#Peanut buddy[scrap]

[yukidragon]

Just wondering, in terms of the Sunny Time Crew Show, we know who’s Jack, but who are the other characters and what were their respective roles? Where can we find more information on what the TV show itself was about?

I’m afraid our clues so far are pretty limited. What we’ve been able to scrape together so far is some of the teaser tweets and the artwork Sauce made of the cast, one of which is used for official merchandise.

As always whenever I include some of the official publicly posted artwork for the series, I want to give full credit to Sauce for drawing it. They put a lot of hard work into this and deserve to be credited.

Remember, don’t repost the privately posted images from the SnaccPop Patreon. Let’s give our full support to Sauce and the team where we can, okay?

We know the names of the rest of the cast members thanks to a map of Cloudy Town. There were big, big plans, according to this map.

Starting us off is the star of the show, Sunny Day Jack, the main man himself. Even on the map, his school house is right there at the top, drawing immediate attention. It’s in his signature primary colors, though the print shown is worn with washed out colors.

Luckily, Sauce was kind enough to post a version of the map on their twitter that didn’t go through the aging process. Since the twitter is gone, allow me to show it here.

Directly from the school house is Knackadan Drizzle’s field. Quite the name, huh? It’s a pretty sporty place, fitting for a sports themed clown... or rather a coach themed clown?

While nothing has been confirmed for certain, it looks like Knackadan Drizzle was responsible for the lessons on the show that related to sports, likely also teamwork and cooperation as well. Fittingly, he is colored in shades of green and yellow like his field. I imagine even his green mustache might be something of a nod to the green grass on the field.

The playground isn’t associated with any one person, but right next to it is Daisy Chain Jane’s Joke Shop. Like Jack’s school, the joke shop sports primary colors, similar to Jane’s design.

Now Daisy Chain Jane is a pretty interesting character. Those who remember this post I made about the SunnyTime Town AU might recall that Daisy Chain Jane is a character exclusive to that AU rather than the fictional world of the show.

Then again, Buddy existed in the show as a belt puppet that apparently could talk, so it’s possible that Jane might exist in the show’s canon as well.

My guess is that there were plans to have her character introduced during the next season as Jack’s big sister. After all, the map itself was posted with the caption that there were big plans. Jack’s murder certainly scrapped any future for the SunnyTime Crew Show... at least 40 years ago.

Next we have Rory Rainberry’s Bakery in shades of purple, pink, orange, and red. Some of you might know his actor Jean Laurent, but the character he plays seems to be a lot more wholesome than this candid shot.

As suggested by this picture and the map, Rory is a baker. I’m sure he teaches kids about nutrition, staying healthy, eating sweets in moderation, and maybe a few simple cooking recipes they can do at home like putting peanut butter onto celery.

Finally we have Cloudy-Belle Sue and her white, pink, and pastel blue library. Sadly, we don’t have a picture of her alone, but I suspect that she was in charge of story time with the children, likely using fables to teach important lessons that are outside the scope of the more grounded parts of the show.

Overall, the show seems to have been aimed at young children, teaching life lessons in a way they can digest easily, with cheerful clowns in bright colors acting as both their teachers and friends. CloudyTown was meant to be a place of fun and learning. It’s hard to say for sure what the age range of its target demographic was exactly, but I’m sure we’ll find out in the game’s full release when we get a look into the backstory of the show.

I will point out though for those who might not have caught it - the colors of each character’s locations seem to correspond with the main colors in the characters’ clothes and hair. The main colors of the show, as shown by the logo and at the bottom of the map, seems to make it clear that Jack was always intended to be the main character, no matter what he says that there is no leader of the crew during the interview.

@channydraws @earthgirlaesthetic @sai-of-the-7-stars

[twinktor-frankenstein]

Alright, here's a few!

• Ness sings/hums a lot, especially when doing tasks. Mostly random tunes or made up lyrics that relate to the task he's doing, but he will also get popular songs stuck in his brain from the Diner.

• Aside from the Diner job, he also has a true crime podcast where he will talk about his own theories.

• He also sometimes Babysits Abby. They're friendship bracelet buddies, they rope in Mike (and eventually Vanessa, when she wakes up)

• Speaking of Vanessa, I like to think she was somewhat of a regular at Sparky's. So Her & Ness are somewhat friendly or at least acquaintances. She'd try to make him stop being so curious about Freddy's, but it'd backfire into him being even more interested.

• He's a clothes Thief, even if mike's clothes fit a bit awkwardly.

• Ness is also the big spoon, and is just touchy-feely in general.

• He has random bits and pieces of old Freddy's merch, including some rare collectables.

• I think when/if he & Mike were to get married, he'd a wear a suit like Shane madej's, embroidered n decorated all pretty n colorful instead of a plain suit (reference: https://www.tumblr.com/ostensiblynone/735786663030210560/rosecutclothing-caf%C3%A9-brauer-floral-suit-for)

• Like his real Life counterpart and also Me because I love projecting™, He has arachnophobia :)

• He's a weird Food & Food combos enjoyer. Hawaiian Pizza, Fries & Ice cream, Peanut Butter and Bacon, that sorta stuff.

That's all I'm sharing for now, I wanna know your thoughts :)

- 🦋🥀

SORRY I HAVEN'T REPLIED, I've been meaning too things have just been a little hectic for me lately😭

I absolutely love the true crime podcast and him babysitting Abbie, it's cute to me that these have basically become fanon lol.

Also the thing about Vanessa trying to shut it down is so funny to me. She'd try to get him off the trail and he'd call her "Afton" so she knows its already far to late for that/hj

Him being the big spoon is so real too, I feel like he'd just initiate things a lot more than Mike does in general. He was definitely the first to ask about dating, I think I've said somewhere before that I feel like he'd say "I love you" a lot more than Mike does. I hc Mike would be more inclined to giving gifts/trinkets then going out of his way to complement Ness or cuddle him. He's the "I saw this cool looking scrap of metal on the side walk and thought of you" type, if Ness borrowed his clothes a lot I think regardless of how often he himself wore it he'd let Ness keep it.

Also im definitely of the believe that most of the things Ness eats are weird combos. He'll regularly encourage Mike and Abbie to eat full healthy meals and even cook for them, but when it comes to feeding himself he's running on one and a half lukewarm redbulls he found in his car and like a hand full of pretzels also found in his car. He's too busy pretending to be Fox Mulder to feed himself/hj

I'm strongly of the belief that Ness is feral lol

[fatguarddog]

i keep forgetting to ask this but have you ever had puppy chow/muddy buddies? it's when you take rice chex cereal and mix it up with a bunch of chocolate and peanut butter. super easy to eat way too much of it, and it does resemble dog food, so i thought it might be thematically appropriate!

I haven't! I'm not really sure I'd be into this though tbh

My boyfriend and I prefer 'dog treats' instead, like previously I made these lil peanut butter balls with oats and chocolate chips but they were a bit too chewy and hurt my jaw after like 6 of them. But yeah, I like treats as positive reinforcement for doing tricks and commands 🐺❤️ As well as the idea of getting table scraps and such

[madcatdaderpydrawer-blog]

Solstaire’s used to it, just like Clipsy. And Lunara fortunately did not see. Things would’ve gone much worse if he’d seen. I did, actually, mean physically poking him as well as verbally. Peanut’s getting his tummy poked while Lunara tries to dig into his trauma. The ray won’t be perfect, because it’s made of scraps, but it’s either that or Lunara trying to fix it. And Lunara fixing it is a bad idea.

Poor Piper, having to explain the actual serial killers in the sewer. And the fact that there’s a new Bloodmoon under construction in there. And then Pyroclas, scoops him with all four arms and nuzzles him mid-explanation, purring loudly. It looks up at them and announces “You weren’t Moon’s. Ours now. It’s free family!” While rubbing its cheek against Piper’s face like a cat.

The MR’s are just… horrified. Their first experience with other dimensions, and it’s learning about Clipsy’s dimensions. Moon, Eclipse, KC, and Solar Flare scramble to try and figure out how to blacklist dimensions. Earth and Lunar hug them and tell them they’re safe now. Bloodmoon want to fight the bad Moon. And Sun offers to take Clipsy to P&S to get that ray fixed.

Toddlunar will be calling Peanut “Bubba” by dawn. The other kids will follow suit by the end of the week. Congrats to Peanut for becoming a big brother.

Torp tells Clipsy that if he wants, he can do whatever to the security. It’s one of Moon’s old bunkers, so it should already have some nasty defenses. He just needs to patch him and Peanut into the system.

Antumbra pouts. He’ll still be a bitch to Clipsy, but he won’t go for the throat anymore. Peanut gets much more pleasant treatment, but Antumbra’s default is sarcastic bastard.

“Buddy, as someone who’s died before, been betrayed before, been tortured before, and been Moon before, and as someone who actually goes to *honk*ing therapy, I can tell you, with certainty, that you are very traumatized. Just take the *honk*ing bed.”

Clipsy is snickering in the background while Peanut struggles hard not to laugh from the repeated tummy pokes. XD trying to answer whatever questions he’s asking about his past while also barely preventing himself from bursting into giggles. It’s barely working too, because it’s clear he’s trying to stifle his giggles. He is not hiding his ticklish ness well.

Piper pats Pyroclasm on the head as best as he can, explaining that it likes to collect children from people who don’t seem to deserve/want them. And that it’s what happened to him as well.

Peanut gives him a “I told you so” look and tells Clipsy that he knew that would freak them out and he just grumbles that he didn’t mean to. He didn’t realize it sounded so bad when he thought it up in his head, he just wanted them to be informed!

Oh he’d absolutely love being called big brother!! He’s used to being the younger sibling so being the older one for once would be so exciting!

Clipsy will definitely take up his offer to check the security, if not just to ease his own paranoia. He knows if it’s one of moons bunkers it’s likely pretty secure but better safe than sorry.

Peanut finds the snarky bastard personality slightly amusing, Clipsy can tolerate it. His default is usually on passive aggressive dick with strangers so he gets it.

So much of that statement would leave them very confused as to what the fuck happened in this dimension. But they can unpack all that later, resting is definitely the priority

[lu-the-poodle]

31 weeks~ this was a fun week. Lu remains my dedicated cooking buddy (I'm sure it's not because he gets scraps while I work) and supervised while he got to play with his new puzzle toy - the snoop! He loves shoving his face in the opening to try and cheat 😅

I also ran a little test with him to see which of three treats he enjoyed more: peanut butter, coconut oil, or yogurt. But I think he just sampled them in the order they were presented 🤔 more research is required. Mr. Halo is the cat required a vet exam for a suspicious bump (he's alright, don't worry) so Lu got to come along and get his heartworm test done so I can order more then one dose at a time of his preventive 😂

[two-red-lungs]

A Different Kind of Kindness

Everybody has a different love language, the holy bible that is Cosmopolitan magazine says. You’ve never bothered figuring out yours. Deep down, you already knew. To acknowledge it would change everything. (Eddie/Reader)

Word count: 2000

Lingering between every clique of people means you end up “knowing” a lot of people and not really befriending any of them. But it also means you brush shoulders with all sorts of folks: like, through your geeky calculus class friend, the infamous freak and notorious drug dealer Eddie Munson. 

You talked occasionally over the first month of senior year, in passing, when he said hi to your math friend. He didn’t seem nearly as overtly demonic as others made him out to be. Just kind of a loudmouth. Fun, though. Made you smile and roll your eyes.

One day, sitting out on a picnic table and doing some calculus homework revisions with your study buddy while soaking up the last rays of late autumn sun, Munson slammed down onto the bench opposite you and derailed the conversation completely. 

He was a firecracker. He joked. You laughed.

And from then on, lunches were with Eddie and his ever-rotating small cast of freaks and geeks: outside, or on the bleachers, or in the cafeteria. Hey, it was free entertainment. Never a dull moment with him around.

Although, as time went on, his eating habits... worried you. Munson was like a seagull. During lunch he’d always pull out some sort of weird food- a packet of peanuts, or a whole sleeve of ritz crackers, or a plastic-wrapped stick of gas station beef jerky.

And he never finished any of it. Picking at it idly as he raucously laughed and snickered, boots going tap tap tap against the table leg, slouched back in his chair. He’d get so distracted most of the time whatever scraps he’d brought would be completely forgotten: and then, like clockwork, he’d excuse himself five minutes before lunch was over to go have a smoke.

Basically, the guy ran on nicotine, caffeine, and processed flour. It worried you. Wouldn’t it worry anyone? Wasn’t it a normal human thing to do, to be off put by that?

One day your idle discomfort with the prospect just... got the better of you. Overrode your usual careful rationality, your strategic social distancing.

Eddie wound up walking next to you, headed for the usual cafeteria table, and you rummaged around in your brown bagged lunch as you fell into step. Pulling out half of the plastic wrapped sandwich you’d made for yourself: a BLT, bacon perfectly crisp, toasted to goddamn perfection.

“Hey, um. I’m not super hungry today.” You eventually said. “I don’t want this to go to waste, though. Want half? I’ll just chuck it, if you don’t. It’s fine.”

The tip of a pink tongue wetted his lips, the rocker looking taken aback. You both never really... talked to one another. Not one-on-one. Only around other people. He got himself together quickly. “Uh, sure. Yeah. Thanks, man.” And then he was getting his name crowed by the table of his friends and was loping over there, all smiles and rattling chains, sandwich in hand. 

That was the first day you ever saw him, like, properly eat. Long guitarist fingers unwrapping the cling-wrap as he talked and then bam, it was gone, eaten in seconds. No fuss, no distractions. 

It made you feel weirdly... self-satisfied. You brushed the feeling off, turning to your calculus partner and trading notes over the sticky plastic tabletops.

The next week you whistled sharply in the hallway, and Eddie’s wild head turned around in the noise, just in time for him to catch the shiny foil-wrapped sandwich flying through the air at him. He blinked, objectively confused.

You played it cool. “Made an extra for my dad. He didn’t want it.”

“Shit, I’m not complaining.” There was that stupid grin again, wide under dark chocolate eyes. 

And then the sandwich was gone again, his lunch of a singular syrupy fruit cup forgotten, and Eddie licked the pad of his thumb to get the last drop of mustard off it as he argued with a friend.

You didn’t know why you wanted to keep doing it. You just knew that you did. That it made you feel warm, even when half the words you traded with the guy were jabs and you really only hung out when others were present.

It became a habit. The norm, twice a week, clockwork. You pointedly didn’t acknowledge it and neither did he: thank god for small mercies. You didn’t know what you were gonna say if he brought it up. You don’t have to feed me like a fucking pigeon, man. I’m not a charity case.

But he never said that, too polite and warm-hearted under his manic smile and looming presence to even hint at it. Took it all in stride. Seemed pleased every time, trading looks with you from under his fringe that went on just a moment too long, until you chickened out and looked down at your hands laced on the table.

People didn’t do things for Eddie. Not for free. Not unless they wanted something. You knew that. Knew that’s why he looked at you with equal parts wariness and satisfaction.

The weird, indirect, pseudo-friendship continued. A whistle to grab his attention, an extra sandwich or a tupperware salad arcing his way, him catching it with ease and a grin.

Sometimes, your other acquaintances asked why you packed double lunches so damn often. It was easier to say ‘force of habit’ than it was to say you were completely fucking hooked on the poodle-haired outcast’s smile.

He was trading back, now, in November. Little indirect things. An open extended invite to see his band play, free of charge, made in front of a group of his friends. A keychain he made a big deal of ‘raffling’ off at the table and ultimately gave to you. All gestures hidden under the guise of being for everyone. But they were always for you. You knew it. He knew it. 

Neither of you said anything.

“Why don’t I ever get free food?” Dustin whined, gesturing miserably to his wet cafeteria pizza when you plopped down and handed Eddie a reuben, not even looking at him, digging into your own identical one.

Eddie held up a finger to hush the young man, chewing thoughtfully. “Shh, shut up. No talky-talky. Your words are ruining my sandwich.”

The table erupted into lapping waves of chuckles. You hid your pleased flush behind a gulp of water.

Another week, another whistle and a sandwich. But this time, ring-clad fingers in the corner of your vision slid a ziplock bag of potato chips in front of you. You glanced up to the head of the table. Eddie, not interrupting the very intense conversation unfurling between the other table members, wetted his lips with his tongue and lifting the corner of his sandwich bread, showing you the concoction inside.

“Do it.” He hiss-whispered over the conversation, pointing the potato chips tucked into his sandwich.

You wrinkled your nose. “Gross.”

“No, man, it’s good. Trust me, alright?”

Two chips went into your perfectly composed chicken salad sandwich. Oh. Damn. The crunch brought it to a whole other level. You looked back at Eddie and he was already slowly nodding, a grin spreading across his face: you like it, his expression read. 

You rolled your eyes, pressing your lips together to stop from smiling. I do, yours said back. He bumped your elbow with his playfully and you shook your head, holding in a laugh.

