#YES he would spit on me in an unsexy way NO i am not going to back down and move on

[novembermorgon]

aerion for the like 2(two) other enjoyers out there

[lapinbunwrites]

Title: Mystery Date

Rating: G

Warnings: Zombie and Vampire Costume, Alcohol Mention

Relationship: Claude/Byleth

Additional Characters: Hilda

Word Count: 2,083

Ao3 Link

Claude placed his fingers on his temple and rubbed them. He didn’t know what he was going to do for Hilda’s Halloween party. He wasn’t dating anyone at the moment and he didn’t know how to tell her and his coworkers that he recently broke up with his partner. It was a massive dent in his Halloween plans. With the party soon approaching, he needed to find a date.

“Ugh,” Claude moned, slouching his body.

Byleth placed the tea in front of Claude, looking at him, puzzled. “What’s with the sigh?”

“I told a few coworkers that I would go to their party with a date,” he replied, taking a long sip of his tea.

Byleth let out a little snort. “Well-”

“Yeah, yeah,” Claude sighed, taking another sip of his tea. “If the stars were nice, you could pretend to be my date for that night,” he said softly.

“I’m more than willing to,” Byleth said, without hesitation.

Claude spit out his tea, starting to feel his face heat up. “A-Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Byleth smiled.

Claude jolted out of his chair to give him a tight hug. “You are a lifesaver!”

Byleth let out a laugh as he returned the hug. “You’re welcome! Is there anything I need to wear?”

Claude moved his hand to Byleth’s shoulder, shaking him a little. “Yes, wear a costume.”

“I might have one,” Byleth said as he took Claude’s arm off his shoulder. He walked to his room and shuffled through his closet and his dresser drawers. His eye twinkled when he found his costume from last year. Byleth put it on and walked back to show Claude. “Ta-dah!”

Claude laughed as the sheet fell to the ground. “Hahaha! That has to be one of the worst costumes I’ve ever seen!”

“It’s the only one I have,” Byleth sighed, picking up the sheet.

“If you have are free tomorrow, we can go to Fodlan’s Costumes,” Claude said in a sultry voice, trailing his fingers under Byleth’s chin.

Byleth placed his hand on his face, feeling his face heat up as he watched Claude walk to his room.

The next day, Claude and Byleth walked to Fodlan’s Costumes where there were rows upon rows of costumes in clear plastic bags. If you could imagine any costume you want, Fodlan’s Costumes most likely had it. They had anything from cat costumes to zombie costumes. As they moved rack to rack, Claude came across a unicorn head. He smirked when he noticed Byleth had his attention elsewhere. Claude rushed over to the unicorn head to put it on. He walked up and down the aisles, looking for Byleth. His smirk grew bigger as he walked up behind him.

Claude snickered as he placed his hands on Byleth’s shoulders. “Boo!”

“Ah!” Byleth screamed as his body stiffened up, clutching his costume tightly.

Claude laughed a little harder as he put his hands on his body. “I finally was able to scare you!”

Byleth steadied his breathing as he turned to Claude. As soon as he looked at what Claude was wearing, he felt a tickle in his throat. “Pffft ahaha, what is that?!”

“A unicorn head, hahahah,” Claude said, wiping the tears from his eyes.

Byleth breathed in and out, in and out. “It looks hideous! Ahahah.”

“Maybe it’s your costume for the party,” Claude jokingly suggested. He took the unicorn head and ran his hand through his hair.

“Oho,” Byleth scoffed. He lifted up his costume up, shaking it. “I’ve actually found one. A zombie costume.”

“Really now,” Claude laughed, turning Byleth around, pushing him towards the fitting rooms. “Why don’t you go try it on for me.”

While Byleth was changing, Claude messed with his phone. He placed it close to his face, sighing. He had so many missed texts from Hilda and they were all about his date. He had to reassure her a million times that he wasn’t going alone. He didn’t stop texting her until Byleth came back. Claude felt his face become red hot when he saw Byleth show off his costume.

“Is everything alright,” Byleth asked, concerned.

Claude placed one of his hands on his face. “Yeah. You just look like a sexy zombie.”

“It’ won’t be like that when I put on the make-up,” Byleth hummed lowly.

“No amount of make-up can make you look unsexy,” Claude laughed.

Byleth clutched his chest and let out a groan.

