out on the pool table jerked awake, shaking his head—his blonde mullet swishing with every move—before turning around to look at Ellen. "What?" he grunted loudly. "Closing time?"

Julia looked back at Jo, Ellen, and Abby. "That's Ash?"

"Mmhm," Jo nodded while Abby smirked. "he's a genius."

-

Sam dropped the thick file—the one full of information that John and Luke had gathered on the yellow-eyed demon within the past year—on the bar in front of Ash. Julia watched Ash as she sat in between Abby and Sam at the bar, examining his energy—it was full of light with a happy-go-lucky attitude. Meanwhile, Dean stood on the other side of Sam, his arms crossed over his chest as he stared down at Ash.

"You've gotta be kidding me," Dean scowled. "This is guy's no genius. He's a Lynyrd Skynyrd roadie."

Ash chuckled at Dean. "I like you."

"Thanks."

Julia rolled her eyes at Dean's flat tone while Jo moved from her place at the side of the bar, where she was filling up glasses of water, and brought them over to Sam and Julia.

"Just give him a chance," she advised Dean.

Dean hesitated and Julia caught him looking at her. She pointedly moved her eyes toward Ash and cocked her head only a little but Dean got the gist; he sighed and sat down next to Sam, facing Ash.

"All right," he pushed the file over to Ash. "This stuff is about a year's worth of our dad and Luke Alexander's work. So, uh, let's see what you make of it."

Ash didn't respond to Dean's challenging smirk. Instead, he opened up the file and quickly started sorting through the papers. "Come on," he shook his head. "This shit ain't real. There ain't nobody who can track a demon like this."

"They could," Abby assured Ash while Sam and Dean exchanged a proud look. Ash cocked his head thoughtfully. "My dad is an expert in demons. Runs in the family."

"These are nonparametrics, statistical overviews, cross-spectrum correlations. I mean...damn," Ash said in appreciation. "They're signs. Omens. Uh, if you can track 'em, you can track this demon."

"Like crop failures and electrical storms?" Julia hummed curiously.

Ash looked over at her and winked. "You ever been struck by lightning?" he asked her, a twinkled in his eyes. "It ain't fun."

Seeing the way his brother stiffened, Sam got Ash back on track. "Can you track it or not?"

Ash nodded. "Yeah, with this, I think so but it's gonna take time. Uh, give me..." he paused to think, one of his eyes closing. "uh, fifty-one hours."

Julia smiled appreciatively. "Thanks, Ash."

"No problem, sweetheart," Ash stood from his stool and started heading to the back, where Abby told her the bedrooms were located.

"Hey, man," Dean called after him, voice tense, causing Ash to turn around to face him. Dean faltered, seeing that the man had no true intensions with Julia, "I, uh, dig the haircut."

"All business up front," Ash pointed to the short hair toward the front of his head before flicking the longer hair from his shoulders. "party in the back."

Julia giggled when the door closed behind him. "I like him."

"Ash is, like, a ditzy lab with amazing tech skills," Abby nodded in agreement.

Julia hummed and hopped off her stool. "I'm gonna check out the jukebox."

Abby waved her off and she wandered away from the bar and to the jukebox in the front. She flipped through the tiles, smiling and gasping excitedly when there were a couple of eighties love songs she liked, as a warm hand slid around her waist.

"Find anything good?" Dean asked as he looked down at the jukebox screen.

"A couple," Julia looked up at him with a sweet smile that he returned. "All Out of Love, Faithfully, Can't Fight This Feeling..."

Dean's smile slipped, turning into a small grimace when she listed some of the titles. He was fully aware that Julia liked the cheesy love songs from the previous couple of decades. They were all on her iPod and she played them once in a while when Dean allowed her to pick the music—he didn't like them but he sure did love the way her face light up when she listened to them. Her favorite of the songs was, of course, Hungry Eyes. The girl watched Dirty Dancing every week without fail.

But it was kind of funny to him that she liked Hungry Eyes the most. It described the two of them and their relationship pretty closely. Whenever he looked at Julia, he got hungry eyes—whether it was sexual, loving, or emotional, it didn't matter. He always wanted Julia in every way.

"No Hungry Eyes?" he clicked his tongue, faking his disappointment.

"Nope," she didn't catch onto his acting. "Don't worry, though, I can just sing it. I've been meaning to tell you! I've got this feeling that won't subside—oof!"

Dean had put his hand to her mouth, cutting off any more lyrics that trembled in her not-so-amazing singing voice. He laughed when she giggled and pulled his hand off, kissing his palm before dropping it.

"Oh, so you're ashamed of my singing, huh?"

"Not just your singing, shortcake. I'm not so hot at it, either," Dean reminded her; it was true and if she really got going, he wouldn't be able to resist joining in with her.

He hated to admit it but the song was kind of catchy.

Back at the bar, Sam and Abby—who moved over to Julia's seat—spoke quietly, were catching up. She had just been telling him about the picture Beth emailed her from the Fourth of July, when his gaze fell to the police radio behind the bar, a thin folder beside it. He quickly apologized to Abby for changing the subject and then caught Ellen's attention.

"Hey, Ellen, what is that?"

Ellen followed his gaze. "It's a police thing," she told him, continuing to fill up the containers of salt for the tables. "We keep tabs on things—"

"No, no," Sam interrupted politely, pointing to the file. "The folder."

Ellen hesitated for a second then walked over folder. "Uh, I was gonna give this to Abby..."

"He can take a look at it," Abby smirked, knowing that Sam was terrified of clowns. She took the folder from Ellen and slid it over to Sam. "Let me know what you make of it."

"Thanks," Sam opened the folder as Abby slipped away from the bar to where Jo was wiping off a table.

Sam went through the contents of the file, quickly skimming over each paper he picked up. When he finished, he called out for Dean and Julia, who were still by the jukebox, heads close together as they laughed. "Dean, J, come check this out!"

At the sound of her name, Julia pulled away from Dean and looked over at Sam, who was waving at them from the bar. She ignored Dean's sigh with a light smirk and linked their hands, pulling him over to see what Sam was looking at.

"Yeah?" Dean grumbled.

"A few murders, not far from here, that Ellen caught wind of," Sam informed them, showing them the research. "Looks to me like there might be a hunt."

"Yeah," Dean raised an eyebrow. "So?"

"So, I told her we'd check it out—"

"And you're not going without me," Abby interjected, bounding toward her little sister and the Winchester brothers. "Let me pack my stuff and we can go."

Dean grimaced. "Yeah, let's not—" he grunted when Julia poked him in the ribs, glaring up at him; Abby sent him the same look. "We'll wait outside."

"Good. We'll take my car."

-

"A clown?" Julia clicked her tongue, taking the file that Sam handed back to her and opening it up. "A killer clown?"

"I'm pretty sure that's what I said, Jujube," Abby rolled her eyes from the driver's seat of her Ford Explorer before focusing back on the road. "He left the daughter unharmed and killed the parents. Ripped them to shreds."

"And this family was at some carnival that night?" Dean asked.

Julia's eyes flickered to the top of the printed article she was reading. "Cooper Carnivals."

"So, Gail, how do you know we're not dealing with some psycho carnie in a clown suit?"

Abby glared at him through the rearview mirror. "Don't call me that, Deanna."

"Hey, now!"

Julia rolled her eyes and though she couldn't see Sam, she knew he was, too. Abby and Dean were never best friends growing up like she and Sam were. They acted like siblings who couldn't stand one another. It came from love, sure, but it could be a little annoying sometimes.

"The cops have no viable leads, Dean," Sam sighed before they could really get going. "and all the employees were tearing down shop."

"Alibis for each of them."

Sam agreed with Julia while Abby added, "Plus, this girl said she saw a clown vanish into thin air. Cops are saying trauma, of course."

Dean hummed. "Well, I know what you're thinking, Sam," he chuckled. "Why did it have to be clowns?"

"That's right!" Abby exclaimed, joining Dean in laughter. "Oh, my God, do you remember that time we went to Mickey D's and Ronald McDonald came out to visit the kid's play place and Sam peed his pants?"

Seeing the severely annoyed look on Sam's face, Julia had the sense to hold in her laughter. Her stomach hurt and her eyes stung but she did it. Dean, however, was howling with gut-bursting laughter. It was nice to see that bright smile on his face.

"After that, he'd burst out crying every time he saw a McDonald's commercial!"

"Oh, come on!" Sam protested weakly; when Julia couldn't help but join in, he shot back, "At least I'm not afraid of flying, or spiders," he pointed at Julia and then Abby. "or horses."

"Planes crash!"

"Spiders are poisonous!"

"Wait, wait," Dean caught up, shaking his head. He leaned forward and dipped to the side so he could see Abby's face from his spot next to Julia. "You're afraid of horses?"

Julia snickered while Abby scoffed. "We were talking about Sam's ridiculous clown phobia, remember?"

Julia shook her head and patted Sam's arm soothingly. "Don't worry, S, your phobia is valid. Apparently clowns do kill."

"Thank you, J," he gave Dean a pointed glare which had his brother chuckling again.

"All right," Dean calmed down. "So, these types of murders, have they ever happened before?"

"It's in the file," Abby told him, turning on the windshield wipers as they drove into some light rain. "Take it away, Julia."

"Yeah, the file says it happened in 1981," Julia hummed. "at the Bunker Brothers Circus. Same M.O. Three different times, three different places."

Dean furrowed his eyebrows. "That's weird, though. I mean, if it is a spirit, it's usually bound to a specific locale, you know? A house or a town."

"So, how's this one moving from city to city, carnival to carnival?" Sam wondered.

"Maybe it's a cursed object," Abby chewed on her lip. "A spirit attached itself to something and the carnival carries it around with them."

"Great. It's a paranormal scavenger hunt."

"This case was your idea," Dean reminded his brother. "By the way, why is that? You were awfully quick to jump on this job."

Julia wrinkled her nose uncomfortably and faced her foggy window. She was all for the brothers sharing how they felt with each other but lately, Dean had been too irritable. He didn't like those kinds of chick-flick moments, anyway, but after his dad died, he'd been avoiding them more than ever. Especially because Sam kept pushing him about dealing with his grief.

Abby kept quiet as well, not wanting to intrude on the brothers' business.

Sam shrugged. "So?"

"It's just not like you, that's all. I thought you were hell-bent for leather on the demon hunt."

"I don't know, I just think this job...it's what Dad would have wanted us to do."

"What Dad would have wanted?" Dean scoffed, looking at Sam in disbelief.

Oh, God, please don't let this turn into another fight, Julia pleaded mentally.

"Yeah, so?" Sam looked back at him, daring him to say something."

Dean shook his head and turned away from his brother. "Nothing."

-

Julia rubbed her nails over Dean's scalp, making sure that the shampoo she had applied for him was getting his hair nice and clean. They struggled in the small shower-bathtub combo and Dean had to get on his knees in order for her to even reach his hair in the first place, but they made it work.

"It's what Dad would have wanted," Dean repeated Sam's words with a scowl, holding onto her hips for balance. "He didn't give a fuck what Dad wanted a week ago."

Julia hummed to show that she was listening as she went toward the front of his head, rubbing the soap into his sideburns.

"He didn't even want to hunt," he went on. "He got out and he said he wanted to get out again! What, Dad dies and now he's wanting to carry on the family business all of a sudden?"

"I don't think that's it, babe. Here, lean your head back," she gestured toward the water; Dean did as he was told and rinsed his hair. "Sam's grieving just like you are. If hunting is what helps him deal with the fact that your dad's gone, then let him."

"I know," Dean grumbled, getting to his feet and switching places with Julia. "No, no, you need to stand—yeah, that's fine—I get it but it just bugs me."

Julia frowned sympathetically and rinsed the conditioner out of her hair. "I'm sorry that you're going through this, Bean."

The corner of Dean's lips quirked only a little. "It's not your fault, shortcake," he murmured, bowing his head to press a soft kiss on her bare shoulder. It wasn't sexual in nature, just loving. "You're helping me."

Her heart melting, Julia grinned when she saw that he had some excess soap on his nose. She stood on her tiptoes to wipe it off. "You're adorable."

"I'm not adorable," he pouted, making her giggle.

"I beg to differ, hotshot."

After Julia and Dean were dried off and dressed, they met up with Sam and Abby in the room next door before heading over to the local fairgrounds, where Cooper Carnivals was located for the week. Detectives were already on the scene when they arrived, forcing them to rethink their plan of faking police.

Dean went to talk to the detectives, so Julia, Sam, and Abby waited by the Tilt-a-Whirl that was being set up. A short woman dressed as a clown had walked by and she and Sam had the most awkward—and hilarious—showdown with their eyes . It lasted what felt like a whole two minutes, with Julia and Abby snickering at Sam, before the woman smirked at him and walked away.

Dean, who was walking back to them, had seen the whole thing. "Did you get her number?"

Sam scowled at him while Julia wheezed, her chest aching from lack of breath. Abby slapped her arm to get her to stop, a cheesy grin on her face, and addressed Dean, "Were there more murders?"

"Two more last night," Dean confirmed. "Apparently they were ripped to shreds and they had a little boy with them."

"Who fingered a clown," Sam assumed.

Julia quirked an eyebrow and shared a look with Dean and Abby.

"What?"

"Nothing," Dean told his brother. "anyway, the clown apparently vanished into thin air."

Abby hummed thoughtfully, biting her lip. "Looking for a cursed object is like trying to find a needle in a stack of needles. They could be anything."

"It's bound to give off EMF," Dean said distractedly, looking around nearest carnival trailers. "We'll just have to scan everything."

"That's nice and inconspicuous."

Dean didn't respond to Sam's sarcasm with any of his own. "I guess we'll just have to blend in."

-

"You boys picked a hell of a time to join up," Mr. Cooper, the owner and boss of Cooper's Carnival, led Sam and Dean into his trailer. It was a tiny little thing with half of it being living space and the other half office space. Mr. Cooper gestured to his desk, where two chairs were waiting on the other side. "Take a seat."

A grin started to stretch across Dean's face as he took in the chairs; one of them, the closest to the door, was decorated to look like a clown. He didn't bother looking at his brother and rushed to the normal chair, pushing Sam away as he attempted to avoid the clown chair.

Dean smirked at Sam as Mr. Cooper finished, "We've got all kinds of local trouble."

"What do you mean?" he turned his attention back to the older man.

"Oh, a couple of folks got themselves murdered. Cops always seem to start here first," Mr. Cooper said casually. "So, you two ever worked the circuit before?"

"Uh, yes, sir," Sam confirmed solemnly, disturbed by his chair. "Last year through Texas and Arkansas."

Dean gave Mr. Cooper a fake smile. "Yeah."

"Doing what?" Mr. Cooper asked skeptically. "Ride jockeys? Pull shoot? A-and-S men?"

Dean had absolutely no idea what any of those jobs were. He bet that Abby or Julia would know, though. The Petersen women were smart like that. Unfortunately, it wasn't very realistic for four people to apply for jobs together as a group so they had to stay on the sidelines at the moment—Abby wasn't very happy about that.

"Yeah," Sam cleared his throat uncomfortably. "it's, uh, little bit of everything, I guess."

Mr. Cooper cocked his head knowingly. "You two have never worked a show in your lives before, have you?"

"Nope," Dean didn't try to bullshit his way around this. "but we really need the work...oh, and, uh, Sam here's got a thing for the bearded lady."

He chuckled to himself but quieted down when Sam gave him a what-the-fuck-are-you-doing look.

"You see that picture?" Mr. Cooper pointed to a framed photo on the top of the filing cabinet next to his desk. "That's my daddy."

The guy in the photo looked exactly like Mr. Cooper. Too much like him, if you asked Dean.

Sam noticed the likeness, too. "You look just like him."

"He was in the business. Ran a freakshow until they outlawed them in most places," Mr. Cooper informed them. "Apparently displaying the deformed isn't dignified. So most of the performers went from honest work to rotting hospitals and asylums. That's progress, I guess."

Honestly, if Dean was born different like that, he wouldn't do either. Two negative choices on either end didn't sound like a good way of living. Choosing between being laughed at for money or rotting away in a hospital? No, thank you. He was good.

"You see, this place is a refuge for outcasts. Always has been for folks that don't fit in nowhere else. But you two?" Mr. Cooper leaned forward in his seat. "You should go to school. Find a couple of girls. Have two-point-five kids. Live regular."

Their lives weren't normal and they would never be. Julia and Sam? They were the lucky spectrum of hunters who had a taste of a normal life. Most of them lived and breathed hunting and that included Dean. He didn't know how to do anything else.

He had a girl and Julia was one of the two most important people in his life. He was lucky to have her because most hunters aren't able to find a significant other who even understood the life, let alone someone who lived it. And kids? He still thought about the dream he had of Peter and Jonah but it was just that—a dream.

Even if he wanted that apple-pie life, it wouldn't happen. It wasn't in the cards for him.

He went to tell Mr. Cooper that but Sam beat him to it. "Sir, we don't want to go to school and we don't want regular. We want this."

Dean looked at Sam in complete shock. Sam had told him before their run-in with Yellow-Eyes and the death of their father that he intended to go back to Stanford when everything was over. Sam didn't want to hunt for the rest of his life, he made that clear. Now, all of a sudden, he didn't want to go back?

Dean stared at the gravel under his feet as he and Sam walked away from Mr. Cooper's trailer, contracts of employment in their pockets. "Huh."

"What?"

"That whole, uh, I-don't-want-to-go-back-to-school thing," Dean gestured to the trailer behind them. "Were you just saying that to Cooper or were you, you know, saying it?"

Sam hesitated.

"Sam."

"I don't know," Sam looked away from him, looking around at the rides that were now up and running for the day.

"You don't know?" Dean scoffed. "I thought that once the demon was dead and the fat lady sings that you were gonna take off, head back to Wussy State."

Sam stopped walking only a few feet from the parking lot where Julia and Abby were waiting for them in the Explorer. "I'm having second thoughts."

"Really?"

"Yeah," Sam nodded. "I think Dad would have wanted me to stick with the job."

That made Dean pause. Sam had spent most of his life fighting with their dad and had taken off for almost four years, without any contact, and now he wanted to join the family business for good. Just because their dad died. It infuriated Dean that Sam was only now wanted to do what John had wanted him to do. It was too little, too late.

"Since when do you give a fuck what Dad wanted?" his voice hardened as he questioned his brother. "You spent half your life doing exactly what he didn't want, Sam."

"Since he died, okay?" Sam admitted. When Dean nodded knowingly; he must have had an irritated look on his face because Sam bristled. "Do you have a problem with that?"

"Nah," Dean lied. "I don't have a problem at all."

He continued walking without another word, heading straight to Abby's vehicle. Julia rolled down the passenger window as he approached and he leaned his arms on it as he greeted them.

"Did you get the job?" she asked him with happy eyes.

He wished that he could maintain a quarter of the happiness that Julia always had within her. Maybe he wouldn't be a dick most of the time. Maybe he'd handle his dad's death better. Maybe he'd be actually able to talk about how he felt instead of keeping it bundled inside of him until he blew up. He wasn't that person, though, and that was okay. Julia was his person and she could be happy enough for the both of them.

"With benefits," he forced a smirk onto his face. "We start at noon."

"Nice," Julia smiled and leaned toward him. "Hey, did you happen to see if they had funnel cakes?"

"What's a carnival without funnel cake, Junior?"

-

-

It was hard to walk around the crowded carnival with full hands and eat funnel cake at the same time but somehow, Julia managed. With a yellow balloon tied around her wrist, a blow-up baseball bat and a small stuffed lion in the crook of her arm, and her cell phone pinned between her ear and shoulder, she was able to stuff the sugary deliciousness into her mouth while keeping an eye out for any suspicious clown activity and keeping in contact with Abby.

Half of Sam and Dean's shift had already gone by and none of them found anything. Sam and Dean had the EMF readers out and going while they picked up trash from the carnival goers but, according to Dean, they had canvased half the fairground and there was zip to show for it.

There was only so much to do at a carnival and Julia had done it all. She rode all the rides, going for the Tilt-a-Whirl and spinning strawberries five or six times, played a bunch of games while only winning twice, and had eaten at three different booths. Don't get her wrong, carnivals were exciting and she loved them as much as the next person but she was by herself after she and Abby split up in the second hour and now, she was growing bored.

"I'm passing the frozen lemonade stand now," Julia informed her sister, who was looking to meet up with her, as she passed the crowded booth.

"The one next to the deep-fried twinkies, the chili dogs, or the turkey legs?"

"Turkey legs—wait, there's deep-fried twinkies?" she wanted one of those. "Where?"

"By the Ferris wheel," Abby told her. "I don't think you need one of those, Jules."

"Sure I do," Julia didn't understand why she didn't need one. She liked snack cakes and if it was deep-fried? All the better. "I'm headed toward the Ferris wheel."

Before she could even turn back the way she came from, a calloused hand grabbed her elbow. She jumped and whirled around, about to drop her prizes and funnel cake to beat the person's ass, but faltered when she saw that it was Dean. He looked so cute dressed in his red carnival jacket.

"Oh, Dean's here," she said to Abby. "I'll call you back."

"Ugh, fine."

Dean grabbed the phone from in between her shoulder and head with a small smile, ending the call for her. "You look like you've been busy," he shoved the phone in his jeans so he could take a piece of her funnel cake. "Having fun?"

"I'm getting bored," she confessed. "Oh, I got you something."

Dean smirked teasingly at her. "Look at that, my girl won me a prize," Julia laughed and handed him the little stuffed lion. "Oh..."

Julia wrinkled her nose as she studied the almost blank look on Dean's face as he held the stuffed lion. "You can put it on your dashboard or, uh..." she hesitated. "or I can take it back if you don't want it."

"Of course I want it," Dean grinned at her and stuffed the lion into his jacket pocket. "I love it."

"You do?"

"Yes," Dean was careful not to jostle her enough so that she could drop her funnel cake or inflatable bat while he pressed his lips to hers quickly. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Julia gave him another kiss before he could pull away fully. "So, have you found anything yet?"

"I haven't but Sam has," Dean told her. "Apparently there's a human skeleton in the fun house."

Julia raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Any EMF?"

"No, but I was on my way to check when I ran into you," Dean gestured behind him with his thumb before grabbing another piece of her funnel cake. "Wanna head there?"

"Sure," Julia agreed.

Before they could even start walking in the direction of the fun house, they were stopped by Papazian, the blind knife-thrower that had teared into Dean while he was asking for directions for Mr. Cooper's trailer earlier that morning.

"What are you doing here, kid?"

Dean and Julia shared an alarmed look.

"I'm...I was just, uh, sweeping and taking my break," Dean struggled to answer him.

"Bull," Papazian wasn't having Dean's nonsense. "And what were you two talking about? Skeletons? What's EMF?"

Julia furrowed her eyebrows while Dean looked at him in surprise, "Dude, your blind man hearing is out of control."

"Hey, we're a tight-knit group, we don't like outsiders," Papazian proclaimed. "And we take care of our own problems."

Julia stiffened when she felt the man's aura pulse angrily and darken drastically. Something was off about him.

Dean sized him up, finding an issue of what Papazian did say, rather than what he didn't. "We got a problem?"

Another flare of anger.

"You tell me, you're the one talking about human bones."

Dean hesitated for a moment, and then asked, "Do you believe in ghosts?"

"What?"

"My brother, me, and our girlfriends—" Abby would get a kick out of that, Julia was sure. "—we're writing a book about them."

Papazian seemed to except that and went on his way. Julia stared after him, not liking his aura or the vibes he was giving off. He certainly didn't feel like a normal human being; he was dark and had a severe hunger.

Without noticing, she and Dean ended up at the funhouse, where Sam and Abby were waiting for them.

"What took you so long?" Sam asked Dean.

Dean grimaced. "Long story."

"Mommy, look at the clown!" a chirpy voice that could only belong to a little girl came from only a few feet away from them.

They all turned their attention to her, watching as the mom questioned where the clown was and when the little girl pointed to nothing, she hurried her daughter toward the parking lot. Once they were gone, Julia, Dean, Abby, and Sam exchanged knowing looks.

-

Julia finished typing her email to Beth, giving her a brief summary of how the boys were dealing with John's death and making sure to include video of her and Abby that told her, Taylor, Lizzie, and Maggie that they missed them. Once the email was sent, she started looking up supernatural creatures that dressed up as clowns.

She didn't think this was a spirit for two reasons. One, Sam and Dean had found no EMF, even on the skeleton from the fun house. And, two, something about Papazian gave her a bad feeling. Like worse than a common spirit usually did.

She shared her thoughts with Abby, who had stayed behind with her when Sam and Dean went to watch the little girl's house—in a totally not creepy way—and was currently cleaning her weapons on her and Sam's bed.

"All right, tell me again—"

"I told you, Abby," Julia rolled her eyes and looked away from her laptop. "I had a bad feeling about Papazian."

"So, what, you're Luke Skywalker now?" her older sister joked; Julia gave her an unamused look. "Okay, sorry. So, if you think that Papazian is behind this people-eating clown, what do you suppose it is?"

Julia grimaced. "Honestly, I was hoping you would know."

Abby shook her head with a laugh and climbed off her bed to settle next to Julia on hers. "Let me show you something."

Abby grabbed the computer from her pajama-clad lap and onto hers. She went to PSC's website and went to the employee section. That led them to another site where she maneuvered her way to a page where one of the links under IT tech brought them to a private website that they had to use a username and passcode to get in. It was that website that amazed Julia.

Similarly set up to PSC's website, this one had hunting items for sale like silver bullets and particular knives that a hunter might need and so on. There was a forum where hunters could post information that they've come across on hunts or if they needed a partner for a hunt, they could search there. And there was an online encyclopedia that was Julia's favorite, where each letter in the alphabet had sections that would list creatures under that letter and could lead you to more information.

She had no idea that the website had ever existed.

"How do I get in?" Julia asked. "Like, how do I get my own username and password?"

"I'll give Frank a call and have him add you, Dean, and Sam," Abby said casually. "He's the IT guy where you get the link."

"He works for us?" the picture of Frank made him seem like a very grumpy man who didn't play well with others.

"Kind of. He runs this site and he makes sure it's secure but he's pretty much a recluse," she hummed. "I think he knew Nana Rachel and Papa Isaac."

"Huh," Julia's maternal grandmother, Rachel, had died before she was born but her Papa Isaac was a great man. He was gone now, having died only a few years before her mother went.

Abby laughed lightly, rolling her eyes at her younger sister. "All right," she moved off of Julia's bed and went back to hers, starting up her own laptop. "Let's start narrowing down possibilities."

-

-

The sun had finally risen after two hours of hiding in a stolen car in the middle of nowhere, covered by a thicket of bushes so the police wouldn't be able to spot them. Their whole night blew; the mysterious apocalyptic clown had turned out not to be a spirit and it had definitely gotten away when the little girl screamed at their attack, alerting her parents to the fact that two strange men and a murderous clown were in their house.

They had run out quickly after that and had found a spot just out of town to stay hidden until dawn. Luckily, Dean wasn't left alone with Sam—well, he was but they were also on the phone with Julia and Abby in order to find out what this clown really was. All they knew so far was that the creature was corporeal, wasn't affected by salt, and could make itself invisible. So, thankfully, there was no talking of any kind about the death of John Winchester.

Unfortunately, now that Sam and Dean were beginning their trek heading back to the outskirts of town so that Julia and Abby could pick them up, they had plenty of time to talk. Unluckily enough for Dean, Sam did just that.

"Hey, uh, you think that Dad and Ellen ever had a thing?"

Dean was in no mood to talk about his dad—even if it wasn't about the subject of his death. It was hot out, the sun was searing the back of his neck, he was tired, and he was definitely hungry. The last thing he wanted to do was theorize about his father's flings.

"Nah."

"Then why didn't he tell us about her?"

Dean shrugged. "I don't know, maybe they had some sort of falling out."

That was something that John was actually consistent about; he always fell out with other hunters—Bobby wasn't the only one and if John was still alive, he certainly wouldn't be the last.

"Yeah," Sam sighed. "You ever notice how Dad had a falling out with just about everybody?"

Dean nodded his head noncommittedly. There wasn't a need to answer. They both knew it was the truth and there wasn't a reason to hash out the fact that their father was a stubborn asshole who always thought that he was right.

Just thinking of John that way—even though he had those kinds of thoughts a lot while he was alive—made him nauseous. His dad was dead and here he was, thinking bad of him. This was why he didn't want to think about John. Because there was too much to think about. If he thought about how his dad treated him while he grew up, or how he didn't have a childhood because of him—or how he missed out on so much in life, the suspicion around his restored health just before his dad died, or about the last words John said to him—he would break down. And he couldn't. He wasn't that person.

He wouldn't be that person.

Sam noticed his melancholy mood. "Well, don't get all maudlin on me, man."

Dean shot him a look. "What do you mean?"

"I meant this strong-silent thing of yours. It's crap and I'm over it—"

"Oh, God," Dean expressed his irritation before Sam was finished speaking.

"This isn't just anyone we're talking about, this is Dad," Sam said, annoyed. "I know how you felt about the man."

"You know what, back off, all right?" Dean snapped at him. "Just because I'm not caring and sharing like you want me to—"

"No, no, no," Sam objected, cutting him off. "that's not what this about, Dean. I don't care how you deal with this but you have to deal with it, man. Listen, I'm your brother, all right? I just want to make sure you're okay."

Dean clenched his jaw. "Dude, I'm okay!" he raised his voice. "I'm okay, okay? I swear, the next person who asks me if I'm okay, I'm gonna start throwing punches. These are your issues, quit dumping them on me."

Sam stopped walking and turned to Dean with a bewildered look. "What are you talking about?"

"I just think it's really interesting, this sudden obedience you have to Dad," Dean shot straight, unable to hold back his opinion of Sam's change of heart. "It's like, oh, what would Dad want me to do? Sam, you spent your entire life slugging it out with that man. I mean, fuck, you picked a fight with him the last time you ever saw him."

Sam grimaced and yeah, Dean felt a little guilty about his heated words but if Sam wanted him to share his feelings, he was going to do it.

"And now that he's dead, now you want to make it right?" he continued. "Well, I'm sorry, Sam, but you can't. It's too little, too late."

Sam's hazel eyes sparkled with tears. "Why are you saying this to me?"

"Because I want you to be honest with yourself!" Dean exclaimed. "I'm dealing with Dad's death. Are you?"