“No man, you can get all sorts of chicks with these things. They’re like codexes.” Your math partner said loudly, gesturing with the Cosmopolitan magazine at the other table occupants even as they scoffed. “Seriously! What, you don’t want all the help you geeks can get?” He cracked it open, thumbing through pages and starting to read aloud.

You tuned him out, staring down at the fluorescent reflection on the table and taking quiet satisfaction in how Munson always pulled out of the conversations and focused on your cooking, basically shoving your food into his face as fast as he could. It was one of the rare times you saw him quiet.

“The languages of love. Oh, here we go. Quality time.” Your study buddy continued, nose in the magazine. “You like romantic time spent together. Cuddling, hiking, or romantic dates at the movies are good candidates for you.” The other tablemembers cooed sarcastically and he snickered. “Physical touch. Kisses, hugs, and warm embraces are your language of preference. Consider talking to your sweetheart about ways to spend more time together with skin on skin.”

When he waggled his eyebrows you couldn’t help but snort into your sandwich.

“Next up, gifts: giving and receiving. One of the most common love languages. You show your affection with little tokens given your sweetheart. Fun trivia fact: the most common method of gift-giving is through food.”

You went completely still, freezing up like someone had dumped a cooler of water down on your head. Everyone else was still laughing, talking, poking fun at the magazine, blowing past the last topic. 

But in the corner of your eye you saw guitarist hands that had also fallen motionless.

Looking sideways at Eddie was a mistake.

Because he was looking back, those beautiful doe-eyes wide and completely blindsided, lips softly parted. Something clearly registering for him.

Oh shit. Oh shit, that’s totally what this has been, this entire time. You abruptly stood, heart racing, and excused yourself, lunch forgotten. Because what friend brings their other friend lunch so often, what friend wakes up a half-hour early to poke around in the fridge and think ‘hmm, what would make this person smile today’?

It wasn’t a friend thing. It was not a friend thing. 

Jesus. You’d been awkwardly flirting with him for months and hadn’t even let yourself recognize it.

You burst out of the hallway doors and into the cold November air, pale sunlight reflecting off of rows of parked cars, thinking stupid stupid stupid over and over again. You hugged yourself in the chill. 

Were you crushing on Eddie Munson? Eccentric, smiley metalhead, never afraid to speak his mind? Completely and utterly fine with being his truest self, not giving a shit about what anybody thought?

...God help you, you were.

And then the front school doors slammed open behind you and you nearly jumped out of your damn skin, heart flipping upside-down in your chest, spinning around to come face-to-face with Eddie’s big eyes and cascading mane-framed face.

He lost all his confidence the moment you locked eyes with him, taking a half-step back, not knowing what do with his hands. Tall and nervous. “Look..” he finally got out, shaking his head, avoiding eye contact. Hands gesturing kind of helplessly. “You’re... I just...”

Oh god, was this a tactless rejection?

Without even thinking you were turning backwards, storming away, trying to put some distance between yourself and that spiked-covered, foul-mouthed ray of sunshine, trying to clear your head-

And then there was a big hand grabbing your wrist, stopping you, and Eddie’s face was suddenly inches away, closer to you than he’d ever been. “Can I just-” he was babbling, scrambling for words, and his fingers were so warm, “-shit, can I just kiss you? Would that be okay? Would-”

You didn't’ even let him finish. Stupid, stupid man, with soft, hot lips, tasting like caffeinated cola and salt. It was everything you didn’t even know you had been wanting all these months. Heat bust in your chest all at once. A fire right up against your heart. You grabbed handfuls of his leather jacket.

Lips parted, heartbeat going bam bam bam in your mouth. His hot breath puffed on your face.

He spoke first, a slow grin crinkling the skin under his eyes. “Holy shit. You like me.”

You thumped a fist against his chest, pushing on his pectoral, a denial on your tongue, but he early hunted down your mouth again before you could get it out. Broad hands cupped your chin like he was trying to drink you down, get you as close as he could. You went up on tiptoe, completely enveloped in the smell of leather and deodorant, completely shielded from the world by leather and black fabric.

“...Maybe just a little.” You weakly got out, eventually. You bit your lip. “I don’t, uh. I don’t cook for anyone.”

Eddie just laughed: smiley and warm and incredulous. It rumbled in his chest under your hands, and he was kissing you again, and it was kind and soft and you knew absolutely Munson’s love language had to be physical touch.

He was weird. You were different. It was perfect.

God, the Hellfire club wasn’t going to be able to shut up about this for weeks.

[shemarmooresfedora]

Rebuilding Family

Summary: Y/N and Spencer were college sweethearts at Cal-Tech but once Spencer got accepted to the FBI Academy, he ended things deciding it was not fair to make Y/N wait for him. When they meet again years later, he discovers something unexpected.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader

Masterlist

Chapter 3

“Hey buddy,” Spencer sat down in the chair next to Henry who was coloring at the table after dinner.

“Hi Uncle Spencer,” Henry replied, switching his orange marker out for a green one.

“So Josephine seemed pretty cool,” Spencer started.

He wanted to know more about his possible kid before going to Y/N. If it was true and she would let him meet her, he wanted to know all about her.

“Yeah, she sits at the same table group as me in class. One time when we were playing tag at recess, I fell and hurt my knee but she kissed it three times and said that’s what her Mommy does when she has a boo boo and it didn’t hurt anymore,” Henry explained.

“Does she talk about her Mommy a lot?” Spencer asked.

“She loves her Mommy like sooooo much. She says her Mommy says she doesn’t need a Daddy because her Mommy loves her extra,” Henry smiled.

“That’s nice,” Spencer said, getting up from the table.

Spencer was glad to hear that Y/N and Josephine seemed to be having a good life. He was just saddened that it didn’t include him even if she wasn’t his kid. He didn’t blame Y/N for not telling him if it was his. He honestly would have had no idea how he would have handled that news back then.

-

“And that is the difference between a stressor and a trigger. Any questions?” Spencer slid his hands into his pockets as he looked out into the audience.

The students were silent. Most of the girls appeared to be in a daze but still looking at him. Spencer furrowed his brow.

“Okay well then, I will see you next Monday. We will be covering chapter four section three of your textbook regarding victimology so I would suggest skimming it over before class,” Spencer finished.

He grabbed satchel from the desk and quickly exited the lecture hall. He had looked up the class schedules in the administration office and Y/N was also finishing a lecture at this time. Spencer was hoping to catch her before she could run away again.

He quietly slipped into the back of the lecture hall, taking a seat in the last row.

“Okay! That is it for today. Remember, we have a lab next class so closed toe shoes only and long hair tied back please. Have a great day, everyone,” you announced.

Students began to file out of the room, some coming up to your desk with questions so Spencer hung out in his seat a little longer. Once the last student had their question answered, Spencer got up and made his way to your desk as you were packing up your things. When you heard the footsteps, you looked up with a friendly smile that was immediately replaced with a grimace.

You grabbed your bag and keys and bolted. However, Spencer was expecting this and was hot on your tail.

“Y/N, please slow down. I just want to talk,” he pleaded as he chased you across the campus, garnering funny looks from people passing by.

You sighed and halted your movement. Spencer was not expecting this so he almost crashed into you. You took a step back to regain your personal space.

You looked around, noticing some people were staring.

“Let’s go to the coffee shop on campus,” you suggested.

Spencer still remembered how you took your coffee after all these years and insisted on paying even though you told him that wasn’t necessary.

You both sat down in a quiet booth in the corner. You were nervously fiddling with the coffee cup sleeve and avoiding eye contact.

“I-Is Josephine mine?” Spencer asked.

You could feel his eyes burrowing into your skull. You couldn’t lie to him, I mean you could but you wouldn’t get away with it because he was a profiler.

You finally looked up and made eye contact, “Yes, she is,” you stated.

Spencer smiled softly with tears brimming his eyes.

“Did you know before I Ieft?” Spencer sniffled.

“No, I found out after,” you responded.

Silence fell over the both of you.

“Why did you break up with me, Spencer? It all happened so fast that I never got a reason. We could have made long-distance work if you actually cared,” you spoke softly.

“Y/N please do not doubt that I cared about you. I loved you, I think I still do after all these years. I just thought you would be better off without me holding you back and not having a lot of personal time to visit you. It doesn’t mean I ever stopped thinking about you. I just thought you deserved someone better,” Spencer explained.

“Yeah well no one wanted to date the single mom in college. Guys would run for the hills when I told them,” you chucked sardonically.

“I’m sorry” is all Spencer could manage to say.

He thought he was doing Y/N a favor by breaking up with her but instead he made everything worse. He abandoned her to figure out how to take care of their child on her own.

“Can I-um...I would love to get to know her more,” Spencer stuttered.

“Spencer, I don’t know if that’s the best-” you started to say.

“Please,” Spencer begged.

You closed your eyes and exhaled.

“You can come with me to pick her up from the school if you want. You can play with her for an hour with my supervision. Under no circumstances are you to tell her that you are her father,” you demanded.

“Understood,” Spencer nodded.

You finished the last sip of your coffee and slid out of the booth, tossing it in the trash can.

“Let’s go,” you motioned for him to follow you.

Spencer scrambled out of his seat to catch up with you.

You unlocked the car and you both hopped in. Spencer noticed the backseat of your car had random toys and articles of children’s clothing scattered around and he smiled at just the thought that they belonged to his daughter.

When you pulled into the school parking lot, you turned to speak to him for the first time since he entered the car.

“You stay here,” you said as you turned the car off.

Spencer watched as you approached the line of kids and a genuine smile grew on your face. Josephine ran over to you and was immediately scooped up and littered in kisses. Josephine was dressed in overalls with a dinosaur sweater and a mini pair of converse. Y/N whispered something in her ear and she nodded as they made their way back to the car.

“Jo, you remember Spencer, Henry’s friend?” you opened the car door.

“Hi Josephine!” Spencer greeted.

Jo snuggled herself closer into your neck.

“Why are you being shy today, Baby J? Remember you already met him? He told you all those cool dino facts. Maybe he can tell you some more on the way home,” you bounced the child in your arms a few times before gently placing her into the car seat and buckling her in.

“Josephine, I remember you said stegosauruses were your favorite. Stegosaurus actually means ‘roofed lizard’ and their brains were the size of ping pong balls,” Spencer was looking at the child through the rearview mirror.

He heard the sweetest little giggle. The sound was music to his ears.

“Mommy, did you hear that? They have ping pong balls for brains,” Jo laughed.

“Yes, baby, I heard but I think Spencer said they were the size of ping pong balls, not actual ping pong balls,” you smiled as you corrected her.

Spencer turned around to face her now that Jo was feeling more comfortable.

“They also weighed about two tons which is about the same weight as this car,” Spencer smiled.

“Woah,” Jo exclaimed in awe.

“Okay! We’re home! Jo, you can play with Spencer for a little but then we have to do your ABC’s homework,” you explained as you parked the car in your driveway.

You lived in a small grayish blue house. It had a tiny gated backyard but you usually just took Jo to the park anyways. It was enough for the two of you. You moved in last year after accepting the job at Georgetown.

You unbuckled Jo and unlocked the front door with Spencer awkwardly standing behind you until he felt a tug on his sleeve.

“I want to show you my room,” Jo said.

“Sure! I would love to see it,” Spencer replied as he was tugged by Jo up the stairs.

Spencer laughed when he saw Jo’s bedroom. It was decked out in everything dinosaur. Dinosaur wallpaper, bed sheets, toys, and a carpet.

“You really love dinos, don’t you?” Spencer smiled.

Jo nodded, beaming as she seemed to be very proud of her room.

“Jo, I’ve got a snack for you,” Y/N called out from downstairs.

The little kid lit up even more and ran down the stairs, leaving Spencer alone in the room. He saw a small little bookshelf with picture books, mostly about dinosaurs. It was nice to know his daughter shared his love of reading.

“You have a lovely home,” Spencer complimented as he entered the kitchen.

“Thank you, I don’t know if you want some apple slices and peanut butter too. I would offer you something else but I haven’t had time to go grocery shopping this week,” you explained.

“It’s all good. If you ever need help-” Spencer began.

“We’re quite alright,” you snapped.

A silence fell over the room, even Jo picked up on it and stopped the loud chewing of her apple.

“I’m sorry,” you sigh, patting the top of Jo’s head to tell her she could continue eating, “We’ve been on our own for so long that I can sometimes get a little defensive when someone suggests I can’t handle it.”

“I wasn’t suggesting that at all. I think you have done a wonderful job raising Josephine. But, I also had a single mom so I know that sometimes there just aren’t enough hours in the day,” he replied.

“Thank you,” is all you said.

Spencer glanced at his watch, “I should get going. My hour is up. If it’s okay with you, I would love to come over again sometime,” Spencer said.

“Leave your number and I’ll text you,” you replied, handing him a scrap piece of paper and a pen.

“Bye Josephine!” Spencer smiled at the kid who had peanut butter smeared all over her face.

“Ew, Jo! Did you get any in your mouth?” you laughed.

“Bye Spencer!” she attempted to wave to him as you were wiping her face and hands with a damp paper towel.

[shirtlesssammy]

9x03: I'm No Angel

Then:

Human Cas!

Now:

Angels are on the hunt for Castiel. He’s hiding out at a men’s shelter under the name Clarence. He’s trying his hardest to blend in, but I have to say, for all his staring at Dean over the years, he didn’t really learn much. 

While cleaning up the grounds of a church, he discovers the bodies of two priests that met the inquiring angels the night before. 

Meanwhile at the bunker, Sam is healthy and happy and running in the mornings! Dean is grumpy and worried about Cas. (I have a really great idea, Dean: Use that gas guzzling monster you love to drive and GO PICK HIM UP.) Anyway, Ezekial has news. A faction of angels are organizing on Earth and they want to find Cas. 

The angels are using an evangelical huckster named Buddy Boyle to convince the persuadable flock of listeners to let angels possess them. The angel orchestrating this is named Bart Bartholomew. One of Buddy’s followers asked to be possessed. 

It doesn’t go well for her --or Buddy’s decor. 

Dean creates a detailed map projection on where Cas may have traveled to since their last contact. 

The angels are close to Cas, and Dean is worried. 

Cas is chilling with the people though. Another man experiencing homelessness gives Cas some food, and they sit together eating their meager meal.  

Cas discusses his all too existential discoveries of becoming human. He’s possibly freaking out his food buddy as well. I would like to wrap him in a warm blanket and sing lullabies to him while he drifts to the land of Nod. 

Cas heads to an abandoned bus to sleep, but wakes when he senses something isn’t right. He draws his angel blade and heads to check it out. An angel finds Cas and slices his arm, discovering that Cas is now human. Cas stabs him with the angel blade. (Still a warrior though.)

Dean and Sam check out the church where the priests were killed. Dean learns of Cas’s fake name. AND I want to set this entire scene on FIRE. Dean KNOWS that Meg called him Clarence. And DO NOT tell me that Dean “Glued to the TV and Lives and Breathes Pop Culture” Winchester wouldn’t have seen It’s a Wonderful Life. Like, there’s a lot of canon on this show that I have to magically jigsaw puzzle together but this moment will not be one of them. 

Cas has to make a choice of eating or protecting himself from the angels. 

Cas gets his warding tattoo and heads to a church. He talks with a woman about the fragility of life and prayer and faith. 

For Holy Human Science:

Cas tests the woman’s faith by telling her God has checked out, Heaven is a shambles. Her faith will not waiver.

Bart hires a rogue reaper to find Castiel. 

Sam and Dean check out the guy Cas stabbed. They discover he’s a religious nut and that Buddy Boyle is convincing people to say yes to angel possession. 

In an alley, Cas sorts through garbage trying to find decent scraps to eat. A woman surprises him and Cas muses on the wasteful nature of society, and the lack of generosity towards those who need help. The woman hands him a peanut butter and jelly sandwich as a gesture of kindness. 

At the encampment Castiel ate at the other night, Dean and Sam Winchester put on their best “not a cop but totally acting like a belligerent cop” vibe. The people there are NOT interested in talking, until the guy who shared his food approaches. He talked to “Clarence.” He shares that Cas hopped a truck heading for Detroit.

Later, in the same alley, Cas hunkers in the rain when the woman from earlier steps outside. She invites him back to her place and introduces herself as April. While he gets settled at her apartment, she notices that he’s bleeding from his earlier angel fight. 

Sam and Dean leave a convenience store, Sam complaining about the chemicals in the pie. “I need pie. The rest is just blah blah blah,” Dean responds. They walk and talk, loudly going over their plan to find Cas. The rogue reaper tracks them like a CAT IN THE NIGHT. Correction. The reaper tracks them like MY cat in the night - utterly clueless that he is already fully observed by the Winchesters. They lurk in an alley to corner him. 

