#also i uh. thought the tea was tomato soup

[beeejayy]

Hi I redrew a scene I like my version they don't look STIFF

[cuttoothed]

Getting this in just under the wire for day 1 of @jonmartinweek prompt “Comfy Jumpers”. I get so much joy from writing these two in s1 and thinking “lol you idiots are going to be in love some day.”

*

Martin knows that Jon doesn’t approve of the way he dresses.

It’s not exactly a surprise. Jon doesn’t approve of much about Martin: his report-writing, his Latin translations, even his very existence seems to irk Jon at times. Frankly, the feeling is mutual. Martin was perfectly happy working in the library, where his boss wasn’t an overbearing perfectionist arsehole, and if he’d been given a choice in the matter he’d still be shelving books and updating the filing systems, not getting glared at for his clothing choices. He’s well aware that Jon never wanted him in the Archives either, but they’re here now, so Mister Head Archivist is just going to have to live with it. They’re both going to have to.

Jon isn’t subtle about his displeasure; it’s difficult to miss his pointed scowls at Martin’s scuffed trainers and graphic-print t-shirts. And considering that Sasha wears jeans and t-shirts some days as well—though admittedly she tends to plain colors or muted prints, rather than retro video game characters—it’s pretty clear that it’s less about the clothes than it is the person wearing them.

Well, Jon can scowl all he wants, because everything Martin wears technically falls within the Institute’s dress code and there’s not a word Jon can say to him.

Martin has always run hot, so as winter closes in and other people are bundling up in heavy coats and jumpers, he throws hoodies over his t-shirts and zips them up only far enough that the bright graphic prints are still clearly visible to Jon’s critical eye.

Yeah, he thinks sometimes when he walks into Jon’s office, get an eyeful of Yoshi and see how you like it.

Jon, for his part, seems determined to outlast the winter in his usual dress shirt and tweed jacket combo. Martin knows that Jon isn’t particularly warm blooded—he’s seen the way the man huddles into his jacket like a tortoise in its shell until the central heating warms the basement up in the mornings—but he still refuses to add so much as an argyle sweater vest to his outfit in deference to the season.

The only concession Jon makes to the weather is a voluminous gray overcoat and a dark purple scarf, which he takes off the moment he gets into the office, regardless of how cold it is before the ancient heating system creaks to life.

And, well, it’s none of Martin’s business if his boss is too much of a pompous arse to dress appropriately for the weather. If he wants to freeze his backside off to maintain his academic dignity, far be it from Martin to intervene. Martin doesn’t feel sorry for him, when he sees Jon blowing on his fingers to warm them up, or briskly rubbing his arms while he waits for the kettle to boil and he thinks nobody else is around. Not in the slightest.

It’s below zero on the day in December when the central heating finally gives up the ghost. Even Martin can feel the chill in the Archives this morning, keeps his hoodie zipped up all the way even when he runs into Jon in the kitchenette. Jon looks miserably cold, his shoulders hunched and his movements stiff as he makes his tea.

“Morning, Jon,” Martin says cheerfully. “Bit nippy, isn’t it?”

“Just a bit,” says Jon sardonically. Somewhere overhead, there’s a metallic clanking as the heating system starts up.

“Finally,” Jon mutters, casting his eyes upward. The pipes creak and clank some more, and there’s an odd whirring sound that Martin’s fairly sure isn’t normal, and then a long, descending groan into silence.

“Oh,” says Martin. “That doesn’t sound good.”

“Bloody hell,” says Jon, and storms off to his office. A while later, he sends an email to inform them all that he’s spoken to Elias and the heating is out for the whole building, and that they should all feel free to work from home for the rest of the day if they choose. Sasha and Tim waste no time packing up, but Martin lingers, agonizing over which notes and references he should take with him. He’s never before had a job where working from home was an option, and he isn’t Tim or Sasha, isn’t someone Jon trusts and actually wanted to work with. Martin needs to make sure he gets it right.

At last he thinks he has everything he needs, but still Martin is hesitating, fiddling with the strap of his satchel. Maybe he should just check in with Jon before he leaves, make sure there isn’t anything else he needs to do. Make sure Jon knows I’m going to be working today, not just skiving off.

The door to Jon’s office is standing ajar; Martin taps on it, and pokes his head in without waiting for a response.

Jon looks up as he walks in, his expression startled. He is wearing a jumper. A chunky knit jumper in a warm maroon color, with a Christmas tree and several reindeer on the front. One of the reindeer has a red bobble for a nose. The jumper is oversized, the ends of the sleeves falling past Jon’s wrists.

It’s...incredibly cute, which is not a term that Martin ever expected to associate with his arsehole boss. Attractive, in a severe, unattainable way, sure, but not cute. Yet somehow, here they are.

“Ah, Martin,” Jon says, looking flustered. “I, uh, I thought you’d left with the others?”

“I was—I just wanted to check in with you first, make sure you didn’t need anything. You should head home too, it’s freezing in here.”

“I—I’m perfectly fine.” Jon plucks at the front of the jumper, looking embarrassed. “This is, ah, I bought this for the Institute Christmas party, but it’s surprisingly warm—and quite comfortable.”

“Oh, that’s, uh, that’s not part of your usual wardrobe then?” Martin hazards a chuckle, and to his relief, Jon huffs an amused breath. He raises a hand to adjust his glasses, but his sleeve gets in the way; he pushes both sleeves up to the elbows, and oh no, that’s even cuter.

“No, not—not usually,” he says. Martin frowns, suddenly remembering.

“You didn’t wear it at the party last week, though?”

“No, it’s—it was from the previous year, when I was in Research. It-it didn’t seem appropriate this year, being in a management role. Fortunately I still had it in a box, though I, uh, I didn’t really expect anyone to see me in it.”

Martin feels a sudden pang of something that might be sympathy. He understands how it feels, the desperate pressure to be professional, to be taken seriously, the constant second guessing of what you’re doing, whether you’re giving away something you shouldn’t. It’s hardly the same, of course: Jon’s not likely to be fired for wearing a silly jumper. But...Martin gets it.

“Actually,” he lies, “I, uh, I have to meet with Sophie up in the library later, so I’m around for the day. I was just going to go out and pick up some early lunch. Thought I’d see if you want anything?”

“Oh, ah, where are you going?” Jon asks tentatively, looking surprised at the offer.

“I was thinking of that cafe just around the corner—maybe get some soup and a sandwich?”

“That would be...very nice, actually. If you’re sure you don’t mind?”

“I wouldn’t have offered if I did,” says Martin, and takes the ten pound note Jon offers him.

“Thank you, Martin,” says Jon, and it’s the probably the most sincere thing Martin’s ever heard him say. He finds himself smiling without meaning to.

“Not a problem.”

It’s too early for lunch, really, but Martin knows Jon never eats breakfast and he missed it himself this morning. He gets two portions of steaming tomato and basil soup and toasted cheese sandwiches from the cafe, and when he gets back, Jon’s found a small space heater to plug in, so his office is marginally warmer than the rest of the Archives. They sit on opposite sides of Jon’s desk to eat, talking about the case that Martin’s working on. It’s the first time Martin’s actually had the chance to properly discuss a case, rather than stumbling through his report while Jon watches expectantly; Jon listens, and asks questions, and even offers some helpful suggestions for Martin’s follow up. It’s...oddly nice.

(Jon also continues to look unreasonably cute in his oversized Christmas jumper, but Martin carefully ignores that.)

The heating gets fixed by early afternoon, and the Archives warm up to the point where Martin can unzip his hoodie. When he drops off his finished case report to Jon’s office, Jon is back in his shirt and jacket, the maroon jumper packed away out of sight. He looks perfectly staid and professional once again. I saw you looking cute, though, Martin thinks, and then tries to pretend he didn’t; he is not going down that route.