Sam pressed his lips together and clenched his jaw, obviously fighting back the anger he felt at Dean. Dean wished that he wouldn't; maybe he wanted to get Sam mad, wanted him to fight back. Maybe physical pain would take his attention away from all that he was feeling.

"I'm going to call Abby," Sam finally said.

It was only when Sam had slumped away from him that Dean started to feel guilty. This was his little brother; he was supposed to protect him, not make him feel worse.

Twenty minutes later, he and Sam were sliding into the backseat of Abby's car, relaxing as cool air surrounded them. Without a word, Julia—who was taking the opportunity to sit shotgun—had handed them each a breakfast sandwich and some hash browns. Of course, it was McDonalds; Dean wasn't a fan of them but Julia loved their breakfast, especially the sausage, egg, and cheese bagel. He wasn't surprised to see that she had her bagel sandwich in her lap.

He smiled at her in thanks and immediately took a bite of his own sandwich.

"All right, so, I'm pretty sure this thing is a rakshasa," Abby spoke up as she started driving back to town.

"What's that?" Dean asked around a mouthful of food.

"It's a race of ancient Hindu creatures," she told him and Sam. "They appear in human form, they feed on human flesh, they can make themselves invisible, and they cannot enter a home without first being invited."

"So, they dress up like clowns and the children invite them in," Sam assumed.

Both Abby and Julia nodded in response.

"Why don't they just munch on the kids?"

"No idea," Abby sighed, answering Dean's question. "Maybe there's not enough meat on their bones."

"Abby," Julia gave her sister a disapproving look, her face paling a little.

Abby shrugged nonchalantly.

"So, what else did you find out?" Sam wondered.

"Apparently, rakshasas live in squalor," Julia answered this time, wiping her mouth with a napkin. "They sleep on a bed of dead insects. And they have to feed a few times every twenty or thirty years."

"That makes sense," Dean nodded. "I mean, the carnival today, the Bunker Brothers in '81."

Sam agreed, "Right, and probably more before that."

"All right," Dean clicked his tongue and looked toward the front of the car. "So, did the lore say how to kill this bastard?"

"A dagger made of pure brass," Abby smirked, tapping her fingers against her steering wheel, the red polish on her nails gleaming brightly in the sunlight. "Luckily, I have one in my collection."

"Good," Dean said decidedly. "Let's go gank the blind guy."

-

-

Julia didn't particularly like being in a bar full of other hunters. Something about it just made her stomach twist. Maybe it was because she hadn't worked with other hunters except Sam, Dean, Abby, John, and her father...or maybe it was because of the leering looks they gave Jo as she wandered around, giving them the pints of beer that they ordered. Honestly, she felt bad for the blonde; she had been on the receiving end of disgusting leers but never everyday all day. It had to be tiring.

Jo was a spitfire, though, and she could totally handle herself. That was what Julia liked the most about her, other than the fact that she was funny and easily kept up with Abby's banter. Abby wasn't the type to settle down with a boyfriend or girlfriend, but if she did, Jo had Julia's vote. The blonde was special and so was Ellen. They'd fit into the family great.

Ellen came over to her with a bottle of beer and a glass of soda in her hands just as the familiar weight of Dean's arm slid around her waist. He sat on the bar stool next to her and accepted the beer from Ellen with a grateful smile.

"You guys did one hell of a job," the older woman praised one half of their quartet.

Julia smiled at her and accepted her cola. "Thanks, Ellen."

Ellen backed off with a smile and went to dry some glasses. As soon as she was out of earshot, Dean turned to her with a mischievous grin on his face. "I think your sister is chatting up Sam."

"Oh?" Julia gave him an excited look, though it was more for his benefit. She didn't really know how to feel about Abby and Sam hooking up. It wasn't because she didn't think they wouldn't make a great pair but Abby was a player and she didn't want her sister to hurt Sam, who was more emotionally intense when it came to stuff like that.

Dean nodded excitedly. "And I don't think she's the only one."

Julia gave him a confused look and glanced over his shoulder; at the other side of the bar, Sam sat with Abby and Jo on either side of him, both wearing flirtatious smiles.

Oh.

Julia coughed uncomfortably and placed her attention back on Dean, who still had that shit-eating grin on his face. "It's very weird that you're so excited about Sam's possible hook-ups."

Dean shrugged. "It's good to see him get back on the horse—or horses—heh-heh."

"Please don't refer to Abby and Jo as horses, D."

"Sorry," Dean shrugged, his eyes locking on the door that led to the resident area of the bar. "Look, there's Ash."

Ash walked over to them and set his laptop on the bar next to them. "Jules, Dean," he nodded at them and waved Sam over; Sam excused himself from Abby and Jo. "Where have you guys been? I've been waiting for ya."

"We were working a job, Ash," Sam came to stand behind Julia. "Clowns."

Ash gave him a you-have-to-be-shitting-me look. "Clowns? What the fuck?"

"You got something for us, Ash?" Dean asked before he could go on a tangent.

Ash nodded and opened up his laptop, which was stripped down to wires, the hard drive, keypad, and screen. Julia guessed that he had built the computer himself because she was pretty sure you couldn't buy one of those. Jo did say he was a genius.

"Did you find the demon?" Sam asked.

"It's nowhere around," Ash answered gravely. "At least, nowhere I can find. But if this fugly bastard raises his head, I'll know. I mean, I'm on it like divine on dog dookie."

Julia quirked an eyebrow at him. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, any of those signs or omens appear, anywhere in the world, my rig will go off," Ash explained and turned the laptop, showing them the screen; there was some type of radar and database pulled up. "Like a fire alarm."

Dean's eyes lit up as he looked over the computer; he reached for it and Ash stiffened, cocking his head. "Do you mind...?"

Ash clicked his tongue and the hand that Dean had almost put on the mouse slowly retreated.

"What's up, man?" Ash lifted his chin in a swift nod.

Julia grinned at Dean's pout while Sam asked, "Ash, where did you learn to do all of this?"

"MIT, before I got bounced for fighting," Ash answered casually.

Sam quietly scoffed in disbelief. "MIT?"

Ash nodded. "It's a school in Boston."

"I like you, Ash," Julia laughed as she reached for a high five from the genius blonde. "You're the best."

Ash returned the high-five sluggishly, though the crooked grin on his face gave away his friendliness. "You too, sweetcheeks."

"Okay," Dean said all too quickly. "give us a call as soon as you know something?"

"Si, si, compadre," Ash confirmed, taking Dean's bottle from in front of him and gulping down the rest.

The three of them got ready to leave. As Julia paid their tab, Ellen spoke up, "If you guys need somewhere to stay, we've got a couple of rooms in the back."

Dean exchanged looks with Julia and Sam before answering, "Thanks, but no. There's something I gotta finish."

Hours later, as the sun set, Dean was crouched down in front of the back-right tire of his baby, tightening the bolts of the new tire until they were just right. When he heard the gravel shift to his right, he didn't bother looking up. He knew it was Sam just from the gait of his steps.

Great, he grumbled to himself, another pep talk.

He finished with the tire and only then did he look up; Sam was standing behind the newly restored trunk, kind of huddled in on himself.

"You were right."

Dean stood up straight and walked around Sam in order to set his wrench back in the toolbox. "About what?"

"About me and Dad," Sam elaborated. "I'm sorry that the last time I was with him I tried to pick a fight. I'm sorry that I spent most of my life angry at him. I mean, for all I know, he died thinking that I hate him."

Dean didn't respond; he had nothing to say.

"So, you're right. What I'm doing right now, it's too little, too late," Sam paused for a moment, his eyes filling with tears. "I miss him, man. And I feel guilty as hell. And I'm not all right. Not at all...But neither are you, that much I know...I'll let you get back to work."

Sam left and headed back into Bobby's house. Dean turned around, a mess of emotions brewing at the bottom of his stomach. It built and it built until it rested in his chest. There was anger and hurt and resentment, and oh-so much grief...And all of it was because of his dad.

His dad, who treated him like a little soldier. His dad, who taught him how to shoot a gun when he was way too young. His dad, who left his baby brother in his care when he was only five years old. His dad, who made him grow up much too soon. His dad, who made him feel safe even when there were beings that came out of his nightmares living in the world around him. His dad, who loved him and Sam so much. His dad, who was dead.

His dad was dead.

He hastily picked up the crowbar next to his toolbox and whipped around, slamming it into the driver's window of an old car behind him. Glass shattered onto his lower torso, legs, and feet but he didn't care. It wasn't enough, it wasn't enough to describe how he was feeling.

He smashed the crowbar into Baby's trunk; it bounced but didn't budge or break. He did it again and again, over and over, as his anger exploded from him like a bomb. At the moment, he didn't care that he was trashing his beloved car all over again; the Impala just reminded him too much of his dad.

His blood was pumping, he was sweating profusely, and tears had sparked in his eyes as he bashed Baby's trunk until there was a decently sized hole in the middle. Only then did he drop the crowbar, where it made it tinkling sound against the gravel. He turned in the direction of Bobby's house, as if Sam would be able to feel his angry glare from where he was standing, but he came face-to-face with Julia.

His beautiful Julia. Julia, who had been understanding throughout the week since John's death, letting him fuck his frustration out on her. Julia, who had been good about giving him space to deal with his grief. Julia, who was the sunshine in his dark and cloudy mind. Julia Ruth Petersen, who was too fucking good for him.

And there she stood, a small smile on her face that felt like home. There was love and understanding in her eyes as she waited for him to do something, anything, but it made his stomach turn. She was good and he wasn't. He would just bring her down.

He was poison; his dad dying had proved that.

So, even though Julia there, waiting to support him and love him, he walked away from her.

(Gif is not mine)

[manawhaat]

What's your best vacation memory? ❤️

Oof… there are a couple that stand out from my childhood but I have to go with the Vegas/Pioche trip I took with my dad and my middle sister in 2015.

This is FUCKING LONG so if you feel like reading about it for 6 hours then there’s more under the cut and I’ll throw in some photos at the bottom because this trip really did just make me so happy. 

I had joined a photography scavenger hunt group and participated in a couple of rounds (and got some rad photos!) when they decided to hold a meet up. It was held in Vegas and they had classes and photo shoots and group trips out to different places in the surrounding area. I decided to go and booked a hotel room fro the last day of the meet up, but then my mom died. The meet up was about 2 months after that so when I was trying to figure out if I should still go, etc, my sister and my dad said they’d go with me.

On the way there we drove through the desert because we always do and my sister and I played the Alphabet game. It was the most intense game she or I have ever played. We were on x by the time we got into the middle of no man’s land and I managed to get it on a random XTRA semi truck that was parked in the middle of a salt flat. She got it as soon as we got back onto the main road on a car licence plate that was ‘xmasgft’. We went back and forth getting one only for the other to get the same letter seconds later. It was crazy. I was on Z when she was on Y and at one point she started saying ‘oh shit oh fuck oh shit’ and I started to panic thinking we were about to get into a car accident or something… when she stopped panicking I asked her what her problem was and apparently we’d passed a billboard for Zoomanity and she was panicking that I was gonna win. Her panicking distracted me and I didn’t get the Z. She ended up getting her Y and immediately after I found another Z on a sign that said ‘construction zone’ and it was the best ‘fuck you’ and the most victorious win of, like, anything that I’d experienced up until that point. It was fantastic! 

When we got into town I never did make it to the meet ups lol. I saw one person I know from the group while walking out of the hotel, but that was about it. I didn’t really have it in me to branch out and go to the meet up functions by myself so I didn’t. Instead I hung out with my family. We went zip lining over Freemont street and walked around, we went to the Mob Museum (which was fascinating), we did the Mandalay Bay Aquarium, and went out to the Hoover Dam. I’d never been and it was really cool, it was a gorgeous day and it we took a bunch of cute pictures there.

We’d all made a pact that we were going to do the controlled free-fall that they offer at the Stratosphere but when we got up to the top and watched a few people do it we all collectively noped out lol. We ate at this restaurant near the Stratosphere called The Peppermill that is FUCKING FANTASTIC. The food was good but the ambiance. Holy shit. It was like Vegas in the early 80s threw up in there. It was so good. Just neon lights and mirrors and tacky carpet and too many potted plants. The waitress was your classic sassy waitress, which only added to the experience, and my sister ordered the ‘mammoth pancakes’. It came with two and the plate weighed like 4 pounds! 

We did a few other things but I remember just being in a good mood the whole trip. I had gotten a throw pillow with Dean’s face on it before the trip and I took it with us so we could sleep in the car comfortably and I remember taking pictures with the Dean pillow like everywhere we went and it became a funny sort of adventure with him. I was also talking to a guy on my dating app that I was like, legit in love with. Everything about him felt so perfect and I remember telling my sister that if he magically transported to Vegas while we were still there that I’d 100% marry him.

This was also the first time being in Vegas since I’d turned 21 (that Vegas trip was a fucking nightmare!) and this really made up for it. I got drunk downstairs at the hotel and won like 80 bucks on a machine, which was the most I’d ever won at that point, so we had to stop and play that machine at every casino we saw it at. My sister and I had also been on a Ghost Adventures kick before that and there’s a very specific sound that one of their devices makes and the elevator at the hotels all made that sound, so we were constantly making it and giggling at it. All in all, it was just a lot of fun and a lot of like, solid bonding and enjoyment of the experiences we were having and who we were with.

Keep in mind, ^^^^THAT’S ALL STILL JUST VEGAS! ^^^

Since we’d been on the Ghost Adventures kick, we stayed in Vegas for a couple of days and then drove out into the desert toward Pioche, Nevada. The Ghost Adventures Crew had done a paranormal hunt there at the Overland Hotel that is notoriously haunted (rooms 10 and 14, specifically).

I remember the drive being a nice clear day and the type of desert started to shift a little from what we’re all used to so there was some cool scenery. Now, we were on this trip in like April so I packed for desert weather in April, but what they failed to mention to me was that Pioche was in the HIGH desert, which didn’t really mean anything to me until we made it around a ridge and saw fucking snow!

We pulled over and played in it a little bit and then finished the drive and, lo and behold, it got more snowy. So when we finally arrived in Pioche I had to walk my happy ass through snow in leggings and sandals and a tank top with only a light jacket. And the next day, I only had shorts or a different pair of equally as thin leggings! It was terrible, but in a funny way.

The town of Pioche is fucking TINY! The population is literally barely over 1,000 and even when we were there we couldn’t figure out how it even held that many people! So we checked into the hotel and managed to get room 10 (one of the most haunted ones) and walked around. It was an old mining town so we checked out the remains of the tram, we went down to the Boothill Cemetery that had wicked old graves that were like, really old western graves of people who’d died in like the early 1800′s in saloon shootouts.

We had food at the only diner in town and while we were walking up a truck drove by goin’ extra slow. The driver was a good ole country boy- he was super hot- and in the back of his truck bed were…. idk, 15 or so fucking BEAGLE PUPPIES! I fell in love, I legit chased his truck down the street lol. It was like, the most amazing thing I’d ever seen.

So we hung out in the tiny place and when night fell we went downstairs to the bar at the hotel and hung out. We talked to one of the hotel staff who actually appeared in the episode of Ghost Adventures and we talked about the guys on the show and she was just really down to earth and funny.

Then, I got shitfaced.

I remember sitting at the high table watching my dad play pool with some locals while my sister was talking to some guy who’d also been on the show (and was a regular at the bar). At that point, I was really drunk and really lovey, so I decided to drunk dial everyone I knew to tell them I love them. Only, I didn’t get reception in the hotel, so I walked my happy ass out into the freezing night, and kept walking almost two blocks down to a little bench outside of the run down fire station and sat outside for over an hour, in the snow, in leggings and sandals, calling everyone I knew to tell them how much I loved them.

My sister finally came looking for me and dragged me back to the hotel while I was still on the phone, and I was able to make one more call to a friend. Drunk!me thought it would be a GREAT idea to finally confess that I had a crush on him and wanted to make out, so I told him that, and when he asked ‘uh, what?’, my dumb ass said it again, clearer and louder so he wouldn’t miss it!

Before he could respond my sister figured out what I’d just said and snatched my phone away and hung up. We went back inside to get my dad and then we walked up the street to the other bar in town and while we were walking my dad started throwing snowballs at us, so I fuckin’ took off. In my entire life I’ve never run as fast as I did that night lol. I ran so fast that  only stopped after my drunk brain could register the flash of neon I’d passed. So I turned around and was a few buildings away from the bar and when I looked for my sister and dad, they were still at the other end of the street a good 2 football fields away!

We went in and played shuffleboard and hung out. They paid the bartender not to give me anymore drinks and I then crawled on the bar and tried to convince him to give me more lol. I ended up going to the bathroom and the signs didn’t say ‘men’ and ‘women’, they said ‘John’ and ‘Mary’ and I freaked out because, Supernatural, duh!

When we left the bar later that night, with me even more drunk than before, my dad started throwing snowballs again and we ran down the street. There was a kind of boardwalk that we were running on and we didn’t realize it ended with a staircase so I jumped into the road and ran down the asphalt but my sister ended up, in a full sprint, leaping off the end of the boardwalk and crashing into me. She was so graceful and when she was in the air it was like she was  in slow motion. So when she landed we were howling with laughter and then we rounded the building and there was a big ass dog right in our faces! I freaked out just because I was shocked but it ended up being friendly and sauntered off, but drunk me was already laughing at my sister’s majestic leap so I started laughing even harder that I’d gotten so scared.

I ended up peeing my pants and we went back into the hotel and I tripped going up the stairs, resulting in more laughter and more pants peeing. We finally got to the room and I changed and we went to sleep. The room (and hotel, itself) were pretty creepy, and because we knew it was haunted I was already on high alert. They went to sleep but when I tried to, and every time I closed my eyes, I could feel someone standing at the side of the bed staring at me. I kept smelling and feeling little gusts of wind in my face, as if someone was sitting by the bed staring me down and was smoking a cigarette/cigar and blowing the smoke in my face. It was incredibly unnerving because it didn’t stop not once all night, so I ended up staying up all night watching tv, hoping I didn’t see anything or feel anything else.

The next day when I showered I couldn’t shower fast enough because it felt like someone was watching me shower and we thanked the hotel staff and left. I slept on the drive home and at one point when I woke up my sister asked if I’d heard from my friend. I said no and was really confused and then she asked if I remembered calling anyone last night and then it all struck me and I was mortified the rest of the ride home. When I got home I decided to just be straight up so I texted him saying that I’d meant what I said and was open to either going that route, if he was also interested in me, or just staying friends. He ended up ignoring me for weeks and I had to talk to a mutual friend about it. Now it’s just water under the bridge, but a hilarious memory. I even wrote a fanfic about the whole trip to Pioche! (I think some of the details in the fic are wrong/exagerated, and I’m not totally clear on some of the details that I’ve recounted here as they differ from the details at the end of that fic, but it’s all as accurate as I can remember without asking my sister for more clarification.)

All in all every part of the trip was just FUN. We didn’t ever have a moment where things went wrong, we didn’t have bad experiences. We weren’t stressed. It was exactly what my soul needed after spending years watching my mom battle with cancer. It was a bonding retreat and everything about it just soothed me and filled me with so much joy and the memories I have of that trip will last a lifetime.

[vamprnce]

Gatboss week day 1: Hottest/Coldest Day in Stilwater

It’s the hottest summer in Stilwater, Boss and Johnny do everything they can to cool down until certain feelings start to heat up instead.

ao3 | all fics for gatboss week on ao3 will be in different chapters in one post but will be separated on here!

“God, I think I’m fuckin’ dying.” Chris complains, airing out his tank top to cool himself from the torturous heat.

It wasn’t any news that this was the hottest summer of the year in Stilwater, the temperature clocking at a nasty 96 degrees Fahrenheit. Being a summer baby didn’t bother the Boss, he loved summer but today he didn’t like it so much.

“Shit, I know. The fuck we standin’ outside for?” Johnny complained with him, the heat seemed to make him more agitated then usual. “Well, first off, the air conditioning broke. Secondly, I thought going outside was better then melting inside, apparently I was fuckin’ wrong.” Chris laughs through his nose shaking his head. Johnny and him were standing outside the Purgatory near a wall where it was much more shady, Boss crouching down beside Johnny. “How ‘bout we, I don’t know, go to one of your cribs with AC so we don’t die from heat stroke?” Johnny said, looking down at Chris.

“Sounds good.” Chris said standing up, he starting to pull off the damped with sweat tank top over his head, after taking off his baseball cap. Johnny’s brows raised, he couldn’t help looking down at his body. It’s full of old scars and tattoos, some healed burn scars peak out on his right side plus that old stab wound under the ribs. Looking at his stomach he seen the black ink of the Third Street Saints tattoo across it, rippling muscles of flexing abs laid under it. Johnny started feeling even more hot just looking at him, somehow that’s even possible even in this heat. He darted his eyes away looking at some random buildings across from him, the dark shades helping him conceal his wandering eyes.

One thing Johnny didn’t know is Boss knew he was checking him out, making him smirk and chuckle at himself. He knew Johnny would never admit he did, though Boss wouldn’t bring it up either. This has been going on for awhile now, this some type of game of where each other would look at each other way too long – sometimes knowing and not knowing. Also being way too close to one another than usual, at times even daring to touch the other. It was a sly game, Boss thought how funny and obvious Johnny acts around him. He wonders if he’s as obvious to him, too. But sadly, this is just a game between them. Nothing serious has happened yet and neither are sure if they’re truly ready for that.

“Alright, let’s go.” Boss say, putting a hand on Johnny’s shoulder and walking towards his Vortex parked in the parking lot out front. Boss opened the driver’s side door and slid in, Johnny got in the passengers side right after. Boss automatically blasting the AC in the car, they sat there for a few minutes before starting to drive off. Driving around they both were trying to decide which crib to head to, Boss eventually started driving down south. It took less than a few minutes for him to get completely distracted all together, riding down the road he swerved to the left, right into the Freckle Bitch’s parking lot and drove into the drive thru.

“What’re you doing?” Johnny asked.

“Stopping for milkshakes real quick, you want one?” Chris replied, rolling up to the speaker to order.

“Not really.”

“Ah, whatever you say.” Chris just shrugs, ordering a large chocolate milkshake. Driving up to the window and paying and receiving the shake, they just started driving around aimlessly around the Barrio’s. Sipping on the shake while driving, he reached out him arm towards Johnny shaking the cup in his face, not taking his eyes off the road. “Yo, try this. Try it.” He continued annoyingly shaking the cup in his face. “Would you quit it, I don’t want your fuckin’ shake.” Johnny said, furrowing his brows and pushing his hand away. “I’m not gonna quit it 'til you try it,” Chris laughed while still holding out his arm. “Come on, it’s good!”

Chris kept shaking the cup while chanting “try it” over and over. Johnny’s frown deepened, finally feeling irritated with his friends annoyance. “Fuckin’ hell, alright, I’ll try it! Man, you’re so annoying today.” Johnny snapped, ripping the cup out of the other man’s hand. Chris giggled at him, making Johnny just glare at him more. “Aw, don’t pretend you don’t love it.” Chris teased, touching Johnny’s cheek with his hand. “Sure.” Johnny just replied sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

He was about to take a sip before a thought struck him, this would technically be a indirect kiss. He grinned to himself at the thought and took a sip. Chris and him sometimes share things with each other but he can’t remember the last time he shared a drink or something where he put his lips on together. There was this warm feeling perk up in his chest thinking about it.

“Hey, don’t hog it all! Get your own, bitch.”

“Fuck off.” Johnny laughed taking more sips while making him annoyed now.

“I fucking paid for that.” Chris frowned.

“What you want me to pay you back now?” Johnny asked smirking.

“If you drink it all then yeah. Gimme my three bucks, fucker.” Chris said. Johnny just chuckled handing back the cup to him. Chris grabbed it and put it in the cup holder. “Hey, since we’re near by let’s head back to the penthouse.” Chris said, he was already driving down the road into the parking lot. Both entered the hotel, walking to the elevator they stepped in and rode up to the crib on the top floor. Walking in and downstairs, they saw there wasn’t anyone there besides the two of them, usually there were Saints and strippers everywhere partying. But today everyone’s gone and it was a great time to be alone together.

Being alone together was in fact amazing. The AC was turned all the way up, beers were cracked open and the Boss was starting to get more and more touchy. Oh it was amazing. Subtle touches here and there, but the lingering touches, on the leg when sitting and the arm, even sitting way too close to Johnny. He noticed, definitely noticed, and he liked it. Really loved the boldness in the Boss, he was playing the game again that’s been going on wonderfully. He played back, of course, also touching Chris and getting in his personal space. One point he did put his hand on his hip, really wanting to slide his hand down to feel his nice muscular thighs, he didn’t even try to be casual about that move. He wanted him to know.

Johnny was downstairs alone, Chris ran upstairs saying he was going to change clothes. Short time after he walked back down, when Johnny looked over at him his eyes went wide. The Boss stood there in front of him with a slight devious grin pulling on his lips. Boss was real bold today. He stood there practically half naked besides wearing a small swimming bottoms, almost looking like a speedo.

Johnny froze there, staring, his whole body felt hot under his clothes, even the chill air in the building can’t help cool him down. If he didn’t know better he would’ve thought he died and went to heaven. Boss’ whole body was on display and his hands ached to touch it, roam everywhere and anywhere on his body. It was honestly the first he saw Chris like this and it was phenomenal. Chris chuckled standing there, the look on his best friends face was priceless. He’s pretty sure he broke him because Johnny didn’t leave that spot for a few minutes plus he didn’t say a word. A smirk plastered on his face he walked slowly towards the indoor pool, still wanting to tease the shit outta Johnny more. “I thought I’d go into the pool for awhile.” Chris said, casualty in his tone but the teasing was thick.

His eyes were locked right on Johnny’s as he went to the pool. He eventually broke eye contact by actually dipping in the pool and it felt like a spell that was casted on Johnny was broken. He blinked his eyes and moved over towards the edge of the pool where Chris was floating. “You wanna come in?” Chris asked in a low tone, smile showing teeth. Johnny looked away from him feeling flustered. “No, I’m fine.” He grunts. “Aw, come on you baby, join me.” Chris smiled up at him, resting his arms on the edge of the pool. “I’m not even have a swimsuit,” Johnny flung out the crappiest excuse, and Chris knew it. “And I’m not a fuckin’ baby.”

He snorts through his nose. “You sure act like it,” Chris mumbles. “Come join me then if you’re not a baby.” The word “baby” was stretched out in mocking tone. Johnny stared down at him expressionless, arms crossed. “Y'know I’m just gonna pull you in.” He threatens, a toothy smirk plays on his face. “Oh yeah?” Johnny said, a brow arching up. “I’d love to see you try.”

They both knew that he was serious about what he said. Grabbing his leg he did pull him in, a big splash and a soaked gangster later, the Boss knew he was dead. All he could do is giggle as the other man fumed. “You’re paying for this.” Johnny said darkly. “Ooh, I’m so scared! I’m shaking!” Chris mocked, still laughing while pretending to cower in fear. Johnny launched at him as he laughed, both splashing and grabbing on to one another.

They wrestled in the water playfully for awhile, both laughing, until they were both holding on to each other. Calming down, they stood there bodies close and press together, both staring deep into each other eye’s. Johnny’s glasses were gone somewhere and Chris got lost staring into his brown beautiful eyes. Chris’ were like golden honey and Johnny had no clue how that was possible, they were incredible. Johnny’s hands slid up his sides as they still were in close together, Chris’ arms lazily wrapped around his neck. Chris started closing to gap between them and leaned in, lips both brushing each other. Parting his lips, Johnny felt his hot breath on his lips. His body felt so warm against his, Johnny’s hands roamed up and down his bare back also sliding down to his thighs and ass. He did grab it, not really caring anymore, it was squishy and soft and absolutely perfect. Chris snorted out a loud laugh as he grabbed his ass, it was actually pretty surprising. They end up standing there what felt like an eternity, both not moving an inch while being pressed together.

As his lips moved closer and almost planted on Johnny’s the ringing of a phone went off. Both getting startled they backed off from each other. Johnny cleared his throat and climbed out of the pool, Chris following behind. Grabbing the buzzing phone off the table he answered it. It was some annoying call about the gang shit, he loves his work and being the boss but today it was ruining his fun time that could've been. As Johnny went off the change his wet clothes he ended the call, grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his waist and then sat at the couch. He pouted as he stared at the plasma screen, this is the first time he stepped that far with Johnny, it was amazing and left him tingling with bliss and he wasn't pleased that it was abruptly ruined.

Johnny came back down and walked in the living area, sitting next to him on the couch. Chris glanced over at him but then took a double take, Johnny was wearing one his shirts. Specifically one of his band shirts. Something warm bubbled inside him and he had to control himself to not look like a dumbass right there. He just settled with a huge dumb grin on his face instead. They sat there in comfortable silence watching tv, Chris leaned against Johnny daring to lay his head on him. Johnny smirked, resting his arm behind Chris.

[wanderingclark]

The Kiss || Beka and Clark

Who: Clark Meeks and Beka Hummel ( @doveportbeka )

Where: Some park in a quiet neighborhood in Clark’s car.

When: January 6, 2020

What: Clark and Beka share a moment they weren’t really ready for.

TW: Mentions of drugs, hard drugs, parental death.

Clark

Clark went about their day. They went to Lush with Sugar and swiped one of the bathbombs when Sugar wasn’t looking and then enjoyed dinner with the girl before heading over to Laura’s. The girl was great in bed but Clark was definitely distracted. They hoped it didn’t show too much but the girl seemed to enjoy herself so Clark went with it. When they was finished it was 11:30 and they swung by the gas station and grabbed a couple bottles of Jack and a few cartons of cigarettes. They had a feeling all would be needed this evening. By 12 midnight, they were sitting on the hood of their car, enjoying a cigarette when Beka walked out of the store. Exhaling, Clark half smiled. “Good shift?” they asked, getting the girls attention.

Beka

The shop usually closed a little early on Mondays, because people in Doveport were lame, but Beka was always the last to leave since she had to clean and make sure it was ready for the next day. Putting her jacket on over her tattered tank top, she locked the door behind her and stuffed the keys in her pocket before turning. With a half smile, she approached the car, running her hand though her tangled waves, and pushed herself up to join Clark on the hood. "Peachy." She said dryly, reaching out and taking the cigarette from Clark's hand without asking and taking a long drag before handing it back.