April, meanwhile, examines Castiel’s arms. I mean body. I mean, wound. 

For Gratuitous Shirtless Cas Science:

It’s fine. I just want to paint this in oils on a 5 foot canvas. 

Ahem. 

Anyway.

Cas sketches in a story about getting stabbed, but talks in even more vague terms about his failings as an angel. And as a human. “It’s all new to me. Hunger. Cold. This feeling. Being all alone.” April leans in and kisses him. And this scene has been unpacked six ways from Sunday, so I will simply say - yes. The handling of April’s manipulation of Cas on this show is both unsurprising and Not Cool. But also, taking in an injured stranger and then sleeping with him after cleaning out his deep knife wound is objectively a RIDICULOUS series of events. 

In the alley, Dean and Sam torture the reaper they caught. KIDS, plz. They learn that Naomi is dead and Heaven is in turmoil under Bartholomew’s thumb. The reaper claims that Cas is as good as dead, and Dean vents his feelings by stabbing the guy. 

Later, in an excessively candlelit scene, April and Cas contemplate life on the other side of sex. Did...they...light all twenty candles before heading to bed? 

For, uh, more shirtless Cas science:

April and Cas talk about his recent spate of experiences. “I’m no angel,” Cas says and I guess we have to take a drink because we just got the title dropped as dialogue. (I do this constantly in fic so I’m throwing stones my own way too.) 

While the Winchesters drive, Cas gets up at last and looks for his clothing. His jacket (and angel blade) are missing. April turns around. She’s got the blade in hand. 

Dean pulls over in the city, frustrated at not being able to find Cas. He turns to Sam and speaks slowly and deliberately WINK WINK - can the angel come out to play now? Ezekiel (aka Gadreel) flashes into control. He can’t track Cas - but he CAN track the reaper who’s got him. 

Cas, meanwhile, is trussed up in a chair. He wants to know why April’s subterfuge involved sex. I point to the writers of the episode and shake my head slowly. 

April tells Cas that there are a bunch of reapers like her that are for hire, and that she’s determined to get information on the spell that kicked all the angels out of heaven. April slices into Cas and he reveals that he was duped by Metatron. His grace was the last ingredient. Therefore, “It may be unwise to kill me,” he says - my clever little meow meow! 

Just then, Dean and Sam kick the door down. April spots them and stabs Cas, then attacks Sam and Dean. Dean yoinks the blade from Cas’s body and stabs her, then stands over Cas and makes THIS FACE.

Gadreel heads over, fresh from healing Sam’s latest concussion, and heals Cas. He brings him back from the dead and Cas gasps awake. Dean and Cas are reunited! “Never do that again,” Dean barks at Cas helpfully. Then he cobbles together a poor explanation for Cas’s resurrection, saying that he forced the reaper to bring him back before he killed her. Cas, who thinks Dean can achieve anything, believes this completely. 

Back at the bunker, they settle in. Sam tries to ask eighty thousand questions about what went down with Cas, which Dean deflects. Cas appears and it’s head empty, heart full time. 

He compliments the bunker’s food supply and water pressure. “There’s more to humanity than survival,” he muses. Cas reveals that he and April had sex. Of course, this isn’t handled in a sensitive manner befitting a dubious sexual encounter. Instead we get a joke and some “you got ‘er champs.”

Dean’s grinning with euphoria. He’s got all his people safe in the bunker! Yaaay! 

THIS EPISODE ENDS RIGHT HERE AT THIS HAPPY REUNION - DO NOT READ FURTHER.

Gadreel floats to the surface. He DISAPPROVES. Gadreel says the bunker isn’t safe with Cas there. He’ll leave Sam if Cas is allowed to stay, and then Sam will perish!

Dean confronts CAS while he’s in happy burrito land and tells him that he CAN’T STAY. 

Human Quotes Storylines 4Ever:

I'm finding that often people with the least to give are the most generous

I better try falling asleep. It's quite a process, isn't it?

Am I strange?

There really is a lot to being human, isn't there?

Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive!

[5-falsehoods-phonated]

Laughter is my Love Language

Summary:  Logan doesn't laugh much when Virgil first meets him. Eventually Virgil learns when Logan is truly happy is when he opens up.

Warnings: food mention, some self deprecating humor. If there are more please let me know!

Ships: Logan x Virgil, Analogical

WC: 1, 664

General Taglist (ask to be added or removed): @im-an-anxious-wreck @logans-library @janus-is-an-adorable-snek-boi @ace-in-a-shopping-cart (you had asked to be tagged in this a while ago, I hope it’s still okay)

Logan doesn’t laugh much when they first meet, which is somewhat of a problem for Virgil since he often relied on laughter to fill otherwise awkward silences. The problem was that Virgil was funny in the stupid way- which he blamed entirely on his dad’s humor that fell over to the punnier side. Crack a pun, reference a meme or as a last ditch effort self deprecating humor was usually relatable enough. Logan fell for none of those and more or less was just left confused by them- or he took the self depreciation too seriously and Virgil ended up with a heartfelt lecture on how important he was. Which, as sweet as it was, wasn’t the point of poking fun at something at his own expense.

--

“Boy Logan that sandwich is jam packed!” said Virgil sometime during their freshman year of high school.

Logan had looked at his sandwich in confusion. “There’s peanut butter there too- but yes it’s Crofters.”

Virgil fought to keep the smile on his face. “Yeah I know, it was a joke.”

“But it is packed with- oh that was a pun. Clever.” 

--

“Here comes dat boi!” Virgil cringed at his own voice as the meme reference fell out of his mouth. He hadn’t seen Logan smile once that day and all attempts at conversation had fallen flat so...memes. Why not? Logan was on his laptop often enough he had probably seen what he was referencing at some point. Plus Logan was gliding very confidently on his skateboard and Virgil was suddenly feeling very tense and wanted to break it. Logan, unhelpful as he was, merely stopped and kicked the board up to tuck underneath his arm.

“‘Dat’?” He questioned.

“I-it’s...a meme. I was- referencing a meme.”

“Ah.”

“...yeah.”

Nailed it.

--

“That’s just me being dumb though- you know how it is.” Virgil let out a defeated huff of laughter and settled his chin on his arms. It was their senior year and he was talking to Logan about his current grades. Everything else was straight A’s other than gym. He didn’t like changing in front of others and the bathrooms were blocked off for whatever reason so he just didn’t do it. He took the fail but still needed the credit or he’d have problems getting his diploma, which was completely stupid and unfair but he knew it was his own stubborn fault and-

“I don’t know.” Logan hadn’t laughed at the “joke”, of course he hadn’t. Virgil sighed, opening his mouth to say something else completely stupid and worthless but Logan beat him to it.

“You aren’t stupid. Lack of participation doesn’t mean you’re stupid, it means there’s some other problem that needs addressing if you’re willing to take a failing grade instead of confronting it.” Logan turned to him with a serious look. Always so serious. “So, if I may ask, where’s the problem?”

Virgil blinked. “It’s stupid.”

“Virgil.”

“I just...don’t like…” Virgil turned into his elbow, cheeks reddening at how dumb the problem really was.

“I didn’t hear you. Can you please speak up? Or write it down if that’s easier.”

Snorting he decided to take him up on that, tearing a scrap of paper off his notebook and writing it down.

There was a pause and then: “Is this all? If you take the make-up class there won’t be nearly as many people and if you get there early you can be changed before anyone sees you.”

Peaking around, Logan’s face was so genuine, like he actually wanted to help. Virgil almost didn’t have the heart to say why that was also a problem but he needed him to understand. “I won’t know anyone in the make-up class.”

Logan screwed his mouth to one side trying to figure out why that would be something Virgil would worry about. His face brightened somewhat as he looked back to Virgil. “If it would ease your anxiety I could take the class with you. While I may not have to make up for the credit, it is open to sign up for extra if anyone so chooses.”

Virgil bit his lip. That would- actually really help, but he couldn’t let Logan do that could he? “You don’t have to.”

“I am aware. But going would be a nice routine and I would be very happy to do it if it meant you would be more comfortable.”

“You’re serious? You would really do that?”

“I’m always serious, Virgil. Of course I will.”

Maybe sometimes Logan not getting the joke was a good thing.

--

“L, it’s three in the morning. Go to bed.” They were in college sharing a dorm, and though Virgil could fall asleep with the lights fully on so Logan’s lamp wasn’t keeping him awake, it was the fact the other man was still awake that was bothering him.

Logan let out a short, humorless laugh and waved hi hand. “I’m almost done.”

Virgil hated when he laughed like that. No happiness behind it, only stress and exhaustion and irritation. Sighing Virgil reached over and plucked the pencil from his hand, shooting him a warning look when it seemed like he was about to protest. He closed the book and stacked it neatly with the couple notebooks he had and placed the pencil and calculator on top. Turning to his dorm mate he pointed to the dresser in the corner. “Pjs. Now.”

Slightly concerned when Logan only stood up to do as he was told instead of arguing he shrugged it off and sat back down on the bed. Logan came over a moment later, plain black tee drooping over one shoulder and sleep shorts slightly rumpled. They really needed to do laundry. Before he could say as much, Virgil was suddenly on his back, Logan’s head on his chest with his legs sticking straight over the side. Laughing softly he ran his fingers through the others light red hair, combing out the tangles gently while Logan relaxed into him.

“Logan buddy, I love you so much but if we fall asleep like this we’ll never get up again.” The other grumbled but took a breath and rolled off his chest, swinging his legs over to turn on his side and nearly kicking Virgil in the head in the process. Smirking, Virgil crawled up behind him and flopped with his arm slung over his side. He laughed again when he realized he was already asleep, arms askew and already drooling on the pillow. Snuggling into his back and hugging him tight he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep himself.

--

Logan sat at the table with a book flat on the surface, notebook close by as he made careful notes for the next curriculum. His brow was pinched in thought and his third mug of coffee was cooling beside him, untouched for nearly an hour as he fixated on his work.

Virgil looked back out the window as he finished drying a glass. Gray clouds were rolling in and it was already starting to drizzle. Good,  they needed a good rain for the start of summer. Tuning in once again to the furious scratching of a pencil behind him he set the glass down and whirled around, racing over and catching Logan’s hands in his own to tug him up and towards the door. 

“Virgil what are we- it’s raining! Virgil!” Virgil stopped for a moment to look and see if Logan was actually distressed but upon seeing more fond annoyance than anything else he grinned and stepped out into the downpour. He took away one of his hands and led Logan in a spin down the porch, feet slipping slightly in the wet grass as he maneuvered them around. Logan was smiling now, stress lines gone from his face as wet hair flopped into his eyes and obscured his vision. Virgil’s own hair was slicked flat to his forehead, emo fringe he would never cut hanging down to his lips before he shook his head hard to dispel the water. Logan yelped and flinched away before laughing low at himself, grin turning mischievous as he reached up above virgil’s head to take a hold of a tree branch. Yelling as what felt like gallons of water soaked him he stood there thoroughly soaked and shivering slightly before letting out a howl of laughter, Logan following right after. He was sure the neighbors could hear them but he didn’t care. Logan was laughing so hard he was clutching his sides, shaking with the effort of holding himself together.

This was what Virgil loved most. Logan didn’t always laugh easily, not understanding the joke or understanding what was meant to be a joke but making sure the person was okay first. When he did laugh, it was one shared with others over whatever dumb, stress free thing they were doing. It was unplanned and in the moment, something Logan and Virgil were usually both averse to. But here in the rain, or getting icing everywhere on their wedding day, or the shared laughed when they woke up together after yelling at each other the night before to go to sleep it rang out; it was clear and joyful and carefree- a language all on it’s own that neither of them needed to “get” in order to join in .

When they first met Logan didn’t laugh a lot, which was somewhat of a problem for Virgil since he often relied on laughter to fill otherwise awkward silences. But when he opened up he began laughing all the time, each one precious and kept close to the chest. Virgil collected them, hoarded them even, storing them like coins in a jar in exchange for the happiness he felt each time he was the one to cause such a beautiful sound. And as they giggled still through slight coughs under a blanket that night, he couldn’t be more happy he could speak this language with Logan.

This work is also available on AO3!

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[botanicallyinclinednerd]

A big part of the reason I started Merlin was because of the knights and the strong found family vibes I got. I was introduced to Lancelot and was immediately like "wonderful, more of him please" (pained laughter) and I was disappointed that I would only meet one more knight before season 3, and that was Leon ("who the fuck is Leon?" *looked him up on tumblr* "responsible braincell holder. Okay cool" that wasn't entirely accurate but I didn't know that at the time). Probably why I latched onto him so much tbh, he was there fairly consistently, even though he had very little characterization, he was a sign that the knights were coming. And I met Gwaine and fell in love with him, met Elyan and liked him well, and met Percival and was like, hello gentle giant I adore you. I pulled an all nighter to get through as much as season 3 as I could just so I could get to season 4, which I understood was when they became the established knights that I saw in gifs. I wanted the knights so bad and I feel like I was robbed. Especially of Lancelot, I'm incredibly bitter about that. I expected to get a lot of adventures and characterization and episodes around them and I got peanuts instead. I'm allergic to peanuts. Neither Leon or Percival got their own episodes, and Elyan technically did but in the end it focused on Arthur more than Elyan. Though that was one of the few episodes we saw the knights caring about each other with no Arthur or Merlin in sight, which was pretty nice, even though all the encounters did end in violence, which I could have done without. Gwaine and Lancelot were the only ones to truly get their own episodes, their own introductions, which makes sense concidering how close they were to Merlin and that is the name of the show, but still. I wish we got more on the knights than tiny scraps of scenes less than a minute in length. I think that's why Lamia bothers me so much: its a full length episode with the knights, Merlin and Gwen, with no Arthur in sight, which was the perfect opportunity to see who the knights (specifically Percival and Leon) were without Arthur around, and instead it gave us knightmare knights that acted completely out of character and acted horrifically. We could have gotten a buddy adventure comedy and instead we got mind manipulation hell with a main course of trama that was never explored again. The knights had so much potential and they weren't used to even a fraction of it. Don't get me wrong, there was some fantastic moments and scenes from the knights throughout the show, there just wasn't even close to enough.

[noladyme]

La Cuervo - Chapter 14

She is used to the biker-life, having grown into a woman in the familiar embrace of SAMCRO. A bad decision and a gun-shot later, she gets whisked off to Santo Padre, and put under the protection of another club. What is supposed to be a short stint in the Mayan headquarters just north of the border to Mexico, turns into something more; when la quervo begins to develop feelings for el angel - and he seems to return them in kind...

TW: violence, blood, drug use, alcohol, smut, fluff, angst

In the spirit of "The Crown Princess of Charming", this is a story about O.C. Nina and Angel Reyes. It is obviously non-canon, as characters who have passed on on Mayans M.C. are present in it, and others have been excluded completely. Nina is written as a cis-female, but I have tried to keep her race and looks as ambigous as possible. Should you find any of this story offensive, please let me know.

It wasn’t until Nina was alone, that realization struck her. She’d just agreed to leave Angel. Her Angel. The man who had brought her back to life. The thought struck her like a freight train, and she froze in place, almost literally. Her whole body went cold, and she felt like she couldn’t move for the longest time. The light in the room told her she must have sat like that for at least an hour. Finally able to move her head to look down, she looked at the crescent shaped cuts in her palms from her nails. Something wet began dripping onto them, and she found tears had begun running down her cheeks, without her even noticing it. Forcing her arm to reach for the pillow next to her, she took a deep breath, and held it to her face; before a wail like no other left her mouth. She screamed out her agony, not having felt anything like it since she’d been told that Jackson had gone through with his plan to kill himself. It was as if an actual death had occurred again; but this time it felt like her own.

After a while she put down the pillow again, and got to her feet. She opened the cabinets, and began pulling out he few belongings she’d brought to Santo Padre, and stuffed them in her backpack. Then she made the bed, and went into the small bathroom for her toothbrush. It looked so alone there, as if it missed standing next to Angel’s. She tore herself from the thought, and went to put that into her bag as well. Only the gun and her inhaler were left, and she went to pick them up, when she noticed the phone Bishop had given her laying on the counter by the sink. She picked it up, and sat down on the cot again.

She wasn’t sure who to call. No one could change her situation as it was; but she needed something – anything – to help her through. Just a voice to remind her that it wasn’t all for nothing. Looking at Jackson’s journal and the photo of his boys – which she’d saved for last – the answer came to her. She dialed up the number, praying to god that it was still the same as last time she’d used it. The call was picked up at the second ring.