Jon glances up when Martin comes in, taking in the “Marvin the Martian” t-shirt that’s now visible beneath his hoodie. Instead of a disapproving scowl, however, he gives a small, hesitant smile.

“Thank you, Martin,” he says as he takes the report, and something flutters warm in Martin’s chest.

Oh no, he thinks.

[superhero--imagines]

Part 1 Here! / Part 2 Here!

A/N: I think The next post will be the last one for this series!

“Did you...have fun tonight?” The way Dick haltingly asks causes laughter to bubble out of your mouth

“I can say that was nothing like any family dinner I’ve ever seen-“

And if that isn’t the truth, for one - even though you’ve heard of all of Bruce Wayne’s adopted children, you didn’t think there would be so many.

Dick’s the oldest, well officially anyway. Barbara Gordon, as in Commissioner Gordon’s daughter, was at dinner too. Apparently she and Dick had a brief stint where they dated. You’re guessing it was before Dick realized he likes boys - or maybe he likes both? You’ve never expressly asked him about using sexuality.

He’s got three little brothers, the youngest and the second oldest seem to have the highest predisposition towards violence, mostly to each other. And then the second youngest, Tim, he seems to be barely held together, mostly through caffeine and anxiety.

Cassandra from class was there too, as well as Stephanie, which was nice to see. They ducked out halfway through, which should have been your queue to duck out too.

Unfortunately you didn’t, which resulted in a rather poorly placed tomato soup stain at the edge of your dress’s hem.

“I like your brothers though” you say with a smile. You did like his brothers. The youngest, Damian, stared at you for seven very long minutes, before saying-

“How do you feel about animals?” When you told him you loved them he seemed pleased. Also, as a college student, you vibe with Tim. Though you do think someone should cut him off and have him switch to herbal tea. Jason seems cool enough, he just looked at you for a second before giving Dick a wolffish grin.

“Alfred was nice too, and it was fun seeing your- uh...Bruce again” You almost called Bruce his Dad. Bruce is nice, but he’s still a bigot. It was nice meeting Alfred, who showed you many pictures of a nine year old Dick Grayson, most of which were him doing acrobatics around the house. Honestly you thought it was adorable, but you put an end to it since Dick was blushing so fiercely that you thought he might combust.

It really was a lot of fun.

You shiver, the cold night air brushing against your bare arms. You’re standing in front of your building, saying your final goodbyes until you scamper off to your apartment, getting ready for another week of classes.

“Here, take my jacket-“ He’s already tugging it off. Before you can protest, it’s settled over your shoulders. The effect is almost instant, tendrils of warmth seeping into your shoulders and upper body.

It smells like him, you think.

Like- like his expensive cologne, with notes of amber and moss- but also like soap, like clean laundry, and something else, something sweet.

“Cotton Candy” You murmur to yourself. He probably eats it by the gallon sized bag , you think with a giggle.

“T-thank you-“ your eyes trail from the sleeve of his suit jacket to Dick, who’s got a pink tint fanning across his face, blue eyes flicking from the ground to your eyes.

“Thank you for coming with me tonight, and being so kind and considerate and lovely” and then Dick does something completely unexpected, he leans in closer and presses a kiss to your forehead. Your heart leaps in your chest, his sickly sweet Cotten candy scent floods your senses.

You would just have to tilt you head up slightly to catch his lips in yours. He smells so sweet, it almost makes you dizzy. It’s like being drunk, you think.

You want to smell him more.

“Thank you for being so accepting.” His words are like a bucket of cold water being dumped over your head. You feel like you’ve sobered right up.

“Of course, we’re friends aren’t we?” You offer Dick a smile, but you know it’s probably strained. You were so caught up in the moment, you forget he’s already in love with someone.

All of his feelings, all of his kisses, they’re reserved for Nightwing.

“I’ll see you in class tomorrow” You call out, before walking into your building, feeling Dick’s lingering

So you like Dick.

F*ck.

You’re on the balcony of your apartment, nursing a glass of hot tea in the late night- or would it be early hours of the morning? You can make out the sky beginning to lighten into a lighter blue. Great so you stayed up all night thinking about your feelings.

Your body is going to love you for this.

How did this even happen? Were you just so focused on not getting a crush on either of his sisters that you didn’t see this coming. Ugh why dick of all people? Yeah, sure he’s got those sparkly eyes, and that permanent rosy blush, not to mention that lopsided grin-

Okay so you know why you’re falling in love with him. But there’s no point in nursing these blooming feelings not when-

“Hey do you have any sugar?” The masked crusader asks from beside you. That dazzling smile that makes people everywhere swoon aimed at you.

No point in nursing feelings for Dick, when the object of his affections is standing next to you, drinking earl grey out of your pink “Namaste in bed” mug.

“Or not- no big deal, I love my hot leaf juice with or without sugar.” He adds hastily, taking a loud sip as if to show you how much he’s enjoying your hospitality. You must have let your annoyance get to your face. You sigh, it’s not his fault that Dick loves him.

You’re the outsider here.

“So what are you doing out so late?” You ask, just wanting to make some small talk. But Nightwing lights up like you just offered him a million dollars. He’s so friendly it’s almost annoying, not unlike another certain dark haired golden boy you know.

“I’m always up, fighting crime, patrolling the streets-“ you never realized but being a vigilante is kind of a lot of work huh? You wonder if Nightwing has a day job, he looks so young though- maybe he’s still in school.

“The real questions is why are you still up?” His question is punctuated with a slurp of his tea.

“Just thinking I guess” you shrug, taking a sip of your own tea. You’re not about to tell Nightwing you realized you have feelings for his boyfriend.

“Thinking about the person you love?” It feels like you were just struck by an arrow. Nightwing’s mouth stretches. “No way, I was right?” You can almost picture the sparkle in his eyes behind his domino mask. You wonder what color eyes Nightwing has.

Probably a boring brown.

“Well who’s the lucky individual?” Noting your hesitance, Dick starts to get a little nervous. It hurts a little to think you don’t return his feelings. But there’s something about the shy look on your face, the way your eyes avert to your cup of tea, that’s just hopelessly adorable. What he wouldn’t give to have you look at him that way.

And then, a terrifying thought occurs to Dick.

“Don’t tell me you’re in love with Bruce Wayne?” He’s got absolutely no chance if you’re into older men. No unless you’re willing to wait ten years or so.

Then the most amazing thing happens- your mouth opens and laughter spills out. He’s heard you laugh, but never like this. So loud, and almost desperate.

And then, you do something else he’s never seen before. Somewhere along the way those loud laughs transformed into equally loud sobs. Your mouth pinched tight as tears spill from the corners of your eyes.

A hand curls over your eyes in an attempt to cover your face. This is mortifying, you’re basically crying in front of your romantic rival, completely vulnerable.

You’re about to mutter out an excuse, how you’re not usually like this, that you must be close to your period or something. When you feel a pair of arms wrap around your shoulder, your face pressed against Nightwing’s chest.

“It’s okay, everything’s going to be okay” he murmurs reassuringly, his glove covered hand rubbing soothing circles into your back. And even though you were on the edge of recompsure, you’re thrust back into despair. Your sobs leaving you almost breathless as Nightwing continues to hold you.

“Tell me what’s wrong, so I can help” Dick whispers. Whatever it is, it must be serious. He’s never seen you cry, not when you were a hostage in that bank robbery, or held at gun point at that restaurant, not even when Damian was basically integrating you all night.

“I love someone, who’s never going to love me back” you manage between sobs, and Nightwing only shushes you. His hand traveling to your hair. Cradling your head against his chest.