Claude watched Byleth wobble his way back to the fitting rooms. He let out a low hum as he quickly looked around the area, his heart beating fast. “Byleth is so damn cute in the zombie costume.”

When Byleth came returned, they walked up to the cashier, making their way out of the costume store. They walked around the strip mall, making their way to a store that specialized in theater and special effects make-up. Using what little knowledge Hilda taught Claude, he found some make-up that fit Byleth’s complexion. After they got home, they spent the next few hours looking at tutorials on how to make Byleth a zombie.

“We just smeared the green make-up everywhere,” Byleth sighed.

“Gasp! With all our hard work,” Claude teased.

Byleth started to peel off the latex. “The skin doesn’t even want to go on properly.”

“I don’t think we even stuck in on right,” Claude said, helping him peel it off. He thought for a couple of secs, thinking about the potential consequences of his next idea. Taking one big breath, he decided to go with it. “I do know someone who could help us with it.”

“Who,” Byleth asked, taking a towel to his face to rub off the make-up.

Claude, already texting them. “My friend Hilda. She is a special effects make-up artist.”

Byleth smiled as he rubbed the towel more harshly against his face.

It took Hilda less than an hour to get to their apartment building.

“Where is the star at,” Hilda laughed.

“In the bathroom,” Claude yelled, walking into the living room.

Hilda smirked as she rubbed her hands together. She carefully skipped-not to damage any of her precious supplies-as she followed Claude into the bathroom. “So this is the lucky guy,” she chuckled.

“Yes I am,” Byleth played along as he placed the towel onto the counter.

Claude crossed his arms, tapping his fingers.

Hilda scanned Byleth and their poor job. “Hmph. He’s still cute.

Byleth let out a sigh. "Please help.”

“That’s why I’m here,” Hilda said, placing the bag onto the counter.

She grabbed onto Claude, placing some make-up in his hand and some in Byleth’s. She took them step by step, and in great depth, on how to do zombie make-up. The two looked in awe at how realistic Byleth looked as a zombie, he kind of didn’t want to take it off.

“Claude,” Byleth said softly as he placed the make-up down.

Claude smirked. “Yes?”

Hilda glared at the two of them. “Don’t,” she sighed softly.

Byleth and Claude ignored her and left the apartment. Hilda rushed after them before they were able to scare anyone, scolding them when they were back at their place. She understood a little bit better why they were together. And as payment for their trouble, she stayed over, taking Byleth’s room. While she was asleep, and with Claude’s help, they carefully took off the make-up. After they were done, Byleth snuck into his room, grabbing his PJs, and quickly changed in Claude’s room. Claude looked at Byleth, bundled up under the blankets, and sighed. He smiled as she crawled under the sheets, cuddling with Byleth.

Halloween night came with cool, crisp air. Many were dressed, many were not. Most have not arrived at Hilda’s Halloween Bash, one such ‘couple’ was Byleth and Claude. Claude was helping Byleth get into costume. It’s nowhere near Hilda’s standards, but it’ll have to do for this spooky night.

Claude gave Byleth a kind smile. “Thank you so much for doing this. You’re truly a lifesaver.”

“I’m always happy to help my 'boyfriend,’” Byleth smiled back. He placed his thumb close to Claude’s mouth, moving it to touch his fang. “You fangs look so realistic.”

“Something Hilda taught me,” Claude said, lightly biting his thumb.

“Keep this up, you’ll be reaching for my neck,” Byleth teased.

“Oh, I don’t want to do that. Your neck is my dessert,” Claude smirked, taking his thumb out of his mouth. “We better get going.”

Byleth smiled as they walked out of the apartment building.

They arrived at the party fashionably late. Some treats have been handed out and some were tricked. As they walked around to talk to Claude’s coworkers, Byleth was trick with a fake peanut tube and was covered with the cobweb of shame. At all points in time, Claude was on his toes, foiling every chance someone was trying to prank him. He was also able to trick one of his coworkers by pretending there was a monster hiding somewhere and Claude was able to scare them. After his little trick, Claude took Byleth around to introduce him to his friends. They asked the usual annoying questions of likes and dislikes, where they had met.

“Where did you two meet,” Leonie beamed.

“Uh,” Byleth moaned. He looked around the room, laying his eyes on Claude. They couldn’t tell them that they had known each other for years. “Uh, a bar.”