“Hello?”. “Wendy? It’s Nina”, she said. “Hey, Nina. How is everything?”, Wendy replied. Nina heard a ruckus in the background. “Thomas, no more cookies…! Sorry. Someone decided sugar was a good replacement for lunch... Chibs told me you were going to Mexico”. Nina swallowed thickly. “Yeah… No, not really. I’m somewhere else”. “Well, I hope you’re enjoying yourself. What I’d give for a vacation…”, Wendy said. Nina knew she was just kidding. Wendy had never been happier than since she moved to the farm with the boys and Nero. “Yeah, well; vacation is over”, Nina muttered. “I was wondering if I could talk to the kids for a minute”. “Of course! They miss you”, Wendy said. There was another sound of something crashing in the background. “Sorry, I need to give Tommy a bath. No! We don’t wipe peanut butter on our faces…!”. Another crash. “Goddammit. Abel! Come to talk to aunt Nina while I help your brother… Take care, Nina”. Nina couldn’t help but smile a little, as she heard Wendy chase Tommy around the room. There was a short scrambling noise, before someone spoke again. “Hi, aunt Nina!”, a bright, young voice said on the other end. “Abel… Hi, buddy”, Nina said, instantly falling back into tears; but trying to stifle her sniveling. “How are you doing?”. “I’m ok… But Tommy broke my supersoaker…”. “Aw, that sucks. I’m sure he’s sorry”, Nina said. “Yeah, mommy Wendy made him apologize… You sound sad…”, Abel said. Nina wiped her eyes, as if the boy was right there in front of her. “No, I’m not sad. I just smelled your feet through the phone, and it made me cry”, she replied. “No, you didn’t!”, Abel laughed. “When are you gonna come visit? There’s a mule here, and we named him after you, even though he’s a boy; because daddy always said you were stubborn as a mule. And we have a trampoline, which is really cool, ‘cuz you can jump high. When I stretch up my arms when I jump, I’m almost as tall as Nero! And…”. “That’s great Abel. I’d love to see that…”. Nina sighed and closed her eyes, trying to picture the boy in front of her. He’d probably grown quite a bit, even after the picture Wendy had sent her was taken. “Are you being good for mommy Wendy?”. “Yeah, I eat my broccoli and everything. And I help Nero clean the horse-stalls”, Abel said. “That’s good. And you’re doing good in school?”, she asked, having to wipe her nose a bit. “Yeah… Do you have a cold? Your voice is funny”, Abel replied. “No, it’s still your feet, stinky!”, Nina chuckled. She heard bikes arriving on the lot, and felt another crying fit threatening to attack. “Look, buddy; I gotta run. I just wanted to make sure you were ok”. “I’m ok. Come visit us soon!”. “I promise, Abel. I love you!”. “Love you too. Bye!”. Abel hung up the call before Nina could say anything more. She quickly slipped the photo into the journal, and put it in her bag, before getting to her feet to face Angel.

---

The Mayans all looked to be in a good mood, when Nina opened the trailer door to step outside. EZ, Gilly and Coco went to gather the loaded sleep rolls, while Angel turned to look at her; a bright smile on his face.

Daniella came out of the clubhouse, and stood on the porch. She smiled shortly at Nina, before Angel noticed the blonde, and began approaching her. “Dani, we gotta talk”, he said. “Angel!”, Nina called out. He turned around, and looked at her confusedly. “Give me a minute”, he replied. “No. Now”, Nina declared, and stepped back inside the trailer. The Mayans all looked confused at this point, but didn’t intervene. Angel frowned, and gave Daniella a short look. She shrugged, before looking at Nina; palming her phone. Don’t try anything, she seemed to be saying. “Don’t go anywhere”, Angel said to her, and walked towards the trailer. “I’ll be right here, baby”, Daniella said.

Once inside the trailer, Angel closed the door. “Nina, what the fuck? I was just about to…”. “Daniella’s not the snitch. I talked to her”, Nina cut him off. “You what?”, Angel growled. “Girl talk”, Nina said. “She’s just here for you. Not to sell out your club”. She made herself keep an indifferent face while she spoke. “You should give her a chance”. “I’m not… What are you talking about?”.

Nina sighed deeply, and took a step back. “You and me… That was never gonna work out”. He tried to reach for her hand, but she turned around to throw her inhaler and gun into the bag. “Nina… What are you doing?”, Angel asked. “I’m leaving… Going home”, she replied. “Or somewhere else. I haven’t decided yet”. “You’re not going anywhere!”, Angel exclaimed, and yanked her bag out of her hands. “What the fuck is going on?”. Nina clenched her fists to hide the fact that her hands were shaking. Angel wouldn’t let her go unless she did something drastic. She swallowed thickly, and met his eyes with an indifferent gaze. “You people can’t protect me. I’m safer with SOA; what happened to Camille is proof of that”, she said. The furrow between Angel’s brows was deeper than ever. “I wasn’t gonna tell you this, but I talked to SAMDINO. I’m gonna take up Packer’s offer”. Angel looked like he’d been punched in the gut with a sledgehammer. “Packer… You wanna go be with Packer…”, he croaked. “Yeah… He’s… We’ve got history”, Nina lied. Angel’s expression was growing pained, but in spite of wanting to take him in her arms, and comfort him, Nina had to continue her ruse. “You said I was too good for this life. I’m not. I just want more than what you can give me. Queen of SAMDINO is the right step for me”.

She tried taking her bag back from Angel, but he threw it behind him; and grabbed a hold of her shoulders. “This is bullshit. What happened?”, he said. “I changed my mind. I don’t want to stay here”, Nina replied. “I’m sorry about that year I owe the club, but I’ll try to get some money, and have Chibs pay you whatever Bishop thinks I owe”. “This isn’t about money. You said you love me!”, Angel said, his voice breaking. Nina couldn’t say she didn’t; the words simply would not form in her mouth. She closed her eyes to avoid meeting Angel’s gaze, and let out a deep breath. “This isn’t about whatever I said or… felt”, she finally said. “We should have ended this the night we first slept together. It shouldn’t have gone further”. “Cuervo…”, Angel tried. “We’re done”, Nina declared, and forced his hands off her shoulders, before pushing past him, and grabbing her bag. “I’m sorry”. She almost ran out of the trailer, knowing Angel would physically try to stop her if she didn’t. “Nina!”, he called after her. She looked towards the porch; and through a haze of unshed tears, she saw Daniella smiling as she went.

Before anyone had a chance to stop her, Nina slipped into the front office, and dug out the small cashbox Chucky kept there. She felt bad for taking money from it, but she needed cash for wherever she was going. A few notes in hand, she ran off the lot, and down the road. Avoiding getting found in Santo Padre was difficult, as Nina had spent very little time away from the scrap yard. She knew she had to work fast to get as far away as possible, as soon as possible. There was no doubt in her mind that Angel would try to come after her – he was probably already on his way – and if he didn’t, Bishop might, to get her to fulfill her one-year promise.

Once out on the main road, she flagged down a car, and convinced the driver that she needed to get to a bus station; because her brother was sick, and she had to go see him. She was only half lying, she realized, as there was really only one place in the world she wanted to go in that moment. She had to go see her brother.

---

It took a little over a day to make the trip back to north California. The cash Nina had taken from the scrapyard could only get her so far by bus, and she had to hitch rides the rest of the way. Each time she heard the sound of a motorbike, or saw anyone wearing leather, she had the instinct to duck her head. She wasn’t sure what she was afraid of. Clearly, her cover wasn’t blown yet. Daniella wanted her alive, and if there was another snitch, they didn’t seem to be focused on her. It might have been the shame of how she’d run; how she’d been too weak to fight Daniella for what she wanted. Then again, that shame would have been greater and even more devastating, if fighting back had meant it would hurt her nephews. Ultimately, she was just distraught; and only wanted to speak with one person – even if he couldn’t reply.

It was just past midnight, when Nina finally made it to Redwood Memorial Cemetery, just outside of Charming. She’d gotten used to the heat in Santo Padre, and it was a cold night. With nothing more than a light jacket to cover herself, she was shivering as she walked down the rows of gravestones. She halted for a moment by a white stone, engraved with the name John Thomas Teller. Taking a moment to brush some stray leaves from the top of it, Nina sent a thought to the man who’d sired one of the most important people in her life; before moving on. Someone had left a bouquet of lilies on Tara’s grave. Her coworkers at St. Thomas, Nina figured. She chided herself for not having visited the grave more often, but coming to the cemetery had been painful the last couple of years. A fresh grave nearby sported multiple flower arrangements, and as no one was around, Nina nabbed a few roses from it, and left them next to the lilies. “Abel and Thomas are loved and safe. Sleep tight”, she whispered to the stone.

The last ten yards she had to walk towards her end goal felt like miles. A cold gush of wind made Nina shudder, and she threw her arms around herself; trying to rub some heat into them.

Jackson’s stone looked lonely, in spite of all the other’s surrounding it. It was like he had been in the last year of his life; surrounded by people, but alone in his pain. At the same time, it was incredibly peaceful; like it should be. He’d found rest from his torment and sorrow. Nina imagined him riding his bike down an ethereal highway; his father next to him, and Tara riding pivot. “Fucking soppy”, Nina chuckled to herself.

She sat down on the ground next to the stone, and ran her fingertips over the lettering. Jackson Nathaniel Teller. “I miss you…”, she began. She chewed her lips, and wiped away a stray tear. After a moment searching for the right words, she finally sighed. “I am so angry with you, Jackson. You left me… And I love you as well. I love you for everything you taught me about being a good person; which just makes me even more angry, because I’ll never be able to live up to the example you set… I fucked up. I took so many wrong turns after you died; even though I promised… I know you expected more from me, and I’m so sorry; but I’m not strong enough to…”. The stray tears had become two steady streams falling from her eyes. “You said, be happy… And I was really happy for the first time in what felt like forever. But I can’t be happy, and also live up to your example of protecting your family… My family”. She pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes, as if trying to force herself to stop crying. “Your boys are safe, and I’m gonna keep them that way. That means breaking my promise of being happy to you, but I also know it’s what you would do… So, I guess in some way, I’m still doing what you taught me…”. She took a deep breath, and finally the tears stilled.

Nina moved behind the stone, and leaned her back against it; as she had sat back-to-back with Jackson on the roof of the old clubhouse in Charming, before the explosion. She remembered how her whole body would rumble along with Jax’s; as he laughed at whatever ridiculous thing she would tell him about her day – or the time she’d told him she was planning to drop out of high school, and sign up with CaraCara once she turned 18. Yeah, that’s not happening, darlin’. I’ll tie your ass to the seat, until you’re wearing that cap and gown. I don’t wanna see my little sister’s naked ass on camera. It was that conversation, and his response, that made her keep the fact that she’d quit community college hidden for a full week; before Chucky sold her out. A pang of pain struck her heart as she remembered that she hadn’t even said goodbye to the good-humored little man.

After a long moment, Nina began speaking again “I know I can’t live in memories, but it’s the closest thing to happiness that I have now… And I want to tell you about him”. She took a deep breath, almost as nervous as if Jackson would have been able to respond. “His name is Angel… and you would hate him”, she chuckled. “He’s a biker… surprise! Bet you didn’t see that coming… He’s smug, and a smartass; and a horny little shit… He’s also a Mayan… I know! But he’s also… so kind and full of life… and sofucking hot… which is something I guess you didn’t need to know”. She chewed her lower lip, and closed her eyes, seeing Angel in front of her. “He’s got this dimple between his eyebrows when he gets frustrated or confused – which is quite often, if I’m gonna be honest… And he’s so much smarter and warm and lovable than he gives himself credit for. I’ve never felt more loved and cared for, than when I was with him… I mean, I felt that from you, and from Filip and the rest; but… This was different, because I wasn’t just a sister or a friend. I love him. Like love him…”. She frowned. “But it’s over. I had to end it”.

The cold was getting to her, so the shivers from her pain mixed with ones of freezing. She hadn’t eaten or drank anything for more than a day, and she was exhausted. She looked around her, not ready to leave; and not really knowing where to go anyway. Opening her backpack, Nina got out the journal, and opened a random page; running her fingers over the handwritten words. “Know that the decisions that you make effect everyone and everything, along with yourself. It has taken me a long time to realize that, and I wish I would have sooner. And as much as I want to help you, tell you what to do; I can't. Those choices will be yours, and yours alone. The only advice I can give you, is to examine who you are as a person and what you choose as your path in your life. Find your own truth. It will lead you to the things you love”. “I wish you could help me too”, she whispered. “I don’t know what my path is, and I can’t promise to get over this. I can’t promise that I will be happy; and we both know me well enough to know, that I’m not gonna handle this well… So, I’m just not gonna make any of those promises; it wouldn’t be honest of me if I did…”. She clutched the journal against her chest, and fished the .38 out of the bag; holding it in her hand. Nina sat for a long time, just looking at it. “I’m gonna sleep now. And then I’m gonna drink, and smoke, and try to get laid… and do everything else unhealthy, until I can finally become numb enough to… not chose your path”.

She had nothing else to say; simply couldn’t find the words. Instead, she curled up on the cold ground, closed her eyes; and let sleep take her over.

---

“Nina?”. She heard footsteps heading her way. Filip looked down at her disheveled state, and then at the gravestone and the gun in her hand; and his face dropped. “She’s here”, he said. Tig and Happy came up behind him. “Shit, muffin. What happened?”, Tig asked. Happy frowned. “Chibs, why is she here?”. “Not now, Hap’”, Filip said. “Let’s just get her out of here. Get the gun”. One of them scooped her into their arms; she was too exhausted to notice who…

---

The radio was turned all the way up, and she was swaying her hips to the music.

“Nina, get off the counter!”, Filip called out from across the room. He looked almost angry. Nina took a sip of her beer, and stretched her arms into the air. “Why? I thought the party was about to start…”, she laughed. Filip walked over to her, and wrapped his arms around her legs, making her fall over his shoulder. “Yes. A children’s birthday party. This is an ice cream shop, you lush”, he growled, and carried her out the back door; setting her down at the foot of the stairs going up to the actual SAMCRO clubhouse. She noticed Rat smiling apologetically at the arriving guests; which consisted of a group of 7-yearolds, and the flabbergasted mother of the birthday-boy. “Tell them I’m sorry”, Nina whispered very loudly to Filip, before looking towards the mother. “I’m sorry!”, she yelled.

Filip dragged her up the stairs, and more or less threw her on one of the leather couches. “Jesus Christ, Nina…”, he sighed exasperatedly. “We do actually need the front of this operation functioning”. “Pfft”, Nina sputtered. “Everyone in town knows what this place is. You’re leather clad bikers who sell guns, for fucks sake! I need a drink”. She went to get off the couch, but Filip pushed her back down, and took the beer bottle from her hand. “You’ve had enough”, he said. “Get some sleep”. “No sleep ‘til Charming!”, Nina sang. “You’re in Charming", Tig said, having come over from the bar area. He snatched her pack of smokes from her, before she could get them from the coffee table, and held out a glass of water. Nina scrunched up her nose. “Fish pee in that”, she said. Tig sat down, and lifted the glass to her lips. “Don’t make me hold your nose”, he said. The water looked a little murky, but Nina accepted the glass, and drank it all, before throwing it into the air. Filip caught it mid-air, and rolled his eyes. “Buzz-kill”, Nina sneered.

She leaned back in her seat, before suddenly, her stomach began rumbling violently. Tig sprang for a trashcan, and held it in front of her; just in time for Nina to hurl a week's worth of alcohol and Happy’s scrambled eggs into it. “What was in that?”, Filip grunted. “Bit of charcoal”, Tig said. “Better than taking her to get her stomach pumped at St. Thomas’”. “I hate you…”, Nina heaved between two streams of vomit leaving her mouth. “I know, muffin. I love you too”, Tig smiled, and stroked her back.

After what seemed like hours, Nina finally had nothing left inside her to throw up, and she curled up on the couch. “Now I’m sober… thanks”, she said sarcastically. “Give me my cigarettes”. Filip went to get her bag, and dug out her toothbrush; handing it to her. “This is all you’re putting in your mouth for now”, he said. “Add toothpaste. You smell like death”. Nina disgruntledly took the toothbrush from him, and got on her feet to go to the bathroom; grabbing the toothpaste from her bag on the way.

Once she’d finished brushing her teeth, and splashed some cold water in her face, she went back into the bar area. “You’ve kept me here for days. I wanna go back to my apartment”, she said. “You can’t. Lyla’s using it as a set today”, Tig said. Nina groaned. “They’re gonna get porn-cum on my sheets”, she said. “Wouldn’t be the first time. What was that fella’s name again…? Kirk?”, Filip laughed, and went behind the bar to pour himself a scotch, and fill a mug of coffee. Happy and T.O. came up the stairs as they spoke. “I just remember him as; Please-god-no-I-swear-I’ll-never-talk-to-her-again-guy”, Tig said indifferently. “I think Opie took care of that one”. “Nah, that was Jax himself”, Happy said. “He’s teaching history in Milwaukee now”. “The history of his once functioning penis, I gather”, Filip muttered and looked at Nina, who’d sat down by a table. “Did he know you were 17?”. “I was 19!”, Nina sneered. “And his name was… Fuck, I can’t remember… Look, call Lyla, and then take me home!”.