He smells so good, like amber and moss, and something sickeningly sweet- like cotton candy.

He smells like Dick.

And that seems to soothe you a bit, along with Nightwing’s gentle warmth.

“Don’t worry, everything’s going to be fine, I promise”

“Man, and I thought things were going really well between you guys” Stephanie says, her hand threading through her golden curls, head tilting back so it rests against the back of his couch.

“Yeah, me too” Dick admits with a sigh, he’s sitting with his knees propped up on the floor, his back against the wall.

Cassandra doesn’t say anything, her eyes are trained on the coffee table, their masks collectively strewn across it.

“So what are you going to do?” Stephanie asks, and Dick sighs again.

“What can I do honestly, they love someone else” he shrugs, he plays it off like it’s not a big deal. But the thought of your with someone else... it makes his stomach hurt.

“Just because she loves someone else right now...doesn’t mean she will forever” Those are the first words Cass has uttered all night, and Dick and Stephanie are both looking at her with wide eyes.

Stephanie’s already hyping him up, saying there’s no way their Dick’s going to lose to some no-face-extra, like your love is some sort of competition to be won.

And Cassandra’s only encouraging her, with energetic nods and the occasional ‘exactly’

But all Dick can think about is the way you felt in his arms, and how small you seemed as sobs wracked through your entire body. How deep your sadness felt, like he might be sucked in any moment too, tears falling from beneath his domino mask.

He hates whoever it is that made you feel that way. If it was him- if you loved him instead, he’d make sure you were never sad, he’d give you everything he was and everything he had if it meant you might smile for him.

He doesn’t want to change your mind, your feelings don’t work like that. All he knows is that he loves you- and what you need right now, is a friend. Someone who-

“Just wants to see them happy” Dick mumbles.

Taglist: @adenspolaroids @libraryoffandomsuniverse @jeneeangella @chyume @masked-mushroom

[dajaregambler]

HeliosR - Help! Cooking Hero Event story - Chapter 15 (final)

Translation of chapter 15 of the event ‘Help! Cooking Hero’ from ‘Helios Rising Heroes’.

Brad: I’ve heard that you were the one that thought of the menu, Will. The pasta representing my image was absolutely delicious.

Akira: Mine was this spicy tomato soup, right. It was damn good♪

Akira: Actually, all these dishes were so good that I ate them in the blink of an eye 

Brad: We’ll have the dessert that represents Will now, right. Sweet cream ‘dorayaki’ together with a bitter green tea, it’s an unusual combination. 

Will: I made it with keeping in mind how you eat Japanese sweets. Keith-san told me about how you’ve treated him to some of these sweets a long time ago.

Will: Which made me think, if I could maybe try to make the best use of my sweet tooth for this dish....

Akira: EH!? Will, you made this dessert!?

Will: ….! T-that’s right…

Akira: Will made it, huh……….

Akira: Uh, right... Um, uuuuh---

Brad: It’s delicious

Will & Akira: !?

Brad: The dough and cream are both sweet, however it blends in well with the bitterness of the green tea. The taste, as well as the dough, feels soft. 

Brad: With this dish, it’s more as if Will’s sweet tooth is part of his personality, rather than a flaw. 

Will: Part of my personality….

Brad: Yes. It’s a waste that it’s only offered for a limited time though.

Will: I memorized how to make it, so I’ll treat you to it whenever you’d like to!

Akira: I-is it seriously that good? Even though Will made it…..?

Will: ……..

Akira: Uuuughhh~~ I gotta brace myself!

Akira: ………………

Akira: Wuh? I can eat it……..

Will: !!

Akira: What the hell, it IS tasty! The dorayaki is like, very sweet on it’s own but with the green tea it’s great

Will: …….It’s the first time

Akira: Mgh?

Will: It’s the first time that you told me it’s delicious.

Akira: Well, your cooking was god awful until now. But this right here is tasty. I mean it

Oscar: I’m happy for you, Will

Oscar: The reason for our success is because of the menu you thought of, Will. What you came up with, stemmed from the effort you put in it until now… 

Oscar: These results are nothing but proof of your hard work that fully led us through it. …...You did amazing, Will.

Will: Not at all, on my own I wasn’t able to cook any proper food.

Will: But because you and Keith-san have helped me till the very end… I’m now able to make decent things. 

Will: Thank you very much too for letting me do this job, Brad-san….!

Will: I was able to make the staff and the citizens happy… and Akira too… I’m very thankful for this opportunity you gave me. 

Will: The fact that I was able to be useful to everyone…. I’m truly happy about it.

Brad: ….Yes. Don’t forget these feelings and continue to put effort into your duties.  

Will: Of course! I’m a hero after all, I’ll do my best for the sake of the people!

Will:  And also…. I’ll keep on doing my best to make food that’ll make people say it’s delicious!

Akira & Oscar: Huh!?

Oscar: Will, it’s certain that effort doesn’t betray. But… don’t overdo it too much. 

Akira: Uuuhm, am kinda getting a bad feeling about this…..?

Will: (Hehe, I’m really happy that this was a success….)

Will: (Alright, wonder what I’ll make tomorrow♪)

[malcolmwhitly-bright]

Malcolmnapped

@shut-up-im-jay... I love you too ;) 

“What,” JT mumbles upon seeing Malcolm has arrived for the day,” no therapy suckers?” JT frowns into his coffee, obscuring his face from Malcolm’s view. Something he does frequently, Malcolm’s come to understand it’s protective. JT doesn’t mean to alienate Malcolm so much as keep him at bay. Remove certain things from Malcolm’s ‘mind-reading’ eyes. “It’s Thursday, isn’t?” There is a hint of worry. The implication that if Malcolm doesn’t have suckers then he hasn’t gone to therapy. Fear… strange enough, JT has a small amount of fear for Malcolm. He hopes there’s another explanation. 

Malcolm nods him an affirmation, pressing a sucker into JT’s hand. Even offering a small explanation,” I accidentally grabbed two cherries.” As a means of clearing up why JT has a red-covered sucker instead of his usual. Not that flavors matter while JT’s brain is trying to cover and distort his concern. Luckily, Malcolm doesn’t think much of the weird glances from JT anymore.

He’s in content and safe with them. Until he’s not.

“You good?”

Malcolm schools his features, smiling as his left-hand cramps painfully around the strangely conducted letter he has just found on his desk. ‘To my greatest love’ it was dedicated. The words strangely loving but his name was attached at the bottom, ‘I love you, my dearest Malcolm’. “Me?” He shoves the paper into one of the already too full drawers of his desk. He motions a waving motion,” always.”

Dani glances at JT but her old partner is already tucking himself behind his desk, unconcerned now that his suspicions have been disproven. The kids going to therapy, that’s good enough for him. Dani sees through Malcolm’s ploy, his voice too assured. “Right,” she clears her throat. “Gil wants us all in the conference room. Edrisa’s got something.”

They always come on Thursdays. It’s a pattern, one he can only suspect and roll over in his mind by himself. He doesn’t dare air it to the others. He can only imagine the soft, playful smile JT will give him. He’ll brush it off, tell him to turn that profiling brain off for a minute. Give it a rest. Dani will give him sad eyes but she’ll probably reassure him it’s probably nothing. 

And it probably is nothing so he brushes it off.

There are six half-ruined letters in his desk drawer when he starts to feel watched.

“What’re you looking for?” 

Malcolm flinches, so caught in his self made fear that he lost contact with his surroundings. “Uh,” he scratches his cheek, hair growing where he hasn’t shaved in several days. “Just thought I heard something,” he shrugs, a small smile forcing its way on to his cheeks. He glances behind himself again, forcing his eyes forward after to stop further worrying Dani or JT who have both noticed now his odd behavior. 