A big smile swept across Claude’s face as he leaned on him. “Ah, yes! I saw him across the room, trying to convince his very tipsy dad to go home with him.”

Byleth let out a groan as he placed his head in his head. “I remember dragging him out of the bar and on my way out, I saw Claude.”

Claude’s smile grew as big as it could. “Do you remember what he said on the way out?”

“Yes,” Byleth sighed softly. “He clung to Claude and said, 'You’re cute, you should date my son.’ He then proceeded to give him my number.” After a few seconds of silence, Byleth held Claude’s hand, squeezing it tightly, and gave him a kind smile. “We’ve been together ever since.

Claude could feel his cheeks start to heat up and his heart start to beat a little faster. In the moment, he gave Byleth a small kiss on his cheek.

"Awe, how cute,” Leonie chuckled.

“It was embarrassing,” Byleth paused to give Claude another smile. “But I wouldn’t change it.”

Claude leaned in closer to give him a kiss. To his surprise, Byleth returned it.

“You guys are so cute,” she added, taking a drink of her beverage.

The two locked eyes, becoming lost in each other’s thoughts. Leonia took a big gulp of her drink as she wobbled away after her attempts to have another conversation.

Near the night’s end, Hilda hosted her ever famous Couples Costume Contest. Her, along with Marianne and Ignatz, were the judges. One by one, people showed off their costumes. There were aliens, astronauts, cats, deer, and many others. When Byleth and Claude walked down the walkway, people were cheering and whispering, some questioned why they didn’t match. At the end of the walkway, the two looked at their scores. Ignatz gave them an eight, Marianne gave them a seven. They looked over to Hilda, the harshest judge of them all, gave them a five. If it weren’t for Claude’s spot on vampire costume, she would have given them a two for Byleth’s terrible makeup job. After everything, they looked at their fifth-place ribbon, not what they were hoping for.

At the end of the night, and after Lorenz’s and Lysithea’s prodding for more answers, Byleth and Claude finally said their goodbye’s to Hilda and headed back home.

“Man,” Byleth stretched, “that was fun!”

“Yeah,” Claude sighed, letting a smile appear on his face. “Thanks for your help. I owe you one.”

“Don’t sweat it,” Byleth yawned. “I’m happy to help. Whelp, I’m going to bed. Don’t stay up too late.” Before he went to bed, Byleth subconsciously gave Claude a peck on his cheek.

“You don’t have…” Claude trailed off as h placed his hand on his cheek, watching Byleth walk off.

He felt his face get warmer and his heart pound against his chest as a million thoughts went through his head. They didn’t stop as he climbed into bed. Instead of going to sleep, Claude stared at the ceiling, deciphering any emotion that he had until morning came.

———————————————

My gift to baeleths (on Twitter) for the Fodlan’s Fright Halloween Gift Exchange! One of the prompts was fake dating au and hit my straight in the heart. I had so much fun with this one, I hope I did it justice!

[itsmyusualphannie]

cold fingers

it all starts because Dan stole the blankets

2361 words - (read on ao3)

“Dan,” says Phil, slowly coming to the realization that he has no blankets and Dan is a heap of warmth next to him. “Dan, you’ve taken all the blankets again.”

Dan ignores him, his face illuminated by the screen of his phone as he scrolls. Phil is on his phone too, which is why they’re lying beside each other instead of spooning.

“Dan!” Phil barks and Dan finally looks over at him, his head swamped by the blanket.

“What.”

“I’m cold,” Phil complains. “And you’re on your phone instead of cuddling me.”

“You’re on your phone too? Hypocrisy.”

“But you have all the blankets. All I’ve got is my phone.”

Dan just stares at him for a long moment, then goes back to his own phone.

Phil scowls. “If I freeze to death, who’s going to love you?”

“I’ll love myself,” Dan says. “Hahaha just kidding, I don’t love myself.” He glances over at Phil again and rolls his eyes at the pitiful look Phil is giving him. “Ugghh fine, get over here, dumbass.”

Phil’s face lights up and he squirms over to get beneath the blankets, shoving Dan to his side so he can cuddle him from behind.

“Ow,” Dan complains but lets Phil do as he wishes, not letting go of his phone as he scrolls down a page. Phil hmphs happily and buries his cold nose into the back of Dan’s neck, ignoring the squeal it elicits.

“You’re the worst,” Dan whines.