Filip sat down across from her, and slid the coffee over the table. Nina took a welcome sip of it. “I don’t trust you on your own”, he said softly. “Is that why you won’t give me back my gun?”, she muttered. “You remind me too much of your brother at the moment”, he replied. Rage and sadness streamed through her body, and Nina got up; kicking her chair hard, making it fall to the floor. “Then give me a goddamn bike, and I’ll hit the road. There are trucks enough out there!”. She speed across the room, trying to reach the stairs; but T.O. got in her way, and grabbed her shoulders. He pushed her backwards into Happy’s arms. He picked her up like she weighed nothing more than a small child, and deposited her on the couch. He looked down at her with enraged eyes, tears forming in the corners of them. “Don’t ever say that again! Ever!”, he growled. Nina was shook, and suddenly her body began quaking. She sobbed quietly, and covered her eyes with her hands. Happy sat down next to her, and pulled her into his arms. “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry”, she whimpered. “I know, princess”. He rocked her back and forth, and kissed the top of her head.

Nina looked up, and was struck by each of the Sons’ expressions; ranging from sad, to angry, to pained. “I can’t stop fucking up… All I do is hurt people…”, she sobbed. Filip reached his hands out, and Happy released her to take them, and be pulled into the president’s embrace. “You are pure light, my love”, he said, before cupping her tear-streaked face in his hands. “Stop trying to snuff it out… I’m not talking about threatening to off yourself; we both know that will never happen, because we won’t allow it”. He pressed his forehead to hers. “You have to stop thinking of yourself like a failure not worthy of happiness. Stop killing that flame inside you”. “But I can’t be happy…”, Nina croaked. “If I try to be…”. She halted herself. She hadn’t told anyone of her deal with Danielle. “Tell me…”, Filip said. “I can’t”, Nina replied resolutely. “It’s… life or death”.

She pulled herself out of his grasp, and went for her cigarettes; which Tig had put on the top shelf behind the bar. He didn’t try to stop her. “Everything we do is life or death”, T.O. said. It was the first words he’d spoken since he’d arrived, but they were poignant. Nina lit her cigarette, and hesitantly met his eyes. “This is different”, she said. “If it was just… No”. She took a draw of her cigarette, picked up the chair from the floor, and sat down by the table again. “This is how it is now. I’m home, and I’ll try to… be better”.

They were interrupted by Quinn coming up the stairs. He looked around at the emotional faces in the room, and frowned. “Did you guys watch the Notebook again?”, he asked with a smirk. “Whatever; wrap it up. We got the in-laws incoming”. Nina frowned in confusion. “What’s going on?”, she asked. Filip gave her a half smile. “You wanted to go home; didn’t you…?”.

A roar of motorcycles sounded from outside, and Nina looked out of the window. A group of bikes came down the street, led by a brusque looking man on a roadking – handlebars high as the sky.

---

tag: @cole-winchester @doloreschanal

[nightingiall]

head in the clouds: part iii

{story page}

“You know,” says Rory through a mouthful of popcorn, picking a stray kernel out of Spike’s fur. “I don’t think it’s healthy for Spike to be this large.” 

She doesn’t remember how exactly Niall Horan convinced her to come to his place to spend some time with Spike, especially after she’s been adamant on wanting nothing to do with this. They’d bumped into each other at, of course, a party, somewhere at the Residences, somehow ending up alone on someone’s balcony. They shared a joint and he said something that made her laugh so hard tears sprang to her eyes. And after he showed her some photos of his very large, stolen, perpetually frowning cat, it wasn’t long until she caved. 

And, now, here she is, two bottles of beer and a whole bowl of popcorn in, curled up into Spike on his couch with some true crime show playing on his television.

“How do you mean?” Niall is three bottles of beer in and is still going quite strong. Rory can’t deny that she’s impressed. 

She runs her fingers through Spike’s fur, smiling at the resulting purr the gesture elicits out of him. “Like, I’m pretty sure it’s not normal for him to be this size. And he drags his paws when he walks sometimes, like it’s a struggle for him.” 

When she looks up at Niall, he’s quirking an eyebrow at her, that stupid grin of his threatening to break through his features, and Rory just knows he’s about to say something that’ll have her rolling her eyes. “Rory Bhatt,” he draws out, and his voice is low and slow as he leans forward to narrow his eyes at her. She tries to ignore the swoop in her tummy at the way his accent lilts through her name, at the way the blue in his eyes appear brighter than she’s ever seen. “Are you fat shaming Spike?” 

She doesn’t know why she does it. Doesn’t even want to do it. But a laugh bubbles out of her so abruptly that Spike moves away from her and starts slithering towards Niall, clearly not appreciating being disrupted as he’s trying to take a nap. “No!” She has to clutch her stomach she’s laughing so hard, and she’d blame the beer but she’s not even drunk. 

Niall joins in regardless, scooping up Spike into his arms as he cradles him. “Did ol’ Rory offend you, Spikey boy?” he coos at him. He leans back into the armchair and the cat curls into his lap, purring contentedly the whole time.

“I’m just saying!” she attempts to continue, swiping at the moisture that’s collected beneath her lashes, and Niall’s full-on grinning at her now. “How many cats do you know have grown to that size? Maybe Dreyfuss wasn’t taking care of him properly.” 

Niall hums, looking at her thoughtfully now. Spike has already made himself comfortable, tail flicking once against Niall’s chest, and Rory has to hold back a laugh at the thought of Spike falling asleep and Niall not being able to move for the next hour or so. “Suppose you have a point,” is what he finally says, looking at Spike fondly. Rory startles for a moment at how tender the moment is, how gently his fingers skim across Spike’s fur, how closely he holds him. It’s a side of him she’s never seen. “But what should we do? We can’t exactly take him to a vet right now.” 

Rory ignores the we in his statement, figuring that she’s in way too deep now to be insisting that she doesn’t want to be a part of this. She wonders where his head is, though. He’s always annoyingly optimistic and preppy, but she also hopes that he understands the gravity of the situation he’s gotten himself into. “Well, what’s your long-term plan for Spike? Are you going to keep him once the summer’s over?” 

“Of course!” Niall gives her a look like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “I didn’t rescue him from Dreyfuss for no reason ya know. Just because she’s rich and owns shit or whatever doesn’t mean she gets to treat her pets like shit.” There’s a fire in those blue eyes, lit up into the most electric hue, accent thickened significantly. He’s hypnotizing. Rory can’t tear her eyes away. “He’s mine now. Aren’t ya buddy?” he murmurs, voice all gentle and sweet now, like it always gets when he talks to Spike. “I won’t treat ya like ol’ Dreyfuss did. We’ll get you healthy in no time.” He looks up at Rory, smile intact. “Won’t we?”

Rory finds herself smiling back. For the first time, she feels as though she and Niall Horan might just get along. After all, he’s shown her nothing but kindness. And he may be annoying sometimes, with his loud, obnoxious laugh and terrible jokes, but his positive attributes are among the rare finds at Hightstown, especially with people their age. He’s incredibly attentive, has always been respectful of her boundaries, thoughtful, and overwhelmingly empathetic, even to a fault. Most of all, he has made her laugh in a way she hasn’t in a long time. So maybe, she thinks now, looking into those big blue eyes that always seem to reflect whatever light that gets thrown into them, helping him keep this cat a secret isn’t such a bad idea after all.

“Yeah,” is what she ends up saying, more conviction in her voice than she’s ever heard. “We will.” 

***

This is how it starts. Fiery hot summer days melting into cool, breezy nights. Racing to Niall’s place after their lifeguard shifts, giggling the entire way. Sharing beers and laughs over figuring out the best cat diet and getting Spike to be more active.

This is how it starts, and there are only 42 days of summer left. 

***

Rory is kind of drunk. 

Chester from the kitchen, an older man with kind eyes and a big personality who’s worked at Hightstown for as long as Rory can remember, had given her two bottles of wine that were from an extra shipment that came in by accident. She’d gone there to snag some extra meat and other scraps they could use to make something healthier for Spike to eat and ended up with an interesting tidbit of gossip from one of the assistant chefs. Apparently, Mrs. Dreyfuss was going crazy searching for her missing cat. She’d laughed it off then but quickly detoured to Niall’s place to let him know that he’d have to be more careful now that people may actually be keeping an eye out for a stray wandering around. 

Somehow, that turned into them sharing a few beers, then chasing Spike around the apartment for a while, luring him through the obstacle course Niall built for him before giving him his food and letting him rest. They’d learnt the hard way that Spike got impossibly irritated with them after they made him exercise, so they always give him some alone time afterwards so he can enjoy his food in peace. 

Now, they’re sprawled out on his floor, one bottle of wine already drained by the both of them, stomachs full from the chocolate-peanut butter cupcakes Niall made—another thing she’s learned about him, he’s an excellent baker. Her limbs feel all lax and sated. They’d fully intended only to drink a glass or two each, but the wine went down so smoothly, a burst of sweet tartness on her tongue, and before she knew it, the entire bottle was empty. 

“That was,” Niall slurs, and she can see from her peripheral that he’s rolling onto his side to face her, “the best wine I’ve ever had.” 

She finds herself giggling at his words. Stupidly, inanely, happily. “Agreed.” The ceiling looks as though it’s rippling like waves in an ocean above her, all long, fluid lines, the muted colors of white and brown swirling together. She rolls her head over only to find Niall looking at her already, that stupid grin plastered onto his face. His lips are stained cherry red from the wine, chocolate, brown hair looking incredibly soft as it sticks up in every direction, cheeks tinged a perpetual bubblegum pink, presumably from the alcohol thrumming through his system. It appears that she’s so drunk that she can look at him and only think of sweets. “You look ridiculous by the way,” is what ends up coming out of her mouth, even though she’s gone enough to admit to herself that she thinks anything but. 

Niall laughs at that, a loud, guttural cackle that reverberates off the walls and bounces around the entire apartment. It’s resounding and vibrant and it has the alcohol in her veins feeling like champagne bubbles instead of the velvety wine she actually consumed. She finds herself laughing too.   “What do I look like?” 

She simply stares at him for a moment, lower lips worried between her teeth, and she nearly wonders why she’s unable to formulate words before she’s realizing that she can’t tear her eyes away from that magnificent blue. They’re intoxicating, magnetizing, and if Rory weren’t already drunk she’d think that those eyes alone could get her wasted. She’d never looked close enough before, but there’s a ring of gold, right around his pupils, blending up into a bright, sapphire blue. Brilliant, soulful eyes that somehow sparkle in the light, that somehow look as though they held the entire universe, constellations of stars orbiting around in those deep pools of blue. 

“Rory.” He’s still laughing, waving his hands in front of her face, snapping her out of her thoughts and she blushes, wondering dumbly if he could somehow read her mind, skin tingling in mortification at the idea. “Don’t pass out on me now.” 

She rolls her eyes but giggles at the way he unwittingly hits his hand against the couch. “You look like…” She feels around for her phone so she could snap a photo and show him but she can’t find it anywhere. “Where’s my phone?” She shifts around to sit up and her head immediately starts to spin. She is so drunk. “I’ll just,” she mumbles, spotting the notebook and pen on his coffee table they’d been using to write down a recipe for Spike’s food and grabs it, “I’ll just draw you.”

“Ooohh.” Niall sits up too, limbs flailing around clumsily as he laughs at himself. He accidentally knocks over the empty bottle of wine that had been sitting between them, the action sending them into another fit of giggles. “Draw me like a French girl,” he slurs out through his amusement, grinning wildly at her as he shifts into a ridiculous pose, “or however that saying goes.” 

Rory can’t breathe from the way the laughter escapes her at the way he tries to pout seductively, tears springing to her eyes as she tries and fails to control it. “You’re such a dumbass.” Her fingers find the pen, dragging it across a clean sheet of notebook paper in short, quick strokes. It’s a hasty and slightly sloppy sketch of a boy who seems to have her laughing more than she ever has in her entire life. Of a boy who has a bright smile and a raucous laugh and a big, kind heart. “There,” she declares once she’s done, flipping the book around so he can see her creation, and it’s only when she’s paying attention again that she finds that they’ve unknowingly moved closer to one another. 

“I think I look quite good actually.” He’s still laughing. Rory wonders how he still has oxygen in his lungs left to do that, how he manages to make it take up the entire room. “But I think your hands can make anything look good.” He’s grinning at her but then his eyes go impossibly wide. “Because you’re a good artist!” he quickly clarifies. “Not anything dirty! That sounded like it could be dirty. But I just meant—”

He can’t finish because he’s curled up on the floor again, overtaken by another round of the giggles, and Rory’s sucked right into it, dropping the notebook because she’s laughing so hard. Niall’s all sprawled out, limbs knocking into hers, hand over his chest as a tear rolls down the side of his face, and Rory reaches out to swipe at it. But she’s drunk and is lacking coordination so she accidentally pokes him in the eye, falling into another bout of laughter because of the way he yelps. 

And they laugh and laugh until, somehow, his hands are in hers. Until, somehow, she’s falling into his limbs, warm, gangly legs tangled within hers. Until, somehow, they’re not laughing anymore, just looking at one another, all soft smiles and flushed cheeks, the spiral of the notebook poking into her side. Niall is still working through a giggle, the sound knocking around in his throat as he rubs his eye, leaning onto his elbow as he looks down at her, and it’s happening again, her getting lost in the wonder of his eyes. Until, somehow, he’s saying, “Is this the part where you kiss me?” 

Her eyes widen at him, heart skipping a beat in her chest. “What?”

There’s that grin again, wide and bright and blinding. “Isn’t that what happens in the movie?”

Another laugh threatens to break out of her throat. “What movie?”

“The ‘draw me like a French girl’ movie,” he says simply, shrugging. But he leans closer regardless. 

This time, she actually does laugh again. “Titanic?”

“That was Titanic?” He sounds skeptical, eyes going out of focus as he tries to remember the scene he’s talking about. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, Niall, I’m pretty sure.” She rolls her eyes at him again. “And I’m pretty sure you’re getting the quote all wrong.”

He makes a face at her. “That’s not even the point, Rory.” 

She almost rolls her eyes again, a retort already sitting on her tongue. But it disappears when suddenly, her eyes are zeroing in on those wine-stained lips, and all she can think of now is how sugary and delicious they must taste, like the wine they just drank, like California grapes and chocolate-peanut butter cupcakes and whatever else he must taste like. “Your lips look like they taste like all the sweets in the world,” she blurts out, and immediately blushes at the sound of her own voice. 

Niall raises a brow at her, eyeing her a bit coyly as he unconsciously runs his tongue across his lower lip. Rory watches the action in a daze, humiliation at her drunken admission simmering away into a hot ball of desire, melting down her throat and into the pit of her stomach. When he speaks again, his voice is low and deep, a smirk slowly spreading across his face. “Wanna come over here and find out?”

And, god, she does want to lean over and find out. She really, really does. Because he’s so close and he smells clean, like lemongrass and lavender. Because it’s all she’s been thinking about the whole night. Because he’s joking around but is looking at her like he absolutely wouldn’t mind kissing her if she wants it too. 

But she can’t. She can’t let last summer happen again. 

So she forces a chuckle and shoves his face away and slyly says, “In your dreams, Horan.” Niall shoves her back and suddenly she’s actually laughing. “Wanna open the other bottle?” she asks, waggling her eyebrows at him. 

“You know I do.” He winks at her, already getting up to go find it, and Rory only allows herself to watch him go for a moment before following after him. “We should watch Titanic while we’re at it because now I need to know how that scene actually goes.” 

Rory starts laughing at that, wondering if he’s ever actually seen the movie because she figures that any guy would remember a scene where Kate Winslet stripped her clothes off so Leo DiCaprio could sketch her wearing only the fancy necklace that everyone in that movie was obsessed about. When she gets to the kitchen, Spike is still curled up in his food corner, licking at his paw, clearly still mad at them. She frowns at him for a moment, wondering if perhaps they were going about this the wrong way. 

Niall must see her face because he says, “Don’t worry about Spike, he’s just being pissy.” He smiles at her when gets closer, reaching out to playfully nudge at her chin. “I FaceTime’d my cousin who’s a vet and she said that a little exercise won’t hurt and to not let him guilt us into letting him get out of it. Turns out cats are smart little buggers.” 

As if replying to Niall, Spike meows lowly from his corner, and the two of them burst into a fit of giggles again. “Hey, have you seen my phone by the way?” she asks, suddenly remembering its absence earlier. 

He twists the wine opener into the cork, looking around before gesturing behind him. “Is that it on the counter over there?”

Sure enough, when she looks over, there it is. She’s surprised to see how late it’s gotten when she turns it on. The surprise quickly melts away into dread at the notification telling her that she missed four calls from her mother, one voicemail waiting for her. She sighs as she opens it up, forgetting how annoyed her mom always got whenever she didn’t answer the phone. The past few weeks have been good because Rory actually remembered to call her every night. And if she was too tired to call then she’d send a text saying as much. But with radio silence tonight, her mom must have been pissed. 