But he’s Malcolm and they’re always secretly worried.

“He’s late.”

Dani looks up from her work, looking at her dimmed computer screen. She can hear the clear distress in JT’s voice and she finds he’s right. “It’s only two,” Dani tries to reason,” he can still come in.” Except, they’ve got an active case and it’s Thursday which means Malcolm should have been in hours ago. She stands from her desk and JT is right behind her, both of them making their way to Gil.

“Hey-”

Gil is on the phone, mouth twisted into a frown. He hangs up,” that was Jessica.” He looks at the two of them and it becomes abundantly clear what they are barging into his office for. “No word from Bright?”

JT shakes his head,” radio silence since he left early yesterday.”

Gil runs a hand over his goatee, fingers trailing through the peppered hair. “That’s not good.”

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

He wakes up in the dark. 

He’s an adult so it would be safe to assume that is how he wakes up most nights. However, he learned years ago that having a nightlight may be childish but it’s also helpful. The complete lack of light is his first sign that something is not right.

The next is the way his mouth tastes, like drugs. He struggles to clear his throat, his throat raw.

A light overhead it suddenly clicked on, a woman descending stairs he wasn’t able to see in the dark.

“What did you give me?” Malcolm tries not to let his fear overpower his ability to think clearly. Fear, he’s starting to realize, isn’t his only danger. His arm throbs where she stuck the syringe in and his profiler brain concludes she isn’t a nurse but his civilian brain is freaking out. 

She smiles sweetly,” just something to calm you down.” She points to his hands, both trembling with the full effects of his nerves,” there’s no need for you to be so nervous, sweetheart. I love you. You’re safe.”

Malcolm squints in the low light, attempting to put a face to the woman. She looks vaguely familiar like someone he’s seen in the mall or at a shop. Obviously, he did something to attract her attention but he can’t think of a single thing he’s done to ‘wow’ anyone lately. Last week, he tripped and spilled tea on some poor barista. Two days ago he ran into a display at some store Ainsely pulled him through. 

“How,” Malcolm pauses to think about how he wants to word his question. “How did we meet?”

She smiles softly and Malcolm thanks his lucky stars that at least she’s not hostile. “The coffee shop, silly.” 

He didn’t spill the tea on her, that girl was brunette and short. So…

“I was behind you in line,” she is clearly waiting for him to connect the dots. Mercifully, she grins and retells the romantic adventure that brought them together. “I dropped my credit card and, you being such a gentleman, you picked it up for me.” She places a hand over her heart,” I just knew. You smiled at me and I knew you needed me to save you.” She motions around them,” so I did!”

“Right,” Malcolm agrees. “Can-Can you unlock me then?” Her immediate reaction sends a spike of fear down his chest. “I-I have sensitive skin,” he motions his head to the straps tightened just a little too tight. “It hurts.” 

She thinks for a moment but shakes her head. “I can’t trust you yet.” She winks playfully,” but don’t worry, my love. Our devotion to one another is strong, you’ll be out of those straps in no time.”

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

“Jesus.”

Dani keeps pulling out the letters. She’s not looking at the words, her eyes scanning through his desk drawers for all the letters addressed to ‘My Love’. By the time they have emptied his drawer, there’s a sizable pile on the top of the desk. Each one declaring this person’s undying love for Malcolm. 

They read through them, more or less able to put them in order. The first few are shy but the last ones are serious. The writer talks about ‘the curly-haired bitch’ Malcolm needs to be careful of. Warning him that ‘the bitch’ will break his heart and ruin his life. The writer escalates, threatening Gil, they call him ‘the goateed man’, and JT the ‘big idiot’. The writer offers to take care of Malcolm and through implication get rid of the others. 

“Leave it Bright to get a creepy potential killer stalker,” JT mumbles, flipping through the letters. 

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

He tries not to flinch each time she touches his arm. If he wants to get out of the restraints he needs to make her believe he trusts her. It’s hard. She touches him for generally no reason. She throws her head back when she laughs at a joke she’s told, hand running down his bicep. He can handle most of it but occasionally her hand brushes his jaw.

“What’s wrong?”

He’s trying hard to swallow his panic but after all this time he knows what his symptoms mean. Rather than pushing down his flinch, he pulls away from the hand she places on his knee. He wraps his body around himself as well as he can, counting in his head. 

“Malcolm?”

She’s genuinely worried, which is thoughtful but she’s to blame for his current anxiety attack. 

Tears squeeze out of the corner of his eyes, his chest impossibly tight.

“It’s okay.” There’s a sharp sting on his bicep and cool pain spreads in his veins. Drugs. “I know how to fix this.”

He blinks heavily, too familiar with the effects of sedatives for the ones she’s just used to work their full effect immediately. “You don’t love me,” he whispers. Her hand still drags down his jaw, gently lifting it so his eyes are forced to meet hers. “You don’t even know me.”

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

“It’s a phone number.”

Everyone glances up, Edrisa’s soft voice catching them off guard. She points to the digits they ruled out. They knew they weren’t for an address but they didn’t look like a phone number. There was no area code. There weren’t enough digits.

“It can’t be.”

Edrisa shakes her head and points to another letter, a single line. “No, it probably is. See?” She reads out a line vaguely referring to how the writer and Malcolm met. “They met in a shop, probably the one Malcolm goes to when he gets us coffee.” She pushes the paper across the table to Gil when he crooks a curious eyebrow. “So, she’s probably from the area, like Malcolm and us.”

JT shakes his head in disbelief,” you’re really on your A-game, aren’t you?”

Edrisa blushes,” I mean, I didn’t solve it. You still have to find him.”

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

Malcolm’s stomach cramps painfully. He isn’t hungry in the least but Becca, as he learned her name was, managed to force-feed him several spoon fulls of soup. Helpfully adding she knows about his sensitive stomach. He couldn’t spare the nerve to tell her that the Campbell’s tomato soup she gave him would upset his stomach more than anything else she could have selected.

She left him after he struggled with a fourth bite, frustrated. Leaving him to vomit in the dark, acidic soup burning his throat as it makes its way back up.

“Kid!”

Malcolm’s heart speeds up, his eyes frantically looking in the dark around him for the owner of the voice. Despite only knowing the detective a few short months, hearing the other man’s voice brings a rush of relief. “JT?” He pulls against the restraints, the sound of the metal loud enough to cue JT in the right direction.

“Bright!” JT stumbles into the room and he can hear the presence of another person but he can’t see past his own hand. “Bright, man, if you’re in here you better tell me because Gil or Dani will kill me if I accidentally shoot your dumbass.” There’s a rustle in the corner and JT fumbles with his left hand for the flashlight in his pocket, fingers scaling over it. He can’t find it.

“JT?” A soft voice calls and JT knows it’s Malcolm. “I-I’m not sure if you’re actually here or if-”

A soft click sounds through the room and JT directs his flashlight at Malcolm, both of them letting out similar sighs of relief. “Kid,” JT clears the room quickly, aiming the flashlight at the corners of the room before making his way to Malcolm. “It’s good to see you.”

Malcolm sags bone-tired into JT, letting the other man shoulder his weight. “I thought…” his voice trails off. He didn’t think they would be able to find him. He clears his throat, attempting to push away his blind fears. “W-Will you tell me what the J stands for now?”

JT chuckles softly but shakes his head. He pulls away, glancing over Malcolm and eyes momentarily shifting the small puddle of watery vomit. “No.” He pulls Malcolm’s hands from where they are secured to the wall behind him, unclipping the simple clasps. They look exactly like the ones Malcolm uses for bed. “After this shit?” JT shakes his head but pulls Malcolm back against him. “Man, you’re in so much trouble.”