“You’re the best,” Phil says. “I’m only saying that because you’re sharing the blankets now.”

“Loser.”

“Am I? I think I won.” Phil breathes heavily on Dan’s neck and laughs when Dan screeches at the sudden cold air.

“Fucking stop it!” Dan jabs at Phil with an elbow, almost dropping his own phone.

“Fine,” Phil giggles. He tugs Dan closer, wrapping his arms more tightly around him. “I’m just cold,” he pouts. “It’s your fault for stealing my warm blankets.” He dips his chilled fingers under the edge of Dan’s shirt teasingly, then darts them up to flick at Dan’s nipples. He’s expecting another shrill scream, but instead, Dan stiffens against him, then shudders.

“Oh,” says Phil.

Dan moves then, shoving Phil’s cold fingers away. “Fuck off,” he mutters. “You know my nipples are sensitive.”

Phil senses that there’s more to it than that. “Oh?” he says again, dragging his fingers along Dan’s hipbones. He grins when Dan shivers again.

“Are you trying to get me going?” Dan mutters.

“Nooo,” says Phil unconvincingly. He snaps the waistband of Dan’s boxers and smirks suddenly. “Why, is the cold getting you hot?”

Dan is silent.

“Is it?” Phil asks, sitting up abruptly.

Dan scowls and shoves at him. “No. Shut up.”

“Well,” says Phil affably. “We’ve never done temperature play. Want to try it?”

“Ugh,” Dan groans, turning his face into the pillow. “Don’t say it like that. That’s so...unsexy.”

Phil pokes him. “Hey. This is like one of the kinks I thought you didn’t have, or I would have suggested it much sooner.”

“I didn’t think I did have a temperature kink!” Dan whines, flailing a hand at him. “Shut up.”

“Stop telling me to shut up.” Phil grabs at Dan’s arm. “Come on,” he wheedles. “Let’s try it. I’ve read a few things about it before so I...kinda know what it’s all about. Is it just the cold or do you want to try…?”

Dan shudders. “No fire.”

Phil nods in agreement, but Dan still has his head buried in the pillow. “Hey. Dan, look at me. Do you want to try something with ice?”

Dan lets out a disbelieving whimper into the pillow, then flops around to face Phil. “Fine,” he grumbles. “We can try if you want to so badly.”

Phil laughs at Dan’s answer. “We’ll try it right now,” he agrees. He clambers out of bed and trots out of the bedroom. Dan scowls after him, then yanks his phone up and pointedly focuses his attention on the screen instead of Phil banging around in the kitchen.

A minute passes, then another, and Dan’s head finally comes up. “Did you get lost?!” he yells.

A crash. “I’m trying to find a bowl or something to put the - wait, I found one!”

Dan glances at his phone, then at the doorway, and decides to just say it. “I just read an article about sucking dick with ice in your mouth.”

“That sounds...interesting...” is all Phil says as he reappears with a large bowl in one hand. He crawls onto the bed and yanks at the blankets Dan still has wrapped around him.  Dan helps him shoves them off, then tugs his shirt off, eyeing the bowl Phil has set haphazardly beside them. The blankets end up hanging halfway off the bed.

Phil pulls a piece of ice out of the bowl and pops it into his mouth to suck on it, grinning at Dan. “Where do you want me to start?”

“My neck?” Dan suggests cautiously. He squirms further up the bed, leaning back against a pillow.

“Hmm,” is all Phil says. He picks up another piece of ice and straddles Dan’s thighs decisively, bending over him. He pauses for a moment, then decides to get right into it, running chilled fingers and the tip of the ice cube along Dan’s jawline. Dan jumps at the sudden chill but settles into it after half a second. Phil leans further and mouths at the curve of Dan’s neck, cold lips tracing the wet path his fingers are making.

“Oh god...that feels good…” Dan says, half-surprised. He wraps his arms around Phil’s shoulders, tugging him closer.

Phil licks at Dan’s clavicle, running the rapidly-melting ice over his flushed skin. Water drips everywhere the ice goes, leaving trails of cool water beading on Dan’s pale skin. “You’re too hot,” Phil chuckles. “Literally.” He makes his way a little further down, brushing the ice over Dan’s nipples and gauging his reaction.

Dan inhales sharply at the unfamiliar, yet somehow arousing, sensation and digs his blunted fingernails into Phil’s back. “It’s good - keep going.”