Rory opens the voicemail and presses the phone to her ear to hear it, but her mom always talks irritatingly low on the phone so she has to turn the volume up and start it over. “Hey, sweetheart,” comes her mom’s voice through the speaker, and to Rory’s surprise, she actually doesn’t sound upset. “Nani came over today and wanted to talk to you, hence the many calls. You’re probably busy but she’s here for the next day or so, so call me back whenever you’re free. Love you, Aurora.” There’s a rustle of movement before she speaks again. “Nani says she loves you too. Talk soon.” 

The message ends and Rory figures that she’ll call back tomorrow when she’s sober and actually has time to talk. So she shoots her mom a text telling her as much, apologizing for good measure. She knows she didn’t get yelled at because her Nani was around. 

“Aurora?” comes Niall’s voice from behind her. When she turns around to face him, he’s looking at her all surprised. She’d forgotten they were standing in the same room before she played the message out loud. “I’m learning so much about you today.” The beginnings of a laugh are threaded into the seams of his voice, and Rory can’t even find it in herself to be annoyed that he now knows her actual name. Harry and Leslie don’t even know, and they’re some of her best friends. He smirks at her, sending her a wink, saying, “Beautiful name for a beautiful girl.” 

Her skin begins to burn at his words, and she’s glad that her hair is down because she knows even her ears are turning bright red. “I don’t go by that name,” she mumbles out, pocketing her phone and moving towards him to grab the now opened wine bottle, pouring a generous amount of the deep red liquid into their glasses.

Niall’s looking at her curiously, but it’s not the judgemental kind that Rory nearly expects from everyone. “Why not?”

She shrugs, but can’t come up with an answer. There isn’t really a big story behind why she prefers to be called Rory. She’s just always thought that it fit her better. “Aurora was always too prim and proper for me I guess.”

At that, Niall laughs, taking his glass and leaning against the kitchen island where they’re standing. “Why, because it’s a Disney princess name?”

She laughs back, leaning against the island as well, flipping her hair back over her shoulder just for something to do. “Well that definitely didn’t help. But, I don’t know.” Her mind searches for a memory of having a bad experience with the name and none comes up. Everyone’s just always called her Rory except for her mom. But that was always because she’d told them to. “I just never felt like an Aurora. I always wanted people to call me Rory.”

When she looks up at him again, his face is softened up around the edges and he’s smiling that fond sort of smile at her that he usually reserves for Spike. Or maybe she’s imagining it. Maybe she’s too drunk. “Well,” he starts, voice a mere whisper in the already quiet kitchen, and it makes her lean in just to hear him. He leans in too, hand coming around to rest on the island ledge beside her, and she’s suddenly thinking about kissing him again. “I think ‘Rory’ is beautiful too.” And the way he says it makes her heart stop, makes her mind go blank as she gets lost in those eyes again, wide open pools of honesty and sweetness and what also looks like affection. But then he clinks his glass against hers and the spell, once again, is broken, and she’s crash landing back to earth. “Cheers,” he murmurs, still smiling at her, still leaning into her space ever so slightly. 

Rory smiles back, but she doesn’t make a move, knows she won’t. Not after last year. Not after falling for a boy who made her feel like she could float up into the sky only to turn around and break her heart. So she simply says, “Cheers” back and they quietly sip their wine before somehow finding their way back to the living room. 

They end up finishing off the second bottle, wine glasses abandoned on the table in favor of passing the bottle itself between them, and getting way too drunk to even get through Titanic, instead sprawling out on the couch, Rory on one end and Niall on the other, sharing stories they’ve accumulated over the course of the summer and laughing their heads off. At one point, Niall nearly falls off the couch and Rory nearly spits wine into his face so, yeah, they’re wasted.

They’re currently dying over an impression by Niall of Mrs. Dreyfuss when she realized Spike went missing, and Rory doesn’t know how she still has the energy or lung power to laugh as hard as she has. She’s wiping streaks of tears from her eyes when Spike finally crawls in next to them, curling up into their tangled feet in the middle of the couch, and both she and Niall start cooing affectionately at him before they realize how stupid they sound and start giggling again. 

“I really love it when you laugh,” Niall says suddenly, and when she looks up at him, he’s leaning his head against the back of the couch and watching her with a soft smile. “You, like, light up.” He makes a gesture with his hands to mimic sparks and Spike makes a sound that, to Rory’s drunken mind, sounds almost like agreement. “This whole summer, all I wanted to do was make you laugh.” 

She doesn’t know what to do except roll her eyes and toss a pillow from the ground at him. Her skin always feels impossibly warm whenever he throws a compliment at her, and she’s starting to think that he’s just doing it to watch her go red. “You’re drunk,” she says, still laughing a bit. 

Niall tosses it right back at her, and it hits her square in the chest. “But it’s true! You and Spike could have been twins with the way you were always frowning.” 

Rory looks at Spike, who is indeed frowning, and she gasps, feigning offense. “That’s so mean!” She throws the pillow at him again, narrowly missing Spike, who watches her almost warily. “But also probably true.” They laugh again, and every time Rory thinks she simply cannot laugh anymore, something happens and it just bubbles right out of her. Once they’ve finally settled down, silence overtaking them for a few moments, Rory slides down to make herself more comfortable on the couch, eyes trained up at the ceiling, which once again looks like fragments in her drunken vision. 

She closes her eyes and just feels the alcohol pumping through her system. Just feels the way she’s light and airy and carefree. Just feels how good it is to be here, laughing away at everything and nothing with Niall, like there isn’t anything else that matters. Just feels how Spike’s warm fur is curled up against one of her legs and Niall’s fingers are tracing circles along her ankle on the other and smiles to herself because it all just feels so right. 

“You know,” she starts, voice slightly slurred but also slow and quiet in the sudden calmness that’s enveloped the living room. “I wasn’t going to come back this summer.” The words flow out of her naturally, and once she starts talking, she realizes that it’s something she should get off her chest, once and for all. “Which is actually crazy now that I think about it because I’ve been working here for as long as I can remember, and everyone here is like family.” She thinks of Gigi and Harry and Leslie and Chester and all the other staff who have basically seen her grow up. Summer would not have been the same without them. It wouldn’t have felt right. “I was afraid...that things would be different. After last summer.” But she stops herself before she says too much. 

Niall is apparently very perceptive though, because he says, “Someone hurt you, didn’t they?” His voice is hushed and gentle, and when she shifts her head to look at him, he’s watching her carefully. 

“Why?” she asks back, feeling wary all of a sudden. “What have you heard?” She feels like she’s been asking him that a lot lately.

He shrugs, looking down at Spike, who seems to have fallen fast asleep. “Nothing. It’s just,” he’s shrugging again, as though attempting to fill up the space between his thoughts and his words, trying to get them right. And when he looks at her, there’s something in his eyes that she recognizes, even though the space is dimly lit, the only light coming from the lamp at the far side of the room. “I see it, sometimes. In the way you carry it, in your shoulders.” At his words, she suddenly realizes how tense she’s become and relaxes into the pillows slightly, but not tearing her eyes away from him. “You get this look sometimes. When someone says something and you want to laugh but then don’t, as if realizing you shouldn’t. Or when we’re at a party or event and you tense up because you start to realize you’re having fun.” 

Rory doesn’t know how Niall Horan has noticed all these things about her. Doesn’t realize all these things about her even existed. But it’s sort of eye-opening. She’s spent this entire summer feeling sorry for herself, feeling insecure over what others might have thought of her after last year, that she’s forgotten how to have fun. Forgotten why she even loves this place. 

“Sorry,” Niall’s suddenly saying, eyes widening as though he regrets the words that just left his mouth. Rory realizes that silence has stretched between them for minutes and she was too lost in her thoughts to notice. “I didn’t mean to cross a line or anything just—”

“No,” she says, and tries to sound reassuring but instead it sounds sluggish and slurred, her tongue heavy in her mouth. “No, you’re right. I—” She sighs, looking up at the ceiling again, hands folded over her tummy. “I guess I just didn’t realize that I became this person that...I didn’t even want to become.” 

Niall gives her a moment to mull over her thoughts before he says, “I don’t think you realize how much of an impact you have on people.” His fingers are tracing random shapes into her ankle now. Rory wonders if he even realizes he’s doing that or if the gesture is just absentminded. “Everyone here loves you.” 

And for once, she allows his words to take on the meaning he intends, allows them to wash over her bones and settle into that Shack boy-sized hole in her heart left from the summer before. She is more than her heartbreak. She can rise from it and move on.

“Thanks, Niall,” she murmurs after a moment, and as she smiles up at the ceiling now, she can feel herself being pulled into sleep, limbs feeling lethargic and heavy from the day’s events and the silky smooth wine buzzing through her. “Tonight was fun. I needed that.” 

She doesn’t have to look at him to know that he’s smiling too. “Good night, Rory.” 

And silence blankets them for a final time that night, wrapping around them snug and warm. Just two people and a cat, all tangled together, slow, deep breaths lulling them into a state of calm until they listen to sleep’s call and drift off to dreamland.

***

“When are you going to tell me about what’s happening between you and Niall Horan?”

Gigi’s waggling her eyebrows at Rory from where she’s sitting at their kitchen table the next day, sipping on a cup of coffee, and it reminds her too much of a similar conversation they had at the beginning of the summer. 

Except this time, a searing heat cascades across her skin, her cheeks prickling with the telltale signs of a blush, and she’s glad to be holding up a book so Gigi can’t see the way her skin is undoubtedly turning red. “Nothing is going on between me and Niall Horan.” 

There are 40 days of summer left, and that feels like the biggest lie Rory’s ever told.

--

tell me what you think! :)

[arcadeghostadventurer]

that’s it, that’s the fic.

Untitled Goose Fic 

x find on AO3 x

That wandering pillow stuffing on two flappy feet keeps stealing Tony's tools. Too bad the little shit is hiding them in Steve Rogers' garden because Steve definitely hates Tony.

He does, right?

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

“No! I will roast you for Thanksgiving! Hell, I will roast you for a completely insignificant mid-week lunch you-” Tony stands back up as the surprisingly agile goose makes it off with his screwdriver, ducking under the table as it runs away. For the third time that day.

“Geese don’t use screwdrivers!” Tony shouts after it, halfheartedly, “You don’t even have opposable thumbs!”

The goose doesn’t turn around. Naturally, since geese would never admit to understanding something as pathetic as spoken language.

He looks after the waddling white bum, slowly disappearing in the distance. Oh well, he has other screwdrivers.

It isn’t until Tony catches the fat feathery fury of hell making off with an entire bundle of fiber optic cable that he fully recognizes the extent of the crimes committed by this goose.

“No! No!! You rotund little shit! Come back- Ow!”

Unfortunately not only he is too late to realize the culprit, but he is also under a car. And so, before Tony can recover from bumping his head and free himself from under the chassis, the goose is gone. So is his brand new cable.

“Fuck you,” mutters Tony, looking after him once again. He rubs his forehead.

He lost about a hundred dollars worth of cable and gained one lump on his head. Now exactly a fair trade, if you ask him. ---

He’s had it. A goose is a glorified duck. Tony will not hear anything else on this matter. Also a goose definitely does not need one flat head and three Phillips head screwdrivers; two pliers, one needle nose and one grooved; a roll of blue painter’s tape, in mint condition; wire cutters; one putty knife; one medium sized hammer and two bananas.

All right, maybe he could let go of the bananas. The little dude, or dudette, has probably already demolished what was supposed to be Tony’s attempt at starting healthy eating habits three weeks ago.

But the other stuff? No way.

So, here is the plan.

The goose must be taking this stuff somewhere. This is almost a one-man organized crime at this point. The bird must have a stash and that stash must be somewhere in this little town.

Maybe Tony’s attempts at goose-proofing the garage haven’t been too successful; considering, as a mechanic, he has to wheel in and out cars, sometimes tractors and hefty motor blocks of farming equipment. Some part of the garage has to open up and that opening has to be big. But, there is nothing holding him from following the goose and finding the little offender’s stash of stolen goods.

He is surprised, really, that he hasn’t thought of this before. He’s a genius. Supposedly. Self-proclaimed but still... It’s just that, the monotone but deafeningly loud and repetitive honks of the creature are so damn disheartening that he just… Gave up. Before even trying.

Yeah, that really doesn’t sound like Tony Stark.

So, he will wait and he will follow. Because if there is one thing he knows, it’s that that goose cannot resist the sweet, sweet call of free knick-knacks that are absolutely of no use to it. ---

And Tony is right. The waddling bundle of doom approaches, honking and being a general nuisance. It doesn’t even try for stealth as it grabs a long strip of discarded chain and totters away.

Tony gets up, downs his coffee and follows.

He has made the calculations. Ran the numbers. The goose cannot be hiding its stolen goodies anywhere too far. First of all, it’s a goose. With short legs. And it has been seen stealing stuff that was too heavy for it to fly with. Second of all, it’s always around. So considering the time it would need to steal, leave, stash and come back; it’s probably hiding its stuff in some unseen but not unreachable and definitely not far away place.

Under a hedge, possibly. Or in a ditch.

Most likely it’s someone’s garden or barn.

And wouldn’t that be the best. He might not be exactly friendly with a lot of people but it is a small town and he is the only mechanic. So if the goose is hiding his stuff in someone’s garden, he’ll just knock on their door and retrieve his stuff. Done.

He strolls down the little path after the toddling white bum, listening to the sound of the chain rolling on the ground without paying much attention to where he’s actually going.

That is, until the jangling of the chain is dulled by grass and the white feathery bum disappears between someone’s broken garden fence. But not just anyone’s garden fence. Oh no. Because Tony Stark’s life cannot be without drama and complications once, even in a remote little town like this.

That little expressionless harbinger of doom, that pint sized behemoth, Tony’s peanut-brained personal devil choose Steve Rogers’ garden to stove away his embezzled tools.

Well, Tony is not going to be knocking on that door anytime soon. He knows for a fact that the guy hates his guts. Since day one. Not that there had been any other day apart from day one but… Well. Oh well.

He could… Sneak in?

Yeah, and just further establish the idea that he is a fucking creep in the man’s eyes.

He stands there for a couple minutes under fading daylight, with a defeated expression on his face before turning around and leaving for his garage. Maybe he should go back to his ideas for cutting-edge anti-goose technology. ---

Steve knows exactly how the high-end, diamond tipped cutter came into his house and from where. And the screwdrivers. And the pliers. And the tape.

The entire roll of unused cable that he has no idea how that goose ever dragged through his fence.

The problem is that he’s pretty sure he made the mechanic hate his guts the first time they met.

He got defensive and well… Some needlessly rude things had been said and assumptions had been made. By Steve. Because Steve is great at acting without thinking apparently.

Well. What happened had happened and Steve should have apologized when he had the chance. But now, after so much time, it would be weird to go to the guy’s house and apologize.

And it would also be weird to act like nothing happened. Which, at this moment, really doesn’t solve his problem of hoarding the man’s equipment in his own house.

He probably doesn’t even remember you, says a little voice in his head, he probably hasn’t even lingered on it like you do, forgot about it the moment you had left.

It’s just that, sometimes it’s still hard for Steve to remember he has grown, both literally and figuratively, and possibly more than doubled in weight. He’s… Well, decent looking now. Not a scrawny little kid. On the outside, at least. Inside is a whole another matter.

So in the end, it had taken his tired-to-the-bone-from-moving brain about three days to realize the mechanic hadn’t been making fun of him when they had been introduced but instead, had been kind of hitting on him. Possibly. Or he is just friendly like that. But Steve is ready to bet the guy had been flirting. With him. Maybe.

And now it’s too late to do anything about it, Steve thinks to himself ruefully. At least he doesn’t own anything that requires a mechanic, really. That, he thinks, had to have been enough to escape from the possible mortification of facing the guy again.

And frankly, when Steve had kind of adopted the town criminal, the goose, how could he have known that the animal would have… Done this! Out of all things a goose could ever do! This!!

“Honk! Hooonk!!”

“I heard you buddy, I’m on it,” Steve slowly rises from his chair and leaves his brooding aside to open his door.

There, stands the goose, with a chain hanging from its beak. It happily waddles inside once Steve steps aside and drops the chain onto its pile.

“Honk!”

“Stealing is bad, you know?” Steve looks at it accusingly.

Goose just honks again.

Steves checks out the frankly impressive pile of tools and knick-knacks the big bird carried into his house over the course of weeks. He sighs, he needs to do something about this. He needs to be brave. He can take his stuff to the guy. He can-

Or, maybe he can just mail it!