Clark

Clark let her take it before grabbing the box sitting next to her and opening it up for her to grab her own. "You talk to your sister?" they asked, as they pulled out their lighter and lit the girls cigarette for her. The took the last long drag of their own before flicking it off into the street and pulled out a new one to start over as they remained quiet, letting the girl decide if she wanted to talk or not.

Beka

Beka took the fresh cigarette and inhaled deeply as Clark lit it for her. She shrugged one shoulder up in answer to their question, the events of the day were still blurry in her brain, she had no idea how to make sense of any of it. Swallowing hard, she exhaled the long stream of smoke. "You know," she said, her voice raspy. "Not being able to use right now... really fuckin sucks. Like, there's nothing I'd rather be doing right now, and..." She trailed off, taking another drag from the cigarette instead.

Clark

Clark nodded. "I know you're quitting cold turkey and stuff but you know I'll always share if you need it" they offered quietly. Taking another drag and staying quite for another moment, Clark didn't really know what to say. "I have your queso but for real though, we don't have to hook up or whatever. I picked up some Jack on the way over here. We can just eat and drink and not do anything" they said seriously. "Or you can take all your frustration out on me. I can take it"

Beka

Licking her lips, Beka looked over at Clark. "I should have just left, I knew I couldn't do it, and now...." She ran her free hand through her hair again. "It's my fault." She said quietly, a single tear slipping down her cheek. She brushed it away quickly, angry that it had made an appearance at all. She knew Erika being on drugs, no matter what anyone said, was her fault. It always was, it always had been.

Clark

Clark wrapped their arm around Beka’s shoulder and pulled her in. “It’s not your fault dude” they said softly but sternly. “She asked you about drugs. You showed her weed. The safest drug put there. And my guess is it wasn’t laced with anything. So unless you provided the heroin, the needles and helped show her how to use it, it’s not your fault and  I’m not gonna sit here and let you blame yourself” she told the girl, finding herself feeling protective towards the end of her thought

Beka

"Everything that happens in my family is my fault, it has been as long as I can remember. Every fight, every bad dinner... my mom getting sick... Erika being depressed. All of it." She shook her head. It didn't matter. "Congrats though, on being one of... three people in the world to ever see me cry. Good job." She attempted to joke, not pulling away from the embrace as she normally would have.

Clark

Clark shook their head. “But it’s not your fault. I know you didn’t kill your mom. I know that you can’t make someone else depressed. Yeah, maybe you caused some fights or whatever but that’s a family thing. I caused many a fight over dinner and in my house as well. I also do drugs. But if Dana started shooting heroin, that wouldn’t be my fault, even if I introduced her to weed or whatever. That’s her choice, not mine” Clark chuckled humorlessly. “Wasn’t on my list of things to experience with ya but hey, no judgement here dude. This is an all around shitty situation.”

Beka

Beka took a deep breath, she knew Clark wouldn't understand, no one ever did. They assumed her family was like everyone else's, that she was like everyone else, maybe just rough around the edges. No one understood how fucked up she was, that from the time she had been born she'd been... wrong. She pulled one knee up to her chest and took another long drag, she couldn't even get high, she wasn't really supposed to be drinking either, but what did it matter? Erika was poisoning herself and despite what Clark thought, Beka knew it was her fault. "So... you said you had some Jack?"

Clark

Clark finished their cigarette and flicked it off into the street and just remained quiet. Beka was making herself as small as possible and their relationship revolved around sex so far so right now they felt a little out of their element. But the girl needed them and they didn’t want to leave so they stayed and they held her until she spoke again. Looking over at her, they nodded. “Yeah. Come on” they said as they removed their arm from the girl and jumped down before reaching a hand out to help Beka down as well. Once they were both off the hood, Clark moved around to the drivers seat and jumped in, unlocking the car as they did so. Reaching back, the grabbed a bottle and handed it to Beka once she got in as well. “Have at it. I’m just gonna go park somewhere where we’re allowed to stay and have a bit of privacy and then I’ll help ya with the bottle” the said with a wink.

Beka

Beka took a final drag and flicked her own cigarette into the street before taking Clark’s hand and hopping off the car. She exhaled the last of her smoke before opening the car door and sliding into the seat. Taking the bottle she gave a wry smile. “How was Sugar?” She asked, figuring Clark was fucking the heiress too.

Clark

Clark chuckled and shook their head as the drove. “She’s Sugar. Heiress of Doveport. Obnoxious and loud and demanding. Too much like Deni” they said, the last sentence coming out quieter but still loud enough for Beka to hear. Shaking their head again, the reached between them into their backpack and grabbed the bath bomb. “I don’t know what this does but they call it a bath bomb and since you take baths apparently, figured you could use it” the said, never taking their eyes off the road.

Beka

Toying with the bottle cap, Beka considered if she should drink or try to be good. She finally decided to say fuck it and twisted the bottle open, taking a swig, the sweet burn of the dark liquor coating her throat. “Too much like her how?” She asked, wiping her mouth with the sleeve of her jacket. She reached out and took the orb. “Thanks, I don’t usually, but I was trying to get ready and get myself off at the same time.” She shrugged.

Clark

Clark cursed under her breath before answering the question. “It’s stupid. They’re just...very much alike. The only real difference is that Deni didn’t like being in the whole socialite club like Sugar does. And the fact that Sugar isn’t gonna end up fucking me over in the end because she’s with Finn so I guess it’s not really fair to compare the two” they said with a shrug. Looking over at the orb in the girls hand, they shrugged again. “The place smelled weird and Sugar was talking way too much. I don’t even know what it does. I just threw it in my backpack” the said with a small smirk.

Beka

Beka nodded. "Women, amiright?" She quipped, taking another sip. For some reason the slow burn wasn't doing for her what it normally did and she winced, putting the cap back on the bottle. "It fizzes and turns colors and shit, can be fun if you're taking a bath with someone. I knew a chick who was real into 'em." She explained, setting the bottle down on the floorboard and letting herself hand over her knees for a second, taking a deep breath before sitting up straight, how had everything gotten so fucked up?

Clark

Clark chuckled and nodded. They saw Beka put the bottle down and knew they had to park sooner rather than later. Pulling into a quiet neighborhood with a park at the end of it, Clark made their way down the street before finding a dark corner near the park and pulling in before cutting their lights and turning back to Beka. “Then maybe one day you’ll have to show me how it’s done. Now. You want your queso?” they asked, giving the girl a small smile before expertly climbing into the back. “The side door is unlocked if it’s easier” they called out behind them as they cracked the back window and pulled out the queso out of the ice chest and their small camping stove to heat it up.

Beka

Beka offered her signature half-smile, though more wryly than usual, and nodded. She was glad they were pulling over, she just needed to be still for a while. Grabbing the bottle, she followed Clark's lead and climbed into the back, only slightly less gracefully, and sat cross-legged, the bottle nestled in the center of the nest they made. She watched Clark work, surprised they had actually gone to the trouble.

Clark

Clark made quick work to get the stove heated up and the queso on top of it. They stayed quiet while they worked, not filling the silence. It wasn’t awkward, it was just there. Ten minutes later, they pulled out a new bag of chips and tossed it over to the girl. “Queso” they said with a smirk as they grabbed their laptop table and placed the bowl on top of it. Once everything was put away, they moved to sit next to the girl, grabbing some chips out of the bag

Beka

Taking the offered chips, Beka opened the bag but took none, she suddenly wasn't very hungry. "You're sweet." She said, almost inaudibly, and turned to look at Clark. Her eyes lingered for a moment. There was something about Clark that Beka couldn't put her finger on, maybe it was the way they shared similar pasts with drugs or living unorthodoxly, or maybe it was just that they clicked, but Beka would never have been in this spot with anyone else.  Leaning forward, Beka caught Clark's lips with her own, kissing them more tenderly than she had kissed... anyone. After a few moments, she pulled away, slowly.

Clark

Clark didn’t even get the chips to their mouth before Beka’s lips were on theirs. Their eyes fell closed and their free hand automatically came up to gently cup the girls face. The kiss took them by surprise, not because it was a kiss, but because of the sudden electricity flowing through their body because of the kiss. They were suddenly feeling things they had never felt before and as soon as Beka pulled away, their breath still intermingled between them, Clark couldn’t help but lick their lips as they tried to find something to say. Anything. When they couldn’t find any words, they reached over to place their chips back in the bag before moving to straddle the other girl. But the energy was the same. When Clark leaned forward to kiss the girl again, it wasn’t heated, wasn’t passionate, wasn’t lust filled. It was slow and tender and controlled, something they had never shared with anyone, not even Deni. They didn’t let themselves think. For the first time in a long time, they just let themselves feel

Beka

There was a tingle in her stomach that Beka hadn't expected, higher up than when she was normally in this position with Clark. She raised her arms and wrapped them around Clark's neck, pulling them closer, but not hastening the kiss. It was exactly what she needed in this moment, slow and sweet, on purpose, making her feel nothing and something all at once. She didn't push for more, just let it keep happening at it's own pace.

Clark

Clark hummed as arms were wrapped around their neck. They tangled their tongue with the girl beneath her, slow and languidly. Their hands pulled the girls face closer, one of their hands  sliding from the girls cheeks to the back of her neck, suddenly feeling the need to be closer to the girl. The kiss continued on, neither moving to hasten it at all. After awhile though, Clark slowed the kiss down even more before gently pressing their lips against the girl one, two, three times before they rested their forehead against the others, trying to catch their breath.

Beka

Beka leaned into Clark as they pulled away, not wanting the kiss to end. She sat, breathlessly, her eyes flickering between Clark's, and their lips. She felt... scared, confused, but wanted more. She wanted to feel Clark's  lips against hers again. She let a few silent moments pass before she tilted her head back, initiating another slow, heated kiss. There was no rush, no push, just more electricity vibrating between their bodies.

Clark

Clark’s breathing was beginning to slow when Beka kissed them again. The electricity was still there, not slowing at all. Clark tangled their hand in the girls hair as they leaned into her more. The kiss was new and different and something Clark did not want to end again. So they didn’t. They continued to kiss the girl, slowly, heatedly, but sweetly. Not moving to further anything between them. Just enjoying the kiss.

Beka

Time passed, it could have been minutes, hours, or years, Beka didn't care. She didn't want this to end. Eventually, she shifted enough to start to slink out of her jacket, if for no other reason than to cool her body down. She could feel her cheeks were flushed, and Clark's skin felt hot to the touch too. She never wanted this to end.

Clark

Clark felt the girl beneath her move and Clark reached down to help the girl remove her jacket. The energy hadn’t shifted though. Everything remained the same and Clark’s hands came back up to cup the girls cheeks again. They could feel how hot their body was becoming and they knew eventually things were going to heat up between them. They knew that in the back of the head. But they almost didn’t want it to, what they were feeling currently was much more appealing to them at the moment.

Beka

Beka pulled Clark closer still, whimpering softly against their lips. The cold air against her bare skin made goosebumps raise all over her body, she never was very good at dressing for the weather. She was feeling turned on, if she were honest with herself, but didn't feel the need to rush things or move them forward at all, though normally she and Clark probably would have been fully naked and an orgasm in by now.

Clark

Clark felt the girl slightly shiver beneath them. They didn’t know if it was the cold or the feeling but Clark reached down and began running their hands up and down the girls arms, doing their best to warm them up as they continued what they were doing

Beka

Nibbling softly on Clark's bottom lip, Beka began to let her hands explore, more tenderly than she normally would have. Her hands wandered slowly over Clark's scalp, neck, shoulders, chest, and back up again.

Clark

Everywhere Beka touches, Clark’s body reacted, feeling like it was on fire. There was no more stopping them. The energy was shifting and Clark took it upon themselves to move things along. Reaching down, they pulled the girls shirt up, the backs of their hands running along the skin beneath it as they removed the article of clothing

Beka

Again, Beka lifted her arms to aid in the shedding of her tank top, left only in her bra and jeans, she moved her hands down to Clark's waist, tugging at their clothing, more with yearning than urgency. Though it could have already been hours, there was something in Beka that assured her they had all the time in the world to do this.

Clark

Clark lifted their hands, breaking the kiss again only to remove their shirt before pressing their lips back against Beka's. The kiss was now more heated, but the feelings were still there. Their hands explored the skin beneath them. For the first time, Clark moved the kiss away from the girls lips, their lips finding the hot skin of the girls neck and shoulder and collarbone and moving slowly, leaving open mouthed kisses and small, light nips along the girls skin. It wasn't hungry, it wasn't lustful it was tender and heated and soft.

Beka

Leaning back against the corner where the front seats met the wall of the car, Beka whimpered softly at the sudden nakedness of her lips. She fought with her last shred of who she really was to keep from begging Clark to come back, and instead tried to focus on the feel and sight of them making their way down her body. She bit down softly on her lower lip, running one hand through Clark's short hair.

Clark

Clark felt the girls body tense but when they felt hands in their hair, Clark felt the need to return to Beka’s lips. It was like they were suddenly addicted and when leaned into the kiss, Clark moaned against her lips, their hands finding the girls abs, running their fingers up and down the girls stomach as they tangled their tongue with the othe girls again.

Beka

Beka accepted Clark's kiss more eagerly this time, but still without urgency. This moment could last forever. She edged closer to Clark, so that she could more easily lay down against the mattress, pulling Clark down on top of her and popping one knee up so that they rested in the space between her legs. Now she could let her hands begin to explore again, from the nape of their neck and down, shoulders, chest again, lingering there.

Clark

Clark refused to break the kiss, letting Beka move them into a lower position, their hands coming down on either side of the girls head to hold them up as they continued the heated kiss. A moan came out of them as Beka's hands explored, her fingers leaving trails of fire along their skin. Their muscles flexed with each touch, their hips unconsciously bucking downward into the girl as their hands roamed over their chest. "Fuck" they husked out against Beka's lips, the first word spoken in, they didn't even know how long, the sound thick with emotion and lust all at once.

Beka

That one word breaking the silence, slicing through the air, made this moment more real. Beka's head cleared slightly and she pulled away from the kiss, her eyes meeting Clark's questioning for just a moment, her chest heaved as she tried to catch her breath. It would be easy to end it, or to make it more rough, the way they had been each time they'd been together. But instead she just looked down, moving her hands to snap the button of her jeans open and pull down the fly before hooking her arms under Clark's and once again pulling them in for a kiss.

Clark

Clark was breathing hard as they looked down at Beka. Their eyes locked as they tried to read each others thoughts, the energy that had been surrounding them so far beginning to fade. And Clark didn't like it one bit. They licked their lips before Beka broke their eye contact to look down. Clark followed their eyes, watching their jeans get pulled open some, but not removed. They looked back up to Beka when they felt themselves being pulled in again. And they welcomed it, meeting Beka's lips half way as they resumed their kiss, the life changing, life altering, never going back kiss that if they thought about for even a second would kill anything and everything that was going on at the moment. So they didn't think. They didn't allow themselves to think. They instead shifted their weight onto one hand as the brought the other one down between them, grabbing Beka's hand and pulling it up above their head, lacing their fingers together as the held the girls one hand there, the connection making everything even more intense.

Beka

Beka's breath caught in her throat as Clark laced their fingers together, and she whimpered against their lips. She had never been this vulnerable with anyone before, during sex or otherwise, even when she allowed herself to be submissive, there was still a wall. She was still in control of her thoughts and actions, able to stop and reverse it at any time. But this. This she couldn't have stopped even if she wanted to. It was as if every bad thought she'd ever had about herself, every bad decision she'd ever made, was being absorbed by Clark and discarded, no longer eating her alive.

Clark

Clark felt the hitch in the girls throat and heard the whimper against their lips. They slowed the kiss down as they squeezed the girls hand, almost as if to say "it's okay. i'm here." The emotions flowing through Clark would have probably suffocated them if they allowed it to but they didn't. Instead, they allowed the emotions to wash over them, both of them as they continued speaking to the girl through the kiss. They did their best to convey everything they were feeling at that moment to the girl, hoping that Beka was feeling the same way, at least some what. They allowed themselves to get closer to Beka, their torso dropping some, their skin touching more as they shifted their weight to their elbow. They wanted to feel more, be closer, want no space between them. They needed more.

Beka

Beka wrapped a leg around Clark's so they were intertwined, cupped the back of their head with her free hand, pulling them as close as possible. Was this what it was supposed to be like? Beka didn't remember her first time having sex, she'd gone to a party and left the next morning hazy and aching, but she'd heard all the sappy stories of people's "first times" on movies and in the hallway or cafeteria at school, how it was supposed to be beautiful. This felt beautiful, she wanted more, but didn't want it to turn into their usual encounter. She wanted Clark to touch her in every possible way.

Clark

Clark's hips rolled into Beka's as the girl wrapped her leg around them. This is normally where they would be ripping clothes off, the battle between the two fo them for dominance would be well underway. But this time? This time it was almost as if both of them were too scared to keep moving forward. As if the moment things heated up even slightly, the energy would be gone. Clark was terrified to lose it, a pit in their stomach worrying that if they made the first move, everything would be gone. But the heat that was radiating off of Beka into Clark just made Clark want more. So they decided to take the risk. The nipped at the girls lower lip, tugging against it slightly as they broke the kiss again before moving to place soft open mouthed kisses along the girls jawline, neck, collarbone, shoulder, down into her chest to the swells of her bra covered breasts, their hand eventually releasing Beka's as their hands explored the skin that they weren't kissing. They moved slowly, taking their time as they placed each and every kiss with purpose, no rush, no heated need to fuck hard and fast. Their movements were slow, meaningful, purposeful.

Beka

As Clark moved lower, Beka's eyes fluttered shut, she focused on taking slow, deep breaths, terrified that the moans that were building inside her would somehow break the spell. Unsure of what to do with her hands now, she propped herself up just slightly onto her elbows, looking down at Clark. The way they moved, kissed her, she bit down again on her lower lip, fighting the urge to tell Clark how wet she was.

Clark

Clark was allowing themselves to go slow, not even in a teasing way. They were exploring the skin they had access too, their body humming with the electricity still as they placed a kiss right underneath the bottom of the girls bra as they allowed one of their hands to wrap around the girl, wanting to stay wrapped around her for a moment as they enjoyed how close it made them feel before eventually undoing the girls bra. Lifting their head slightly, they reached up between them, slowly pulling down the girls bra strap with just their finger tips, not once allowing her hand to leave the girls skin until they had reached the end of Beka's arm and removed the strap completely before repeating the action on the other side. She licked her lips but held back the growing want to devour the girl beneath her and instead slowly leaned down as they cupped one of the girls breasts in their hand, gently sucking one of the girls hardened nipples into their mouth, moaning at the taste of the girls skin on their tongue.

Beka

Beka helped as best she could at shifting her weight to allow her bra to be removed more easily, the anticipation building inside of her feeling like a slow burn. She sucked in a sharp breath as Clark finally made contact with her nipple, again moving her hand to the back of Clark's head, she ran her fingers through their hair, gently, encouraging them to keep going. She licked her lips, wanting to stop time.

Clark

Clark hummed as Beka's hand found it's way to the back of their head again. The girls fingers running through their hair was driving them crazy. They didn't know they liked their hair played with until this very moment and fuck they didn't want to move because of it. But after a moment, they did, only to slowly kiss across Beka's chest to give her other nipple the same amount of attention, their tongue playing with the metal piercing the girl had in it. Once they had given each nipple the same amount of attention, the moved their way back to the middle of the girls chest again before looking up at the girl as they very slowly kissed their way down the girls torso, only stopping at the top of the girls pants still fastened and closed preventing Clark from going further.

Beka

Beka couldn't hold back any longer, a moan escaping her lips, she let her eyes close and her head fall back. She wanted more, needed more. She lay back completely, freeing up both hands to touch Clark, to encourage, entice. "I want you." She whispered into the air, unsure if Clark could hear her or not.

Clark

Clark hadn't had anything to drink that night. Hadn't touched their powder. They were completely sober. But at this moment, they were intoxicated by Beka. The girl pulled them in and they couldn't get enough of her. They pulled back just enough to reach between their bodies to release the top of Beka's jeans before wrapping their arms around her to pull down both the girls jeans and underwear all in one fell swoop. They were not happy that they had to sit up more to do so, pulling away too far that Beka couldn't continue to play with their hair. But as soon as the offending article of clothing was gone, Clark pulled the girl into them, moaning at the smell coming from the girls core. It may have been dark, but Clark could tell the girl was wet and hearing the soft works coming from Beka, Clark licked her lips. "You have me" they whispered back before dipping their head down far enough to lick one long swipe through the girls core, moaning at the taste on her lips as they did so.

Beka

It was a strange feeling, because as badly as she wanted this, as much as she needed it, she had to fight the urge to pull Clark up, away from giving her real pleasure and back into a kiss. Her lips felt cold and lonely, but Clark was making every other part of her body tingle with pleasure. She spread her legs a little wider, her hands working their way into Clark's hair, still working their scalp gently, lightly. She moaned, unable to muster the energy to stop herself any longer.

Clark

Clark took their time. The scent they were breathing in and the taste that was dancing around on their tongue was intoxicating. They didn't want to pull away. But they didn't want to rush things either. Everything felt different. They wrapped their arms around the girls legs, pulling her in closer to them. Their tongue explored the girls core, lapping up at the juices coming from her, dipping inside of her to get an even better taste before moving up to circle around her swollen bud. It was like they were seeing Beka for the first time and they wanted to take in every inch of her.

Beka

Beka looked down, moaning at the sight and rolling her hips up. She had been so turned on before they'd even reached this moment, that she knew it wouldn't take her long to cum. "Clark..." She whimpered, her hands still working through their hair as she curled her toes tightly trying to stave off the impending orgasm just a little bit longer.

Clark

Clark looked up at the other girl from their spot between the girls legs and moaned again. They saw the want in the girls eyes. Not the lust or the need but the want. And all Clark wanted to do at this point was give it to her. Pulling one of their hands around, Clark slowly pushed two fingers inside the girl before setting a quick but steady pace. Once they set a pace, Clark moved up the girls body again to press their lips against the other girls once more. "Cum for me. Please" they whispered out against the girls lips as their fingers curled upwards inside of the girl. "You're so beautiful" they husked out as they continued kissing the girl. "Cum for me please" they stated once more.

Beka

This kiss was the most urgent of the night, Beka's hands grabbing for Clark, pulling them in like she needed their lips on hers to breathe. It had been less than 10 minutes since their lips had parted, but Beka was already addicted, this was better than any drug she'd ever done. Her breath came out in short bursts and she whined into the kiss as her body began to shake, pleasure taking over her. "C-Clark..." She managed to get out, not wanting to break the kiss for one second longer than necessary. Her legs clamped together against Clark's hand as her orgasm washed over her, hard and fast.

Clark

Clark swallowed the girls moans as they felt Beka fall over the edge, her walls clamping around their fingers as they continued to thrust them in and out of the girl beneath them. The kiss was the most intoxicating one of the night, the energy and electricity from their earlier kiss plus the passion and lust of the orgasm made Clark’s head spin as they continued helping Beka through her orgasm, wanting to give her another one just as powerful. But it wasn’t because they wanted a high orgasm count. Not tonight. They just wanted Beka to feel every single emotion Clark was feeling at this moment and they didn’t know any other way to do that except to pour it into their kiss and push Beka to fall over the edge again at their touch.

Beka

As her first orgasm subsided, Beka kept her legs together, the sensation of Clark’s fingers still inside her as her knees touched along with the spell of their kiss made her feel wine drunk. Cloudy and foggy in the best possible way. Could it be that there was something better than getting high? She bucked her hips up against Clark’s hand, urging them to keep going, refusing to break the kiss again.

Clark

Clark nipped at the girls lower lip as Beka bucked up into them. They tangled their tongue with the others again as they curled their fingers inside of the girl beneath them, their movements slower but deliberate. They weren’t trying to rush what was going on between them but at the same time, they wanted to take it all in all at once. They pulled out of the girl just enough before adding a third finger, moaning at the way Beka’s back arched up into them as they did so, their skin tingling everywhere Beka’s body touched them.

Beka

Beka’s fingers gripped into Clark’s shoulders as they added a third finger, that feeling in the lower pit of her stomach beginning to swell again. A sharp moan, full of wanting, fell from her lips and she let her legs fall apart again, her hands sliding down over Clark’s back to their waist, pulling them closer, rolling her body so that their stomachs brushed against each other, the feel of Clark’s soft skin causing Beka to groan again, she had never wanted anyone in this way before.

Clark

Clark was cursing the clothing still on them at this moment. All they wanted was to touch every inch of the other girl with their skin. If they had a free hand, they may have reached down to push their jeans off but at the moment, they were to focused on how Beka was reacting underneath them. Clark rolled their hips into their hand, giving them a little extra push into the girl, as they broke the kiss only momentarily to catch their breath, burring their face in Beka's neck, leaving behind a trail of kisses up her neck and jawline for a moment or two before bringing their lips back together, moaning as they reunited.

Beka

She bit down softly on Clark's lower lip as they upped the pleasure, her hands slid  further down to Clark's ass, squeezing just slightly more forcefully than the rest of her actions had been so far, before moving back up to Clark's waist, then up their body, fingers brushing over their abs, stopping briefly at their still-covered chest, and then finally cradling the sides of their neck and back into their hair. A soft whimper of protest escaped her as Clark moved their mouth away from hers, though she did take advantage of the moment to take a good, deep breath before their lips were reunited.

Clark

Clark shivered at the feeling of Beka's hands along their body. They felt like they were on fire though the goosebumps covering their body said otherwise. They felt Beka's walls tighten around their fingers and they did their best to focus on keeping up their pace. But Beka's lips. God her lips. Nothing had ever made them feel this way before. Nothing. Not alcohol. Not drugs. Not sex with random strangers. Nothing. This was a high they had never experienced before and they didn't want to come down ever. They rolled their hips into the girl again, curling their fingers as they bottomed out and moaning at the feeling of Beka surrounding them. They themselves were so close to the edge that they were sure they would fall over it without even being prompted to at this point.

Beka

As her second orgasm loomed closer, she allowed her kiss to become a little more urgent, more hungry, but she had no urge to grab Clark, to make anything faster or rougher, she played with their hair softly, while her left hand came down to cup their jaw tenderly. Her toes began to curl again as the muscle in her lower body tightened up, she kept her hips rolling to match the pace of Clark's fingers, but this was it, she began to unravel once more.

Clark

As they felt Beka begin to fall over the edge again, something happened that had never happened before to Clark. As Beka arched into them, falling over the edge in pure bliss, Clark followed them as well, wave and wave of pleasure washing over them as they moaned into the other girls mouth, their hips rolling into Beka's as they, together, rode their highs with each other, everything feeling so much more intense than normal. Clark felt the urge to cry for a moment, though did their best to keep it at bay. Everything was intense and electric and all Clark could do was focus on the girls lips. It was like they were safe. They were home.

Beka

Beka grabbed on to Clark, afraid that her shaking would push them away, her body tensed completely, and finally relaxed completely and her skin prickled from every nerve. She relaxed back against the mattress, holding on to the kiss for just a few more moments, seconds, minutes before finally releasing Clark's lips with a final tender peck. She never would have ended it if she hadn't so badly needed to catch her breath, her lips feeling immediately cheated again. She turned her head as she tried to breathe normally, afraid to catch Clark's eye just yet.

Clark

Clark rested their head against the side of the girls head as she turned away to breath. They too were breathing hard, their hot breath falling on the girls neck as they did so. Their body still shaking some as they came down from their own orgasm, their tongue swiping along their own swollen lips as they tried to process what they were feeling at the moment. They remained like that for a moment, quiet, breathing heavily, as things around them began to calm down for a moment. They could tell by the light around them that the sun would be up soon and whatever magic was swirling around them at this moment would disappear as soon as it did. But Clark didn't want the night to end. So they pressed their lips lightly against the girls temple, just enjoying the moment a little longer.

Beka

When she could finally breathe normally, Beka turned, shifting them both so that for the first time in the night, she was on top, hovering over Clark. Their eyes met and Beka reached down, pulling Clark's hand up and wrapping her lips around the fingers that had just been inside her, sucking gently, her eyes never breaking contact with Clark's, just to remind them, to remind herself, that she was still her, that they were still them, that nothing had changed. Even though everything probably had. Without a word, she released Clark's hand, and lowered herself for another kiss.

Clark

As Beka shifted, Clark followed her lead, not wanting to break the spell surrounding them. As they did so, Clark pulled out of the girl but before they could wipe their hand on some nearby sheets, Beka pulled it up to her face to clean it off herself. Clark licked their lips as a moan came from them, the sight above them just as intoxicating as when she was beneath them. They wrapped their other hand around the girls neck, threading their fingers into the girls hair at the base of her skull as she kissed them again, moaning at the new taste on her lips.

Beka

Beka let her hands explore from a new angle, she straddled Clark's thigh, shuddering as her still sensitive core met the rough fabric of Clark's jeans. She rubbed herself against their legs, whimpering into the kiss at the sensation, her limbs feeling weak and heavy. One hand cupped Clark's face,  keeping the intensity of the kiss steady, while the other played over Clark's skin, grabbing gently at their waist and chest. She wanted to give Clark another orgasm, but her brain protested the idea of breaking the kiss again, assuring her she wouldn't be able to breathe properly without Clark's lips against hers.

Clark

Clark lifted their leg up slight as they felt Beka rolling her hips against it. They continued to play with the girls hair while her other hand came up to rest gently on her hip, their thumb gently running over the soft skin there. They pushed up into the girl, nipping lightly at her bottom lip in a more playful way than a hurried needy way. The kiss had set the pace for the entire evening. They weren’t about to change that pace any time soon. There was no rush. They had all the time in the world.

Beka

Sliding her hand down, Beka blindly found the button of Clark's jeans, working them open and the zipper down, she slipped her hand inside the boxers beneath the jeans, finding their clit, already slick from earlier. She teased at the swollen bud, stroking it with the pad of her fingertip, she lowered herself as much as she could without falling, her bare nipples grazing over Clark's skin and sports bra.

Clark 

Clark felt their entire body heat up as Beka’s hand made its way down their pants. They rolled their hips upwards into the girl as a moan came from their lips into the kiss. They arched their back into Beka, wanting to feel as much of the girl as they could, their hands moving to run along the girl’s skin, tracing the muscles along her back.