Malcolm laughs softly, tears streaming down his cheeks. “Will you take me home,” he asks, face pushed into JT’s shoulder.

JT grits his teeth, pushing down his own tears. “Yeah, man,” he clears his throat,” of course.” Helping Malcolm to his feet, shouldering most of the kid’s weight as his legs tremble beneath him. “One thing though?” Malcolm leans heavily into him and looks questioningly up at him. “No more coffee shop girls, yeah?”

Malcolm shakes his head,” I promise.”

JT reaches up and gives Malcolm’s hair a teasing rustle,” good.”

[katedrakeohd]

This is for you @sirbeepsalot 🌹🥀🌺🌻🌼🌷⚘

I've had a bunch of asks in my inbox forever and need to finally get around to them. I was inspired by @drakeandcamilleofvaltoria and her one shot about Drake meeting Camille at her flower shop. I went in a totally different direction, but hopefully this little story is just as fluffy. 💗

....

Paint me a Picture 🎨🌷🌼

Drake hummed happily to himself as he stepped out of his office. He had just finished a conference call with his fellow council members finalizing the plans for Kate's upcoming baby shower. They had put off the party for the past two months amid fears of the Coronavirus spreading into Cordonia. Kate's due date of March 12th was fast approaching and they had reached the decision to reduce the guest list to under ten people. This suited Drake just fine because he wasn't much of a party person, plus Kate found too much attention and fussing around more tiring than exciting at this point.

Checking his watch, Drake realizes that his call had taken him well into the lunch hour and he was quite hungry. The plush carpet of the stairs muted his footsteps as he descended toward the main hall. He could feel the empty space blanket him in its silence, and he wondered where Kate, Hana and the corgis were.

When he had last seen Kate that morning she had been reorganizing the supplies in the nursery for the fourth time. He had chuckled at her restless nesting and kissed her on the cheek before leaving to make his phone call.

"Go get some fresh air and sunshine, it'll do you good."

Kate sighed, rubbing her aching back. "I guess so. I wonder what Hana's up to this morning."

Drake shrugged, "Send her a text to come get you and take your mind off baby stuff."

"Thanks, I will."

..

As he turned the corner toward the kitchen, Drake could smell toasting bread, and the delicious aroma of chicken soup. His mouth waters and he swallows, breathing deeply as his stomach rumbles. The sound of laughter, clink of plates and drawers opening and closing made him smile. Over the past 8 1/2 months the kitchen staff had become familiar with Kate's unusual cravings at all hours of the day. Early on she had wanted salty snacks, and then halfway through her second trimester her cravings had her wanting sweets, during the last month she had started combining the two in odd ways. It made Drake shake his head in wonder, but he obliged her desires. And if Kate was happy, Drake was happy.

Walking into the kitchen unnoticed, he sees the staff loading up a tray with a platter of sandwiches, and a pitcher of iced tea.

"Good afternoon Ladies," he says, and the laughing chatter amongst the women stops.

"Lovely day indeed, Your Grace." Marie the head cook replies with a smile.

Drake eyes the sandwiches on the platter hungrily. He could imagine sinking his teeth into the golden toasted bread, and hearing the crunch. "Are these for Kate and Hana by any chance?"

"Why yes they are. They're taking lunch in the sunroom. I can add another drinking glass and another plate if you'd like to join them."

Drake nods, "That would be wonderful. How about if I take lunch to them then?"

Claire, the young kitchen helper, protests as she sees Drake reach for the tray. "Oh my goodness, Your Grace, let us do that. You go on ahead and we'll bring lunch to you. "

Drake grabs half of a sandwich, "Well, if you insist. I'll just take this to go then, thanks."

Turning around to leave the kitchen Drake raises the sandwich to his mouth and checks the contents before taking a bite. Lettuce, tomato and a slice of swiss cheese. Not bad, but could use some bacon.

..

In the sunroom the atmosphere is that of a bright summer's day despite the dull late winter landscape outside. Lush greenery, tropical flowers and golden sunshine fill the space and give it a pleasant warmth. Off to one side, chair cushions are clustered together on the tiled floor. At the moment they're serving as lounges for sunbathing, sleeping, corgis; but earlier the cushions had served as a comfy surface for a gentle yoga session for Kate and Hana. Now the two friends were standing at easels and painting, chatting back and forth about what to hang in the nursery.

"So you and Drake still don't know if you're having a boy or a girl right?"

Kate nods, "As much as I want to know now, it's still a mystery. Our doctor knows though."

Hana purses her lips in thought as she dabs some blue on her canvas, "So do you mind if I paint a gender neutral landscape instead of flowers?"

"Not at all. I'm still sticking with flowers though. The ones in here are just too beautiful not to paint. If it doesn't suit the theme of the nursery I'll just hang it somewhere else."

Hana rinses out her brush, setting it aside and selects a different one to line in some happy little trees in a dark brown. "I suppose Drake is hoping that you have a little boy."

"He won't admit it, but of course he does. He's itching to go camping and fishing, to kick a football around, toss a baseball with a son."

With a shrug Kate draws in some green stems on her yellow daffodils, "Of course these are all activities he could do with a daughter as well. I remember tossing around a baseball with my Dad in the backyard."

Opening the door and stepping into the sunroom Drake is met by the wall of heat and fragrant scent of flowers. He immediately feels overdressed as a trickle of sweat runs down his neck. "How do you ladies stand it in here?"

Kate turns away from her painting to look at Drake, "Oh Hi Honey, welcome to summer in March."

Under the shade of her Sun hat, Kate is wearing one of Drake's old denim shirts as a painter's smock, the sleeves rolled up to her elbows. There's a green smudge of paint on her cheek. Drake notices that it appears that she's wearing little else other than flip flops.

"Uh, Kate? Are you naked under my shirt?"

Kate giggles, covering her mouth, putting another smudge of green on her face. "No silly. I'm wearing a bikini top and shorts." She glances down at herself, "I can see it looking that way though."

Hana is wearing a short summer dress, and her own Sun hat. "You look a little warm there Drake. I wouldn't mind if you decided to take off your shirt."

Kate snickers as she goes back to her painting, "Yeah Honey, don't be shy."

Drake clears his throat, loosening his top two buttons and rolling up his sleeves. "I think I'll just open a couple of windows instead."

Kate watches Drake crank open a window, appreciating the flex of the muscles in his forearms. The fresh air blows the fabric of his shirt against his chest, making it stick to the sweat on his skin. She realizes that he isn't wearing a tee underneath. Probably why he was reluctant to remove his shirt in Hana's company. Drake notices her watching him and gives her a wink as he walks across to open another window. "So what are you ladies painting today?"

Kate feels the cool breeze brush the hair off the back of her neck and she shivers with delight. "Thanks honey, I didn't realize just how warm it was getting in here."

Drake does a quick bow with flourish of his hand, "Always pleased to be of service, Your Grace."

Hana giggles, "We're painting flowers and landscapes, to answer your previous question."

Drake settles down on the floor with the corgis, resting his elbow on a cushion and rubbing a belly as one dog happily rolls over. "I have the pleasure of informing you ladies that iced tea and sandwiches are also on the way, for our lunch."

Hana wipes her brow, "Anything with Ice in it would be welcome right now. I first experienced cold tea when we were in Texas for Savannah's wedding. I wasn't sure if I'd like it."

Kate sighs, "Mmm, I love lemony iced tea in the summertime. I miss it from being back home."

Drake's stomach growls again, causing one of the corgis to give him a look and then retreat to a spot in the shade, "Sorry Fluffers, didn't mean to disturb you. Don't worry I'm not hungry enough to eat you, close but no."

"I could go for a big bowl of spaghetti and meatballs right now," Kate says wistfully as she paints a tomato red poppy onto her canvas bouquet.