Encouraged, Phil lets the ice melt even more on Dan’s nipples, sliding it between both of them and flicking them a bit to really form the peaked buds. He breathes a burst of hot air on one after holding the ice against it for too long, then glances up again at Dan to see how he’s taking it.

“Fffffuck...this is indescribable, just...don't stop.” Dan’s eyes are clenched shut and his teeth are digging into his bottom lip.

Abandoning the sliver of ice left, Phil leans to grab another and brushes it further down Dan’s chest, circling his navel and causing goosebumps to leap where the ice touches. Phil follows it with his still slight-chilled tongue, lapping at the water it leaves.

“Hmmph...Phil...this is nice..” Those are the only words Dan can muster for a moment. His mind is blank as if his brain is telling him to only focus on the sensations his body is experiencing. He arches his hips experimentally and almost sobs as his stiff dick catches against Phil’s thigh. “Shit Phil, I’m so hard.”

“You look so pretty laid out like this,” Phil murmurs. “I think I like it as much as you.” He slides down Dan’s body, tugging out of Dan’s grasp on his shoulders and stopping only when his head is about even with Dan’s tented boxers. He runs the ice along the waistband of Dan’s underwear, letting the drops left behind seep into the fabric and chill Dan even more.

“Fucking hell...keep saying shit like that and I’ll…” Dan punctuates his sentence with a whimpering moan.

“You’ll do what?” Phil smirks. He brushes a cold finger onto the material jutting around Dan’s cock and pulls it away before Dan can even react. “Let’s try this thing you mentioned,” he suggests, tugging Dan’s boxers to mid-thigh with barely a movement. Dan’s cock bobs free, straining against his stomach as Phil leans over it.

“Ugh...yes, please,” Dan groans in reply, reaching up to tightly grip the pillow under his head.

Phil slips another piece of ice into his mouth and lets it melt under his tongue while he noses up Dan’s thighs and around the base of his dick. “How do you always smell so good?” he mutters into the crease between Dan’s thigh and crotch, then licks a cold, wet stripe there to make Dan jump.

“Oh fuck, Phil...I think I should’ve mentioned this...ugh...earlier.” Dan is a shuddering, whimpering mess under Phil’s touches.

“I think so too,” Phil agrees, “but now we know.” He wraps his partially cool fingers around Dan’s cock and strokes slowly a few times, the chilled water providing a sort of lubricant, then he dips his chin and licks the tip with the ice chip still melting on the back of his tongue.

“Fuck!” Dan yelps, his hands rushing instinctively to grip onto Phil’s hair.

Phil takes Dan in even further, the burning heat of Dan’s cock warming his mouth quickly. The ice is only halfway melted and catches on the head of his length, drooling around Phil’s mouthful and dripping from his lips. Phil pins Dan’s thighs together unconsciously as he licks and swallows around Dan.

Whimpers and moans are all that can be heard from Dan as he quivers beneath Phil. He bucks his hips upward as a natural reaction, fingers twisted in Phil’s hair. Phil bobs his head a few more times before pulling back momentarily to snag another piece of ice, almost knocking over the bowl. “You can fuck my mouth,” Phil allows, then dives back in, swallowing Dan almost to the base. With one hand he brushes the ice against Dan’s cock, then slips it into his mouth and lets it slide against the burning length with every move.

Dan tightens his grip on the back of Phil’s head and begins to grind his hips upward, groaning at the mixing temperatures of the ice cube and Phil’s warm throat.

Releasing his tight grip on Dan’s thighs, Phil keeps working on Dan’s cock while sliding Dan’s boxers down to his ankles and out of the way. He slips a finger through the melted ice down past Dan’s balls and circles his hole, just barely teasing it.

“Oh shit, fuck...” Dan rambles repetitively, picking up the pace of his thrusts into Phil’s mouth. The ice is still melting in Phil’s mouth, cooling while Dan’s cock heats. Phil groans around his mouthful, drooling more spit and water. His finger, slick, and prodding, slides into Dan with hardly any effort at all. He doesn’t try for any more fingers without lube but angles his wrist and jabs at Dan’s prostate.

“Ahh PHIILL!!” Dan screams. He writhes under Phil’s touch, arching his back and letting his head fall against the pillows, fucking Phil’s mouth impossibly deeper. Phil’s throat goes slack and he swallows down around Dan, taking him in further. That cool finger still presses relentlessly at Dan’s prostate.