Beka

At Clark's encouragement, Beka slipped a finger inside them, angling her hand so that her thumb could rub tight circles against their clit. She moved slowly, lingering, really feeling - perhaps for the first time - what Clark really felt like. She pulled away from Clark's lips, to kiss down to their chin, down their throat, to their chest. She used her free hand to clumsily push the fabric of the sports bra upward and out of the way, her other hand still working Clark's core steadily, before dipping her head and swirling her tongue around Clark's nipple. She loved Clark's chest, found something so unbelievably sexy about it, but even as she sucked and nipped at it, she longed for Clark's lips too badly to stay away for too long.

Clark

Clark whimpered first the first time that night. The sudden need for Beka overwhelmed them and they followed the girls lips as far as they could until they were pulled away from them. They’re head fell back and their eyes closed until they realized they didn’t like it. They felt disconnected and that was a dangerous place to be right now. Opening their eyes again, they looked down, moaning at the sight of Beka on their chest. But when Beka looked back up to them, they couldn’t take it any longer, reaching down to pull the girl back up into the kiss, a small whimper as their lips reconnected, their hips rocking along with Beka’s slow movements in and out of them.

Beka

Beka relaxed into the kiss, feeling whole again as their lips met. Who was she? What was this? She didn't care, it didn't matter, this moment would never end, it couldn't. She slipped a second finger inside Clark, keeping her pace slow and smooth, but stroking more forcefully against Clark's clit with her thumb. She wanted to feel them unravel. She dragged the tip of her tongue playfully across the roof of Clark's mouth, teasing, grinding herself harder against their thigh. In just a second she'd be on her third orgasm with very little effort.

Clark

Clark bucked their hips upwards as a second finger was pushed inside of them. They moaned into the kiss, their hands going back and forth between cupping the girls cheeks and exploring her back. “Please” the husked out into the kiss, not wanting to break it at all but feeling how close they were to falling over the edge. And with that word, it was almost like a damn broke. Beka curled her fingers just right and Clark arched upwards, moaning into the kiss as their orgasm washed over them again, their leg pressing upwards into Beka’s core.

Beka

For the second time that night, Beka reached her climax at the same time as Clark, crying out into the kiss, muffled by Clark’s life-giving lips. She shuddered, but kept her hand moving through Clark’s orgasm, wanting them to feel every bit the same amount of pleasure she was feeling. Finally, she collapsed onto her side, completely spent. She’d gone many rounds more than this before, but tonight everything in her was done, she could not have expended any more energy if she tried, though her weakened arms pulled Clark to face her anyway, unwilling to give up their lips just yet.

Clark

Clark felt like they had died and gone to heaven. Their body shook as they road out their high, their hands gripping at Beka’s back as they did so, their lips not once leaving Beka’s. Eventually Beka fell to their side and Clark was laying there, breathing heavily as their body continued to flutter in aftershocks. Feeling Beka’s hand on their face, they turned to them, smiling at the exhausted look on the girls face before leaning in and kissing them softly, tenderly, with no rush or lust or need. Just the two of them and their lips pressed together lightly.

[primal-screamer-blog1]

Mutually Assured Destruction (Playlist Here) Rating: Mature Pairing: Nikki Sixx/F. OC Description: Growing restless in his discontent, Nikki Sixx is plagued with past anxieties that he never could find the courage to confront. He’d seen and done it all but when it came to Ruby Moon, he’d always felt he had unfinished business. Now, years after their tumultuous relationship had seemingly come to an end, Nikki finds himself compulsively recounting memories and asking questions only she would have the answers to. current word count 16,606

Prologue One : Red When I See You Two : Attention, Affection Three : Think About What You Know Four :  Patience A/N: This one took me awhile because honestly, it’s a bit light on Nikki. There’s a lot of exposition here but thankfully this will be the last chapter where that happens. We’re much closer to them being together than it may seem. Surprise feature in here. Hope you enjoy xo  masterlist.

1983 Vince got put on the cover of Kerrang! Magazine. After that, every changed. The boys were hungrier than ever and still, no one would sign them.  They were too new and too much of a risk;  Nikki was lighting himself on fire every night while Mick was slowly locking in place.  But the crowds were becoming too much to handle.  They broke attendance records at clubs all over town and eventually someone called in the fire marshall.  But with no album, they were barred from access to bigger venues - no one was taking them seriously.  So they did it themselves. Nikki locked himself in the studio all summer with Motley Crue. Four long weeks, high on coke and shoved in a tiny recording booth with three other guys for seventeen hours a day, he was feeling tense and tight.  It was up in the mornings with cocaine and down in the afternoon with full handles of whiskey. Managing his stress, and therein his substance intake, became more important than staying fed so he was flat broke too. And then the album came out. People couldn’t buy Too Fast For Love fast enough. By the time the first pressing had run out, they sold out a 3,500 seat arena in San Francisco, a full 378 miles away from L.A. And the record labels took notice.  Elektra sent them on tour to Canada, footing the bill and signing them for the next seven years. The makeup, the stage show, the clothes, Tommy’s sticks spinning in the air; it’d worked. Motley Crue made it. And in the meantime, while Nikki was in and out the studio, up and down on planes and playing shows to thousands of people in another country, Ruby met someone. A few advertising executives from Palo Alto were taking the night off from their business trip in L.A. at the Seventh Veil. They were in L.A. because they’d just closed a massive deal with Calvin Klein and were contracted to run a billboard campaign. They were scouting locations. What they found, were models. Ruby and Roxanne could be seen topless, with their backs turned, fourteen feet high on five major highways in California. The girls were rendered in black and white, tight Calvin Klein jeans hugging their hips. They clutched hands, Roxanne looking down, her blonde hair splayed down her back, Ruby looking over her shoulder and smiling flirtatiously into the camera.   California Girls wear Calvins. For the two weeks following, The Seventh Veil received calls daily asking for Ruby. Plenty of local boys had come in to watch her and Roxanne, to gape at the girls they saw on the billboard, but the same guys started calling at least once a day. And every time her manager asked her if she wanted to take it, she said no. She didn’t want to be a model and so she didn’t want the attention. She wanted to pay the bills and that was the extent of her interest in Calvin Klein. The paycheck was more than she’d seen in her life, but she considered it nothing more than luck.  What she really wanted, one of the only things she cared about really, was to play music. She finally found a guitar player, a tall, skinny boy from Nebraska named Billie. Billie had shaggy black hair and was raised on classical music. He only wore black and when his fingers moved across a fretboard, his hands looked like frantic spiders, jumping and sliding across the guitar. He listened to DeBussy, read Fangoria and exclusively drank black coffee with a double shot of whiskey, no matter the hour. He also insisted that they were the Plastics and never The Plastix ever again.   Ruby introduced Billie to Alex, a teenage Mexican punk with a skunky two toned shag. Alex liked the Circle Jerks, double cheese pizza and banging on drums. He also liked Billie and Ruby. That was about it. They were missing a bass player, but together, they started writing songs in Billie’s basement apartment every day.  Ruby had no intention of losing focus. She was making money and making music. It was everything she had come to Los Angeles to do. So it was really frustrating for her when this guy kept calling. “Ruby, please just take it!” Roxanne begged her after picking up the phone. Roxanne had become paranoid with all the new found attention they were receiving. Ruby may have had her one persistent caller but when the guys came in, they wanted to see Roxanne. They were getting aggressive and it was beginning to stress her out. “Ruby if you don’t answer, he’s never gonna stop. Just take the call so he can leave us all alone.” Roxanne looked like she might quit right then and there if she didn’t. Ruby sighed. “What’s his name even?” “Says his name is Axl.” She raised an eyebrow. “Another fucking rock star?”  Ruby rolled her eyes. She grabbed the phone from Roxanne, who quickly replaced it with a drink and stormed off. “Listen to me, you little creep. I’ve been turning you down for two weeks now. What do you fucking want?” She heard a low, heady laugh on the other end. “How about you turn me down to my fucking face?” She didn’t stand a chance. Axl was gorgeous. He had long red hair, a big, wide mouth and intense, startling green eyes. He showed up in a tight cut off Iron Maiden t shirt, a red bandana tied around his forehead and torn up jeans tucked into heavy army boots with the tongues pulled out. A toothpick hung from his lips. “Your name’s Ruby, right?” “How do you even know that?” She shot at him, her hands on her hips and her mouth fixed in a scowl. A smile spread across Axl’s lips. He let out the same slow laugh she heard on the phone. “You’re even cuter when you’re angry.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “How did you find me, asshole? Only local boys know where we’re at, what’s your deal?” “Your pictures on the fucking 405, sweetheart. You’re not hard to find.” “Alright, great. Look, Axl, right? I’m gonna have to ask you to leave.” “There’s a company name on the back of the billboard,” He cut her off. “So I looked it up in the phone book and I called it. The guy on the other end told me he had no fucking clue who you were, but that I could call the ad agency and then he fucking laughed at me and was all like ‘good luck, kid’ as if I’m not standing here right fucking now. Fucking prick. Anyway,” Axl took a breath while he flipped his toothpick around. He either didn’t notice or didn’t care that he was rambling, his voice deep and his cadence slow. It was only hypnotic in that she had to try hard to pay attention.  She found she was more watching him than listening to him, his green eyes shifting about. “So I called the ad agency and they were like ‘that’s Ruby Moon. She’s fucking something, huh?’ I was like god damn right, man. Where the fuck can I find her? And so like, they just gave me your fucking information, which like, totally fucking warped, by the way. Turns out, I been living down the street from here the past six months. Fucking bizarre. So I figured I’d call you up and see if I could come talk to you.” “Yeah…fucking bizarre.” She trailed off, staring at him. He seemed frustrated about something, more than just a little cagey. He stood with his arms across his chest and though he went on in a bit of rigid tone, he looked at her like all he’d done was casually comment on the weather. But recounting his story, something about him seemed almost painfully sweet, if not niave and sentimental. She loosened up a little. “You really did all that?” “Yeah, I mean…you got eyes that knocked me the fuck out.” Finally, he smiled. She had to look away to keep from blushing. She felt embarrassed and flattered. She didn’t know why. She got asked out on dates constantly working at the club, but Axl didn’t seem all that interested in the strip club. He seemed interested in her. "So....what?” She almost stuttered. “Did you like wanna go on a date or something? Is that why you're here?" "Nah, I just had to come see what you were about." She tilted her head at him, confused as to what exactly he was here for. A slow look of realization spread across his face. “Oh, wait, would you go on a date with me?” “That’s not what you came here for?” “No fuckin’ way. You’d go out with me? For real?” She couldn’t turn him down at that point. Axl didn’t take Ruby out to dinner or for drinks like most guys did.  Instead, he bought two 40 ounces of malt liquor from the gas station and took her onto the public transit bus. She agreed to go out with him that night, his fascination with her quickly becoming mutual. It was 2:30 in the morning and she’d just gotten out of work. “You know, I have a car. I could’ve drove.” She told him, pulling a black denim jacket over her cropped tank top. “Get your own date.” He nudged her in the shoulder. “I’m not letting you hijack mine.” Axl told Ruby that he was from Indiana and, like many, moved here to start a band.  He wanted to sing. “My voice is kinda weird, not a lot of people really get what I’m trying to do.” He said. “I’m with these guys right now, Hollywood Rose. I don’t really know how long it’ll last. This guy Izzy is a fucking great guitar player though. I just want it to go somewhere.” She told him about the Plastics and their new direction with their new guitar player. “Kind of punk, kind of glam, but also, kind of not at all.” She explained it. They talked about influences from Kiss and Aerosmith to Velvet Underground and Patti Smith. Axl argued that punk was transgressive. “Devil’s Advocate.” He added. “I love punk rock.” “Transgression is exactly the point, right? Transgress in technology, you can progress in ideology.” She tapped a long finger nail to her temple. He almost laughed at her. “Why the fuck are you a stripper?” “Because I fucking love it, asshole!” “You sound like you went to college.” She laughed. She wasn’t about to tell him her life story. They got off at the last stop. They’d been on the bus for about an hour and the streetlights stopped appearing.  There was only one other person on the bus, a small old woman asleep in the front. Axl and Ruby sat in the back, each of their legs flung over the others and giggling while they traded a bottle back and forth. “Is this where you murder me?” She asked, peering out the window at the desolate road they plugged along, hills rising all around them. “We don’t have to go.” He said, looking concerned. “I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable or anything.” Ruby pinched her brows together, not used to hearing something like that come out of a guys mouth. For a moment she considered what he meant; she really had no idea who he was or where they were. “I’ll take my chances.” She grinned at him. He smiled back at her and put his hand on her thigh. She let him keep it there. When the bus finally stopped, they were on a wooded road at the last exit before the Hollywood sign. Axl kicked at the dirt under his boots and lit up a cigarette. Ruby looked up and down the road, cracked and covered with potholes. It was hard to see the night sky, tall trees stretching together above them. She could tell they were high up in the Hollywood Hills, the temperature having dropped significantly from when they left the strip. “Where are we?” She asked, joining him and lighting up her own smoke. “Mount Lee.” He exhaled. “C’mon. We’re not too far.” “We’re going hiking?” She asked him, watching him start to lead her down the road. “Not even. There’s a path right up here.” He said, sticking his hand out at her. “C’mon.” She looked at it for a moment, unsure of herself suddenly. “You want me to hold your hand?” “What are you, a robot or something? Yeah, hold my hand.” She thought about it for a moment. All the intimacy she encountered since she’d been in California had only taken place in someone’s bed. In a bathroom stall, up against a wall at a party, all the same; she realized this was the first date she didn’t feel any expectations. She felt that she could just as easily tell Axl no as she could take his hand and walk with him and it wouldn’t matter to him. So she did. His hand was big and warm. She smiled as he led her past a large wooden sign, Trail Marker 13.3 Miles etched into it. They went into the brush and down a small dirt path. She was thankful she changed into her street clothes before leaving work, dreading just the idea of walking around the dirt in heels. “How did you find this spot?” She asked as they weaved through the dark, trees and foliage closing in around them. “I was in a pretty fucked up place when I first got here.” He told her, pulling a branch out of the way and holding it back for her.  “I used to come up here and drink by myself when I didn’t have a place to stay. Just wander around in the dark feeling like a fucking wolf.” “Are wolves nocturnal?” “What?” “Like are they mostly active at night?” “I don’t fucking know. They’re always howling at the moon and shit, right?” “Yeah, I guess so.” “We’re almost there. It’s right up ahead.” The full silver moon above illuminated a small clearing of tall grass and purple wildflowers. Axl walked in ahead of her and sprawled out in the grass. She looked up and took a hesitant step in. There seemed to be a million more stars in the sky than there were in the city, the night a crisp, clean black and white. “C’mere.” Axl called out to her, tipping the bottom of his bottle up at the sky. She stepped all the way out into the clearing and he picked himself up on his elbows. She sat down next him and took the malt liquor, taking a deep swig of her own. “It’s really beautiful up here.” She told him. “You’re really fucking beautiful up here.” He said, staring back at her. She instinctively looked away to hide her smile, feeling on spot under his gaze. “No, c’mon. Lemme see it in person.” He gently placed his big, warm hand on her neck and guided her face back to him. Her smile fell slightly and she blinked up into his eyes. His wide grin came back. “God damn it.” “Why are you being so sweet to me?” “I dunno.” He shrugged and gave her a knowing smirk, keeping his answers to himself. His hand slid from her neck to her back and she pulled in closer to him. “Why are you so surprised?” He asked her. She nuzzled her head into his chest before pressing her lips softly to his throat. “I dunno.” He made a satisfied hum and worked his hand into her hair. He gently tugged it so that she looked up at him. He held her there for a moment and moved the loose strands out of her face.“Why’d you come out with my tonight?” He searched her eyes, the same color green as his. She caught her breath and let out a sound between a whimper and a giggle, feeling on spot. He let his hand fall and trace her collar bone with his thumb. “Give me a break. You know you’re gorgeous. That’s why you wanted to see me in person, right?” “Be for real.” He tried not to smile. She took in a deep sigh and looked down, needing a moment from his concentration. “Honestly?” She began, considering her words. “You seemed exciting.” “Bus ride change your mind?” “No. Not at all. Most guys just wanna go out with me so they can tell their friends they got with a stripper. I still don’t really know what you want.” She pulled his hand up to her mouth and kissed his knuckles. “Axl.” She murmured his name, glancing up at him. They both let their guards down. He pushed his mouth onto hers. She felt a warmth spread in her chest as she breathed in deep, pulling herself onto his lap. She draped her arms down his back, his hands holding onto her hips and grabbing at her thighs as his tongue opened her mouth. Beneath the moonlight, Ruby and Axl kissed and touched and rolled on top of each other until it faded and the sun took its place. In the vibrant orange and pink of daybreak, the crickets making their last calls in the trees, Axl pulled Ruby’s shirt over her head and kissed her breasts. She took off her bra and he took off his pants and a warm breeze rolled over them, until eventually, they were naked in the morning light. He held her tight and pushed deep into her until she squeezed around his whole body; his cock, his waist, his shoulders. Her nails grazed down his back, on top of her until she loosened again. She smiled in his arms and he kissed her forehead and her lips and her shoulders, pulling her jacket around her and laying naked in the sun until they heard a group of hikers falling in in the distance. For the next three weeks, Ruby had Axl in the morning, band practice in the afternoon, work at Seventh Veil at night and would be back in bed with Axl by the end of it all. They showed each other songs the other had written and smoked joints by the pool in her apartment complex. They sang duets in the shower together and sat in awe of the other’s voice. Izzy or Billie would stop by to shoot the shit and play guitar, exchanging ideas for the Plastics and Hollywood Rose. The diner down the street from her house had already taken note of her usual egg white and black coffee. Now when she came in, they had a cheeseburger and a double order of fries ready for Axl. They would eat, smoke and talk into the night until they found themselves tangled up in her bed again until the sun came up again. Until one morning her phone rang. “Ruby! We saw you and Roxie in a magazine in goddamn Canada! What the fuck?” Tommy’s excited voice came over the end. “Tommy?!” She gasped excitedly into the phone. She hadn’t heard from any of the boys in Motley Crue since they left for tour. She kept so busy, she almost didn’t notice they’d been gone for longer than they said they’d be. “I’m so excited to hear from you. Where are you guys?” “We’re in Toronto! We’ve been selling out every night, they had to add extra dates to the tour!” “No fucking way, that’s amazing! Are you loving it?” “I’m having the time of my fucking life, Ruby Red. I hope this tour never ends.” “I fucking hope it does. I need you guys to come back! I miss you all so much.” “I’m always missing you, California Girl. You’re famous now too!” He said, referencing the slogan on her ad. “She’s from fucking New York!” She heard Nikki’s muffled shouting over the phone. “Wow he’s just so supportive.” She said sarcastically. “Ah, you know Nikki. He’ll never be happy.” Tommy laughed. “Hey, fuck you!” She heard Nikki again. “Dude, take the phone.” Tommy rustled around and Nikki muttered something unintelligible to him. “Talk to Ruby, dickweed. Ow! Alright, well whatever. I tried!” “Don’t worry about it, Tommy, he’ll have to talk to me someday.” She joked. “Hey, we’re gonna be back in two days. The label is throwing us a party at Nikki’s new place and you gotta be there! I wanna hear all about how you got in a fucking magazine.” “I got nothing but time for you, T-Bone.” She hung up the phone in the kitchen, pulling her blanket around her naked body. Her bare feet padded across the black tile and into her bedroom where Axl still slept. She leaned against the doorframe and looked at his hair falling down his back, his shoulders gently rising and falling with his heavy breathing. He let out a snore and she giggled quietly before falling back into bed with him. He made a noise in his throat as she laid kisses on his shoulder blade. “Who’s on the phone this early?” He groaned and rolled over, pulling her on top of him, keeping his eyes closed. “My friend Tommy. He’s a drummer. They’re coming back from tour in a few days.” “Fucking lucky.” Axl pulled a pillow over his face. Ruby sat up and ran a finger down his ribs. “Hey Axl?” “Baby.” He sat up, hearing a slight rise in her voice that let him know she had something serious to say. He held back a yawn, trying to rub the sleep from his heavy eyes. She grabbed onto his hand - something she no longer found intimidating. “You mind if I just hang by myself tonight?” He quirked a somewhat spiteful smile at her. “You finally getting tired of me?” “God, no.” She laid a kiss on his shoulder. “I just wanna get some alone time before my friends get back into town.” “You’re just so popular.” He teased her and gave her nipple a hard flick before laying back down. “Get on top of me, popular girl. I wanna feel like a fucking football player.” “Oh my God, fuck off.” She laughed as he pulled her on top of him. He fucked her good and hard before kissing her goodbye. “I’ll call you in a few days. I gotta see Izzy anyway. Says he found this wild guitar player I gotta check out, so we’ll be tracking him down.” Ruby took the night off. The piping hot bath tub simmered as the bubbles grew taller. With a bottle of champagne and the local rock station playing, she slipped in for the night to clear her head. However the radio had other plans. “Ladies and gentlemen, exploding hot on the scene and closing out their first international tour, we have Motley Crue rocking the airwaves tonight with their first hit single, 10 Seconds To Love! Check this one out, listeners and stay tuned for your chance to win a signed copy of the record! Rock n Roll!” She popped the bottle and let the foam run into the tub. She wouldn’t be bothering with a glass. She hadn’t thought about Nikki since they left. She made an effort not to. Things had been strained between the two of them in the weeks before tour. Without seeing much of the other, their last serious conversation didn’t have much resolve. And how could it? She thought. She didn’t know where things were going with Axl. She knew that she really liked him, but she also knew when she told Nikki she didn’t want a boyfriend, she meant it. She drank from her bottle of champagne and submerged beneath the bubbles. She thought about Nikki. She thought about how much she missed him. One late night while the boys were recording, Nikki had shown up on her doorstep unannounced. His head was hurting and his stomach was growling. “I can’t get these fucking songs out of my head.” He sighed in the doorway, soaking wet from the downpour outside. She rushed him in and got him a towel while he dropped his sopping t shirt in a puddle on the floor. “Take a shower.” She told him, holding the towel out at arms length. “You stink.” When he emerged, clean and warm, his hair was wet and laid flat. He shivered in his briefs, joining Ruby where she sat on the couch. She was in a pair of sweatpants and an old high school chorus line t shirt, makeup wiped from her face and her hair pulled back. It was a rare sight for both of them to be seen like this. As he sat down, she got up and rounded into the kitchen. She came back with a heaping plate of leftover spaghetti in one hand and a bottle of rum in the other. “Eat up.” She told him, handing him off the plate. “Sorry for showing up so late.” He said, leaning over and scarfing down the food. “It’s fine.” She said, watching him with concern. “When’s the last time you ate?” “I don’t know.” “Jesus. You gotta take better care of yourself, Sixx.” “I gotta get this fucking record done first.” After a few huge bites, he took the rum from her and washed down his massive helping. He hadn’t realized he was so hungry. He sighed and finally relaxed into the couch. He pulled a wool blanket off the arm and wrapped it around himself. “Your place is so fucking nice.” “Having a job is nice.” “I’m gonna have a place of my own one day.” “Yeah you fucking are.” She grabbed the rum back from him. “This album is gonna blow people’s minds, Nikki. When you see that, you’re not even gonna remember nights like tonight.” He shifted in his place, hiccuping from how quickly he drank and ate. “I want to though.”  He chugged more rum. “Well, you’re definitely not going to at this rate.” He looked up at her and blinked hard, his eyes bloodshot through smudged eyeliner he wasn’t able to wipe off. He groaned. “Ruby, I’m sorry for being such a shit head.” “What ever could you be talking about, Nikki?” She smiled sarcastically at him. “You’re the worst.” “No, please, say it again. I wanna hear a long apology.” “C’mon, I’m being serious.” “I am too! Suck it up, Sixx. I’m gonna give you all the shit I can.” “Fine. Fine. Fuck. I’m sorry. I’ve been an asshole. You don’t deserve any of that.” He rolled his head on his shoulder to look away from her. “You’re allowed to do whatever the fuck you want. I can’t complain about you living your life. That’s fucked up for me to do.” “Nikki, you know I love you. Right?” “You do?” “Of course, I do. You know I do. Why else would I let you in my house at three in the morning?” He chewed on the inside of his lip, frustrated with himself and for some reason, still frustrated with Ruby. He meant what he said, it’d been on his mind all day. But hearing her say that she loved him somehow made him feel worse than before. He pulled his knees into his chest. “Yeah, sure. Love you too.” He didn’t mean it the same way she did. Not in this context anyway, and he knew it was the only context he’d hear it in. She pretended not to notice. “Nothing is ever coming between us, okay? I promise.” In the tub, she thought about Axl again as she remembered her words to Nikki. All she could do was sink deeper into the bubbles and hope it was true. Taglist: @triplehaitches @vamprlestat 

[izzy-b-hands]

Drive Me Wild

A random bit of Sledgefu to help me relieve the stress of my long ass work day today (I’ve been awake since 4 am I am So Tired.) Little bit sweet, definitely smutty, all around incredibly fun to write. Hope you guys enjoy it!

And please forgive me any typos-I’ll run over this again tomorrow when I’m more awake and fix any major typos!

The car was a point of fascination in their life, despite being nothing fancy. A fellow Marine who lived nearby had offered it to them at an extremely low price shortly after they’d moved in-his family had bought him a new car to celebrate his returning. An expensive gift, but it came at a great benefit to them. He’d only offered it after seeing them in their uniforms as they’d moved in to their apartment (Eugene had hated that, but they hadn’t had much in the way of extra clothes at that point), and wanted it to go to his brothers in arms. 

“The uniform ain’t all bad,” Snafu hummed as they drove about one early evening. “Still can’t believe it got us this.” 

They had nowhere to go, nothing to do, and normally Eugene was reluctant to spend extra on gas or to use the car when they could otherwise walk somewhere-but this was nice. Snafu was half laid across the seat, leaned carefully against him, a hand draped just so over his thigh. They’d cranked down the windows, and the summer breeze was like a soft and warm hug surrounding them. 

“Yeah. She’s somethin’,” Eugene smiled. 

“Wonder how long of a trip she could make. She’s not so old-probably could make it pretty far if we took breaks,” Snafu murmured, seemingly half to himself more than to Eugene. 

“What’s got you thinkin’ about that? You going off somewhere?” Eugene asked playfully as he lightly drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. 

Snafu shrugged. “I mean...we haven’t gone back to Mobile. We don’t have to, but I didn’t know if you’d want to, or...” 

Eugene stiffened up at the mention of his hometown, not meaning to but unable to stop himself. 

“Shit, sugar. Ignore me and my dumb fuckin’ mouth,” Snafu said, gripping his thigh a bit tighter. 

“No. I mean, I’ve kind of considered it. Sometimes. But at the same time...ugh,” Eugene sighed. 

“Talk it out, or it’ll bug ya,” Snafu said softly. “No judgement.” 

“I’d love to see them again. But I know how they are, how they’ll be. I don’t give a fuck what they say about me. But I won’t stand them saying a single harsh word against you, and...” His hands tightened on the steering wheel. “It’s strange. I don’t think I can ever touch a gun again. The thought of violence makes me sick-yet I know if I ever had to-” 

“You would do what you had to, if it meant protecting what you love,” Snafu said. “Who you love. I get it.” 

“And my family doesn’t know this version of me. They don’t know me with a temper of any kind, or to do more than shrug if they’d say something to upset me. But I couldn’t just shrug if we went, and they were awful to you,” Eugene continued, digging his nails into the material of the wheel. “And I don’t know how that would end up.” 

Snafu nodded and sighed with a heavy breath. “What if we find a middle ground? Not goin’ home, but-hell, I don’t know. We could have Sid out again, maybe get his opinion on going home?” 

“You’re a wise man, Merriell,” Eugene hummed, letting his hands relax. 

Snafu didn’t say a word, so he quickly looked down. 

He’d forgotten the effect it had on Snafu, using his first name. He was blushing, red as an apple. 

“There is a way to shut that pretty mouth,” Eugene laughed. 

“A way? Think you know of a few more than just usin’ my name,” Snafu grinned, his hand moving up Eugene’s thigh. 

“That is not safe,” Eugene murmured weakly. 

“You really care about that right this minute?” Snafu asked, a wicked grin on his face as Eugene quickly looked down. “Think anyone can see me if I lay down?” 

“Why are you asking that?” Eugene asked, knowing exactly why Snafu was asking that. 

“Why don’t you find some more secluded roads and I’ll show you why?” 

He didn’t like to push it, in regards to speed, but he did now. Luckily, not too many people were on any of the side roads as it got later, and eventually he got far enough out of town that it was essentially empty and he could find a spot to pull over and park on the shoulder of the road. 

Snafu had been leaned down the whole time, alternatively palming and sucking at him through his trousers. Now he was greedy, undoing his pants as quickly as he could to take Eugene in his mouth. 

“Jesus, Merriell, if anyone were to see us-” 

Snafu moaned around him at the use of his name, then let him drop heavily out of his mouth with a gasp. “They’d be pretty fuckin’ jealous.” 

Snafu offered another smile, this one even more mischievous than the last as he took Eugene back in his mouth. 

That was the end of his focus, and he was very glad he’d parked rather than tried to keep driving. He let his head thump back against the seat, and moaned without abandon, wanton. 

Snafu just had a damn gift of a mouth. Both in how quick he could be with a smart ass comment or quip, and in how he used it on Eugene. 

Just as he was close, Snafu suddenly let him go and sat up. “Let’s drive a bit more. Don’t want anyone to see us sat here and get suspicious.”

Eugene was breathing heavy, and stared at him. “You can’t be serious.” 

Snafu licked his lips and palmed at his own cock. “Deadly. Get to drivin’.” 

“You expect me to able to drive?” Eugene meant it to come out a bit frustrated, but instead it came out a weak mewling whine. 

“Oh, look at you,” Snafu laughed. “C’mon darlin’. I’ll make it worth your while.” 

Eugene sighed, but got the car moving again as quickly as he could. 

As he drove, Snafu teased him. Light touches with one hand while his other toyed with himself, even though he hadn’t yet undone his own pants. 

He didn’t have enough of him left to enunciate exactly how much it was driving him wild. He could only whine and whimper as Snafu smiled and moaned happily with every sound he made. 

“Stop,” Snafu finally instructed, and Eugene couldn’t help but sigh with relief. 