Drake groans, folding his arms behind his head as he leans back on the cushions and closes his eyes, "Oh stop, you're just making me more hungry."

Kate bites her lip, "Ooh, or pizza. A nice big slice of ole New York thin crust with extra cheese."

"STOP IT!" Drake barks out a laugh, chuckling as he wipes the sweat off his brow. "I ate half a sandwich on my way here, and it's really tasting like another half right about now."

Kate wipes her hands on a rag, "Ooh, what type of sandwich?"

Drake shrugs, "I dunno, there was cheese and some lettuce in there, maybe tomato?"

Kate kicks off her flip flops and walks across the warm floor tiles to stand over Drake, casting a shadow across him, hands on her hips. "And you didn't think to bring the rest of the sandwiches with you?"

Drake cracks an eye open to look up at his wife, his face scrunching up in amusement at her paint smudged face and raised eyebrows. "Hey, I tried to take the tray with me. But I don't think the girls in the kitchen trusted me to get the sandwiches this far without eating a few."

Kate nudges his leg playfully with her foot. "So true. We've all seen how much you like to eat."

Drake growls playfully, reaching out to grab for her ankle but she steps back out of his reach, "Can't help it if I'm a hungry man, c'mere you. I bet you taste like chicken."

"Nah ah, if I get down on those cushions with you I might never get back up. I'm going to wash up my hands and then take a seat over there at the table. Besides I think cannibalism is frowned upon in Cordonia."

Drake smirks at her and rolls over on his stomach, watching her walk away. "Mmm, golden fried chicken. You know how much I'm a breast and leg man."

Hana bursts out laughing, "Geez guys get a room."

Continue on to the next part

[uniqueharreh]

Sick on Valentine’s day.

Summary: Y/N and H are neighbors for some time and after noticing the pattern of Harry’s usual day, Y/N visits him during Valentine’s day to check on him, finding out he is very sick and alone.

Warnings: none really, fluff, a lot of fluff.

Word Count: 2.2 k 

requested by anon

I couldn’t help myself but feel like slipping into the forced loneliness by the pressure of Valentine’s day coming a little too fast to my liking this year. It was everywhere, I was almost scared to open the fridge, so some stupid ad about love wouldn’t jump out of there. The only positive thing about the whole day was my favorite café giving out blueberry muffin free if you ordered a coffee to someone behind you. Which technically, doesn’t give you a free muffin to begging with. And I had few guys asking me out, or even say we could spend the valentine’s together. Which was even weirder, because we weren’t nothing but co-workers. But I wasn’t interested.

But I had one particular man on my mind, that I would say yes to. Harry damn Styles. We moved in at kind of the same time, to the same floor. We shared one thin wall and him slamming his front door at literally any hour of the day was pissing me off. Even though he was very nice, cute and somehow also very quiet. He minded his business and didn’t really seem like he would want to be even friends with me. Let alone to watch cringy rom-coms.

He is taller than me, a lot, maybe by six inches, not sure. We never really stood next to each other. If I waited for the elevator to come down, he would take the steps. And if he saw me near the stairs, he would settle for the elevator. Even though, something was telling me he didn’t mind the stairs.

I mean how many kale smoothies must one drink to poison themselves with kale. And he goes for a jog at unholy hours, like five or six in the morning. Even when it’s raining. It was close to nine, and I realized he didn’t slam his door yet. Not on his way out, or back. And neither did he yesterday and the day before.

And the nosy person started to get a little worried, I got off my bed, went to wear something a little more appropriate to check your neighbor in.

I took my keys and went over to his door, I was a little nervous, to say at least. We never really had a good talk, it always has been very quiet hellos. I don’t know why we never talked, to be honest. We are around the same age. Well, we probably don’t have that much in common. I can’t see myself at six am running around a park, like a dog chasing a cat.

And after a loud knock, I heard footsteps coming closer, the door opened only a bit and I noticed his watery eyes and red nose. He was, sick?

And I definitely didn’t think this through because I had no idea what to tell him. So we were both standing there, staring at each other. My mouth may be opened a few times and closed quickly after that.

“Can I help you?” he said a little bit annoyed, his raspy voice was probably sexier than I’d like to admit.

“I.. uhh... I noticed you weren’t, jogging lately. Was worried if you’re alright.” honesty is always the key, right?

But he was staring at me kind of shocked.

“How do you know I wasn’t jogging?” he said, leaning on the side of the door. I got finally the whole figure in front of me, he was wearing an oversized black jumper with huge NY on it, some oversized grey sweatpants and he sniffed time from time, as his running nose was taking the best of him.

“You slam the door very loud when leaving your apartment and when coming back home. It’s not hard to track your daily activities.” I murmured and he looked at me even more confused.

“Are you tracking my food intake as well?” he was a bit snappy, I probably interrupted him from a nap or something. So technically, I couldn’t blame him.

“Ehm, are you sick?” I tried to change the conversation elsewhere. It was valentine’s day and he was sick, and probably alone. And, somehow it made me feel even worse.

“No, I’m having the time of my life,” you said with a chuckle, “couldn’t feel better.” I didn’t know if you were joking or not. And after you saw my confused face, you started laughing. “I think, I’m having flu.” he added.

“Do you got some fruit at home? Tea? Meds?”

“No, not really, I rarely get sick. I drink some smoothies and ginger shots every morning, usually.” as if the entire house wasn’t aware of his smoothies.

“I could go out, buy you some. If you’d like.” he was looking at me kind of confused.

“Why would you do that?”

“I don’t have anything better to do, I guess.”

“I thought you hated me?” he said all of sudden, and I looked at him with wide opened eyes.

“What? Why would you think that?” my voice skipped a bit and it was an octave higher than usual. I cleared my throat.

“I don’t know, you rarely talk. And you always stare at me weirdly.” I was even more confused.

“I thought you don’t like me? I just, don’t talk to people unless they seem they would like to talk.”

He started laughing, but then he started coughing and I could see he wasn’t doing good at all.

“Okay, considering we are both stubborn fools. Let me take care of you? I make great chicken soup.” I offered and his eyes pierced mine.

“You wouldn’t mind?”

“I insist.” I smiled and he seemed to be relieved.

“God thank you, I’ve been eating pasta and tomato sauce for past three days, I’m sick off it,” he mumbled and I laughed a little

* * *

After I brought him his favorite kale smoothie, few ginger shots, bought him some herbs tea and made him a bowl of mean chicken soup, we’ve been sitting in his living room for a bit. He was cuddled to his blanket and coughed time from time. We had been talking about the basics of our lives.

But I couldn’t really focus on anything, but his voice and the way his lips moved, and even the tip of his nose. He always looked very bossy, and self-assured when he wasn’t sick. He was a definitely confident man but seeing him so fragile, tired and sick. It just gave me some mother feelings and I had the need to take care of him and make sure he is not spending this day alone.

“Would you like to watch some movie, with me?” he interrupted my thinking, and I realized he was looking at me a bit annoyed, asking me a question.

“A movie?”

“Yeah, The Notebook, I already asked you, but you were too busy staring at me.” The blood rushed into my cheeks, I was staring, admiring him. Thinking about him, and he knew that. I was too deep.

“The Notebook’s nice,” I mumbled, stood up and went to clean the bowl after his soup.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re very kind.” I froze in the middle of a movement, and because his kitchen was joint by a huge door, that was wide open, I knew he noticed.

“Kind?”

“You could have spent this day with your boyfriend or something. But you’re taking care of me. I consider that kind.” I scoffed as if I would have a boyfriend when my a bit arrogant, but the cute neighbor was on my mind for a few months now.