Phil flails out for a moment with his other hand before he finds the bowl of ice and he grabs another half-melted piece to barely brush against the base of Dan’s dick as he fucks Phil’s mouth.

“Fuck fuck fuck Phil I’m gon-gonna…” Dan says, barely above a whisper as his thighs flex and his hands grip onto Phil’s hair for stability. Phil can only moan an encouragement, his throat vibrating against Dan as he rubs the finger inside him.

The feeling of Phil’s throat rumbling around him is enough to topple Dan over the edge. He chokes out one last grunt as his head feels like it’s imploding. His entire body tenses up and stills for a long moment, and finally, he shudders and comes down Phil’s throat.  Phil swallows around him, stroking Dan through his orgasm but pulling away when it becomes too sensitive. He slips a hand down and pulls at himself only a few times before he’s coming too, biting his bottom lip and groaning.

“Shit Phil, you’re so fucking hot,” Dan gasps between breaths. He grabs onto Phil’s shoulders and pulls him up, kissing him weakly as they ride out the end of their orgasms.

Phil can’t help but chuckle against Dan’s lips as he slumps against him, exhausted. “You have the best ideas,” he murmurs.

“Yeah well...neither of us have done that before, and you did it like an e-expert.” Dan’s speech is slurred, as it almost always is after a strong orgasm. Suddenly tired, he turns sideways, shoving Phil off his chest. He releases a sigh, wrapping his arm around Phil’s back and burying his head in Phil’s chest, their legs tangled.

“We’re definitely going to do that again sometimes,” Phil says decisively. He kisses the top of Dan’s head, the curls damp against his lips, then pushes gently at Dan’s shoulder. “I love how you always go straight to cuddling and ignore any cleanup.”

“M’lazy. You clean us up,” Dan says with a yawn.

“Hmm, fine, I will.” Phil squirms out of Dan’s grasp and moves the bowl onto the floor where one of them will probably trip over it in the morning, then wipes them both down quickly. He crawls back over Dan and flops down beside him, wrapping Dan up in his arms.

Dan curls against Phil again, smirking into his chest. “Maybe I’ll steal the blankets again sometime.”

Phil casually reaches down and pinches Dan’s ass, grinning at Dan’s yelp. “How about you don’t?”

Grumbling under his breath, Dan grabs blindly at the blanket behind him and yanks it over both of them. “Ugh. Go to sleep.”

Phil snuggles down under the blanket and cuddles Dan even closer. His eyes are just drifting shut when he hears a soft whisper.

“I love you.”

Phil smiles. “Love you too, baby.”

They fall asleep within minutes, warm under the blankets.

Phil wakes up a few hours later, practically shivering. He’s still halfway lying over Dan, but all of the blankets are wrapped around Dan and he almost looks like he’s smirking in his sleep.

Phil, like a good loving boyfriend, doesn’t strangle Dan in his sleep.

[anthropologicalhands]

ceg fic: just a few ways to say it’s okay

title: just a few ways to say it’s okay characters/pairings: heather, rebecca, rebecca/nathaniel summary: rebecca explains why she is in a terrible college shirt and that tree-climbing metaphor is taken a little too far (if heather is understanding it correctly)

notes: we have less than twenty-four hours before we get the new episode and I just wanted to write down a fun little headcanon about the Stanford shirt before it gets totally thrown out.

--

It’s Sunday morning when the front door of the Bunch-Davis household swings open and bounces into the opposite wall, shaking the frame of their newest art addition.

Heather looks up from her coffee as Rebecca stalks through the front door wearing yesterday’s jeans, a zipped hoodie, and a deep scowl.

“Someone got up on the wrong side of the bed. Bad night for tree-climbing?” Heather asks, mildly concerned. The details of Rebecca’s new hobby remain, for the most part, unknown to Heather. She knows Nathaniel’s face and the fact he is Rebecca’s ex-boss, which is loaded enough, but Rebecca seems fine and has mentioned discussing the relevant details with her therapist and Heather isn’t inclined to probe further.

Rebecca plops herself into the chair opposite Heather, slinging her purse under the table with enough force that it skids and bounces off Heather’s foot.