He’d barely parked the car before Snafu had his mouth around him again, as if he was starving for the taste of his skin. 

“I don’t know if-” 

“You can hold on,” Snafu said, coming up for a breath. “Show me you can.” 

It was taking everything within him not to come. He knew he was moaning and muttering, but that he wasn’t making much sense except for when he whispered Snafu’s first name. 

Again, just as he was nearly there, Snafu was sitting up, licking his lips and smiling. “Oh dear, we have been in this one spot for a bit. Better drive a bit further down the road, Sledgehammer.” 

The use of his nickname nearly sent him over the edge even though Snafu’s mouth and hands were off of him. “Merriell-” 

Snafu leaned over and kissed him on the mouth, hard and wet and sloppy. “Do it for me, sugar.” 

He put the car back in gear, groaning as he struggled to hold himself back. How that summer breeze could somehow now be making him even more over-sensitive was criminal. 

They didn’t make it very far before Snafu ordered him to stop again, and dove down into his lap. 

He didn’t even try and hold back. It simply wasn’t possible anymore. He could hear himself, whining and begging as he came hard into Snafu’s mouth, who moaned around him in return. 

After a moment, Snafu sat up, and Eugene broke into exhausted laughter. “You’re washing those.” 

Snafu’s trousers were, simply put, a mess as a result of his teasing. But he was grinning. 

“Oh well. Best damn orgasm in...since last night, I guess,” he laughed as he leaned over to kiss Eugene again, still with the same passion behind it, but softer. 

“Think you can drive back?” Snafu snickered as Eugene leaned forward to slump against the steering wheel. 

He smiled, satisfied and shrugged as he put himself away and did up his trousers. “If you give me half a minute, maybe. Good god, Merriell.” 

He looked over, and saw Snafu was blushing again. 

“Tell you what. Keep that mouth busy with some kisses for me, and I’ll get us home,” Eugene sighed happily. All he wanted was to sit and cuddle and kiss and be blissful together, but he knew the roadside wasn’t really the place for that. 

Snafu leaned over, and kissed him again-this time soft and sweet, but at the same time like he was trying to drink Eugene in, as if his lips were the only thing keeping him alive. 

“That’ll do,” Eugene said shakily, and laughed as Snafu cracked up, falling against him softly. 

The rest of the ride home, Snafu leaned against him again. This time, happily exhausted and despite the noise of the car, asleep. His dark curls bouncing at bumps in the road, and his eyelids and lashes captivating enough that Eugene had to remind himself to look back at the road. 

He took the long way home, no concern for how much it would cost to refill the car’s gas tank. It was worth it to have the time to admire the beauty of his husband.

[writeouttaluck]

Here is a story about my friend getting hit by a bus and then haunting said bus, per her request.

(this probably has a whole lot of spelling mistakes and stuff, but thats because i didnt feel like editing it. enjoy)

Two older men sat in their chairs in front of the bus depot. From their spot, they overlooked all the buses lined up beside each other. Today was a hot one, but otherwise, it was a pretty standard day.

All of a sudden they were both alerted to the sound of a Diesel engine. They glanced at the entrance to find a bus driving in pretty fast. The front of it was covered in something red and the driver behind the wheel looked really panicky.

When the bus stopped and the engine was shut off, the driver swung open the door and nearly sprinted out of it. He ran directly for the hose and bucket outside.

One of the older men just sipped their beer and watched, the other picked up a news paper. Neither of them seemed real concerned.

The young bus driver ran back over with the bucket full of water. In a quick motion, he threw its contents onto the front of the bus and started scrubbing the area with a sponge like his life depended on it. One of the old men set down their beer on the pavement and got up from their seat. He walked over to see what the bus driver was up to.

As he got closer, he quickly realized that the red stuff on the front was not quite what he imagined. It was thick, and syrupy, and it just swirled around on the surface instead of picking up.

The bus driver caught the old man watching him and in a quick motion, he spun around and faced him. He looked terrified.

The old man was still nonchalant about all this.

“What happened?” The old man asked.

“Oh, boss, it was horrible! I-I was doing my scheduled run around the city when all of a sudden this girl just ran out of nowhere!” The bus driver could hardly get the words out, he was shaking so bad.

“Ah, ok. I dont need to hear anymore. Well shit. Its been awhile since this happened…”

“Am I going to jail?!” The bus driver asked in fear.

“What? Of course not. Go grab the pressure washer from out back and use a lot of soap. Blood doesnt come off easy.”

The bus driver stopped for a second and looked at the old man in confusion. Was he crazy?

“S-sir… that woman was killed!”

The old man shook his head.

“She either killed herself or it was natural selection...did anyone see you?” He asked.

“I uh….I dont think so?”

“Great,” the old man started, “clean your bus and continue your run.”

…

It took longer than expected for Terry, the bus driver, to clean his issued vehicle. It was about an hour and a half washing job, and he was still pretty shaken up over it. He just couldnt get the image out of his head.

Like any other morning, Terry drove his bus down down hill to meet his first stop. It was a pretty quiet stop as not many people really used it. most people that lived in that area either drove or walked to work and other places. The bus just wasnt needed as much. Even though the stop seemed to be pretty empty, he figured he would stop there just incase someone was right by or running late. It happened sometimes.

What didnt usually happen though, was someone running into the street. Terry’s heart sank as he watched this small woman run directly in his line of drive. He slammed on the brakes though he knew he wouldnt be able to stop in time.

Everything slowed down as he watched the girl. She looked up at him from the road and smiled wide. She even moved her arms outwards like she was about to hug someone before it happened.

The bus hit her and her body flew out to the sidewalk, a crumpled heap of nothing. Blood had exploded all over his windsheild.

“O-Oh my god!” he yelled.

He knew that if he stuck around that he would get in trouble so he did what all people do when theyre scared and ran. He drove down the rest of the way and made a beeline for the bus depot.

The whole drive there he was gagging and crying and shaking and pretty much having a breakdown.

“W-what the fuck! What the FUCK!”

He shook his head and decided that before he went back to work that he was gonna get a cup of coffee. He hopped off his bus once more and went inside the building for the bus depot. The old man sat back and was doing something on the company computer. He looked away from the screen and watched Terry walk across to the coffee maker.

“Be careful about the coffee maker today. Its been a lot hotter than usual today. I think somethings wrong with it.”

“Yeah, sure” Terry responded.

Terry drank a lot of coffee so he was sure that it wasnt that bad. He grabbed a syrofoam cup and poured his coffee in before stiring in some suger and popping a lid on. He grabbed the coffee and actually started to feel the heat through the cup. It burned his hand a bit. Damn, maybe the old man was right. He wrapped some napkins around the cup before picking it up again. As he turned to walk out, he faced the old man.

“Well! Back to work!” He said sounding exhausted already.

The old man chuckled a bit.

“You will do fine, kid”

…

Terry was back in his bus and driving to his scheduled spots. He had the hot coffee sitting in his cupholder with the tab up so it could cool off. If it was too hot to touch, it was probably too hot to drink.

He went to stop on another hill across town. He slowed down before his brakes shuddered and his cup holder that extended outwards, broke free. Terry flinched as he expected boiling hot liquid to burst into his lap. But when non came, he glanced at the cup holder.

It had broke away completely. But his coffee cup and the napkins wrapped around it, stayed levitating in place.

He looked at it in wonder, trying to figure how tf his coffee was floating.

All of a sudden, he felt a cold chill run down his spine and he shivered. He grabbed the coffee cup out of the air. And like that, the cold went away.

Terry spoke out loud to himself.

“Well that was fuckin weird…”

…

Later on in the day, he was driving his bus with a few passengers scattered throughout. There was an old lady, a mother with her kid, and a teenage boy with his hood up listening to his headphones.

It was rush hour now and the streets were pretty busy. Terry was already behind schedule, but he had been rushing to make up for it all day. He even cut a few corners and took side streets when he could.

At the moment, he was speeding up the street. Not too fast, but not exactly safe either. He was going about 50 when a big pick up truck pulled out of an alleyway and right in front of him. In a panic, Terry swung the wheel to the left in an attempt to avoid an accident. As he started left, a car in the left lane beside him was almost shoved off the road and into a high curb. He quickly realized that there was no way out of this when he felt the cold again.

The wheel was yanked out of his grip and his first thought was that he had lost his power steering.

However, as he fought the steering wheel that seemed to be steering itself, the bus swung around the pick up and past the car beside him in a near miss of a maneuver.

When the bus straightened out, the cold faded away and he regained control of the steering wheel.

Once he realized that everything was fine, he looked in his overhead mirror to check on his passengers.

“Is everybody alright?”He yelled to the back.

The mom, while she looked a bit frightened, nodded her head quickly while the old lady just smiled. The teenager in the back didnt appear to realize what had just happened at all.

Terry let out a sigh of relief and kept on his way, making sure to stay the speed limit.

…

This was the part that Terry always hated about his job. The last stop was near a really bad neighborhood and, considering he was about an hour behind, it was now dark outside. He gave out a long sigh and drove through the area. Cars sat on cinderblocks, garbage fires raged about in the alleyways. Most of the streetlights had that old, orange glow to them. Most of them flickered.

The bus stop was right ahead and Terry noticed a group of young gentlemen sitting on by, watching him pull up intently. Something about the way they watched him come to a stop unsettled Terry. He didnt have a great feeling about this.

He stopped the bus and opened the door and the gentlemen climbed on. However, instead of moving to a seat, they stopped up near Terry.

Before he could say anything, one of them whipped out a large knife and aimed at him.

“Close the door and drive, fat man”

Terry, feeling now obligated to follow the mans request now that there was a large sharp object aimed at his neck, did exactly as he was told. As soon as the bus started moving again, One of the men moved to the money box and tried opening it.

“Hey bus man, open yo fuckin box here”

Terry now started sweating as he realized he cant.

“Uh, S-sorry fellas! I cant do that. Its locked and the only key for it is at the depot.” He spoke trying to keep his eyes on the road.

“Bullshit!” the 3rd man in the back said.

The guy with the knife tapped the blade on the box.

“Open this box, before i open you.”

Thats when Terry felt a cold chill for the 3rd time today. Only this time, It seemed to be coming from the door instead.

The blade in the mans hand suddenly bent itself all the way to the left, before snapping off completley and skating towards the back of the bus.

“What the fuck?” the Criminal said.

“Im tired of fucking around!” the 2nd one said. He drew his gun and aimed it at the lock box before he felt something hit his wrist hard.

“Fuck!!” he yelled in pain as he dropped his pistol.

The third man watched as all of this continued while he stood against the door, still on the stairs.

The door whipped open and he felt something grab his tank top from behind. He was suddenly thrown from the moving bus. The other two men turned to look at what was happening before the bus braked hard. The two men were thrown against the glass of the windsheild. Then, the gas got stomped down and the two men were flung into the metal bars behind them, getting knocked out cold.

They slumped to the floor of the bus.

Terry watched as they were flung out of the bus like their friend before. The doors slammed shut behind them.

At this, Terry wanted to know what the fuck was going on with his bus.

He drove up ahead a bit before pulling into an alleyway and stopping. He stood out of his seat and flipped on the overhead lights.

“Ok, What the fuck is going on here”

He felt like an idiot when he got no immediate response.

“I know theres something here. Dont play dumb with me. Ill have this fucking bus scrapped!”

Again, no response.

Terry was about to give up and drive back to the depot when a mysterious fog formed from nothing in his bus. The temperature dropped drastically. It wasn't just a cold chill, it was freezing.

The windows fogged over, blocking his sight to the outside world. He started rubbing his shoulders as he began to regret his thirst for knowledge.

A large puff of smoke plumed from the back of the bus and a figure moved through it.

Terry was one step from attempting a jump out of his windshield before he gave the figure a closer look.

The figure was the girl from this morning! The one that ran into his bus!

“Ayyy, what it do.” She spoke waving off the fog with her spector hand.

“Its fucking smokey in here, what is up with that”

Terry felt a mixture of fear and confusion at the sight before him.

“Y-y-youre t-t-t-that g-girl-!”

She cut him off real quick.

“Yeah, heh, sorry about that. I didnt realize what kind of mess my body would leave like that”

Terry was 90% sure at this point that he had finally lost his marbles.

“Anyways,” She continued on, “Im a ghost now, and since you were able to help me end my shitty existence like that, I want to help you”

Terry gained a bit of confidence at these words, for whatever reason.

“Help me with what?” He inquired.

“With your job, dude!”

Terry stood for a moment and thought about it.

“So let me get this straight, You want to help me with my job because you were able to kill yourself using my bus? Is that right?”

The ghost, unnecessarily leaned her shoulder on one of the metal poles in the bus.

“Yeah, thats pretty much it.”

“Huh...:” Terry thought aloud.

They both sat in silence for a minute before Terry shook his head.

“Wait, wait a second. How do i know youre really a ghost and that this isnt just some wild guilt hallucination?”

To answer Terry’s question, The ghost walked forward and moved straight through Him. Terry grabbed onto his own body and twisted in horror before The ghost walked back through the same way.

“Alright! I believe you! Enough of that!” He yelled.

“So, we got a deal?” The ghost asked as she raised her hand up to him in proposition.

He grabbed her hand, somehow and shook it.

“Whats your name, anyways?” Terry asked the spector.

“Jada” the ghost responded.

[angelstalkshit]

last night was brilliant. here were some checkpoints of the night:

• Both me &da bestie got into the first show for free because the 2 beautiful souls behind us had extra tickets on hand to give out - they said they always get extra for others!!! 🥺😭💕

• We were hot af the every second of the night, i was wearing my new shay kawaii piece with a lightweight mesh dress over with a mesh iamgia tank with long sleeves over THAT and omg none of it is ever big enough for my titties but we were still VIBINGGG

• hit 2 venues, both were surprisingly so juicy with bass and GOOD. VIBES. The goth club was gettin dooowwwnnnnnnn. DJ played gesaffelstein, a mega favvv.

• had a long island for the first time !!! New fav lollll

• at the end we were in my car just fuckn jamming to more gesaffelstein and some CUTIEEE is just walking by then stops to stare at us and once I noticed i rolled down my window because they were just STARINGGGG and i was like 👀👀👀 - i was like heyyy, whats up? And they were like "You guys are going really fuckin hard in there" and they said it straight faced and they were straight faced the entire time and walked away after I said hell yeah yes we are THANK YOU for noticing!!! all drunk like lmao

• sobered up and drove my grrl homee , and she had a great night too

• also I was fit-checked, aka interviewed about what I was wearing when I was waiting for the bathroom like I was on the damn red carpet hahahah girls I am ur Queen now

[just-jordie-things]

Weakness - Mitch Rapp

word count: really fuckin long (9269) warnings: swearing, violence, the torture kind, mitch being hot as always

You sat at the kitchen table of your cabin home, a glass of water in your hands as you watched the outdoors curiously.  A black SUV had pulled in front of the house, a woman leaving it but you could tell that there were others in it.  You stood up, wandering closer and wrapping your cardigan around your tank top and shirts to preserve your warmth as you opened the door, just enough to hear what was going on outside.

“Irene, I don’t approve of it, and neither would your Daddy” Stan spoke to the woman you now remembered.  Head of the CIA.  You didn’t know Irene well, just that Stan worked under her.

“I’ll be checking in every forty eight hours” She spoke affirmatively, and walked off, getting back in the car.  Someone got out, that you couldn’t see until the vehicle drove off.  Leaving behind probably the most gorgeous man you’d ever seen.  Thick shaggy hair and you could tell he was hiding muscles under his big baggy coat.  Your brow raised, gaining even more curiosity at the new meat that ad been dropped off.

There hadn’t been any new comers in a few months, so you wondered what made this one so special.

You couldn’t hear well what the new guy and Stan were saying, just that it was tense.  You figured Stan didn’t want him there, judging by what he’d told Irene earlier.  After a few minutes, one of Stan’s men came up, and led the new guy into the house.  You finally stepped outside, leaning over the rail as Stan stood on the steps.

“Who’s the new fella?” You asked, and he gave you a bored look as he lit his cigarette.

“Unwelcome that’s what” He said gruffly.  You rolled your eyes, snatching the offending stick from his mouth.

“You’re supposed to be on the patch dad” You told him, putting it out by smushing it on the rail, then flicking it out to the yard.  He just rolled his eyes and continued on inside.

You wondered what was to come next.

“This here, the living room” The guard that Mitch had been following said, gesturing into the empty room.  “Past that, the kitchen” He continued.  “And the dining room, but no one eats too much”

“Usually they go out to eat, get a chance out of this crazy ass place” The man chuckled, but Mitch didn’t say anything.

He wasn’t sure yet if he even wanted to be here.  He knew that he could get the job done if he was on his own, he didn’t need some boss telling him what to do and when to do it.

“You guys got some kind of training room or something? Or am I just supposed to beat on a tree?”

“Well that’s rude” Mitch spun on heels, not having expected to see a girl sitting on the kitchen counter.  Your ankles crossed as your legs swung back and forth slightly.  “What has a tree every do to you?” His brows furrowed, unsure of what to make of you.  But you just smirked, rolling your eyes as you looked at Tim, the guard your father had placed with the new guy.  “Who’s the new meat?” You ignored the side glance Mitch gave you.

“Rapp, Mitch” Tim told you, handing you the file folder in his hands.  “Interested?” Your eyes flickered back over to the shaggy haired man, lashes dangerously low as you looked him up and down.

“Perhaps” You smirked, taking the folder with an inquisitive look on your face as you opened it up.

Expelled by three boarding skills, all dating after his parents died in a car crash.  Seemed like the CIA had kept tabs on him since the shooting on the beach in Spain, and you weren’t too surprised to see that his fiance was murdered there.

“Quite an origin story” You said, mostly to yourself as your eyes expertly scanned the different sections on the paper.  You cared a little less about the little details, more about why he was recruited.  Impressed by what was listed under his skill set, you looked between the two men in front of you, before hopping off the counter, and giving the folder back to Tim.

“Recluse?” Tim asked, as if wondering if you shared the same thoughts.  You stared at Mitch for a few moments longer than the average glance, only raising more questions about you from him.

“Perhaps” The word came out slowly before you turned to leave the room.  “I’m off to find… Stan” You said carefully, then left.  Tim didn’t question the way you didn’t call the man Dad.  He knew that for whatever reason, you were messing with Mitch.  And it seemed to work.

“Who the hell was that?” Mitch asked in a low voice, hoping that the girl couldn’t hear him from the other room.  Jokes on him though, because you stood just on the other side of the doorway.

“She lives here too” Tim said, and you silently thanked him for keeping your identity a mystery.  It just adds to the fun.

And with that, you walked off to your quarters to change into workout gear.

You saw him again while you were in the middle of your private session, practicing with your knives on the targets placed on the trees around you.  You watched as he walked along the trail, behind the rest of the group that Stan led.  You continued to stare, taking in the new guy - Mitch Rapp.  His fists were clenched, the sleeves of his black shirt rolled up to his elbows, and you couldn’t help but admire the defined veins on his forearms.  He kept his head down, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was hiding from the rest of the group he followed after.

His head snapped up, almost as if you’d called after him, his eyes finding yours, watching you intensely as you stood there, in your running shorts and sports bra.  Your weapons were out of sight, so his mind went running with what the hell you were doing out here.  In a last minute decision, you tentatively waved at him, making sure that no one else he was with saw the action.  Mitch stopped in his tracks, not even looking towards the others, his gaze firmly set on you.

Who the hell is this girl? He thought to himself.  Watching as you leaned up against a tree, still smiling slightly as your hand wrapped over your opposite arm.  He recognized it as a nervous action immediately.  You were twenty feet away, too far for him to speak to you without getting called out, but even if he’d wanted to he was already too late.

“Rapp! Hurry it up!” Stan called, and as soon as he looked towards the man then back towards you, you were gone.  “What’s got your head in the clouds boy!? Get the fuck over here!” Mitch hesitated for only a second, checking one last time to see you had completely vanished, then running off to catch up with the group.

You let out a breath, slumping against the tree trunk you’d slipped behind to hide yourself.  The air you let out was visible in front of you, and you still saw it as you breathed heavily from the fear of being caught outside by your father.  You peeked your head around the side, seeing Mitch jogging off after the group that was now too far into the woods for you to see.  When he was no longer in your sight as well, you went back to the row of knives that lay on a towel, and began to practice again.

Your father, bless his Navy protective soul, had every bone in his body against you practicing his work.  When you were younger, sixteen maybe, he’d given you basic MMA training.  In case there were ever an incident where you’d need to fight off somebody.  But your interest only grew, and soon enough you were running through his practice courses after he went to bed, memorizing and killing holographic targets.  And truth be told, you were very good.

And that’s what worried Stan.

You were good, great, maybe even perfect.  But he didn’t want you going around thinking that you could start tagging along on missions, or worse, sneaking around on them,  Because you could get yourself hurt, and he couldn’t have that.  You were all he had left, and you were the only reason he continued to fight and train new recruits every day.  You getting hurt, or worse, would be the end of his cause.

You’d heard the lecture countless times, and it’s what led you to train and practice when he was pre-occupied, as not to upset him further.  It’s not like it was a secret to him, but he prefered to know you were training alone, and not getting mixed up with his men.  That way you couldn’t get an earful of upcoming missions.

You angrily twirled the ring of the dagger between your fingers, before whipping your arm forwards and landing the knife right in the red center of the wooden target.

Bullseye.

“Everytime” You said to yourself with a smirk, then yanked the blade out of the cut up wood.  You made a mental note to make new targets soon.

Dusk came fast, and you had to rush into the house before your father and his recruits finished their training, as not to get caught.  You made it in just in time, stashing your targets and weapons in the middle dresser drawer.

You’d rearrange your room long, keeping your dresser hidden in your closet, out of sight if someone were to burst into your room and find you hiding your weapons.  Growing up the daughter of an assassin, you were very precautious.

After making sure everything was organized, you double checked the lock on your door, and gathered sleepwear before heading into the bathroom.  You were grateful to as least have a bathroom attached to your room, that you didn’t have to share with any of the men who stayed here.  You turned the shower to scalding, as you stripped out of your sticky clothes.

Mitch was standing at the window, the moon and stars the only source of light spilling into the room, him being the only life inside of it.  He was having one of his much needed moments to himself, away from anyone else, just him and his thoughts.  And the dark trees just outside the window.

“Some run away, you know” A familiar voice drew him from his deep, and rather dark, thoughts.  He turned to see you, clad in sweatpants too long for you and a tee shirt with a team name on it that he’d never heard of before.  “You could run away” You said, your voice softer than he’d heard it when he was standing here before.

“Why should I run away?” He asked, and you shrugged, your blank expression unwavering.

“I dunno” You said quietly, looking down at the material pooled at your feet, and blue painted toes the only part visible.  Your hands wound together behind your back, unsure of what to say next.

“Should I?” He questioned again, but you didn’t look back up.

“Why do I care, I don’t know you” You spoke, a little louder, but not by much.  You had to be quiet anyways, the rest of the house was asleep and you didn’t want to wake anyone and bring attention to the fact that you were disobeying one of your father’s rules.  Talking to his recruits.  There were only a select few that you were allowed to speak with, but they were only guards.

“I meant is there a reason I should be packing up right now and getting the hell out of here?” He asked, turning away from the window now and looking at you directly.

“That’s up to you” You said, finally bringing your eyes back to his.  The truth of this came over him like a strange realization, and he bit back the urge to say I guess you’re right.

“Are you a recruit? Why were you training by yourself?” He asked, steering his attention away from the fact that you were still a stranger to him.  Though you’d read his file, so you knew more about him than he knew about you.

“No, I’m not one of you CIA killers” You said with a slight laugh as you padded into the kitchen, looking for something to do to get out of this awkwardness.  “Most people deny the fact that they’re a murderer”

“I wouldn’t say murderer” Mitch said.  “Killer and murderer are two different things”

“Have you killed people or not?” You asked with an arched brow as you opened up the fridge.

“Yes, but it’s not like they didn’t des-”

“If they’re dead, they’re dead.  They aren’t coming back, you murdered them” You said matter of factly, but your voice had a cold edge to it.  Mitch’s jaw set in place as he mulled over what to say to that.

“You’re not wrong” He said after a while, and you shrugged a shoulder as you settled on grabbing a beer.

“I know.  Care to have a drink with me Mitch Rapp?”

“I don’t know you” He quoted you from earlier.  You just rolled your eyes, and grabbed another bottle, extending it out towards him.

“If I tell you I’m not a terrorist, will you accept?” You asked.  He gave you a slightly suspicious look before taking it from you.  You smiled slightly, closing the fridge and walking back towards the sliding door.  Stepping out, you looked back to see he was still standing there.  “What? Afraid of the dark?” You taunted slightly, and he followed you out, closing the door behind him as you sat on a patio chair that you could lay back slightly on.  He took the one next to you, but sat on it sideways.  You watched as he took a swig from his bottle.  You copied the action.

“I’m not with the CIA” He said, catching you off guard.

“What?”

“You called me a CIA killer, I’m not with them” He said, and you tried not to laugh.

“Seriously? You’re on the base, you’re with the recruits.  You’re an agent, Rapp”

“You’re one to talk you’re here too”

“That doesn’t make me an agent”

“Well from what you just said to me you are” He said almost sassily

“Nope” You popped your lips on the word, taking a long drink of your beer.

“Then what does that make you?”

“Makes me Stan’s daughter” You said, raising your eyebrows at him.  Knowing you’d won.  Mitch looked taken aback, his hand coming up to rub along his jaw, scratching at the scruff there.  “Surprised?” You asked, eyes trained on the small opening of the glass in your hands.

“More like confused” He said.  You looked at him, eyes full of wonder as you could practically see the gears in his mind turn.

“Well? You don’t know me remember? Ask away” You said, in a kind tone he hadn’t heard before.  He stared at you for a moment, glancing you over like he was reading you, or your body language.  It was almost like you had multiple personalities, he couldn’t pick anything up from you.  And that was a skill he’d prided himself in.  “What?” The word came out in a whisper.  “What’s with the interrogating look?”

“What is this? What’s your play?” He asked almost calmly.  Your brows rose with amusement.

“My play?” You repeated, a smirk on your lips.  He nodded, and you took a drink before sitting up in the seat the way he was, facing him completely now.  “Well Rapp, since you speak like I’m an enemy, I’ll tell you exactly”

“Good, make it easy” Your expression grew blank, so he couldn’t get a read on you as you spoke.

“My play is that I’m making nice, I’m not even aloud to be speaking with any of you recruits, but there’s something so exhilarating about sneaking out here with you Mitch” You said, your eyes rolling up with delight as you told him your slight scandal.  “And while I know nothing of you but your background, which truly is not the whole story, a person’s past makes who they are, but you have… quite an interesting one that I’d personally love to hear all about”

“Is that right?” He asked, his tone holding no emotion to it.

“Mhm.  Besides, I also need you” Mitch’s brows furrowed together as you smiled, your lips tugging up into quite a beautiful little smile actually.

“You need me?” You hummed again.  “What possibly for? I don’t… hell I don’t even know your name yet”

“Oh well my apologies, I’m y/n” You stuck your hand out, and he shook it slowly, not breaking eye contact with you.  “And I need a sparring partner”

“You want to fight me?” Mitch chuckled with delight.  “Oh, darling I’d snap you in half like a twig” You released his hand, the pet name shocking you momentarily.

“Oh? Is that so?” You asked, and he nodded, his smug smile still there.  “Wonderful, I’d love a challenge”

“I’m not even allowed to fight your father’s men, what makes you think I can his daughter?” He asked, and you stood up, putting your hands on your hips.  He followed, towering over you.

“That’s half the fun, Rapp” You smirked as you spoke quietly, seeing he was just inches away from you.

“You’re going to get yourself killed” He said, and you shrugged a shoulder.

“How would you know? You just learned my name, you don’t know anything about me”

“Please, I’m not fighting a girl that I have to look down to to speak-” Mitch was cut off as your leg kicked his out from under him and before he could react your hand his arms pinned tightly on the ground above his head, straddling over his torso.  Your lips pulled up in an excited smile.  “Tomorrow work for you?” He asked, and you nodded eagerly, hopping off of him and bouncing slightly.

“Thank you, God, you just saved me from chopping up and painting new targets” You said, throwing your arms around his neck and planting a kiss on his cheek before thinking.  But you didn’t care, just grabbed your beer and tiptoed back inside.  Mitch spun to watch your retreating figure as you drank down the last of your liquor and put the bottle on the counter.  It’d been a long time since he’d had physical contact like that, and it threw him off guard.  “Hey” You called out in a whisper.  “Either come in or close the door, you’re letting cold air in” You said.

“Sorry” He mumbled, stepping in and closing the door shut behind him, locking it on instinct.  He turned back to you to see you had your bare arms wrapped around yourself now.

“You don’t have to lock it, nobody else lives out here but us” You told him as he set his empty beer next to yours.

“Still” Was all he said, and you didn’t argue it.  Just looked at the time on the microwave.

“It’s two in the morning, and my dad’s gonna come wake you all up at six so you better go back to your bunk” You said, your fingers fiddling with the drawstring on your sweatpants.

“Alright” He sighed out the word, running a hand through his dark curls, turning to head out of the house.  You followed slightly, having to head the same way to go to your room, but you trailed him all the way to the front door, opening it and leaning against it to support your tired body.

“Have a good night, Mitch Rapp” You told him quietly as he stepped outside.

“You too miss Hurley” He responded with a nod, and stuffed his hands into his pockets.

“y/l/n” You corrected, and he gave you a curious look.  “My last name’s y/l/n” He nodded, not questioning it as he smiled just barely, backing up a little.

“Well then goodnight, miss y/l/n” He said, then turned and jogged towards his bunk.  You allowed your smile to appear as he ran off, closing the door and leaning your back against it for a while.

This, would be the beginning of yours and Mitch’s story.

4 months later

“Mitch god take a fucking shower” You begged, holding your hand over your nose as he entered the hotel room

“y/n god get a life” He taunted back, yanking your blanket off of you as he passed you on the bed.

“Hey” You whined, grasping the cover and pulling it back over you while he went to the dresser.

You were currently on his mission with him, and your father but he had a separate room.  So did you, you just prefered to stay in this one.  Without your father’s awareness of course.  You weren’t technically on the mission with them, you were just there so Stan could keep an eye on you while him and Mitch did all the real work.