“I don’t really have a boyfriend.” I looked at him over my shoulder, seeing him watching me. I made myself a coffee while I was there, and cleaned a bit. He wasn’t messy. But it still wasn’t matching my lowest exception of the kitchen is clean.

“You don’t?”

“Do you really think I would agree to watch rom-com with you if I had?” I said, bringing my mug over to the living room, sitting next to him and watching him. His cheeks flushed red after a realization. “You like the Notebook, or is it your catchphrase?”

“No, I genuinely like the story. I like rom-coms,” he stated, proudly.

“Why aren’t you watching it with your girlfriend then?”

“I, uh... I am single.” He noted and went over to play the movie, I forced myself to take a sip of the coffee and look everywhere but not at him.

How was he single?

We were sitting next to each other, maybe first twenty minutes before he noticed shivering a bit.

“Want to share the blanket?” He smiled nicely. Too nicely and I wasn’t sure if I would contain myself.”

“You think that’s a good idea?”

“Well, I am a man with manners, I could cuddle you for a bit.” He mumbled and he left me staring at him, his dimples prominent while he pretended to watch the movie.

And I was still staring at his beautiful face.

“Maybe I could cover my legs?” I mumbled and he got closer to me, helping me to cover my legs. So here we were, practically still strangers who live next to each other, who was now sitting opposite each other, our legs kind of intertwined, and he started stroking my foot, giving me a soft massage. I wasn’t sure if he actually realized that he was touching me, because he seemed to be lost in the movie, quietly quoting some bits of the movie to himself.

And I noticed after a while that I was holding my breath for a bit. My eyes were glued to him, I was taking in every single part of his face, every detail, every curve of his curls. And he must have noticed I was staring at him, because he met my eyes, a smirk forming on his face.

“You don’t like the movie?” he knew I didn’t care about the stupid movie. He was far more interesting.

“I do.”

“You don’t seem to pay attention.” he simply noted and continued watching his favorite movie, I was sure about that at this point. And to my liking, he moved his hands to my other foot and massaged it gently.

I took a deep breath in, and I was met with his eyes. I hope he wouldn’t ask a single question, because I was trying to recollect myself from my dirty mind and his hands on me, even as innocent as giving someone a foot massage can be.

“You seem distracted,” he mumbled, stopping the movie, “come here.”

And so I got under the blanket with him and let him cuddle me to him, but after a while, it was him who rested his head on my shoulder, whose hair has been tickling me on my skin. And whose scent was making me dizzy.

He sometimes sneezed quietly, which wasn’t helping with all this overload of emotions I was going through. I always thought he was some mean, self-absorbed guy, but he seemed nice. A little too nice.

“Actually, it’s my first Valentine’s day alone in few years.” He said all of sudden, cuddling me up a bit more, covering his face that way.

“Really?” I moved my hand and started playing with his hair, it was soft, fluffy as well.

“Yeah, I was either with someone or I visited my family near Manchester,” I looked at him, his voice was getting a bit slower as I was playing with his hair, “if you continue to do this, I will fall asleep like this.”

I couldn’t help but loved how honest he was, and also how intimate this moment felt. He was almost laying on me, hugging me tightly and his thumb was my hip. Causing my heart rate to go up a little.

“Maybe, we could go out sometimes.” I nearly jumped out, of how suddenly he raised his voice and looked at me.

“God, you scared me.” I was laughing nervously, but the truth was, I wanted to go out sometimes with him as well.

“You seem nice, and you wanted to make sure I wasn’t alone. I can at least take you to dinner?”

I stayed quiet for a bit and he moved himself to the previous position, letting me play with his hair and give him few back rubs time from time.

And we stayed like that for maybe an hour, or two. Or maybe even more, because I woke up in the middle of a night, pressed to his chest and feeling his heartbeat. I needed to get myself to the toilet before it was too late, and then get myself back to his arms.

But after coming back, he was awake. Or at least his body was because he only reached for me with his arms and immediately pulled me on himself, lazíly opening his eyes to meet mine.

We were looking at each other for a bit before I leaned closer and kissed him.

“Happy Valentine’s day,” I whispered after he cuddled me tightly.

[jessiewre]

Day 42

Sat 15th Feb

Safari in Lake Nakuru 🦒🦓🦏🦩🌞

The pillows in our room were officially the worst pillows in Africa so far and in the night we’d had to put our travel pillow inside one case, and one of our PUFFY COATS in the other. I planned to file a complaint with Philly Tours first thing the next morning.

On the contrary, the hotel had prepared our takeaway breakfast with so much care and attention. There were proper takeaway cups and packaged up food, including our leftovers from the night before so Phil tipped the two chefs and waiter a dollar each. They were buzzing.

Thankfully, our Safari vehicle arrived (so we hadn’t been completely ripped off by Peter) and it was a good vehicle, not a crappy minibus like we’d seen some people safari’ing in. The two French girls in there were nice but they hadn’t bought their passports with them, so paying at the entrance was a bit awkward - until I reminded them a picture might be fine and they found one on their phones. PHEW.

At first, the safari was a little underwhelming as we could see the edges of the park around us with all the buildings of the town. But then we went around the lake and deeper into the park - and then it was really cool. It was more chilled out than the Masai Mara, not as impressive of course, but still nice. There were quite a few areas that had issues from previous flooding though. A couple of roads had been built up with rocks and we passed a lot of dead trees atmospherically positioned in flooded land with loads of ugly maribou stork birds and baboons around. There was a weird atmosphere in those areas and it sort of felt like they were about to attack the vehicle. Then our driver was like ‘Make sure all the food is hidden as the baboons might attack the vehicle’. Oh god, planet of the apes could be REAL.

We got through all the baboons scratching and picking at each others arses without being attacked, then spotted giraffes and warthogs (there’s always warthogs), but then our driver managed to get us to an AMAZING spot where we saw two adult white rhinos and a baby right next to us! The adults had a bit of a stand off and we watched on in amazement.

We visited a nice waterfall where the water was a little brown from the mud, then we headed to a lodge for our lunch stop. We had bought our lunch with us as Peter had told us it would be 25$ per person to eat in the park, but outside the entrance was a massive sign in capital letters saying NO PICNICS ALLOWED. Great.

After the manager flat our refused for us to eat are food there, we made friends with the waiter and he said we could eat it if we were subtle and ordered other things - so I had a vegetable soup and Phil had a bang average veggie sandwich and chips. We sat with the French girls and one of them randomly said that the best ketchup she’s ever had was when we was in Ireland when she had a delicious homemade ketchup somewhere. LOL did not expect that to be what she remembered about Ireland, Stella & Helen will be disgusted. She also said that the grass on safari was green but the grass in Ireland is the greenest in the world she thinks. Ketchup and grass = Irelands legacy.

While we sat in the restaurant we went to book our train as we’d decided which day to get it. And guess what? It was fully booked again. We’d left it too late, assuming the weekdays wouldn’t be so busy. IDIOTS.

On the afternoon drive, we were lucky enough to spot a black rhino, much rarer to see than the white. It was peacefully grazing amongst zebras, impalas and warthogs - it looked amazing, had a proper tortois-y dinosaur face!

Over the whole safari, we saw:

Buffalo

Giraffe (endangered Rothschild type)

Monkeys

Baboons

Flamingoes

Maribou Storks

Pelicans

Pumbas

White Rhino

Black Rhino

When we got back to the hotel, Phil noticed that his shorts had disappeared from the bush they were drying on outside the room. It was obvious someone had been trimming that very bush as it was all neat and there were clippings on the ground, so Phil asked reception. They assured him they’d ask the gardener and find them. I was convinced they’d been nicked...