“Actually, it was great!” Her voice is bright and a full octave higher than usual. “Really great! Lots of climbing. Reached the top branches multiple times.”

Heather pulls a face.

“Ew. Like, go you, if you mean what I think you mean. But still, ew.”

Rebecca nods as if she’s not really hearing and fiddles with her zipper, forehead creased in thought. Heather rises from her seat and heads to the kitchen to retrieve Rebecca’s usual mug. She fills up at the coffee pot before sliding it over to her roommate.

“Oh! Thanks,” says Rebecca, giving Heather a thankful-but-quizzical look, one eyebrow up, as she retakes her seat.

Heather shrugs. “You work at a bar long enough, you learn not to leave conflicted people without something in front of them.”

“Huh,” Rebecca eyes her cup. “This is coffee, right? Or are there some special ingredients that I should be aware of?”

Heather makes a point of rolling her eyes. “I promise I didn’t spike your Folgers.” She watches as Rebecca takes a tentative sip. “You’re in a weird mood today. You sure tree-climbing was ok? Nothing fell down?”

“No.” Rebecca groans and lets her head fall forward on the kitchen table. She rights herself and takes a deep breath, like she’s prepping for a case, which Heather still finds totally hot, boyfriend or not. “Nothing went weird with the tree-climbing, seriously. Nathaniel was just being a dick about me walking out in one of his shirts again.”

“Mhm,” Heather hums, because she knows about the (rare) cycles when Rebecca does laundry and she hasn’t missed the sudden appearance of too-large t-shirts in the basket. “I can understand that. Isn’t this, like, the fourth one?”

“I returned his dress shirt,” Rebecca points out, tapping her fingers against the mug. “And he only sleeps in the others anyways. He doesn’t need them. Look, they’re comfortable and sometimes, it’s just easier to stuff your blouse in your purse until you get home.”

“You could bring an overnight bag,” suggests Heather. “Or just, you know, set an alarm when you sleep over.”

“Like a routine?” Rebecca pulls a face. “No way, that would make this…tree climbing more of a thing than it already is.”

Heather doesn’t even bother to voice a response to that mess of a sentence, just sips at her coffee and stares unblinkingly at Rebecca.

Rebecca wags a finger at her. “Oh no, I’m not getting into that. Not yet. Back to the subject, I was able to…persuade him that I just needed to borrow one of his shirts for today, because the buttons on mine got pulled a little loose—”

Heather groans and looks up at the ceiling. “Less detail, please.”

“…long story short, he agreed to lend me a shirt, on the condition he picked the shirt I walked out in.”

“Uh…”

“I know, right? He has no idea how to dress women either, which led to this.”

Rebecca stands from her chair and gives a short, sharp tug on the zipper of her hoodie, exposing a plain gray shirt with red lettering.

Heather squints and cocks her head to one side.

“Who’s ‘Stan’ and why does Nathaniel want you to wear a shirt with his name on it?”

Rebecca looks down at her chest and rolls her eyes as she pulls it open wider.

“Oh, ‘Stanford’,” reads Heather. “Got it. That’s not that weird. I was expecting some kind of tacky graphic.”

“No, it’s much worse. I went to Harvard. And Yale. No way am I gonna be caught dead walking around in some West-Coast-Ivy-wannabe brand name on my boobs.”

“Right,” drawls Heather. “And you totally only thought up that phrase after you walked out the door?”

“Nope!” says Rebecca proudly. “I told him to his face.”

“Hm. That must have gone well.”

“I thought so. I mean, then he said some shit, so I said some shit—”

“Sounds mature.”

Rebecca glares at Heather, annoyed.

“Anyways, he gave me a challenge for me to take the shirt of my choice. I lost.”

“And this is the result…?” Heather trails off, giving Rebecca her opening.

“My options were to either wear this shirt in public for one full day, or under my clothes for three.”

Heather raises her eyebrows. “Of course, you swallowed your pride and won’t be sweating into that shirt for three days?”

Rebecca places her hand over her heart as if wounded. “It’s as if you don’t know me at all.”

“Okay, that’s weird.”

“Shut up. It was a weird conversation.” Rebecca returns to her seat, toying with the shirt’s neckline. “Isn’t it stupid? Like, so stupid.”

“Then why are you smiling?”

Rebecca jolts and the smile falters and flattens to a thin line, as she looks back up to meet Heather’s gaze.

“I wasn’t smiling.”