Victor had been there to help to but… recent events led to him no longer being a part of the unit.

“Did you do the ass kickings today?” You asked him while he was still rummaging in the dresser drawers.  He laughed slightly at your wording, and shrugged his shoulders.

“Just found out more of your dad’s secrets, nothing went down today or anything” You nodded, and he turned to face you, sweatpants and his black long sleeved shirt in his hand.  “I’m gonna take that shower now, you want to order room service?” You nodded, sitting up in bed to reach for the phone.  “Need anything before I go?”

“Mitch your twenty feet away, I’ll be fine” You chuckled as he rolled his eyes and headed into the bathroom.

“Try not to think too hard about me!” He called playfully before closing the door, and you almost laughed, but didn’t

It felt like you’d been friends with Mitch Rapp for a long time, but in reality you’d only known each other for a few months.  But he was the only person you pretty much ever interacted with, and you him, so it was easy to get close.  After so many sparring sessions, sneaking out to go on walks and staying up late to see each other, you just grew to be friends.  And it was easy.  He opened up more to you, and you mostly to him.  But with closeness, came feelings.  And the kind that you’d never felt before you met Mitch, which both frightened and excited you.

You fell back onto the bed as you rang for room service, ordering a large pizza and two bottles of their strongest wine.  You thanked the man and hung up the phone, then quickly changed into cotton sleeping shorts and a long sleeved sweatshirt that almost covered the hems of the shorts, but it was comfortable so you didn’t care.

The running water of the shower stopped shortly after, and you were flicking through tv channels on the couch when Mitch came out, falling onto the cushion next to you as you searched for something.

“I never watch tv, I wouldn’t even know what’s good” You said, handing him the remote and propping your elbow on the armrest to keep your head up.

“I don’t much either” He said, but settled on a show that seemed dramatic enough to keep watching.  Again, you zoned out, even as the scene intensified.  Your mind buzzing with all these thoughts and questions.  After a few minutes you glanced over at Mitch, studying his face as he seemed to enjoy what was playing.  You smiled slightly, glad to see he felt relaxed enough to wind down.  It wasn’t much that Mitch would relax.  “Hey, what’s wrong?” He asked in a gentle voice, and you realized he’d caught you staring.

“Oh, sorry” You mumbled, looking quickly back to the television and trying to figure out what was happening in the scene.

“No really” Mitch spoke again, his hand laying on your shoulder.  “y/n”

“I just wish I could go with you guys” You said lamely.  But it wasn’t a lie.  “I can help, I know what I’m doing, I train all the time” Mitch’s face fell, his hand rubbing into your shoulder now.

“I know” He said quietly.  “I know you can, but it’s not my rule” Your lips pulled to the side with disappointment.  “He’s just trying to keep you safe, you’re safer here, away from harm” He added, and you rolled your eyes.

“I don’t give a rat’s ass about safety” You grumbled.

“Well I do” He said, and you gave him a bored look.

“Seriously? You” You stated in monotone and he nodded.

“When it comes to the only person worth my time, fuck yeah” He said with a big stupid smile that was meant to make you laugh, but you just stared down at your lap to hide your blushing cheeks.  “But hey, I know that it’s something that means a lot to you, and I’m sorry”

“It’s okay” You whispered.  “It’s not your fault” His hand released your shoulder to cup around your cheek, thumb stroking over the soft skin.

“I’m still sorry” He said, and you gave him half a smile.  You would’ve liked to sit here like this, staring into his whiskey colored eyes forever, but there were quick knocks on the door.

“Room Service!” A voice called, and Mitch got up.

“Stay here, I’ll get it” He said, grabbing the gun off the coffee table and tucking it behind him in the waistband of his sweatpants.  A safety precaution he’d taken last night as well when you’d shown up at the door.  You could hear the exchange of words and soon enough, he was walking in with a box of pizza and two wine bottles.

“So he wasn’t a terrorist?” You asked playfully, to which he ignored as he set the food on the table in front of you, the both of you taking a slice and each popping open the wine.

“Jesus y/n how expensive was this?”

“Who cares it’s on my Dad’s tab” You said with a mouthful of pizza.  Mitch just laughed and clinked his bottle against yours.

“Cheers to you and your Dad’s tab” He said before taking a drink.

“You know what’s real nice Mitch? You wanna know somethin’ real real nice?” You asked, crawling over close to him on the sofa.  He looked at you with amusement all over his face as your drunken stature wobbled and fell momentarily against his shoulder.  “Oops” You grumbled, sitting back up on your hands and knees.

“Do tell me something nice” He said, setting his barely drank from bottle of wine on the table next to your three quarters empty one.

“You have such traceable face… like dot to dot” You told him as your fingers lazily drew patterns all over his face, not even where his freckles were scattered on his jaw.  But your fingertips ran all over his nose and forehead and ears and lips.  You leaned closer, your eyes narrowing as you focused on the top of his lip, your digit continually tracing over it.  “You have a cupid’s bow” You told him, surprise on your features.

“I know” He chuckled as you went back to work drawing invisible pictures on his face.

“I’d like to kiss that cupid’s bow” You told him, and for a moment he wasn’t sure what to say.  In fact, even if you weren’t drunk he wouldn’t know what to say.

“Maybe when you aren’t intoxicated” He told you softly, and if you’d remember this moment tomorrow, he’d hold himself to this promise.  You grinned and nodded eagerly.

“Okay!” You said loudly, and it made him laugh again.  You must’ve decided you were done playing with his freckles because your slumped back against the couch, your head falling onto his shoulder as you watched the show again.  You began giggling, seemingly uncontrollably, and it made him sigh slightly.  Because nothing funny happened in the show.  “Mitch? Mitchy you’re not laughing” You said, your finger poking up against his cheek.

“Come here pretty girl” He sighed, wrapping an arm around you and you crawled into his lap.  You leaned your sad against his chest, your legs bent at the knees and resting on the back of the couch.  “You, just get your little drunk ass to rest alright?”

“Mhm okie dokie” You hummed, hands patting flat on his chest.\ then sliding up to wrap around the base of his neck.

“Are you going to choke me?” He asked, and you just shook your head.

“No…. ‘m holdin’ on to you” You mumbled back in a slur.  “I like holdin’ onto you” You added, and he looked down at you with a gentle expression, lips tugging slightly.

“That’s alright” He said, rubbing his hand up and down your back.  You hummed, pushing your nose into his chest, inhaling deeply.

“You smell so good” You whispered, arms wrapping completely around his neck now.  Mitch laughed as you moved, the tip of your nose pushing against the base of his throat.

“y/n” He said softly, holding you back so you were again leaning on his shoulder.  “Go to sleep okay?”

“Okay” You murmured, eyes slipping shut as your body relaxed into his.  “You’ll stay here?” You whispered.

“Yeah… yeah I’ll stay here” He assured, and you smacked your lips quietly a few times before allowing yourself to slip into a slumber.

Mitch watched you, carefully, not wanting to wake you up.  His hand moved gently to tuck your hair back behind your ear.  He let out a short breath, watching you peacefully rest there in his arms.

He couldn’t deny that since you and him had become such close friends, there was something else there.  And he was reminded of it every second of his day.  When he was leaving on a mission, when he was out there, and especially as soon as he got back, finding you curled up in bed, half asleep but he knew you were only still up because you were waiting for him.  He always knew you waited for him to return home, safe.  He also knew you’d never admit it.

But there were countless other things he’d never admit to you either.

The next morning you woke up in a bed, your head hurting and your eyes blinking a few times to adjust to the dim lights in the room.

“I tried to keep them as low as possible, sorry if they woke you” A gentle voice spoke, and you looked over to see Mitch, loading his shotgun.  You were quiet for a few minutes as you pieced together the few memories you had of last night.  

It was like a messy montage of touching Mitch’s face and laughing, you weren’t sure what all had happened.

“Are you leaving?” You asked tiredly, forcing yourself to sit up as you watching him tuck a knife into either of his pockets.

“Yeah, Stan’s got a good lead on where Ghost is” He said, and you frowned instantly at him sitting straighter and ignoring the way your eyes hurt, as if you’d been staring at a screen for hours straight.  “It’ll be fine-”

“Don’t fucking say that, it’s a nuclear bomb” You said, voice laced with anger.

“y/n” Mitch stood in front of you as you sat on the edge of the mattress, staring up at him.  “Trust me” He said gently.  “Can you do that?” You sighed, closing your eyes and nodding.  Knowing deep down, you trusted this man with your life.  “I’m coming back” He assured, and you refrained from rolling your eyes.

“Yeah, in pieces” You grumbled, and he laughed, kneeling down in front of you.  Your eyes never left his as his hands cupped around your face for a moment.

“You’ve got nothing to worry about” He said, dropping his hands to rest overtop of yours.

“I have everything to worry about, the only two people in my life are going out to take down some psychopath terrorist with a nucl-”

“I’m coming back” He whispered again, his hands squeezing yours.  “I’m coming back” You blinked, then leaned forward and tucked your head against his shoulder, arms shaking as they wrapped around his neck.  Mitch held you back, taking in a deep breath as you sunk off the bed and onto the floor in front of him.  Neither of you said anything as his hand cradled the back of your head, and neither of you wanted to let go but you knew you had to.

“You better get going before my Dad bursts in here looking for you” You sniffed quietly, hoping he wouldn’t hear.  He did of course, but didn’t say anything about it.

“Yeah he wouldn’t be too fond of finding you in here” He said quietly, eyes flickering for the briefest of moments down towards your lips.  You laughed one small bitter laugh as he stood up, holding his hands out and helping you to your feet as well.  “I’ll see you soon, okay?” You nodded as his palm brushed over your cheek once more, before he turned to head out of the room.

It took everything you had in you not to call out to him as he left.

“You’re gonna have to get your head out of your ass if you want to get out of here” Stan grunted, his arm struggling as it was caught in a metal contraption.  Mitch snarled slightly but didn’t say anything, just fiddled more with the plastic that had been bound his wrists tightly behind him.  He was this close to breaking free from the zip tie, when Ghost came back into the dirty room.

That was the best way to describe it, dirty.  It looked exactly like the kind of place a murder happens, or drugs are exchanged.  Cement walls and floors, a plastic medical curtain separating the physicists lab from where Mitch and Stan were chained up.

While Stan had gotten the crap tortured out of him, already missing two of his fingernails, a nasty gash on his arm, and undergone electrocution, Mitch just sat on the floor, tied up, and not once had a fist landed on his jaw, or some medical instrument ripped out his tongue.  He remained unscathed.

“Now, is there a team outside or not?” He asked darkly, holding a metal bar in his hand.

“Way to be the cliche of all kidnappers ever” Mitch grunted.  Ghost turned to him, a glare on his face that didn’t unsettle Mitch whatsoever.

“I’d be careful, boy” He growled.  “Just because I haven’t beat the shit out of you, doesn’t mean I don’t have a way of making you talk”

“I doubt that” Mitch tested, his eyes narrowing at the ex Navy Seal.

“Ronnie don’t be a dumbass” Stan said, earning a blow to the side of the head with the bar.  The chained man spit blood onto the ground, a tooth wiggling loose in his mouth.

“Don’t.  Call.  Me.  That!” He yelled angrily.

“Then don’t be so fucking stupid! You think I’m gonna give this reclusive boy for fucks sake any information? Please” He scoffed, and Ghost smirked slightly.

“Well why don’t we put that to the test, huh?” He said, raising a daring brow between the two men.  Mitch gave Stan a look, thinking he was about to be tortured next, and he wondered what his punishment was.  A beating? That blow torch? His own nails pried off one by one?  “You gents stay here, while I go bring in a new… toy” He grinned to himself before leaving the room.

“He’s a fucking maniac” Mitch said, getting back to work on releasing himself from his zip tie.

“Yeah, and I thought you were crazy” Stan replied.  “No matter what, you don’t give away an ounce of information” He warned.

“Please” Mitch scoffed.  “He’s got nothing on me, nothing could get me to-” Mitch stopped when Ghost came back in, dragging a body with him.  

Your body.

A rag tied around your head between your mouth, your wrists behind your back in the same zip tie that Mitch was in.  Legs battered and bruised so much that Mitch figured you couldn’t hold yourself up to run away even if you tried.

“What’s that Rapp?” Ghost said, a menacing smile twisted on his lips.  “Nothing can get you to speak?” Stan gave Mitch an even darker look than Ghost’s, but he didn’t dare ask what his daughter had to do with Mitch’s weakness.  “Because… funny story actually… your stupid little camera through the air conditioning unit? Well, I replaced it with that of my own” He chuckled, and Mitch glared angrily at the man, two words short of ripping off his zip tie and tackling him to the ground.

“She’s got nothing to do with any of this” He growled out.  You writhed in pain against the restraints behind you, never having felt so weak and useless in your entire life.

“Actually, pretty little y/n here has everything to do with everything” Ghost said.

“She’s not even an agent” Stan spoke up, trying to seem nonchalant.  Gost just chuckled.

“No, but she’s your daughter, isn’t she?” He spoke, and Stan visibly paled.  Mitch rushed forward awkwardly on his knees, as though begging for him not to lay a finger on you.

“She knows nothing, don’t hurt her” He rushed quickly, but as soon as he was two feet away from you, Ghost pulled out a knife.  A simple blade, pressed against your throat as his hand roughly grabbed a fistful of your hair.  You whimpered against the rag in your mouth.  Your captor cut away the gag, and you gasped for air.

“M-Mitch don’t say a th-”

“Shut the fuck up!” Ghost’s hand in your hair tightened and you cried out, your words halting.  “Well? If no one starts talking she’s about to get a knife in her gorgeous clavicle” He said, pressing the tip of the dagger against the base of your throat.  “The Hurley specialty, right?” He smirked, and Mitch sat frozen in front of them, torn on what to do.  If he spoke, he’d be committing treason, and the CIA would throw him into one of their lifetime imprisonment cells.  If he kept quiet, the only person he had left would be killed.

“Don’t say anything” You pleaded, tears mixing with blood on your cheeks.  Mitch deflated as he stared at you, his eyes locking on yours.

“You’ve got a real tough girl here Rapp” Ghost said, trailing the knife dangerously down your cheekbone, a thin line of blood left in it’s wake.

“Stop it!” Mitch yelled angrily, and next thing he knew, the knife was no longer against you.

It was thrown into his abdomen.

“Mitch!” You scream was all he could hear, echoing across the walls in the room.  He looked down at the weapon lodged into him, blood pooling and seeping through his shirt.  Ghost threw you to the ground, but you scampered up, ignoring the pain in your arms as you forced yourself up to see what was happening.

Mitch mumbled something as Ghost grew nearer to him.

“What’s that?” He asked.  “Opening up now are we?” He smirked, and Mitch glared up at him.

“Rule number three” He uttered, and in a flash, he’d broken out of the zip tie, and yanked the dagger straight out of him, piercing into the side of Ghost’s neck.  “Don’t get too close” He finished, watching the life drain right out of the terrorist’s face, as he toppled to the ground.  A few staggered breaths came from the assassin, something that looked like relief flooding over his expression, and you felt it too.

Right up until he fell back onto the ground.

“Mitch!” You cried, scurrying over to him awkwardly and painfully, but pushing it away as you leaned over him, ripped your wrists straight out of the restraint, a sudden rush of energy coming over your to do so, and you ignored the burning feeling it left behind.  “Mitch? Mitch open your eyes” You were crying, one of your hands pressing against his wound, hoping to stop the bleeding, the other reaching up to lay on his cheek.  “Wake up, Mitch wake up” You pleaded over and over in whimpers, your ear pressing against his chest, hearing the faintest of heartbeats.

“y/n” Your father spoke your name, softly and sadly, but you ignored him.

“Come on Mitch, come on wake up” You shook his head slightly with your hand, fingers threading through the dark curls you loved so much.

“y/n he’s-”

Stan was cut off when Mitch suddenly gasped, eyes flying open and breathing hard, catching the breath he’d momentarily lost.  You choked out a sob, a pained smile stretching across your face as both of your bloody hands cupped around his face.

“Goddamnit Rapp” You cursed him, palms still on his cheeks as your head fell to his chest for a moment before looking back up at him, eyes teary and your smile wavering.  “You were dead”

“I’m here- I’m alive” He said quietly, and pushed your matted and blood splattered hair behind your ear.  “I told you I’d come back” A broken laugh came from your lips at his stupid smile and you fell down against him again.

“Will someone get me out of this and tell me what the fuck is going on?” Stan, of course, ruined the moment.  You pushed yourself to stand, helping Mitch sit up before going to your father, and untangling his arm from the chains so he could unwind the metal piece that snared his other arm.

“Are you mad at me?” You asked quietly.

“Fuming” He grunted, rubbing the sore bruise that had grown on his wrist.  “But right now, I’m too thankful that you’re still alive” He breathed, and hugged you tightly.  You hugged back, feeling just as grateful for his life too.

“I’m sorry” You whispered when you pulled away, and Stan went over to Mitch, holding him up so he could stand.  You went to his other side, giving him a soft smile as you wrapped his arm over your shoulders, holding tightly to his hand.  All three of you limped out of the building.

“I didn’t even know you two knew each other” Stan grumbled when you got to the parking lot.  He started the car as you helped Mitch into the backseat.

“We-”

“He’s my best friend” You spoke, cutting off whatever he was about to say.  Your father gave you a look through the rearview mirror, but he didn’t say anything.  His silence worried you, your hands twisting in your lap after you shut the door so he could drive.  “Dad?”

“I don’t even care right now” He sighed, rubbing a hand down his face.  “Quite frankly, I’ve lost two nails a tooth and a hell of a lot of my dignity” Mitch glanced over at you, a nervous and questioning look on his face.  You tugged your split bottom lip between your teeth.  “We’ll talk another time about this y/n” Stan finally spoke up again.  “Right now I need to call Irene and we all need to get cleaned up, we look like shit.  Especially you”

“Thanks Dad” You grumbled, but knew he meant it for the best.

“Rapp you have twenty four hours to think of what to say to me that won’t result in me putting a bullet in your head”

“Yes sir” Mitch replied, and you looked over to him again, a faint smile on your lips as you slid your hand into his with ease.  It never felt so good to hold onto him.

When you arrived at the hotel, your father went into his own chambers without speaking a word to either of you, so you just trailed after Mitch into his room.  You made a beeline for the cabinets, grabbing the first aid kit and ordering him to sit on the mattress.  He pulled his shirt up over his head, wincing slightly but trying to show it.  You didn’t notice, to focused on trying to not stare at his chest, rather enjoy the dark patch of hair that trailed there.

“Sit still” You said emotionlessly, pulling out a needle.

“What the f-”

“You need stitches” You told him, and he gaped slightly.  “You got shot and you’re afraid of a needle?” You said with a slight laugh in your voice.

“It’s different!” He argued back and you shook your head at him.

“Just close your eyes, think about something else” You told him, and he followed the order, his eyes falling shut and you just as quickly began to stitch up the wound.  “See? It’s fine, I got it” You said softly as you finished up the stitches, breaking the thread and setting the bloody needle on a tissue to avoid mess.  Mitch opened his eyes again, glancing momentarily down to the excellent job you’d done, before watching you put rubbing alcohol on a balled up wad of tissues, patting gently over the area, cleaning away the blood as you applied it.

“How long do I have doc?” He asked, and you sighed.

“Sadly, not long Rapp.  There wasn’t much we could do” He faked a frown.  “Would you like us to contact your loved ones?” He shook his head, and your brows furrowed with confusion.

“No… no they’re already here” He said, and for a brief second you froze up, but then slapped the back of your hand against his bicep.

“Shut up” You forced a laugh as you pressed a pad of gauze gently against his side, holding it with your fingertips as lightly as you could as not to hurt him as you reached for the tape.

“I can do it” Mitch said, reaching to grab the roll from your hands but you shook your head.

“It’s fine, I got it” You said in an assertive tone, carefully taping it onto him so it was protected.  Your eyes lingered there on the white plastic covered fabric patch before flickering up to his, seeing he was already staring at you.  Your breath hitched involuntarily.

“Thanks” He breathed out, and you nodded, swallowing thickly as you tried to find words to say, but none would come out.  His eyes trailed over the bruises and blood that were covered all over your face.  Your gaze never faltered as re reached for the wet rag you’d brought from the bathroom, carefully dotting it from the crown of your head,  over your cheeks and slightly purple eye.  “Jesus” He whispered as he wiped the smeared blood from your cheeks.  “What’d he do to you?”

“Nothing I couldn’t handle” You said, smirking slightly while he patted the cool washcloth over your lips.  You wondered briefly if your cheeks were as pink as they felt.  You blinked, staring at his eyes as they focused on cleaning up your face.  They trailed down his lips, admiring their pink and parted form.  You traced their shape with your eyes, his tongue peeking out momentarily to swipe over his upper lip.  “You have a cupid’s bow” You whispered out.  Mitch stilled his actions, looking up at you.

“Yeah” Was all he could even think to say.  His mind running with more thoughts than he could process, screaming for him to ask if you remembered last night, hoping he could follow through with his silent promise.

“Mitch” You whispered, grabbing onto the hand that had frozen against your cheek, lowering it and taking the wet and now bloody rag from him.  You leaned in ever so slightly, eyes flickering down towards his lips, down further to the dark hair on his chest, lower to the trail that disappeared into his pants.  “You owe me a kiss” You murmured, meeting his gaze again.  The slightest of smiles tugged on the ends of his lips, before his hand cupped over your cheek, and pulled your mouth against him.

You breathed softly through your nose out of complete content.  His lips were warm, and soft.  Moving gently in sync with yours.  He sighed against you, parting just to tilt your head to the side before kissing you again, just as pasionately and carefully as not to hurt the cut that ran over your bottom lip.  Your fingers threaded through his hair, your other hand at the base of his neck as you leaned over the medical supplies you’d laid out on the bed.  But the position was too awkward, so he lifted you up and sat you onto his lap.  You stared at him for a moment, your butt planted on his thighs and ankles resting on the blankets behind him as he held you firmly but gently.

Everything about him was gentle, and you were loving it.

With a smile, you leaned your head back down to kiss him against, tongue tracing over the lips you’d been making heart eyes at for a few days now, taking your time over his cupid’s bow.  He chuckled, the parting of his lips making it easy for you to slip your tongue into his mouth, exploring it leisurely.

Now, you’d never done this before.  In fact, this was your first kiss ever.  Having a strict father and living in the woods, meant you didn’t really get out much.  But if this was what dating was, you loved it.

You loved him.

Mitch’s arms wound around your waist, your hands splayed across his cheeks as you continue your exploration until you could no longer breathe.  He pulled away before you, taking the moment to assess your features.  A few messy strands of hair having fallen in front of your blushing and bruised face.  Your doe eyes staring into his with nothing short of adoration.

“As much as I’d like to continue this, the two of us need sleep, desperately” He said, and you nodded, climbing off of him reluctantly, but his hand just wrapped around your wrist again.  “That doesn’t mean we can’t continue a little longer” He added, and you laughed, leaning towards him again, knees falling to the bed to hover over his lap.

“You’re a strange man Mitch Rapp” You told him before connecting your lips in a  sweet kiss.

“I’m going to take that as a compliment” He replied with raised brows, and you laughed again, nodding your head as you held his face in your hands.  You could never get tired of staring at him.

“You should, I’d say everything I tell you is a compliment” You told him curtly, sitting down in the space between his legs, your own wrapped around your waist as his still hung over the edge of the bed.

“Really? Cause you told me once that I was hairy and that I could house a family of squirrels on my face” He said in monotone.

“That’s just because I wanted you to shave, I like you when you’re scruffy” You said, running the pads of your fingertips over the slight stubble on his jaw.  “Not when you have an entire mop around your face.  You’ve already got it on your head.  You don’t need it to spread” Mitch rolled his eyes, but you pecked his lips a few times as though asking for forgiveness.  “But in the end it was a compliment… you’re hotter with this” You said, your hands again rubbing over his jawline.  Mitch smirked, finally kissing you back and you hummed in surprise at the sudden action.

“You think I’m hot?” He asked, his smirk back as you gave him a look.

“Mitch Rapp, you are the sexiest man I have ever, and will ever meet” His lips pursed as his brows rose with surprise, liking the confession you’d given him.

“Well that’s a title I hope to keep” He said, and you hit his chest lightly.

“Stop it you’re killing the mood” You whined, and he peppered your cheeks and nose with kisses, making you giggle and scrunch up your nose.

“Good, cause i’m pretty sure I already told you that you need sleep”

“Hey!” You yelled accusingly.  “You’re the one who pulled me back” You grumbled and got off of him, heading to your drawer to find cozy pajamas.  All you had was sweatpants and sweatshirts, which it was far too hot to wear.

“Yeah, and you didn’t restrain one bit, you’re weak” He chuckled, following your actions and getting his own shorts to sleep in.  You peered over into his drawer curiously.

“You gonna wear that tee shirt?” You asked.

“Well if it won’t keep you awake at night I’d prefer to sleep without one” He said, and you shrugged a shoulder, snatching it for yourself.

“Fine by me” You said, peeling your bloodied shirt over your head, and slipping on Mitch’s before taking your bra off from underneath it.  Mitch watched you intently as you unbuttoned your shorts and wiggled out of them, packing the dirty clothes from today neatly back into the drawer.  You turned to see Mitch shamelessly staring at you.  “What?”

“I was going to make a remark about who it was that gave you permission to steal my clothes, but I’m not even going to complain” He said, making you laugh to yourself as you picked up the medical kit and put it all away, hiding it back in it’s own dresser drawer.  You rolled your eyes at him as he sat on the bed, patiently waiting for you to join him.  You casted a glance over your shoulder then made your way to flick off the light switch.  You turned to see he was still sitting upright, and a small, almost nervous sounding giggle.

“Can I stay with you tonight?” You asked him, and he nodded his head.

“What do you think I’m waiting for?” He said as you crawled on, moving up to him and pecking his lips in the dark.  “Baby that was my chin”

“Huh… I was wondering why your lips were all prickly” You mumbled tiredly, collapsing onto the space next to him.  “Well lay down I wanna hold onto you” You ordered, and Mitch sighed slightly.

“So bossy” He muttered as he laid on his back, you instantly snuggling up against him and nuzzling your face into his chest.  Mitch watched you for a moment, his hand stroking over the back of your head as you sighed softly out of content.  “I love you anyways” He breathed out, like it annoyed him, but you saw through the sarcasm.

“I love you too” You murmured, lips planting on his chest and fingers playing with the patch of hair down the middle.  “Now get some rest, my father’s going to give you hell tomorrow” You hummed, and he merely nodded, his other arm encircling over your waist, riding his shirt up over the hem of your underwear and stroking the soft skin of your lower back.

He’d fall asleep eventually, but right now, he just wanted to enjoy this moment to it’s fullest extent.

Cause the next day Stan would give him a black eye and a few more threatening warnings than the average father.

tWO IMAGINES OF PPL I HAVENT POSTED FOR B4 CUZ I FELT SO BAD SO

here ya goooo

xoxo ~ jordie

[himbowelsh]

Can I have “You were chased by the cops, got in my car and just yelled ‘Drive!’” AU for LuzToye??

George Luz has been waiting for his damn Uber passenger for four and a half minutes already when the back door of his car is suddenly flung wide open.

It gives him a small heart attack, because the middle of a shady looking neighborhood at eleven o’clock at night is not the sort of place you want to be caught with your doors unlocked. He’d sworn he had locked the doors, too – but apparently not if the heavily-breathing man in the back of his car has anything to say about it.

“Hi –” George says, but the words have no sooner passed his lips then the guy whirls towards him and hollers, “JUST DRIVE!”

George doesn’t think. Yelling triggers an instinctual obedience in him, so he doesn’t give himself time to process – not the lack of introduction, the furious order, or the look of absolute desperation on his passenger’s face. He came here to drive, after all.

He hits the gas and floors it.

They’re halfway down the next block before he gets the presence of mind to look back at his passenger again. The man is still panting, crouched low in his seat. He’s peering over the seat, out the back window. George can only see the profile of his alarmed expression, but he makes out wide, dark eyes set in a strong-featured face. The guy has dark hair, tanned skin, and a frame that looks like he bench-presses tanks for a living. Muscles through the sleeves of his grey t-shirt, and sweat glistens off his brow.

That’s the moment George realizes that the guy in his backseat is really, really hot.

Look, George is a single twenty-something holding down a desk job and working nights as an Uber driver just to pay the bills. He doesn’t have a lot of options, so he’ll take what he can get. In this case, he’s got a gorgeous, really freaked out Adonis in the back of his car, and he’s gonna roll with it.

“So,” he says cheerfully, “it’s a nice night, huh?”

The guy says nothing. Admittedly, that attempt at small talk was cringeworthy at best. That’s not going to deter George at all.

“Hell of a nice night for chicken. I mean, when you’ve got a craving, you’ve got a craving, right?”

This makes the guy shoot him a look. George is familiar with looks like those -- he’s gotten them from his mother, siblings, and friends enough times that he knows what it means. The man in his backseat is currently questioning if he’s messing around with him, or just crazy.

George isn’t about to judge a man who needs to go on a midnight fast food run on a Monday night. He’s been there. Everybody’s been there. Whatever’s going on with this guy is none of his business. Still, George is nothing but a responsible driver. (Though if he would up having to take this gorgeous man back to his house, he would not be complaining.)

“Yeah, okay,” he says, leaning over to check where the hell this route is taking them, “you do wanna go to – Chucky’s Chicken and Pizzeria, right?”

The alarmed man takes a second to look very, very confused. “What?”

George raises an eyebrow at him through the rearview mirror. Angry and dumb – he can work with that. He never claimed to have morals. “Well, I guess I’m your Uber driver?”

“I didn’t order any fuckin’ Uber!” the guy spits, and goes back to peering anxiously over the backseat.

Luz blinks, turns his attention back to the road, and tightens his grip on the steering wheel. Well, that wasn’t what he wanted to hear.

If this guy isn’t the person he’s supposed to pick up, that means, he just drove away with the wrong passenger. The guy who he’s supposed to be driving around is all the way back on that shady street corner, calling up Uber and complaining right now. Ahh, hell. His rating is definitely going down from this.

Also, there’s a good chance that the guy he is driving around is being chased by someone; and if his jumpiness is any indication, it’s either people trying to kill him, or the cops. Maybe both. That’s not great either, but Luz kind of accepted this fact the moment the hot stranger jumped into his car.