He slumps. The guy lives fifteen minutes away. He really couldn’t have come up with a more offensive way of returning the stuff and making the situation even more uncomfortable. He could even add a note. Hey remember how rudely I turned you down the first time we met? Well I still don’t want to see your face, just so you know.

Steve sighs and goes to set out some vegetable scraps for the little rascal. He looks at the goose as it gobbles down the carrot peels, “You started this mess and you fix it!”

And then he thinks, maybe, maybe it really could. Yup, this is definitely going to be the best way of testing the waters. Steve is a genius. ---

Tony is pacing his garage. He needs his 3mm plier that is somewhere in Steve Rogers’ garden. He cannot go there. He has ordered a new one but the two day shipping is… Well, two days away. And he just has nothing else to do but pace and think.

He’s about to go crazy. Just a little more pacing and thinking and he will be intellectually stunted forever, only being able to think about Steve Rogers.

Steve Rogers the artist. The polite, kind, attractive, whose angelic aura enticed even that little white beast of hell and he’s just so-

Okay, no going down that road. He did it once already. And he’s still pacing. Tony’s feelings and opinions about Steve Rogers are not the answer to this dilemma.

He needs the opposite. Needs to think about what Rogers thinks of him. Which, from his reaction was when they met, isn’t really anything pleasant.

It’s just that Tony, being Tony, hadn't been able to say no to flirting with the handsome stranger. It’s not like they get new blood in this town that often. And definitely not of that caliber. Rogers had looked good, coming out of the little store with groceries, biceps swelling with the weight of the bags. Face open and hopeful. Tired, but hopeful.

And Tony is only human. And gay. So sue him.

Rogers hadn’t looked like a bigot then, and with all that he has heard about him, Tony doesn’t think he’s one either. Maybe he’s straight. A huge possibility. But that alone still doesn’t explain his hostility.

Tony wants to say maybe Rogers saw into him that day, somehow knew Tony’s track record. The short and failed relationships. The bad decisions and the mistakes. Just how Tony failed to make any partner happy, failed to be enough so that they would stay...

But that’s ridiculous. Right?

Right. So he paces, and thinks maybe he could ask his regulars to ask around and one of them is bound to know Rogers and they can be a middleman to-

“HONK!”

Tony jumps.,

“HOOONK!!”

“What now, you little- Oh!”

The goose is waddling around in the open areas of his garage, its little orange feet making cute flapping sounds on concrete. But weirdly enough, it doesn’t seem to be stealing anything. On the contrary, it’s just… Waddling. Around. Hmm...

Getting closer to the goose, Tony realizes there is a red ribbon tied in a neat bow around his neck. From this ribbon dangles a piece of paper.

To Tony Stark.

Tony looks to the left. Then to the right. Then for good measure, he pokes his head out of the garage and looks around. There is nobody.

He looks back at the goose. Well, somebody was able to tie that around its neck, so it must be safe to take it off, right?

“If you bite me, and I mean it, even if you just, peck me a little, I’m taking you right to the butcher’s shop.” ---

Steve comes back to his house and his incriminating balled up papers, hiding and evading the town people throughout the whole way. And he’s already having a freak-out about just how much he has overshared in what was supposed to be a tiny note saying “Hey, I have your things I think, would you like to pick them up or would you like me to bring them over.”

But no Steve had to go and be all hopelessly romantic and embarrassing and overshare. At least he didn’t outright say stuff like your eyes are beautiful or you’re really confident and I don’t know how to talk to you or… Yeah.

And obviously he wouldn’t be able to trust the dumb (however cute and waddly) bird to find its way directly to the mechanic’s garage so he had all but grabbed the goose and went over to the place himself. Had set the goose back on its feet from the side of the garage door and ran away like a kid. Well, there had been some peeking, but he couldn’t risk being caught.

All in all, he’d give himself 10/10 for planning, 10/10 for execution and like… 3/10 for the contents note itself. So it all averaged to something passable. Hopefully.

The worst thing is that Tony Stark was as intimidatingly and effortlessly handsome as he remembered. Steve hadn’t been able to stop peeking at him as he gingerly taking off the ribbon around the goose’s neck. He had been in a black tank top; his slightly tanned and toned arms flexing as he fiddled with the bow. He had wiped his hands on an already grease stained fabric before opening the note.

And then Steve had ran away.

Now, back in his house, Steve sits down and puts his face in his hands. He can literally feel just how blushed his cheeks are from the warmth. But, what’s done is done. He cannot really take it back now. The mechanic’s tools are in a paper bag by the door, in case he just, you know, wants to take them and leave. Steve wouldn’t want to make him wait.

And Steve hates to wait himself, but there is really nothing else left to do. ---

Tony wears a shirt and then realizes what he’s doing and takes it off. He’s not wearing a button up shirt to walk fifteen minutes,get his tools and come back. That’s a little too much. A little.

He does trim his beard though. Looking put together never hurt anybody. Definitely a plus, if you’re going to see the guy you’ve had a crush on for over a month. For the second time. After a total fucking disaster.

It’s been really hard. Moving. Leaving a big city like New York and coming to a small town. Wondering if it will work out, if you’ll be able to make it. Get used to it. But staying in Brooklyn had became harder and harder after I had lost my mother. But also I had never lived anywhere else before. All my life; the same neighbourhood, same faces, same places...

I had been tired and irritable, Steve had written. I owe you a very late apology, he had said. I have, what I assume is, all of your lost tools and I would like to return them if you’re not against seeing me again.

Tony is clearly very against the idea, seeing that he’s changing his t-shirt for the fourth time instead of just leaving his house like a normal person.

Also, Steve had called the goose, the town criminal, without specifying that he was talking about the bird, which will always be written as about 10 points in his corner. Even if this thing doesn’t work out. It

He’s stalling. He’s stalling so much.

He checks himself out in the mirror one last time. Fixes his hair and washes his hands once again. The grease under his nails will never be fully gone probably but he can try. Make an effort. Yeah.

When he makes it to the edge of Steve’s picket fence, the goose is already inside. Right at the door, sitting on the doormat with its face tucked under its wing, seemingly dead to the world. Once Tony opens the garden gate however, it starts screaming its little head off. And the door opens before Tony has any time to psych himself up.

Steve Rogers comes out shining golden under the late afternoon sun and complaining, “I just fed you!”

“Yeah, a microphone it seems like,” Tony cringes as soon as the words leave his mouth. Yes Tony, amazing, insert your foot a little bit deeper into your mouth.

Steve startles and looks at him, clearly not expecting to see him, but then he laughs and it’s all Tony can do at that moment is not to slump in relief.

Steve clears his throat, “I will go get your, uh- Tools? Yes. Just a sec-” He disappears behind the door as the goose squeezes inside beside his leg.

Tony is left all by himself in front of the door, suddenly feeling disappointed. Well, what did he expect? ---

Once inside, Steve slumps against the door frame for two seconds, needing to regroup. This is harder than he thought it would be and Tony looks better than he has any right to with his perfect curl falling on his forehead and his perfect facial hair and- Well, at least he didn’t bring up the note, or the delivery method, Steve thinks, not that he gave him any time to speak.

Steve takes the hefty bag of tools into his hands. Takes a deep breath. Now or never, now or never, he repeats from inside, be brave for yourself for one second.

He opens the door again and Tony is there, standing a polite distance away from the steps. Steve extends the bag, “Here you go. This is all that I could find, though, if you have anything else missing-”

“Thank you, thank you. Well, yeah, I think I’ll be fine,” Tony looks at him with a clipped smile.

Now or never, now or never.

“Hey, you know, if you ever lose anything you can,” Steve can feel his blush rising, “well, call?” ---

“I don’t have a phone.” What? What?! If there was ever a good time for a meteor to fall onto me and just onto me, now is it, Tony thinks.

“Oh,” Steve deflates.

“No!” Tony shouts, making both of them flinch. Then schools his voice into something more appropriate, “I mean I didn’t,” he flails, pointing up the hill he came from, “my house is just over there so, I don’t know, I didn’t think I’d need it honestly. So I can’t really- I mean, your number- I can give you mine?”

“Oh, yeah, sure. Just let me-” Steve disappears back into the house and comes back with his phone, gives a little nod, “Mhm?”

So Tony gives Steve his number. Steve sends him a text. After a polite goodbye he leaves, clutching his tools to his chest and all but runs back to his house. He throws the bag onto his work table on his way up and immediately goes searching for his phone.

He giggles as he reads the message, “Hi! This is Steve the goose-sitter.” ---

A Couple Of Months Later

“Steve!! If you don’t come pick up your live pillow stuffing, you’re going to see it under the cloche for tonight’s dinner.”

Steve laughs, honest to God laughs at him and his misery on the phone, “Like you know how to cook.”

Tony sputters, phone in hand and eyes locked onto the little criminal currently pat-pat-ing greasy footprints all over his beautiful and once clean car. With a harmonica in its beak.

Aimless chaos, that’s what it is.

He sighs, “That was cruel and you know it but I’ll let it go if you come here and give me a kiss.”

“Tony, I have one more lesson, just one more and then I’m home, okay babe?”

Tony grinns giddily. Okay, maybe he’s a little head over heels here but at least he knows he’s not the only one.

As Steve had predicted, the goose kept stealing his tools. And kept stashing them in Steve’s house. And Tony just kept… Going back to retrieve them. In time it became Steve coming over to drop off some things Tony had not yet realized gone missing and staying to chat for a bit. Or Tony realizing things were missing and going to Steve’s house for a coffee, waiting for the goose to come from parading his stolen goods around.

They talked about Steve’s moving adventures first. Then his reasons; his Ma’s illness, losing her at the hospital and his best friend overseas and looking around Brooklyn to see pain everywhere. And in turn Tony told his own story, about leaving a busy life with three cities in one day, shareholder’s meetings, inventing with strict deadlines on endless budget that got quite unfulfilling really quickly.

And then they talked about more personal details. Steve’s insecurities from when he was dealing with asthma and was as thin as a stick that never quite left. Tony’s inability to pay attention to anybody or anything but his craft for more than two seconds that drove all his ex-es away.

Steve had smiled at his berating, “You’ve been here for three hours now.”

“And? Should I- Oh.” Tony had blushed, “Well, yeah.”

Somewhere along the way, it had become this.

Tony knows Steve will come over after he’s done teaching kids how to draw and will give him as many kisses as he wants and then a little bit more. He will cook because Tony really cannot but helps by providing any ingredient Steve needs for his recipes, no matter how obscure. They will sit in Tony’s little kitchen and chat and eat and kiss a little bit more. And when Steve gets up to go home, his overgrown duck with itsy-bitsy razor teeth will follow him back home loyally.

But there is still an hour and then some until that can happen.

“I am not cleaning your weird misshapen dog though,” he sulks into his phone.

Steve chuckles, “That’s alright Tony, I have to go now, I’ll see you soon, alright?”

“Yeah, okay, love you.”

“Love you too.”

[honeymoonwriting]

Overwatch buddies reacting to their friend being severely depressed and anxious

Part 4:

💙: Bastion

• *concerned beeps and boops*

• Will sit by your door like a little puppy. 🐶

• Also, a bouquet of vibrant flowers with the roots still attached to them will be present at your door as well.

• If you ever see random birds perched outside your window, just look down to see a cheery little Bastion waving at you.

• You're one of their favorite friends and they greatly appreciate you for sticking by them even though they used to be a weapon for mass destruction.

• Bastion knows that you're a kind and delicate soul, and whatever past mistakes you've made doesn't define who you are now.

•Bastion finds comfort in nature and it's creatures, so expect a lot of peaceful walks in lush woods to help clear your head.

🖤: Winston

• Winston will do just about anything for you because you're one of his closest friends!

• If he knows that you haven't eaten in a while, then he will gently knock on your door with a ripe banana and a tub of creamy peanut butter in hand. "I... got you something." He will hand it over with a toothy grin and offer you to watch him work.

• He will share baby photos of himself and his other primates and provide mini-stories behind them.

• Winston often finds himself overthinking about the downfall of Overwatch, and how his friends all scattered to the wind. Inside, he is constantly worrying about the future and upcoming battles with the Omnics and Talon.

• Even though he worries a lot, Winston reassures himself with the thought that he has strong friends. You're one of them. You're probably one of the strongest people he knows because it's a struggle to deal with your own mind every day. He knows you will get through anything.

💚: Orisa

• "Do you need a hug?"

• Despite being made out of metal she really does give fantastic hugs.

• She has the ability to detect facial expressions and body language, so she knows exactly what you need. Chapped lips that you keep swiping your tongue over indicates to her that you're dehydrated, and she will quickly scurry off to get you a chilled glass of water. If she notices withdrawal symptoms from your medication, don't worry! She has the pharmacist on speed dial.

• Failure is something that erks her mind. She is afraid that she won't be strong enough to protect her city and the people in it, but she does have one person that reassures her mind. Efi. The brilliant inventor believes in her, and so that pushes Orisa to let go of doubt and fear, and replace it with confidence in knowing that she is enough.

• Orisa is patient and always reminds you that she believes in you and wants you to know that you're worthy of love and happiness, even if you don't feel like it now.

❤: Wrecking Ball

• "The small mammal detects sadness." Followed by worried squeaks.

• Hammond lets you hold him because he knows that he's an adorable ball of fluff.

• He will make you neat trinkets made out of scrap metal. He one time made you a sculpture that uncannily resembled your face. You're forever left speechless on how he was able to recreate all your little details...

• When you're sleeping, Hammond will cuddle next to you and his small fingers will curl around yours. Apparently, genetically modified hamsters snore. Quite loudly in fact.

• Hammond loves you and will be your best friend through thick and thin.

|| Thanks for reading! I hope y'all enjoyed this special part~~ 😸💓💓

[madcatdaderpydrawer-blog]

Solstaire would let out a string of swears when he gets hit with the wrench. He’ll accept the apology, knowing damn well how nervous he was when he first ended up here. He’ll even offer to fix that broken ray with some scraps he has lying around. Lunara, is a mix of jealous and fascinated by this nice and stable version of himself. He enjoys poking and prodding at Peanut.

And Infero does absolutely nothing to sound less ominous or evil. Vim, however, loves to soften Infero’s image. Just runs in and demands uppies, which Infero does with no hesitation. Then Peanut and Clipsy get subject to a thousand questions by Vim, while Infero just sighs and lets this happen.

Pyroclasm, chronically incapable of thinking things through, rips a random pipe off the wall and starts chewing on it in the background. Causing hot steam to blast out like a horror game. Amalgam pokes his head out and ominously giggles, before slipping back into his little workshop. Don’t know what RS Solar is doing. KC is out doing charity work. Frostbite’s at her place.

MR Moon is just like “We have a portal?!”. To which the Computers chime to confirm that yes, they do. They haven’t bothered inspecting that part of their programming because it didn’t seem important. Solar Flare’s the first to ask why Clipsy and Peanut are here.

Clipsy has managed to successfully speedrun the adoption process. Moom, Mama Sun, Dadcode, and Papa Bear accept him and Peanut with open arms. They can stay as long as they like. Moom also blacklists Clipsy’s dimension immediately. The kids, meanwhile, adore Peanut. Especially Toddlunar, grownup versions of him are the coolest!

Torp just sighs and halfheartedly complains about having to arm and beef up the security system. He tells them that, despite looking like a weird Moon, he doesn’t have access to the portal, so he can’t blacklist anything.

Antumbra will have to be told to cut it out by his comfort big guy Moon, because the self-hatred is strong in this one.

Ursus insists. Clipsy’s injured, she’s in perfect health. They’re traumatized and scared, she’s got a therapist. They came with practically nothing, she’s got everything she needs. They need that bed more than she does. 

They’re very lucky that lunara didnt take Clipsy smacking his buddy as a personal offense- that would cause some issues. I know you mean prodding like in a verbal sense but I immediately just thought of lunara actually physically poking Peanut to try and figure out his secrets. Clipsy would be very flustered but thankful for the offer to fix the ray, since he did just assault this guy and being offered help after that is a bit surprising

Piper looks back at these two assholes making this situation seem so much worse and then looks back at the other two and tells them most of the family is harmless. Clipsy asking if that thing that just peeked around the corner and giggled like a serial killer was just a friend. He’s only being half sarcastic.

When asked Clipsy will go on his whole spiel about what happened, in the same somewhat nonchalant tone.

Awww the idea of peanut interacting with the kids is so adorable. He’d have a lot of fun interacting with them! Seeing a little toddler version of himself would be so cute to him. He’s glad that he is so excited to see a grown up version of him.

As long as there’s a good security system, they’d be at least slightly out at ease. Though they’ll still be nervous about him potentially coming through and causing problems for torp.