“You totally were. It’s fine, you know. You should have something that makes you happy.”

“But I shouldn’t be,” insists Rebecca. “Happy about this stupid thing, I mean. I’m stuck in a shirt for an inferior school. I should be offended. I can’t say this enough, it was such a stupid challenge.”

“What was the challenge?” asks Heather, before her brain catches up to her screaming “bad idea!” right as Rebecca opens her mouth. “Wait, actually, if it has anything to do with tree-climbing, don’t tell me.”

“If only.” Rebecca pouts. “No, he used his height against me. That stupid, stupid sexy sequoia is way too tall.”

“Wow,” says Heather. “You just made a tree sound like a term of endearment.”

“I did not!” says Rebecca, offended. She scrunches up her face, replaying her words back to herself, then blanches.

“No, you’re right, I did. Oh my god.” Rebecca slumps back in her seat, stricken. “Oh my god.”

“Are you okay?”

“No. Ugh, no, feelings,” spits Rebecca, rubbing her hands over her eyes, contorting her face. “Stupid bets like this aren’t a hookup thing, huh? Is this oxytocin again? Shit.”

“Maybe?” says Heather, a little alarmed. “But also, like, maybe not. You talked to Dr Damn about him, right?”

“About Nathaniel in general? Yes, but this specifically? No, but I think I’ll have to.” Rebecca covers her face with her hands. “Ugh, I thought was doing so well, too.”

“I don’t think you’re doing badly,” hedges Heather.

“I’m not so sure.” Rebecca takes a deep breath and straightens back up in her seat, regaining her composure. “But I needed that. Thank you, Heather.”

Heather shifts in her seat, uncomfortable at the fervency in Rebecca’s tone.

“Don’t thank me yet,” she cautions. “I mean, if you’re worried, definitely talk to Dr Damn, but, like, I don’t know what’s going on with you guys and that’s by choice, so I might be missing something.”

“No, of course,” Rebecca takes a deep breath and seems a little calmer. “Don’t worry, I’m not gonna spiral. It’s just another day in the life of Rebecca Bunch in recovery. I’ll be fine. But let’s not talk about me anymore,” Rebecca makes a shooing gesture with her right hand, as if she can physically bat away the specter of her ex-boss and whatever unsexy feelings are attached to him. “It’s the Sunday debrief. Tell me about your night and Hector’s sweet ass.”

Heather pulls a face.

“Okay, please don’t ever say that phrase ever again. But it was good. We watched Get Out and screamed a lot. Nothing too out of the ordinary—”

Heather pauses, tilting her head in consideration. She had meant to ask Valencia something, initially, but Valencia’s dislike of Hector did not promise any enlightening answers.

“Actually, there was something that came up that was a little weird.”

Rebecca pounces on the distraction without any prompting.

“What was it? You totally don’t need to tell me if you don’t want to. But tell me!” Rebecca scoots her chair closer to Heather’s and props her chin in her hands, like a child anticipating a treat. Heather watches her sidelong, considering.

“All right. You know that dating advice podcast Hector has with his mom?”

“Vaguely? Why?” Her eyes suddenly go round. “Wait, don’t tell me…”

“Did she invite me to guest star? She did. She wants to interview us together and see if Hector and I are incorporating any tips from previous episodes into our relationship, as well as give us some special tips she’s been saving for the occasion of Hector getting a girlfriend.”

“Oh no,” breathes Rebecca, clapping her hands over her ears, her shock cutting straight through horror and right to awe. “That is terrible. That is so awful.” She scoots her chair a little closer and leans in, eyes still wide. “Are you gonna do it?”

Heather opens her mouth to say that she hasn’t made up her mind yet, takes another look at Rebecca’s too bright eyes, and abruptly switch tactics.

“I mean, maybe? I thought it might actually be a good promotional opportunity for Miss Douche, if nothing else. I even have a pitch written up that’s perfect for an audio-only audience.”

“Oh my god.” Rebecca gapes, and then covers her face, unsuccessful in smothering her laughter. “Heather, that’s horrible.”

“I know,” says Heather, hiding her smile behind her mug. “You’re not the only one who might be having a weird relationship dynamic shift here. And at least your sequoia has his own apartment.”

“True,” Rebecca hums. “There are some pretty nice platforms there.”

“Again, good for you, but I don’t need to know.”