“Well,” he sighs, “I guess this means you don’t wanna go get pizza.” 

The guy shoots Luz a look which implies he really wants to lean up and hit him. God, thinks Luz, imagining the dude close enough to touch him, please.

“Well, why’d you get in the car?” he demands instead, figuring he’s at least owed some explanation. If he’s driving around a murderer, it would be cool to know -- before he, you know, hits on him or something.

The guy makes a growling noise in the back of his throat, more frustrated and distressed than angry. “How the hell was I supposed to know those sort of fireworks were illegal?”

“You’re running from cops because of fireworks?” George asks, unimpressed.

“No! I’m running from cops because of the warehouse fire!”

The car swerves. “You set a warehouse on fire?”

The guy is quiet for a moment. “Technically,” he says after a moment, “the firework set it on fire. And it was an abandoned warehouse. And it wasn’t my idea.”

“Oh my god,” George says, and drives a little bit faster.

He definitely didn’t sign up for playing getaway driver for a rogue arsonist (accidental or not). If he gets arrested tonight, no one is paying his bail. His mother will probably show up at the station just to slap him silly, and then leave him there. This is not the best situation to be in.

The guy’s hand is now drumming against the back of George’s seat, creating a drumbeat of anxiety that echoes through the car. George feels ready to start vibrating, like one of those wind-up toys that start shaking when you let them go. This is the most illegal thing he’s done in his life, and he didn’t even do anything.

“I gotta go somewhere else tonight,” the guy mutters. “I can’t go home. What the hell am I gonna do?”

George pauses. He takes stock of himself. He turns the situation over and over in his mind.

The bottom line: he’s a lost Uber driver with a very, very hot potential criminal in the back of his car. He’s stressed out, confused, and a little freaked out.

The easy thing to do would be to throw the guy out. He could rid himself of any potential guilt, and never have to think of this again. No trouble, no problems.

George has never been good at taking the easy way out.

“I’ve got a couch,” he sighs. “You need somewhere to crash, my place is on the other side of town.”

The guy blinks at him, incredulous. He looks like he’s just been handed a million bucks. “Why would you do that?”

George really has no clue himself -- but he figures if he’s in over his head already, he might as well roll with it.

“I’m a nice guy, okay?” he replies. “Also, I’m apparently your Uber driver. It’s my job to take you where you wanna go. Would that be my place?”

The guy stares at him for a long moment, face unreadable, before he sighs and slumps forward in his seat. He looks as if a large weight has just been lifted off his shoulders, and it reduces the tension in the car by half. 

“Yeah, okay,” he mutters, voice echoing in the quiet car. “I’ll go wherever you’re takin’ me.”

[reecesfleeces-blog]

Chaplain of the Lot

Some guy once said religion is the opiate of the masses.

The sun rose on a Tuesday morning in the summer of the year two-thousand and twelve. She rose and floated low in the sky, nudged the people to wake up.

The light came in at an angle through the large showroom windows of Joe Capini Honda and the tables in the middle of the showroom floor cast long shadows. The sales manager, a man with pale blue eyes and a well trimmed white beard, who went by the name Roger, stood in the front office, looked out its floor-to-ceiling window, saw the sun floating in the sky and sipped his coffee.

The first employee to arrive at the dealership was Ryan Delotte. Ryan had just graduated from high school and planned on working through the summer, making a little money and enjoying his foray out into the world. He was somewhat short, at least relative to the salesmen who all seemed to be giants, and he was a bit gaunt. He had a pierced lip and ear, but he only donned the jewelry away from work.

The dealership proper was composed of two buildings: in front, facing a busy road, was the showroom and beyond this was the finance and automotive service building.

Ryan parked in the employee lot, a place in shadow and sandwiched between the showroom and the finance building. He jingled his keys as he locked his door and meandered to the side entrance. The side entrance was locked and so he continued to the front. He saw Roger through the front window and smiled and waved.

He liked Roger, Roger was kind to him. When he gave him the job, it was with utter faith.

Roger had shook his hand, looked him in the eyes, and said “it will be boring sometimes, stressful sometimes, but I think you can handle it.”

The job was small, but he was proud of it. He complained to the salesmen when they smoked cigarettes together, “fuckin’ four sales this morning, that’s four fuckin’ cars I got to detail in like half an hour. Calm the fuck down with the sales, huh?” But he loved it. He loved it as far as he knew that he loved anything. The part of the job detailing cars was even pleasant, these were new cars; mostly it involved removing the window sticker, taking it through the car wash, wiping the dash and hitting the tires with “tire shine”.

He stepped into the building and noticed it was much cooler inside than out. The cool and the smell of new tires enveloped him.

He said, “Mornin’ Rodge.”

Roger said back, “mornin’ Ryan.”

Ryan proceeded to the back of the showroom, poured himself a little styrofoam cup of coffee, walked back to the front office and sat on Roger’s big desk, sipping coffee.

Roger said, “have a good night, last night?”

Roger had this sort of trust with everyone that worked at the store. He knew everything everyone did, and so long as it was irrelevant to the smooth sale of cars, he judged not in the least. As it turned out, Ryan had a party he went to last night.

Ryan smiled, said, “oh hell yeah.”

Roger lifted his eyebrows, “girl?”

Ryan smirked, said, “girls”, and laughed.

Roger smiled, “hope you didn’t get too drunk.”

Ryan was a little more serious, “no sir, not in the least.”

Roger said, “that’s good,” he looked at his watch and said, “hey look, I need you to put up the balloons.”

Ryan nodded, hopped off the desk, and walked back through the showroom to the back office. The back office was a bank of six small desks, each with a phone and dividers so that salesmen could call their customers without polluting the main showroom floor. In one of the corners was an upright-standing large helium tank, and on the nearest desk was a spool of red ribbon-thread and a package of balloons.

It had been a learning experience when this first happened. Before he arrived, the salesmen took turns “doing the balloons.” All of them were better at it then him, and he marvelled at the idea that it could be so well done. They would have 50 balloons done and tied up in ten minutes. They taught him to start the knots of ribbon before filling the balloon. You cut fifty lines of string, start the knots, and lay them out across the desks. Then you fill the balloons, attach the string — finish the knot on it — then let it go. It floats up to the ceiling, and eventually the whole room is filled with balloons.

With great care he gathered the fifty dangling red strings and began the process of moving outside. Moving this assembly through doorways was yet another skill he was still mastering. It was a good thing that it happened in the morning, and that it was before other salesmen got there, because he was sure it would be an enjoyment for the salesmen to watch him struggle through this.

Ryan made it outside holding the great mass of balloons. For the hell of it, just because it was who he was, he found a particularly ugly balloon, dark green that clashed with the red ribbon, pulled the ribbon from the bunch, and let it go. He watched it float away, thirty seconds there, up, up and away. It tickled his stomach.

The sun was up a bit higher now and the road across from the dealership was gathering traffic. Down the road was a McDonalds, and its drive-thru lane was packed with breakfast customers.

As cars whooshed by, Ryan took the time to tie three balloons to the side-view mirrors on the front row of new cars. It was slightly difficult to hold some forty balloons while tying the another handful to the mirror, and even the very gentle wind tangled the balloons considerably, but in a few minutes he had mostly accomplished the task. There was sweat running down his neck when a salesman, Frank, drove up toward him and stopped, rolled down his window.

Frank said, “‘ey Ryan, gotchu somethin man.”

This lit up Ryan’s heart and he beamed, said “nice, nice.”

The salesman said, “you on balloon duty, huh?”

Ryan looked at him, feeling his own sweaty face.

The salesman looked up and down the row, saw he was nearly finished, and said, “ay I guess you started last night huh?” and he burst into laughter.

Ryan blushed.

The salesman continued, “aight man, well come see me when you get done.”

Ryan tied the last wad of balloons to the last car in the front row and knotted it about fifteen times. He looked back on the row of cars, each with its bundle of balloons gently waving in the air, and was thoroughly satisfied with his handiwork.

He found Frank, who he considered he best friend among the sales staff, in the back office, unwrapping a breakfast burrito and sipping a 32oz Coca-Cola. He had, in fact, three burritos.

Frank said, “one’s ham, one’s sausage, one’s… I don’t know what the fuck, oh yeah, bacon.”

Ryan sat down next to him and Frank asked, “you want one? Got it for you.”

Ryan looked at the burritos sitting on the desk and said, “yeah.”

Frank slid the burrito over to Ryan’s desk. Ryan was in the process of opening the burrito when Frank took the first bite of his own, then immediately spit it out.

“Yuck, man.”

“What?”

“Shit sucks.”

Ryan sat there looking at his own burrito, it looked just fine.

As he was contemplating eating it, Frank took the remainder of his own burrito and threw it in a trash can nearby.

Ryan took a bite. It tasted just fine. Pretty good. Eggs, sausage, potato, cheese. It could use salsa. He said, “what’s wrong with it?”

Frank looked at him, almost in disbelief, then said, “you mean to tell me you can’t tell what’s a shitty burrito?”

Ryan shrugged and continued to eat.

Frank took a package of cigarettes out of his slacks, flipped it open, took one out and put it to his mouth, said, “you want one?” and Ryan nodded. Frank handed him a cigarette.

“And that’s not aaaall,” he said.

Ryan was chewing the burrito, trying to finish quickly now that they were preparing to go for a smoke break.

“Check this out my man.”

Frank turned the cigarette package on its side and out fell a tiny ziplock bag, the kind that would normally hold a button. Inside was a single nug of weed.

Ryan’s heart lifted. He’d asked Frank if he could score for him two weeks ago, just a few days after he started working.

Frank waved it under Ryan’s nose and said, “how’s that shit smell, man?”

Ryan nodded and said, “yeah.”

Frank said, “tell you what, I got a piece in my car if you wanna hit it.”

Ryan continued to chomp down the rest of his burrito, swallowing, mouth full with his last bite, he said, “fuck yeah.”

Ryan stood up, balled up the wrapper for the burrito and threw it in the can. Frank said, “hey you want this other burrito?” Ryan shook his head ‘no’.

“Ah, fine, I’ll try to pawn it off on one of these other retards.”

They left out the side door and stood beneath a wide awning. Outside was another salesman already smoking. His name was Carl, and Carl was old and grumpy as hell. He hated working here, and, indeed, had worked here for so long that virtually all of his business was repeat customers. He saw two or three a week, customers he had last seen maybe five years ago, and each time, without fail, sold them. At this point, he simply showed up.

When Frank saw him, he tilted his head back in a gesture of recognition.

“‘ey Carl, you have breakfast yet?”

Carl removed the cigarette from his mouth and as he spoke smoke came out of his mouth, “no. Don’t eat breakfast.”

Frank said, “‘ey well look, I got an extra breakfast burrito. I’ll sell it to you for a dollar.”

Carl glared, “I’m gonna have to pass, Frank.”

Frank shrugged, pulled a lighter out of his pocket, lit his cigarette, then handed the lighter to Ryan.

“ey man, you know breakfast is the most important meal of the day. How can you expect to sell cars on an empty stomach?”

Carl dropped his unfinished cigarette on the ground, twisted it out with his foot and went inside through the side door.

Ryan looked over to Frank and laughed, said, “fucking asshole” and laughed again.

“It’s cause he don’t eat breakfast.”

Frank turned, motioned with his head for Ryan to follow him, and started walking back toward the employee parking lot.

Out from under the awning, the world was a nice gold color. The cement of the lot was tan, and when the morning light fell on it, it gave off a welcoming vibe, said “you are here.”

Cigarette hanging out of Frank’s mouth, sweat glistening on his bald head, he said, “it’s fucked up we got to wear pants and you don’t.”

Ryan shrugged, but since he was behind Frank it was a useless gesture.

They approached Frank’s car, a relatively new Chrysler sedan. Frank clicked the keyfob in his pocket, pulled open the driver’s side door, and sat. Ryan waited at the passenger side, Frank clicked the keyfob again, and Ryan opened the door and sat down.

Frank pulled out an aluminum foil pipe from his driver’s side door. He had fashioned it by rolling up a sheet of ~5” wide aluminum foil into a tube, then bending it at the end to form a bowl. He glanced down at this pipe, then glanced around the parking lot. He turned it over in his hand, emptied the bowl of ashes, rolled down the window and dropped the ashes out.

Then he handed the pipe and cigarette package to Ryan, fastened his seatbelt.

He said, “you get that shit ready,” and with a gentle dinging noise, turned on the car.

They drove out of the lot, down the road a little ways, and turned into a neighborhood. As they did, Ryan unzipped the little package, took out the marijuana flower, broke it into pieces, and put the pieces in the pipe.

After passing a ways through the neighborhood, Ryan tried to hand Frank the pipe, but Frank said, “nah man, you start it,” and handed Ryan his lighter.

Ryan looked around, saw houses and no one else, bent down, lit the lighter, felt the heat from it on his forehead, and inhaled, pulling the flame through the aluminum foil pipe. He sucked through several times before it started burning well.

Holding the smoke in his lungs he passed it to Frank. As he held it out, there was a coil of smoke coming from the bowl, Frank said, “you hit it too hard man,” and still looking toward the road, pulled the pipe to himself and gently sucked on it, stopping the bowl from emitting this smoke into the car. Then he took a hit, light, as though it were a drag of a cigarette, rolled down his window and exhaled, then took another light hit, gentle, so that it soothed the bowl, tempered the cinders, and exhaled through the window again, then passed it back to Ryan.

Ryan already had a feeling of giddiness. He could tell that while right now there was little effect, it was going to blossom into a very nice high. He put the lighter to the bowl, gently inhaled, rolled down the window, and let the smoke out.

He tried to pass it back to Frank, but Frank said, “nah man, I’m good.”

By the time they returned to lot, Ryan felt stoned. His eyes were red, and he knew he was going to have trouble acting normal. As he left the car, he kinda stumbled, and had to stifle a giggle. Frank went to the backseat, pulled out a bottle of Febreeze, sprayed it through his car, then sprayed it into a little mist cloud in front of himself then walked through it.

He had taken out a cigarette and was holding it in his mouth when he said to Ryan, “c’mere man”.

He sprayed Ryan with the Febreeze up and down, then pulled him by the shoulder so he’d turn around, then sprayed his front.

Frank put the Febreeze bottle back in the back seat, went to the front seat, grabbed a couple starlight mints and a bottle of visine. He stood beside the door, and said to Ryan, who was standing looking like an idiot at the front of the car, “ey, keep the rest if you want.”

Ryan thus opened the car door, withdrew the pipe from the passenger seat and stumbled over to his own car. He was having trouble unlocking his car door when he heard Frank say, “ey man, stop fucking around.” He succeeded, opened the door and stowed the pipe beneath his front seat.

Frank was standing along the backside of the building in shadows, holding a bottle of Visine up and squeezing drops into his eyes. Ryan came up alongside him and Frank handed him the bottle of Visine. Ryan tried to do the same thing, but flinched several times and Frank had a look of disbelief, mumbled “jesus christ.”

Ryan finally handed the bottle back to him, and it looked like he had been crying he missed so many drops. Frank told him so and laughed.

Frank then took out two cigarettes, handed one to Ryan and said, “here, smoke this cigarette.”

They stood there, behind the painted cinderblock back wall of the store, and smoked in relative silence.

After they finished, Frank handed him a mint, looked at Ryan and said, “good?”

Ryan half-laughed, unwrapped the mint, mouth hit with peppermint, and said, “yeah.”

When they returned to the showroom, all the salesmen had arrived. Frank made eye contact with one of the salesman, a massive polar bear looking like guy, and shouted, “hey, buddy!”

Ryan was having trouble walking normally, told Frank he had to go wash the cars, and left out through the front door.

Beyond the first row of cars with the balloons was the second row: the second row of cars was composed of the “premier” cars for the day. These were the ones that would be test driven and given walk arounds for new customers. The next part of Ryan’s job was to run these cars through the car wash.

He came up to the first one, a mid-sized SUV, and squinted at the number on the sticker in the top-right corner of the windshield. He said to himself, “five two two two six, five two two two six, five two two two six,” and walked back inside, turned into the main office where the key machine was. Roger was at the computer and without looking over said, “should already be halfway done with those cars, Ryan.”

Ryan muttered under his breath as he punched in the numbers, “five five two two six.”

The digital display said, “no such key.”

He punched it in again, this time getting it right, the machine whirred, and out popped a box with a key inside it. He turned to Roger and said, “sorry, Frank made me get breakfast with him.”

Roger turned in his chair, raised an eyebrow and said, “did he get me anything?”

Ryan said “uhh” and Roger turned in his chair, leaned back and shouted, “Frank! Get in here!”

Frank half-slid into the doorway of the office and had a huge smile on, he seemed to have been in the middle of telling a joke and said, “what is it, boss-man?”

Roger said, “how come you got breakfast but didn’t get me anything?”

Frank’s smile expanded, he looked up to Ryan then back to Roger and laughed, “you think I’m gonna forget you?”

Then he dashed off to the back office.

He returned wielding the burrito with pride, “now, I wasn’t sure which was your favorite, how do you like, uh, bacon?”

Frank placed the burrito on Roger’s desk, Roger opened it, took a bite, chewed, then his chewing slowed. He pulled out a trash can from under his desk and spit it out.

He said, “that’s worst damn burrito I’ve ever tasted.”

Then he turned to Ryan and said, “how come you aren’t washing the cars?”

Ryan left, and as he went out the front door, he heard Frank slap Roger on the back and say, “Rodge, we are going to sell some cars today!”

Ryan drove the SUV, smelling entirely of brand new car, by the finance building, and onto the back service road. This service road was shared by three car dealerships, and along this road was a body shop, a couple reserve lots — where the new shipments were held — and, most importantly, the car wash.

He drove up to the keypad, pressed on the square metal buttons, “3, 1, 2, 4”, and pulled around to the tunnel. The first drive through the car wash was perhaps the holiest experience of the day. The sun was fairly strong by now so that the tunnel felt like a cool enclave.

He pulled up to the tire grooves, set the car to park, and lay back in his seat while the machine did its work: rinse, water streaming down the windows, soap, the spinning cylinders with lapping fingers, wax, green, yellow and red in blurred stripes, sweet smelling, then rinse again. The machine retracted its tools and it was time to pull forward through the air dryer. Slowly, slowly emerging out from this enclave and entering the world anew with a wonderfully clean car.

He pulled up in front of the showroom, saw that it was busy with salesmen on the phones — it was too early for walk-in customers so they could call from their showroom desks — and came to the next car in the row.

He repeated the routine: check the window, repeat the number to himself, get the key, drive to the wash, return. He repeated it again, and again, and on the fourth time through the high was leaving and he was feeling a bit tired, so he stopped, got another little styrofoam cup of coffee, and went to the side of the store to see if anyone was on a smoke break.

…

Sure enough, there congregated were four salesmen: the big polar bear guy was telling a story from the era when he worked at a custom shop in Chicago, he told these tales beautifully, that they worked on Porches and Ferraris and Lamborghinis. Somehow Ryan could only imagine that he worked at a shitty lot in some suburb.

“Anyway, it was a red ferrari, it was Michael Jordan’s. Now, he didn’t come in the store, he had an agent bring it in, but the license plate said MJ 23 and it had dark tinted windows.”

He scratched his head with his cigarette-empty hand as if he were trying to remember exactly how it went, his voice was soft and he meandered on: “I had to take it to another one of our shops, and driving on the highway everyone slowed down around me, trying to look in through the windows, and little did they know, it wasn’t Michael Jordan in the Ferrari, but me.”

He grinned, took a drag from the cigarette, looked around from person to person, seeming disappointed by the tepid reaction, lifted his eyebrows, and said, “he had a Porche too, a sweet setup; a black turbo.”

He continued to talk and Ryan nudged Frank, who was standing in amazement, and Frank responded by throwing his hand out as if he was sweeping away a fly.

Ryan sighed, went back through the building, prepared the fifth car for a car wash. This time, however, he stopped on the way to the car wash in the employee parking lot, sat halfway in his car, legs still facing out, retrieved the pipe from under the seat, a lighter from the cupholder, and took a deep hit.

He let out his breath and the smoke coiled around the footwell, the pedals, of his car. He leaned out, waved his hand to ward off the smoke, returned to the still-running uncleaned burgandy sedan, and proceeded through to the car wash, listening to the radio at very loud volumes.

He was determined now to make it through the rest of the row of cars before his high went away. Boom, wash, boom, wash, boom, wash.

He parked the final car in the row, closed the door, stood away and looked at all the cars facing the steps to the dealership. Beautiful, shining, spotless. A bright point of light was reflected in each of the roofs of the vehicles. Ryan, shielding his eyes from the sun, looking like he was giving a salute, turned and went in the showroom.

At this point, Frank had got himself a customer, Ryan was familiar enough to understand that the man wanted to buy the van, but he was in the delicate act of maximizing his gains by choosing accessories. He could drive away with the van today if it were just the van he wanted, but he was going on a roadtrip Friday and he wanted the luggage rack. He needed to know how long it would take to be installed, and Frank was in a gleeful back and forth with the man.

This sort of information went through Ryan’s head unimpeded. It was the daily rhythm and the song and refrain of the days. People came in, full of anxiety about being sold, and were eased into it. He imagined that, in their younger years, the salesmen must have been pretty good lovers. Been very good at easing her tension: no, no, honey, yes, it’s okay to say no, we can lay here and relax, and then they start rubbing her shoulders, and finally she gives in, just barely, leans back into him, and he kisses her on the neck. It’s smooth sailing from here. The man buying a van was well into the process of love, would be willing to spend a hundred years in the dealership, and the salesman was giving him all the peace of the world.

Ryan sat in the back office, legs propped up on another chair in front of him, and sent text messages on his phone. He wanted to let his girlfriend know that he had some weed and that he was going to save it for them tonight and that they’d have a wonderful time.

It was at this point that there was a knock on the open door.

It was Roger.

“Ryan,” he said, “did you wash the burgundy Accord this morning?”

Ryan turned from his chair and looked at Roger, he said, “yeah?”

Roger smiled, and said, “I thought so.”

He said, “come with me.”

Ryan stood up and walked out of the room. Roger held his hand lightly on the small of Ryan’s back and led him out to the side entrance door.

Ryan said, “where are we going?”

Roger responded, “finance building.”

The walk from the side entrance to the finance building was changed from the morning. It was high noon now, the sun was directly overhead and the tan cement was so bright it seemed white. The sky was so clear Ryan expected a buzzard, or maybe a hawk that fly across and cry out, ba-kaw!

He heard his own footsteps, tennis shoes on pavement: contact, contact, contact.

As they approached the finance building, Roger took the lead and opened the door for Ryan. They walked down a hallway, and Roger stood by an open door, made a motion for Ryan to enter and sit down.

Roger closed the door behind him, looked at Ryan with his soft, gentle, pale blue eyes.

Then he looked down at the floor and said, “let me ask you Ryan,” looked back up, “why do you think we’re here?”

Ryan said, “huh?”

Roger said, “I mean, why do we come to the dealership?”

Ryan felt that he understood the right answer, he trusted Roger to ask questions honestly and in earnest.

“Well… to make money.”

Roger nodded, “Close. To sell cars.”

Ryan was vaguely confused.

Roger put his hand on Ryan’s shoulder, gave him a concerned look, said, “and do you know what makes it hard to sell cars?”

Ryan looked up and shook his head “no”.

Roger smiled, “when they smell like weed.”

Ryan frowned and felt very small.

Roger patted him on the back, looked Ryan in the eye, and said, “you need to be more careful.”

Roger turned to leave the room, but in the doorway he spun on his heel, and then said, “Ryan, do you know the difference between working to make money and working to sell cars?”

Ryan shook his head.

Roger nodded, “The difference is… you work for money if you need something: if you need a house, if you need food — whatever.”

Roger took a moment to compose himself, then said, “But what if you have enough money for food and shelter and security and all that?”

Ryan said, “you buy stuff.”

Roger said, “exactly, you buy stuff, you work for stuff not for money. And why do you buy stuff? Because you want it. What is the opposite, what must it be like to want nothing?”

Ryan thought about this, he assumed that to want nothing must have meant pure bliss, but now he could see that it was much more a kind of depression. Apathy, pointlessness. Even a preacher wants for the salvation of his congregation.

Roger saw the conclusions being reached in his head.

He nodded, “and so, what do we do here? We sell cars. We give people meaning.”

Roger took a second, smoothed out his shirt, and said, “It’s bullshit that people think meaning is a singular thing, like, ‘oh if god just sent me a message then I would know exactly how to live my life’, no. It’s a collection of things, it’s about girls,” and he raised his eyebrows at Ryan, “and it’s about good food, and it’s about many, many things. We give people a small chunk of meaning too, a pursuit of a nice car, the bliss of taking ownership, and the several years thereafter where they have pride for it.”

He smiled at Ryan, turned to leave the room, and in the doorway he stopped and knocked on the frame, looked at Ryan, said, “people are fulfilled, so long as they want.”

Roger left the room, and as he was on his way down the hallway, he stopped at another door, leaned in, looked at the finance guy at his computer and said, “look alive! Frank’s about to sell a van!”

[demi-dufresne]

Fourteen Months of Memories

A Season 6 Inspired One Shot for the blue team, meant for the “Missing Scene(s)” square in the @rvbficwars RvB Bingo. Better dead than red, amirite?

A repost, since I forgot to tag it the first time. Sorry! :)

There was something to be said about being lonely. Especially, there was something to be said about being lonely for months on end. One year today, actually. There was a lot to be said about that. And frankly, Church was getting fucking sick having no one to say it to.

It started out a little wonky, sure- he’d expected someone to join him at the empty base. Here he was, stationed here, without a red in sight. Or a blue, for that matter. Everyone was just… gone. And like, that can get on a guy’s nerves after a while.

And in the beginning it was a little nice, he had to admit. Caboose and the rest of the Blood Gulch crew had been driving him nuts. Well, Caboose specifically, the rest of the guys just sort of… fueled it. But after all that time, it was almost like he was missing them.

Almost.

Either way. He woke up on the day of a year here, alone, feeling like his eyes were anvils. He shuffled a little in the bed, his armor clacking against the frame. Man, did he miss not having to sleep in armor. But that was back when nothing chafed like hell and he was still, you know, alive. With a groggy grunt he sat up, glancing at the calendar he’d hung up by his bed. March 14. One year. Each day was exed out before that, an angry scribble in blue pen. He crossed the new day off, starting his morning ritual, if you could call it that.

Church had sort of set his day into a routine, just something to keep himself from going crazy. First thing was cross of the calendar. Second was an attempt to contact command.

They stopped picking up his calls after about a week. Now that Church really understood the whole meaning of “simulation troopers,” it kind of made sense that they’d ignore the fuck out of him when he kept asking for more and more information. He just wanted to know if someone would be out here. Like, jesus, drop a guy in the middle of nowhere, stranded, with cameras in weird locations and food and supply drops once a month. Not that he could eat it. Were they trying to protect him, or did they just put him somewhere to get rid of him? It beat Church.

Then he’d patrol the barrier. It was really unusual for Church to do anything willingly for this goddamn military, but it was less for them and more for him. He wanted to know who was out there. Call it paranoia, but he always had the strangest feeling that someone was watching him. And more than just the cameras.

On those long walks, he’d had a lot of time to think. Some days he’d think about tiny things– how he missed food, how he wasn’t sure if he actually had to sleep (but it would drive him crazy without his schedule if he didn’t,) how he wished someone else was here. But usually he’d think about memories.

Maybe it was a characteristic of being a ghost, Church didn’t know, but he had a really uncannily good memory. That is, he had a good memory of everything since he started at Blood Gulch. Anything before that was a mystery.

On this particular day, Church let his mind wander back to Blood Gulch, sitting in the shade under a rock. Sure, there were a lot of annoying assholes there, but at least they made good company.

Actually, that day he was thinking of was kind of a weird one. He didn’t know the date exactly, but it had to have been some time after Doc arrived, considering. He was sitting under the boulder, minding his own damned business, when a bizarre, loud, scream/laugh overtook his ears.

“You motherfuckers have got to be kidding me,” he’d said, slowly standing up. Maybe it was another so-called-attack from the reds, before they negotiated a mutual surrender and just wound up going home. Who cared, honestly.

When he stood up though, he could tell that the voice was coming from further into the canyon. He squinted, trying to see who was out there. He’d pull out the sniper rifle, but he’d left it at the base and that was so like, far…

So instead of going back to the base, he’d walked straight into the middle of no-man’s-land and risked his own life. Well, kind of. He was already dead, but the sentiment was still there.

So he reached the middle of the canyon, following the weird sound of laughter, when who did he run into but Doc, walking aimlessly around and shouting at himself.

“You’re a whole fuck load of crazy,” he muttered, looking the guy up and down. What can Church say, though? He was kinda pitying the kid. Walking around, talking wildly. Maybe too much time with Caboose drove him crazy. That seemed about right.

“Hey, Doc!” He’d called to the pacifist, walking closer towards him. Doc stopped mid pace, his posture changing from crooked and bent at the shoulders to the more upright, worried Doc that everyone was used to seeing.

“Oh, hey! Church! How’s it going?”

“Uh, good, Doc. You okay? You seem a little…” Church trailed off, gesturing with his hand. “Uh. Uncomfortable.”

“Yeah, I’m okay,” Doc said. “Just kinda feeling lost recently. I don’t know. I don’t think the reds like me very much, but for some reason I don’t think the blues like me very much, either. I don’t know. It just sort of feels like I have no one to talk to.”

Man, Church had no idea how relevant that feeling would be in a couple years’ time.

“Uh… Cool. Right. Well, I was just checking in, I better go-”

It was as if a switch had flipped. Doc hunched back down, shoulders twitching at odd increments and fingers moving rhythmically. Church was suspicious. Concerned, but mostly suspicious. “You okay there, buddy?”

“You fool!” The voice shouted, one that was characteristically not Doc. “Nothing is relevant in this tirade of human existence! Futility and stupidity reign your very existence!”

“Whoa there, calm down, man,” Church had said. He leaned forward and lightly tapped Doc on the shoulder, heaving an awkward laugh. “I know people kinda suck, but like. Chill.”

Doc looked sharply up, his neck twisting in an odd way. Church took a step back, coughing up another laugh. “You remind me of someone I know,” the not-Doc murmured, taking a step forward.