He needs to stop him from inflicting his self hatred on this random guy they just met. That’s not how you make friends XD

Clipsy argues that what happened wasn’t exactly traumatizing, which just makes it sound worse- Clipsy is way too used to moons nonsense. If Ursus is stubborn enough though they’ll cave to avoid further arguing with someone doing them a favor

[camillemontespan]

friend date [AU. one shot. drake walker x camille montespan]

@moonlightgem7​ @ibldw-main​ @emichelle​ @katedrakeohd​ @loveellamae​ @jovialyouthmusic​ @burnsoslow​ @saivilo​ @gardeningourmet​ @walkerswhiskeygirl​ @mskaneko​ @dcbbw​  @rainbowsinthestorm​ @fromthedeskofpaisleybleakmore​ @pug-bitch​ @flowerpowell​

I was inspired after seeing Sarah Michelle Gellar (Buffy) post a wedding anniversary tribute on her instagram which said that she had been friends with her husband, Freddie Prinze Jr, and they were meant to meet a mutual friend for dinner. The friend bailed but Sarah and Freddie didn’t. 20 years later, they’re married with kids. It was so sweet and pure and I instantly had an idea for this one shot!

ALSO, Le CouCou is a real restaurant in New York. It looks amazing. The menu, not so much. All prices and dishes are real. Is it sad I googled it? Yes. Do I care? No!

************************************************************************************* 

Sorry, D. Got to bail tonight. Give my apologies to Camille, we can catch up soon. 

Drake swallowed, staring down at the phone in his hand and the text message Liam had just sent him. It wasn’t like Liam to cancel. Liam always kept plans. Liam was reliable. 

‘You alright?’ Leo asked, chowing down on noodles as he spoke. He was leaning against the kitchen counter in Drake’s apartment, helping himself to Drake’s food and beer.  ‘You look like you’ve had the worst news ever.’

Drake shrugged. ‘Well, not really but kinda..’

Leo looked over Drake’s shoulder at the text. ‘Huh, not like my brother to cancel. What’s the problem? You still get to hang with Cammy.’

‘That’s the problem,’ Drake sighed. 

Leo raised an eyebrow. ‘Okay… not understanding this, dude. Camille’s a babe. She’s fun. She’s also your friend. I mean, I know you guys have this underlying sexual tension-’

‘Liam likes her,’ Drake interrupted. ‘That’s why it’s an issue.’

‘So? Liam doesn’t own Camille,’ Leo replied, not unreasonably. ‘She’s single. You’re single.’

‘I thought brothers were meant to be loyal,’ Drake said dryly. 

‘I am,’ Leo said, shrugging. ‘But it’s been ages since you’ve been laid so excuse me for looking out for my buddy.’

‘I’m not gonna sleep with her,’ Drake hissed. ‘We’re.. Friends. Ish.’

Drake and Camille were friendly, yes, but not close. They rarely saw each other due to living on opposite sides of the city, their working hours and different interests. Camille was friends with Olivia - Leo’s girlfriend- so the four of them had hung out occasionally. Olivia teased that it was like a double date, which Drake swiftly denied. 

He did find Camille really attractive though. He liked her laugh and the way her mouth quirked up at the corners so it looked like she was always smiling. She was friendly and interested in what he had to say, but Drake always let himself down by trying to keep her at arms length. 

Liam liked Camille, see. Not that he had done anything about it - he was always busy working so didn’t have much free time. But whenever they saw Camille, Liam would tell Drake how much he liked her and was absolutely going to ask her out. 

Drake figured that if Camille was given the option between him and Liam, she would go for his friend. That was how it always played out. If the two men liked the same girl, Drake would step back. 

He just didn’t think he could compete with Liam’s classic good looks, high flying job as a Wall Street broker, his penchant for treating women to dates in fancy restaurants and his sleek penthouse apartment.  Drake was more rugged, sure, but he worked as a bartender in Williamsburg, existed on noodles and pasta, took women to dive bars for dates (that never went down well) and lived in a studio apartment that had a damp problem.  

‘I’ll cancel on her,’ Drake decided. 

Leo paused in eating the noodles to give Drake an unamused stare. ‘Why?’

‘Well, it’ll just be us,’ Drake said, ‘and it’s in a fancy restaurant because of course, Liam booked it, so if it’s the two of us it’ll be like a date-’

‘And?’

‘And it’s not a date!’ Drake burst out. ‘It’ll be awkward. We’ve never hung out just us before. What do we talk about?’

‘Her job, your job-’

‘Yes, I’m sure she’ll be impressed by the stock of whiskey,’ Drake interrupted. ‘God, I’m gonna cancel-’

Leo grabbed his phone and hit Drake gently on the head with it. ‘No!’ he scolded. ‘That’ll be rude. She’ll know something’s up. Look, just bite the bullet. Meet her at the fancy restaurant, impress her with your knowledge of whiskey, be interested in what she has to say. It can be a quick meal and if you’re really suffering, then make an exit right after. But don’t bail because she’ll know you don’t want to hang with her. Don’t be a dick. Do you want to be a dick, Drake? Did your mom raise you to be a dick to beautiful women?’

Drake blinked. ‘What the fuck has Olivia done to you?’

Leo reddened. ‘She’s shown me the error of my previous womanising ways. But that’s beside the point! Go to dinner tonight.’

Drake sighed. ‘Fine. I’ll go. Whatever.’

Leo rolled his eyes and said through a mouthful of noodle, ‘Don’t act like it’s your bloody execution, Walker..’

‘Don’t act like you’re bloody British, Rhys,’ Drake shot back. ‘Now give me my phone back.’

*************************************************************************************

Drake agonised over what to wear to the fancy restaurant. Knowing Liam, it would be starched white table cloths, French waiters, views over New York and a wine list Drake couldn’t pronounce. 

He eventually settled on a brown leather jacket, green henley shirt, dark blue jeans and brown boots. Suits were not his thing, but this outfit was much more acceptable than his usual denim shirt and jeans combination. He looked smart like this; like he had made an effort but not too much. 

Camille had texted him to say she would be at the restaurant for 8pm. They were both on. This was not a date, this was just two sort of friends hanging out at a fancy restaurant. 

Drake took the subway to Lafayette Street where the restaurant, Le CouCou, was located. Just from the name alone, Drake knew he was in for a French affair. Fantastic. He hated French cuisine but he remembered Liam saying he had booked the table weeks in advance because it was a popular restaurant, so a change of location wasn’t on the cards.

He entered the restaurant. The walls were of exposed brick, chandeliers hung from the ceiling and the tables were covered in white cloth. Drake pushed down the fish out water feeling he was experiencing and puffed his chest out, trying to look confident. 

‘Hey there,’ he greeted the host. ‘We had a table booked under the name of Liam Rhys, but he cancelled so it’s just the two of us.’

The host smiled. ‘Your friend arrived a moment ago, please follow me.’

Drake followed her through the restaurant towards the back where he could see Camille sitting at a round table by the window. She stood up to greet him, reaching out to give him a hug. 

Her hair smelled of coconut, which was delicious and enticing and distracting at the same time.

‘I was so sure you’d bail on me!’ Camille said, giving him her megawatt smile. ‘Honestly, I’m surprised you’re here.’

Drake sat down and blushed. ‘Nah, Montespan. I’m a gent. Never leave a lady hanging.’

Bullshit.

Camille looked down at her menu. ‘So, looking at these prices.. It would be cheaper to order a bottle of something.’

‘Sure,’ Drake agreed. ‘Champagne?’

He didn’t like champagne but he knew that women did. 

Camille reddened. ‘I actually don’t like champagne.. I know, I’m so not classy.’

Drake let out a laugh. ‘Same actually. I only suggested it in case you liked it, plus this place looks like champagne is all it serves..’

Camille bit her lip, her eyes scanning the menu. ‘Wine?’ she suggested. 

‘Sounds good. What do you like?’

‘Sauvignon Blanc.’

‘Chile or New Zealand?’

Camille blinked at his question. ‘Uh, New Zealand.’

Drake grinned. ‘Expensive taste, Montespan.’

Camille giggled. ‘How do you know about the countries?’

‘Well, I do work in bar..’

Camille grinned. ‘Of course! Amazing, you can be my drink guide this evening! Shall we order wine then?’

‘Let’s do it,’ Drake said. ‘Let’s be not classy in this classy place.’

***********************************************************************************

With wine ordered, they studied the food menu - studying being the loose term for it. Unable to read it was more apt.

‘What the fuck is Lotte au jambon, potee de chou et fruits de mer..?’ Drake asked in haltingly slow French.

Camille frowned and looked through the menu. ‘Ah, here’s the English translation! Um, monkfish roasted with-’

‘Nope,’ Drake interrupted. ‘Where’s the steak? There has to be steak here.’

Camille looked down the menu before her eyes lit up. ‘Found steak!’

She pointed to the dish. Drake paled. ‘Camille, it’s $65.’

Camille’s eyes widened. ‘Ah shit.. Okay, scrap that.. Um.. it’s pretty expensive here. We’ll be paying $29 minimum and that applies to the oyster starter..’

Drake groaned. ‘Oysters, really?’

‘They are said to be an aphrodisiac..’ Camille teased. 

Drake blanched at her words. ‘Uh.. uh, yeah they are..’

Camille let out a throaty laugh, the laugh he liked. It was a laugh she used whenever something seemed to really tickle her and it made you feel special for making her laugh that way. ‘I’m kidding, Drake,’ she said. ‘Look, we’re here. Let’s just order something and grin and bear it. Who cares about the price? We’ll just have Liam refund us. This place was his idea, after all.’

Drake grinned. ‘Liam can reimburse us! Awesome, so shall we order the most expensive dishes and laugh when he is presented with the bill?’

Camille shrugged. ‘He does work on Wall Street, I’m sure this amount of money is peanuts for him.’

Drake raised his wine glass. ‘To Liam, for funding our dinner.’

Camille laughed again, her eyes sparkling. She raised her glass and clinked it against his. ‘To Liam.’

**************************************************************************************

They both settled on the chicken and foie gras. The wine was going down a treat and conversation was easy. Drake couldn’t believe had considered cancelling. They got on really well! There were no awkward silences and Drake found he could open up to her easily about things he never spoke about, like his father.

‘My dad passed away when I was fourteen,’ he told Camille, pouring her another glass of wine. ‘He worked as security guard for a bank - he was involved in a robbery and was shot.’

Camille studied him with her chin placed on her hand. Her eyebrows were knitted together in concern. ‘I’m sorry, Drake,’ she murmured. ‘That’s really sad.’

‘He died an honourable death,’ Drake replied. ‘He made sure all the customers were out of harms way. My mom was in pieces, as was my sister.. So I became the man of the house.’

‘That must have been hard for you,’ Camille said. Drake’s eyes locked with hers. He could see the gold flecks amongst the brown; owl eyes. They were gorgeous.

‘It was,’ Drake said, finally, after a long moment. ‘Sorry for bringing the chat down.. I just.. I’ve never really talked about my dad to people before. Not even Liam.’

‘How come?’ Camille asked, reaching out to take his hand. Her thumb rolled over his palm, soothing and gentle. Drake looked down at their joined hands and swallowed. 

‘I guess I don’t like to be vulnerable,’ he muttered. 

‘Sometimes it’s good to be vulnerable,’ Camille told him. ‘It’s healthy to talk about feelings, share the weight of them. When my parents died, I retreated into myself and my grandma worked so hard to bring me back to life-’

‘Your parents died?’ Drake asked, his eyes widening in shock. ‘Shit, Camille. That sucks.’

Camille smiled weakly. ‘Life has dealt me shitty cards,’ she replied. ‘But what matters is how you deal with it. You can either let it break you down or you keep going. Talking when you’re feeling broken makes you stronger’

There was an unspoken understanding between them. Their eyes were steady on each other and Drake wanted to say so much more but he couldn’t find the words. How had she managed to break down this wall he had built? Camille tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear and cleared her throat. ‘So, shall we get the bill and head somewhere else?’

Drake smiled. ‘I know we’re not keen on this place but I did see that there’s a bar upstairs.. Fancy it?’

Camille grinned. ‘Lead the way.’

*******************************************************************

Drake ordered two glasses of whiskey. They sat at the bar under the chandeliers that cast a golden glow down on them; Camille simply shone. She had chosen to wear a tuxedo dress with pearl buttons and silver strappy heels; it was a date night outfit. Drake was now pretending they were on a date, while Camille was oblivious to his sudden change of heart.

I really like this woman. I already did but she’s so different to how I imagined. She’s kind and funny and warm. I could talk to her all day. 

As Drake toasted Liam yet again, Camille smiled and studied him. He was rugged, just her type. He was easygoing and funny with a dry sense of humour. He was also surprising. 

I really like this guy. He is different to how I imagined. He’s thoughtful and kind and genuine. I could listen to him all day. 

The conversation became silly, with  Camille asking Drake absurd questions and laughing at his answers. It soon turned to Never Have I Ever and Drake ordered more whiskey. 

‘Never Have I Ever… gone skinny dipping,’ Drake suggested. Camille blushed and reached for her drink, taking a long sip.  Drake let out a hearty laugh. 

‘Montespan, you minx!’

‘I was eighteen and drunk, okay?!’ she protested, laughing back.  When they calmed down, Camille considered her question for Drake.

‘Never have I ever.. Cheated on someone.’

Drake didn’t drink. Camille grinned. ‘You’re a nice guy.’

‘I am indeed,’ Drake said, giving her a smirk. ‘Clean record. Now, Leo on the other hand…’

Camille let out a groan. ‘Oh god, Leo. He is something else.’

‘Hard to imagine he and Liam are related,’ Drake said. ‘They’re both so different.’

‘Yeah.. Leo’s wild, Liam’s boring-’

‘What?!’ Drake cried. ‘Liam’s boring?!’

Camille turned red. ‘Don’t tell him I said that!’ she said. ‘Oh god, I feel so bad!’

‘Harsh words, Camille,’ Drake warned, shaking his head. ‘Harsh words.’

Secretly, he was pleased. Liam had no chance.

‘So you wouldn’t date him?’ he asked, sipping his whiskey. Camille shook her head. ‘No way. He likes.. Fancy restaurants like this. I like bars. I know we’re still in the same restaurant, but right now, this, Drake, is the highlight of my night.’ 

Drake could feel the heat rising on his cheeks. Camille gave him an earnest smile and tossed back her whiskey before checking the time. 

‘Shoot, I’m up early tomorrow,’ she said. ‘Help me find a cab?’

Drake said yes and paid their bill. He helped Camille put on her coat, letting his fingers brush hers. She smiled secretly.

**************************************************************************************

Drake hailed her a taxi. When it pulled up to them, Camille turned to say goodbye. 

‘It was really nice seeing you,’ she told him. ‘Thanks for not bailing on me. I know you were tempted.’

Drake stepped back at her words. ‘Montespan, no-’

‘It’s okay,’ she said. ‘But I’m glad you still came along.’

She leaned up to hug him. Drake’s arms enveloped her body, holding her close. As they parted, her eyes looked up into his and before Drake could react, her lips were on his. The kiss was soft and warm; she tasted of whiskey and caramel. Drake groaned against her mouth and parted her lips with his tongue.

Whiskey, caramel, burnt sugar. 

That was what the kiss tasted like. 

Their tongues twisted together, urgently now. They were trapped in those moment, the bright lights of the city fading around them, their senses only on each other. When they pulled away, Camille’s eyes were dark. 

‘Come home with me,’ she murmured. 

‘Aren’t you up early tomorrow?’ Drake asked.

‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘But I don’t care.’

***********************************************************

The next morning, Drake woke up in a tangle of bedsheets. Camille’s nude body lay curled up beside him as she slept soundly. She looked so peaceful. 

Drake smiled. 

His phone buzzed. Checking the screen, he could see it was 7am. Liam had texted.

So… how’d it go last night?

Drake frowned. Good, he typed. She’s fun.

Liam replied instantly. 

I’m glad you had a good time. Thought you would. Leo and I are of the opinion that you need to get laid. 

Drake bolted up. His fingers worked quickly on the keyboard, his mind full of questions. 

But you like Camille?

Liam texted back, clearly enjoying this exchange.

Yeah but you clearly like her more. I just needed you to be pushed together.  I’m fine; I’ve got a date tomorrow night.

Drake grinned, relieved. He had been wondering how to explain his current bed situation. Now, it looked like he didn’t have to. Camille rolled over and sighed as she slept. Her hands reached out for him, as if she knew he was there. Drake settled back down and pulled her against him, holding her close. 

‘Morning, Drake..’ she murmured, her voice thick with sleep. 

‘Morning, Camille.’ 

‘This is nice,’ she mumbled. 

‘I know, right?’

‘I need to get up though..’

Drake chuckled against her hair. ‘I’m not stopping you.’

‘But you’re warm and comfy..’

‘Guilty as charged.’

Camille giggled, turning to face him. ‘Want to join me in the shower?’

Drake smiled, watching as she dragged herself out of bed. He watched her naked form as she padded through to the en-suite. He felt his cock harden. 

Drake would definitely be joining her in the shower.