“Uh. That’s cool. That’s good. I’m just gonna go now, I remembered something I have to do-”

“Your voice- What is your name?” Doc asked. Church was bewildered at this point. Doc knew his name. He just used it, for crying out loud.

“I-It’s Church. I mean, I don’t know what you want me to say-”

“Your real name.”

“Yep. Still Church. Like I said, though, I’ve got to go, I’ve got to- yeah. Bye.” With that, he pivoted where he stood, walking straight back to the base without saying another word. If he heard a quiet ‘fools’ in the background, he didn’t say anything.

In hindsight, Church definitely knew that was O’Malley. Still though, that business with the name… freaky. And besides, it wasn’t hard to pity Doc, but when Church though back on the guy’s medical skills (really, lack thereof) it wasn’t hard to almost feel like he deserved it. Fucking asshole.

Present day. He kicked at a rock at the side of the ledge. As per usual, nothing to be seen here. Great. Well. Might as well patrol the other side, then.

He kicked the little rock along, mind trailing once again to Blood Gulch.

It was one of the more common times where there was someone shouting in the canyon that it was definitely the reds. As per standard, they arrived in that damned Warthog, polka music playing like they were some sort of badasses and not a group of idiots who couldn’t even work a goddamn robot. This must have been earlier on- Church was still alive and Caboose was still known to them as “the new guy.” The three of them were lined up- Church, Caboose, and Tucker- and looked quizzically up at the three reds in the car.

“What’s up?” Tucker had said, so calmly and blatantly you’d think he wasn’t standing in a battlefield with a gun pointed to his head.

“You nefarious blues! Your conniving schemes are finally over! Prepare to face a world without your tyrannous rule!” The red one was shouting. Church still hadn’t bothered to learn their names, despite all the time he’d spent in Blood Gulch up to that point. He and Tucker had lived there for what felt like forever. Then again, that was back when keeping track of time wasn’t as important to him as it was now.

“Our what? You’re gonna have to speak a little louder, I can’t hear you over the music!” Tucker had shouted. The darker red guy (Simmons, Church now knew) heaved a shrug.

“We don’t know how to turn it off!” He shouted back.

“Then how are we going to talk to you?” Tucker shouted up at them.

“Surrender, you no-good penny clencher!” shouted the red.

“What does that even mean?” The orange one chimed in.

“How are we gonna surrender if you can’t hear me?” Tucker called up. Why he kept this thing up, Church could never guess.

“Hey Rookie, how are you- what?” Church stopped mid-sentence. He had looked over to where Caboose was standing, and no one was there. He glimpsed down, seeing him sprawled out on the floor.

“Did he just fall asleep?” Tucker asked with a chuckle. “What the fuck?”

“Uh. Guys, can we do this later? Like, give you time to figure out your sound or whatever?” Church shouted up at the reds.

“And allow you more time to plot your terrible plans! Never!” The red one shouted.

“This fucker, I swear- Tucker!” Church called above the whir of polka music. “Stall for me.”

“What, I’m not running around in front of a tank while you try and figure out what happened to the rookie. That’s bullshit!”

“Tucker. I have a few favors to call in, don’t I?” Church said, raising his eyebrows. Tucker couldn’t see it, but the point was made.

“Got it. But you owe me, asshole,” he muttered, switching off his radio. Church smiled.

Now there was the whole issue of the guy passed out on the floor. Church tried to pick him up, carry him bridal style, anything, but holy shit was he heavy.

“It’s the fuckin muscle-y ones that always pass out, isn’t it,” Chruch muttered, resolving to the fact that he’d have to pull the guy by the feet.

Until that point, he wasn’t really all too concerned about what had sent Caboose into unconsciousness. Maybe it was narcolepsy, maybe he was scared of the guns. But present-Church was knowledgeable enough to know that Caboose probably just bored and wanted a nap, or at least too stupid to know anything about battle. Maybe he thought fights were done by sleeping.

Then again, what the reds and blues got up to couldn’t really be described as “fights” or “battles,” but that’s besides the point.

So he dragged the guy into the base, into his room and onto the floor. He looked up at Caboose’s bed, blue sleeping bag laid messily on white cot. He pulled it off, throwing it on top of the guy.

“Sweet dreams, Caboose,” he’d muttered, but he stopped just a second, watching the other guy.

Looking back, Church hated how creepy and kind of gay this sounded. But there he stood, watching Caboose breathe in and out. It was kind of serene, in a way. The guy never stopped talking when he was awake, but asleep, breathing. The whole thing was rather peaceful. Maybe he wasn’t so bad after all.

He woke up twenty minutes later and Church changed his mind entirely.

Back to the modern times. Church stopped walking then. He’d circled the entire area twice already. Sure, he supposed he could just leave, but he wouldn’t. For all the shit Church puts up, he doesn’t typically break the rules. That said, he sure as hell likes to bend them.

A rustle wrang out from behind him. He turned around, almost hoping someone would sneak up on him, take him away. But nobody came.

With that he decided to climb up the sniper tower. There was nothing else to do, anyway. And like, at least there’s a view from up there. Church sighed and grabbed the ladder, pulling himself up rung by rung. He glimpsed out, staring over the vast empty land. What he wouldn’t give to have someone here.

What he wouldn’t give to have Tucker here.

Little did he know, Tucker was running the same story through his head, miles away in a far too crowded desert. The sun had set, and Junior was snuggled into his side, the shouts of CT and his crew quiet in the background. For now, they were safe. For now. With Church, things were always safe. In Blood Gulch, they’d made a home.

The sun was always in the sky in Blood Gulch. At first Tucker found it a little weird, but the longer he stayed, the more he’d grown to accept it. Because fuck it, why not. Sometimes, just sitting on top of the base, looking over Blood Gulch was quite interesting, kind of serene almost.

This was not one of those times.

“Aren’t they doing anything? Like, anything at all?” Tucker had said. He was sitting on the top of the base, his legs dangling off the edge. Church was begrudgingly standing next to him, the scope of the sniper rifle pressed against his eye. It was forever ago- before Caboose, before the Freelancers, before everything went to shit. Well, almost everything. Tucker cradled Junior under his arm, a small smile on his face. But, anyways. Back to the story. Spying on the reds was about as interesting as watching paint dry, and Tucker was sick of it.

“No, Tucker, just like the last five hundred times you asked,” Church spit back. Tucker groaned.

“But they have to do something! They can’t just sit there talking all day.”

“Well, that’s what we do, isn’t it?” Church said. Tucker groaned again, flopping back so that his back was against the base, his face to the sky.

“I want your sniper rifle,” he whined. Church was silent for a second, and Tucker gave a chuckle. “Bow chica wow wow.”

“Shut the fuck up, asshole,” Church said under his breath. He so wasn’t in the mood.

“Oh, come on, please? I never get to look. I’ll do something for you. A chore?” Tucker said. Church cocked an eyebrow. “Hah. Bow chicka wow wow again. I’m really on a roll here,” Tucker continued. Church ignored him. A chore? Well, Church was sick of doing laundry duty. And ever since Flowers, he’d been in charge of washing Tucker’s underwear- something no human being should ever have to put up with.

“Fine. If you’ll-”

“I know, I’ll tell you shitty stories so you can make fun of me later!” Tucker interrupted. Church raised an eyebrow. That was not what he wanted to hear. “Like… Oh! I know, my first time. It was sophomore year-”

“I am not having this conversation,” Church said, pulling the scope from his eye to glance down at Tucker.

“There was this girl. Her name was Macy, I think- or wait, was it Marcy?”

“Nope, definitely not having this conversation,” Church said. He turned to leave.

“Wait, wait!” Tucker said. He sat back up, looking up at Church. “It was definitely Marcy.”

“Yeah, okay. I’m leaving,” Church said. He took the ramp down to the base, shaking his head.

“She was a ginger!” Tucker called, standing up to follow Church.“Wait, let me finish!” He raced down the ramp after Church, listening intently. Church, though, was already speed walking through the kitchen, hands over his ears and aggressively singing. His helmet had been tossed to the side somewhere in between his entering the base and the kitchen. Tucker’s remained on. “She was this senior, and we were at homecoming.” With that, Church froze. He slowly pulled his hands from his ears. The guy never really smiled, but the face he was pulling right now was a little less of Church’s typical ‘angry-but-still-personable’ and a little more ‘holy-shit-that-struck-a-nerve.’ Now, Tucker might not be the best at reading people, but even he could pick that up.  “Yeesh, why so serious all of a sudden?” He said. Church didn’t move.

“Stop talking,” Church said. “Just… Stop talking.”

“Fine, whatever, dude,” Tucker said. “What do you have against my sex life?”

“No!” Church said. “You idiot, it’s not your sex life, it’s just… homecoming… I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Why?” Tucker said, tone nonchalant. Church’s hands, now at his sides, clenched. They always did that when he got pissy. That, of course, and the scowls. He probably has a scowl for every day of the week, Tucker thought.

Church scowled again. Scratch that, he definitely has one for every day of the year. “Well you see, Tucker,” Church said. He had the uncanny ability to make even Tucker’s name sound like an insult. “You can’t just ask people stuff like that.”

“But dude,” Tucker said, “Now I’ve got to know. Did you have bad sex? I think you had bad sex.”

“Not everything is about sex, you cockbite!” Church called. He’d begun speed walking away from Tucker again.

“Hey asshole, now I get to use your sniper rifle, right?” Tucker called after him. Church didn’t say anything in response. “Oh, mother fucker,” Tucker muttered under his breath. Typical Church. What an asshole.

Church himself walked straight to his room. He was lucky to get his own space of privacy in the base. Flowers had said something about keeping sanity (he’d heavily stressed the word) within tight living conditions. To Church’s knowledge, military units usually had bunks, but hey. He wasn’t going to complain. Church shut the door behind him, sighing at the empty space.

So Homecoming. Huh. There were still several memories he couldn’t recall, and he guessed Homecoming was one of them. The mere mention of the word made him freak out, and he had no idea why. “I just had to slip on a puddle, didn’t I,” Church groaned. After that concussion or whatever immediately after he was stationed at Blood Gulch Outpost Alpha, his memories were all fogged up. It was like they were right there, right out of his reach, but he could never touch them. Still, Homecoming. Huh.

About a week passed and Church would have assumed that Tucker would have let this whole ‘Homecoming’ thing go. “Hey, mornin’, Church. You gonna tell me about Homecoming yet?” Even the mention of the word sent a bad feeling through Church’s gut.

“Fuck off Tucker,” Church said, passing him to grab his helmet off the shelf.

“Oh, come on. Now it’s just getting old,” Tucker said. He himself wasn’t dressed for war yet. He’d only donned a pair of boxers and some white ratty tee for Church’s sake.

“I know it’s getting old, Tucker, so why don’t you drop it?” Church annunciated every syllable like he was talking to a toddler. Tucker made a face.

“But dude. Come on. Your roommate tells you he has this traumatic ass story about Homecoming and leaves you in the dark. Like, come on, man! I would do so much to learn that damn secret.”

“Would you do, say, I don’t know, a week of laundry duty?” Church said. He might not know the story himself, but if he could get both Tucker and his dirty underwear off his hands, well. That’d be two birds with one stone.

“Half a week.”

“Two weeks.”

“What?”

“The lower you barter, the higher it goes.”

“Fuck you. I’m just gonna keep annoying you ‘till you tell me, then,” Tucker said. “I’ll ask you every morning and every noon and night, and for every time I ask about the reds I’ll ask about it twice. How does that sound, huh? Annoying, huh?”

“Ugh, fuck off,” Church said. He screwed on his helmet, a scowl covering his face. If Tucker could see it, he surely would have made another remark.

“Seriously, dude. Tell me. Tell me. Tell me.” Church had begun to walk away, and Tucker, still in his boxers, followed him through the base. “Tell me. Tell me.”

“Fuck off!” Church shouted again.

“Tell me. Tell me. Tell me.”

“Tucker!” Church shouted.

“Tell meeeee. Like, do you know what I’d give to know what it is?” Tucker whined.

“Do you know what I’D give to know what it is?!” Church had turned around, and was shouting to Tucker’s face now.

“W- Huh?” Tucker said. That… threw him off. Where was the story about bad sex? That didn’t sound like a story about bad sex.

“I don’t know, Tucker! I don’t know that story, okay? I forgot it in the damn accident, with near everything else. Now if you’d kindly fuck off, that’d be greatly appreciated,” Church said. “And get dressed while you’re at it, I didn’t ask to see that ugly-ass mug of yours.”

Church turned and walked away, leaving a stunned Tucker. “Wh- What?” He muttered. So Church was really not not telling him afterall. Weird. And as cryptic and terrifying as the term ‘the accident’ was clearly intended to sound, Tucker knew about the whole thing with Church slipping in a puddle. Fuckin’ dweeb. But it did really suck that he couldn’t experience the awesomeness that was Homecoming. Like, the music, the lights, the ladies…

An idea struck Tucker. An idea so wild he knew it had to be done. Because fuck it, if Church got all whiny everytime Tucker mentioned getting laid at Homecoming, then damn. That’d get real annoying, since that was one of the best fucks Tucker had ever had. So it was settled. He knew what he was going to do. Though, he might need a little help…

“Sup my dude, how’s it crackalacking?” Vic’s voice crackled over the speaker.

“It’s great, Vic, but hey. It’s Tucker. I was wondering if you could help me out down here,” Tucker said into the mic. He was standing a good twenty feet from the base, his eye on Church, who was sitting out with the sniper rifle on a ledge above red base. Tucker hoped he couldn’t hear his conversation.

“Sure thing, brochacho. But I think technically it’d be up here, since, you know, geography and all that jazz. Super boring jazz.”

“Yeah, cool. Anyway. I’m gonna need some lights. I’m not talking lamps. I mean big, flashy, rave type lights,” Tucker said. “Does command carry that type of thing?”

“Whoa whoa whoa, man. What you be needing big ol’ rave-y lights for? Your base isn’t a dance club. Well I mean, yet.”

“It’s personal. Uh… Could I get off with saying, like, soldier morale or something?” Tucker said.

“Eh, why not. I’ll send for a ship for you guys. Guess that’ll come in handy when you guys are gone. I’ve always wanted to get funky on a dance floor. Woo woo! The dance-y Vick train is going into the station!” Vick called.

“…right,” Tucker said. “Got it. Thanks.” With that, he hung up the phone.

It took about a week to get the whole plan together. The lights arrived pretty quickly- surprisingly quickly, if Tucker was honest. He hid them in his room, knowing Church wouldn’t dare approach. His last phase of the plan was even easier than the first. He had to get Church out of the base.

“Church. Will you go spy on the Reds? I’m going to do the laundry,” Tucker had said. Church turned to him, his jaw open and eyes wide. It was pretty easy, if he was honest.

He threw up the lights, the banners, the speakers. He threw some vodka in a punch bowl and took a step back. He was proud, if he was honest. This was like, exactly what he was trying to do. Perfect.

Church got back about an hour later to find all the lights off in the base. While this usually wasn’t an issue, what with the eternal sunlight and all, there were blankets tied to each of the windows, blotting out any sunlight. “Wh-” he started, looking around the now-dark base. “Tucker? Are you here?”

“You know, Church, Homecoming is a special event where people who are like, either super close friends, or maybe something more, get together and have some drinks, do some dancing, and have a good time.”

The whole Homecoming thing again. Church still had that same nervous reaction, but it had all but dissolved into anger at this point. As Tucker kept talking, Church took off the rest of his armor, knowing this all to be Tucker’s idea of a good time. What a dick.

“Homecoming was one of the best nights of my life, and I think that fate is an ass to try and take that from you. So. I figured I’d try and fuck fate over once again. How does that sound?” With that, a stream of blue Christmas lights lit up the dark area, a fast-paced EDM song coming over the speakers. Tucker’s face was lit up in the blue, and he wore a small grin with a beaten-up black tux.

Church heaved a laugh. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“I’m making this night your Homecoming, asshole. Besides, you know that Command said something about sending a new soldier soon. This might be all we’ve got for the two of us. For all we know, this would be the last night we have together. So like, let’s just enjoy it,” Tucker said. Church paused, looking over the decorations.

“I don’t know, man. That’s pretty gay.”

“Oh, shut up. Just trust me, okay?”

“I’d never trust you, you fucking asswipe,” Church said, but took a step towards Tucker’s makeshift dance floor anyways. The couches from the living area were nowhere to be found (likely in Tucker’s quarters) and the TV was shoved into the corner. It wasn’t perfect, which Tucker did kind of know, but Church looked happy. And damn, Tucker was happy, too. Look at him, planning a party for his sad friend. He was so charitable and modest. No wonder the ladies love him.

The song playing was something ridiculously quick- some trap song about banging a girl and taking her home. Church was so goddamn awkward at dancing, though. Tucker laughed even trying to watch him. “What?” Church said. His face had gotten all red- Tucker could barely notice it in the faint hue of the lights- and he was definitely offended.

“Here, come on, dance with me,” Tucker said. He considered himself a good dancer, all sway and hips and head-bobs. Church tried to mirror him, looking somewhat like a disgruntled bird. It was so hard not to laugh, but Tucker contained himself. The picture of poise, right?

“Alright, alright, so fast dancing’s not your thing,” Tucker chuckled. Church folded his arms, and Tucker could have sworn he saw the guy pout. “It’s fine, whatever. Maybe slower dancing.”

“Oh, I am not slow dancing with you, you moron. You’re not living out your weird high school fantasies with me,” Church said, backing away.

“It’s not like that, calm down. Think of this as… Me teaching you so that you can go out there and seduce all the ladies. Yeah. Think of it like that.”

Church grumbled out something that sounded like disagreement, but moved towards Tucker anyways. Tucker flipped on a slower song; it was less about fucking someone than it was about love and care and respect. Not really Tucker’s speed, but who was he to judge if that was Church’s thing? Sounded like something he could get behind, to be honest.

“Okay, so you’re gonna want to put your hands around her waist like this,” Tucker said. He moved his wrists past Church’s hips, pulling Church closer to him.

“Don’t tell anyone this ever happened or I will actually kill you,” Church threatened.

“Got it, got it. That goes for me too, dick,” Tucker said. The music was just hitting the chorus. It was a pretty song, some guy singing of perfect imperfections. It was a little cheesy, but hey. Nothing was wrong with that.

They were swaying to the tempo, Church’s arms wrapped behind Tucker’s neck and Tucker’s hands on Church’s hips. He let himself close his eyes for a second, leaning his head on Church’s shoulder.

“Okay, asshole, you’re getting a little close,” Church said, but he didn’t pull away. They stayed like that for a little bit. Breathing, existing. Moving in sync.

The song drew to a close, bittersweet and nostalgic. “You know, Homecomings aren’t that bad, are they?” Tucker said. Church scoffed.

“Okay buddy, calm yourself.”

No matter what he said, he could have stayed like that forever.

Flash forward a couple years and Church was standing alone on top of a sniper tower. He’d been alone for a year. He hadn’t seen Doc, Caboose, Tucker in a year.

In two months, he’d stop being alone. But Tucker?

Well. I guess you know how the story ends, huh?

He never got to see Tucker again.

[lavendelzahne]

yesterday i woke up at 5 am, could barely get back to sleep before i had to get up at 7, then couldnt find my keys (bad omen) nor my card after i was already running late to my college orientation at 9...arrived late, left as early as i could (at least a bought a .2 mm mechnical pencil im excited as hell about) then drove back down to wv bc id been in pa.....then i had a long, smooth ass drive down to nc! it was great!!!! 

until about 9 or 9:30 pm when i was pulling into my last stop for gas and i locked my keys in the damn car, and nobody had anything to pop open a door so i called a towing service a mile away. 65 dollars. no thank u. i had to call aaa (triple a) who couldnt find where the hell i was! for like 5-10 minutes! despite me giving the exact address! and for whatever reason a drunk dude walked past and hit on me! then i called my friend katie (who is the reason im in nc at all) who took EVEN LONGER to find despite me telling her all the shit that was around me and the exact address and dear lord the place simply did not exist...and after i was done talking to her and waiting for aaa to call me back, this drunk ass dude, smoking in a golf cart, pulled up. asked me if i wanted to race for pink slips. hit on me. tried to get me to say where i live. im glad i was sitting on the roof of my car lmfao....after he left i went inside to charge my phone bc it felt unsafe as hell outside...where i waited talking to the cashier lady (god bless her like honestly she was nice as hell) until 11 pm! for the aaa guy to come!!!! and i had almost forgotten to fill my gas tank so i did that at LITERALLY the last minute like wait fuck BHDBCHJCDBHJD

and he took at least another HOUR to open my car door bc the goddamn thing is so easily jammed like he got the lock open? but bc the door wasnt slammed shut, it still wouldnt open? and when i hit the door the lock slipped back so it was locked again like ohhhmy fuckin god.....i was so happy when he got it open i tipped him 5 dollars :’’( 

aand then when i drove back up the street to get back on the highway the police were out checking driver’s licenses and the lady was like oh a pennsylvania license, mustve been a long drive :) and i was like....man...you do not know the half of it......

so i finally got to my friend’s house took a shower and got to sleep and rn im laying on the floor gayly cuddling a pink and purple body pillow and im gonna get myself a spare key made today so i am NEVER gonna deal with that AGAIN

[charliewritesisashamed]

Up In Smoke

Stoner+Suicidal Cas fic I never posted bc it is WAY to graphic for Wattpad. Like seriously huge ass fuckin trigger warning. I was in that place when I wrote it so I’m really stressing this it is REALLY graphic with the self harm. Please dont read it if that is triggering at all for you. I’m posting it now bc the non graphic parts are pretty good.

***I'm just sayin no drug dealer is ever gonna act like Crowley okay this is unrealistic af it's a fanfic not real life okay They will charge you every penny for what you buy I'm establishing that Crowley and Cas have known each other for a while and Cas has done many favors for Crowley

**also uh Moe's is the south east's version of Chipotle**

This has been a disclaimer.***

Cas slammed his truck door closed behind him. He tried to hold it in, but couldn't. He bawled into his stearing wheel. He rubbed his eyes, hoping no one in the school parking lot had seen his break down. He grabbed his phone and texted the contact "Crowley." Hey, it's been a rough couple days, and I just got paid. Can I stop by and fill up? Cas flipped the ignition and pulled up some Hollywood Undead on his iPod, waiting for a response from Crowley. He checked his phone. Sure, darling, mind grabbing me some smokes? Cas didn't bother answering, he just pulled out of the parking lot and headed towards the nearest gas station.

He parked his truck behind a rather sketchy looking apartment building. Crowley was already outside, a cigarette in hand. He was short, dark, almost black hair. He wore a leather jacket and black t shirt with worn jeans, Stereotypical motherfucker. "Got my Pall Malls?" He asked, blowing smoke. "Yup. Hope you know, I can smell it from here," Cas walked up to Crowley and gave him his smokes. "Landlord buys from me, he doesn't give a shit. C'mon," he led Cas inside. Once inside, Crowley pulled out a freezer gallon bag rolled up, out of his inside coat pocket. "And because you're such a delight, half off." Cas pulled out his wallet. "Only $40," Crowley smiled. "$40 is not half of what I ordered." "Over or under?" Crowley unrolled the bag and examined the contents. "This is $120 so.. dude, I'm really baked, I'm sorry, whatever half of $120 is." Cas laughed, "I can tell, your apartment reeks, dude," Cas fumbled with his wallet, "here's half of $120 is $60, plus $10 for rolling." Crowley refused the extra $10. "No, Cas, rolling on me, okay?" Cas took the $10 and the now rolled up gallon bag. "Thanks, Crowley," Cas pocketed his wallet. "Cas," Crowley pulled him into a hug, "I love ya, buddy." Crowley wouldn't  let go. "I'm really baked." "Get some rest," Cas urged, Crowley laughed.

Cas quickly grabbed an empty cigarette box from his center consol and gently placed in 20 joints, shoving the rest of gallon bag in the trash bag behind his seat. He pulled out an actual cigarette, Marlboro silver, and grabbed the lighter from the glove box. Cas quickly inhaled half of the cigarette before even turning his car on. He drove home finishing his cigarette.

Cas had smoked 3 joints and was pretty baked by midnight. "I'm sorry," he kept whispering to himself. His roommate, Gabe, had bought a pack of disposable razors, he had one in his hand. He'd shaven it down enough to expose the razor part. Cas just stared at it. He got up and took off his pants, and walked into the bathroom. Gabe won't be back until Friday. He's at Sam's.

((TW))

Cas didn't really notice what he was doing until he was covered in his own blood. His thighs sliced up in dozens of places, his boxers were soaked, if he'd been wearing a shirt, the bottom portion would've been, too. A few more slices and he fell asleep.

That morning he woke up in a pool of blood that had began to clot. It was going on 7, his first class was at 10. Cas went into his room and grabbed a pair of clean boxers, somehow without getting blood on anything.

Cas stepped around the large puddle and found hydrogen peroxide under the sink. He poured almost half the bottle around the blood and let it set, going to the kitchen to get a roll of paper towels. Between the paper towels and the peroxide, almost all of the blood was soaked up by 8:30. Cas peroxided the tile to get any dried clots up. Cas hopped into the shower and his legs extremely angry about it.

Cas tried to ignore his burning thighs as he sat in his psychology class. He wore a tank top and black jeans. Despite the jeans he still felt like they were bleeding through and everyone could see and they were all secretly making fun of him. He scribbled down notes and tried not to space out, despite still being kinda high.

Another week of getting stoned and smoking and cutting blurred by. He stopped by the gas station near his apartment to pick up a new box of smokes. He walked in and took out $14 "Two Marlboro please, silver," Cas didn't look up from counter. "I'm gonna need to see some ID," an unfamiliar voice said from behind the register. "There is no way you're over 18." Cas looked up, the man behind the counter smiled and winked. "A-a-are you hitting on me?" Cas was taken aback. He pulled out his licence and handed to the man. "Yes, I am," he looked at Cas's licence, "Castiel Novak." "Cas," he handed the man the $14. "Change is 88 cents," Cas stared down at his wallet. The man chuckled. "Here is your 88 cents, your two Marlboros and," he grabbed a pen, circled his name at the top of the receipt and scribbled down 10 digit number. "My name is Dean and I get off work at 7." Cas blushed, "O-okay," he quickly hurried back to his truck.

At 7:02 Cas dialed the number Dean had given him. He quickly took another hit off the joint he was working on as his anxiety spiked. Dean picked up. "Hello?" "Hi, Dean, this is Cas, two Marlboros, from earlier today," Cas hated phone calls, he was shaking, he took another hit. "The cute one, Castiel Novak, 88 cents," Dean responded. "Yes, you said you g-got off work at 7," great now he was stuttering, he took two more hits. "Yes, sir, how would you like to have dinner?" Dean asked. "S-sure, w-where at?" "Moe's? D'you like Moe's?" Dean asked. "S-sure, meet you there at 8?" "Moe's at 8, see you there." "You too," Cas squeaked, hanging up.

Cas hit lock and his truck beeped in response as he walked toward the Moe's, his jacket billowing behind him. Dean stood outside, staring at the door. "Hey," Cas called over to him. Dean turned to him and smiled, "Hi, cutie, so they close at 9 so I'm thinking we get food to-go and eat at the park or your place or my place?" "Sure," Cas smiled.

"So where'd'ya wanna go?" Dean asked. Cas thought about the state of his apartment, reaking of weed and cigarettes and blood, a plastic laundry hamper with clothes covered in blood was somewhere in the hallway. "I have a couple blankets behind my seats, we can lay in the bed of my truck somewhere," Cas suggested. "Lead the way to somewhere," Dean unlocked his car.

Cas pulled into the parking lot of a park that was definitely closed at 8:45pm on a Saturday, Dean parked next to him. Cas grabbed the blanket from behind his passenger seat and hoped there wasn't any weed rolled up in it. Cas locked the cab behind him and jumped up in the bed, unfurling the blanket. "TARDIS blanket? Bonus points," Dean smiled, jumping up into the bed. He sat his bag down and sat down next to Cas.

"Good ass burrito," Cas said, breaking the silence. Dean chuckled, laying down. "Do you smell weed?" Dean asked. Cas was thankful he wasn't facing Dean as he went white. "God, I haven't smoked in forever, ugh what I wouldn't do for a hit or two." "Oh, thank God," Cas sighed. "What?" Dean sat up. Cas unlocked the cab of his truck and jumped out of the bed. He fished around in his coat pocket for his cigarette box. Without locking the cab, Cas jumped back into the bed, sitting directly in front of Dean, he placed the two boxes in between the two. "Cas, I meant weed," Dean chuckled. "I know," he responded, picking up the small box wrapped in duct tape, opening it to reveal 15 thin joints and a lighter. "This is Issac," Cas clicked the disposable lighter with an eye on it, "get it? 'Eye'sac? He's my best friend. I have more conversations with him than I do most other people. I was scared you'd be one of those people who look down on people like me, I'm really glad you're not, you seem really cool, but I'm also really stoned, so I could be wrong about that," Cas rambled. "You-you smoke a lot?" Dean asked. "Yes. I hope that won't be a problem," Cas frowned. "No, no, just curious, I wanna know more about you, I haven't learned much so far," Dean brushed some hair away from Cas's eyes. "Well, I'm in college, a lot of debt, I smoke a lot, both cigs and weed, I haven't had a boyfriend since sophomore year of high school, I've tried to kill myself 13 times this month, my roommate, Gabe, is-" "Wait, hold on, go back, you've tried to kill yourself? 13 times? This month?" Dean questioned. "Uh, yeah, I'm obviously not very good at that, or maybe I'm just not trying hard enough, I dunno," Cas rubbed his burning thigh. "My roommate, Gabe, is also gay, he's at his boyfriend's for a while, I've been avoiding making another appointment with my therapist, for obvious reasons, and if slash when we do sexy times stuff I'm going to do my best to not even look down at my legs at this point," Cas stopped and took a deep breath. Dean leaned forward and firmly kissed Cas. As Dean pulled away Cas took a deep breath in, "I have really bad anxiety issues I shouldn't be allowed to live on my own, there has to be at least half a gram of just pure THC currently in my body at this point, we can't go to my place, there's too much tobacco and weed and blood, I'm going to make stupid desicions tonight, and your eyes are really pretty," Cas grabbed Dean's face, pulling him back into a kiss.