We half decided to eat at the hotel again out of pure laziness and fatigue, but as soon as we walked in I was like Why are we here. It ain’t for a plate of vegetables thats for sure. So we went to reception to get a taxi to town as we knew there was a Java cafe there and it was a safe bet, and plus if we went to town, we could book our coach tickets for Nairobi to the coast (damn you fully booked train!).

Our taxi driver annoyingly dropped us at a little shop with a Modern Coast kiosk that was CLOSED instead of the actual Modern Coast office HOW BLOODY USELESS. So we ended up walked through the busy town while really hungry looking for a tuc tuc to get to the right place. Then we saw Java cafe on a corner so thought screw it, We’re really hungry so lets just eat first.

But then...we walked over and the door was LOCKED. I could see people inside eating their food, but it had closed at 7pm and it was now 7:15pm. Oh ffs.

We stood outside it feeling a little sad, then the manager walked over to the door, popped his head out the door and smiled at us ‘There’s another Java cafe if you want to eat, just over in the Mall!’. OMG what a legend, we KNEW Java wouldn’t let us down like this. Thanks random man 👍🏽.

We jumped in a tuc tuc to go to Modern Coast and Phil jumped out to get the tickets while I paid. The driver and his mate (not sure why he had a mate with him but whatever) then tried to overcharge me. I paid them 200ksh as that was more than enough and then one of them was like ‘Miss, Buy me a tea’. He had this really annoying look on his face like he was telling me I had to do it. Excuse me buddy, that is not how you ask someone if they’d like to buy you a gift.

We needed a tuc tuc to get to the mall but I didn’t want to go with them out of principal so we walked there like fools. It was only 10 minutes but it was down a crappy dusty busy road and we were hungry. But at least we had our morals right?!

We passed a shop with hats and remembered my quest for a baseball cap (look, I know its a bad idea, but I need one for safaris okkkkkkk). I tried a few on and honest to god it might be the worst I’ve ever looked ever. HORRENDOUS. So no, I didn’t buy one. The search continues.

Dinner at Java was half good and half annoying. Our starter of tomato soups were bought over and the girl said ‘Two chicken soups’. Uh, no love, we ordered tomato soup - so she walked away to check with our waitress who was dealing with another table. This waitress then bought the soups back over and fully tried to blag it ‘Two chicken soups’ she said as she tried to palm them off onto us. I’m not gonna lie, part of me wanted to just take the chicken and peanut soup as I’ll bet it was tasty as fook. - but no, we told her the mistake and waited patiently for our TOMATO soups.

After the soup, I honestly felt full (mental I know) so my Mexican burrito was ready for takeaway after two bites. Phil managed to devour his vege burger no problem.

On return to the hotel, still no sign of the shorts (cos they’d been nicked obvs) but I forced the reception guy to find me new pillows and he basically broke into someone’s room while they weren’t there and took the pillows off their bed. BOVERED cos they were SO much better, as in, they were actual pillows and not a bag of socks. So I went to bed happy. Well, I did until I checked my phone and saw the news that Caroline Flack had passed away. It wasn’t officially suicide at that point, but from the reports it seemed the most likely scenario. It felt incredibly weird to be sat in Kenya and to think she’d died that very day, while we’d been on a safari, and we went to bed feeling very strange and very sad.

[theraddestcowboy]

OC Meme Compilation (part 1) (part 2)

Here’s part 2 of this whole thing, for Nikolai this time

I love this trash man and i want to give him more attention because he’s always been one of my favorite OC’s

COMPANION MEME

Name: Nikolai Tartakovsky

I think we should travel together: “Thought you'd never ask."

Use Melee: "This ought to be fun."

Use Ranged: “Oh good, I love showing off!”

Open Inventory: “Sure, just don't be surprised if they get lost. I don't exactly have a filing system."

Stay Close: (teasing) “Don't worry, I'll keep you safe."

Keep Distance: “I'm not exactly a sniper, but alright.”

Stealth: "I'll uh....I'll do my best."

Back Up: “Ouch, that's my foot!”

Be Passive: “If you say so.”

Be Aggressive: (confidently) “Can do."

Use Stimpack: “I need to get some more of those things.”

Wait Here: “Just don't leave me out of anything fun.”

Follow Me: “Ready to head out? I just got comfortable.”

Send him to the Lucky 38: “I'm not a fan of that place, but I guess I'll find something to do there.”

Send him Home: “If you need me, come find me anytime.” (can be found in whatever workshop in freeside Kerrian would be in)

Aggression: aggressive/not aggressive/very aggressive/frenzied

Confidence: cowardly/cautious/average/brave/foolhardy

Assistance: helps nobody/helps allies/helps friends and allies

Companion perk: The Devil Down Below (bonus damage against lakelurks)

Weapons: Gnife (pipe revolver with a bunch of bonuses to shooting from the hip and a knife stuck on it)

Karma: Good

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

» AGE:  Older than he should be (technically like 200 something)

» SPECIES: Human » GENDER: Male » SEX: Male » ORIENTATION: Bisexual » TITLE: the Silver Shroud

PHYSICAL ASPECTS » HAIR: Very very very dark brown » EYES: Blue

» SKIN: A bit tan » HEIGHT: 6'6" » WEIGHT: uhhhhhh idk

FAMILY » SIBLINGS: Fievel- younger half brother » PARENTS: Dmitri and i dont know if we ever named his mother

» GRANDPARENTS: God we wrote this down somewhere, the only one of his family members names i remember right now though is his uncle Vladimir » OTHER RELATIVES: Abagail- his wife, Kerrian- his son, Fenna- Not actually his daughter but he basically raised her so he's her dad now » ANY PETS?: Dogmeat Dogmeat Dogmeat (best boy) he also likes cats a lot SKILLS » PHYSICAL BUILD: listen im a thirsty bitch and cannot think of a way to describe his build that doesnt sound like im writing a bad romance novel » ABILITIES: Can Breathe Underwater (thanks todd), ages very slowly, can kick ass with the shittiest weapons possible, and does that all the time, my roommate keeps yelling at me for not using anything other than a pipe pistol like more than halfway through the game. Also will make friends with the edgiest loners he can find, and forcibly adopts any child who looks like they need a parent in a 50 mile radius

» SPECIAL : S7, P5, E6, C7, I5, A5, L10

» HOBBIES: Loves old naval shit, telling and hearing stories, music, and fixing up old junk

TRAITS

—— POSITIVE —— Aggressively friendly, like you cannot stop him from befriending you Good dad Compassionate Tactical Good at improvising Learns quickly

——- NEGATIVE ——-

Shortsighted A little too optimistic Terrible attention span Either forgets people too easily or refuses to let shit go Stubborn about weirdly specific shit

LIKES

» COLORS: Red and gold » SMELLS:  Soap, flowers, clean bedding, oil and turpentine and stuff like that, sea air » FOOD: Soups and stews, anything his wife makes, any kind of pie » DRINKS: Nuka-cola cherry, tea » ALCOHOLIC BEVERAGES?: dark beer, bourbon, gin

This is the one worthlesssix tagged me in and i dont know what to title it

NICKNAME: Niko (the only person who really calls him that is his brother though)

personal

MORALITY: Chaotic Good

RELIGION: Jewish, but not really religious

SINS: greed/gluttony/sloth/lust/pride/envy/wrath

VIRTUES: chastity/charity/diligence/humility/kindness/patience/justice

KNOWN LANGUAGES: English, Ukrainian, Russian, very bad at Hebrew, knows the word for “idiot” in a lot of languages

physical

BUILD: scrawny/bony/slender/fit/athletic/curvy/herculean/pudgy/plus size/average

HEIGHT: 6'6"

SCARS/BIRTHMARKS: Missing 2/3rd's of one of his fingers, a scar on his left eyebrow and later on one where his knee got messed up

favourites

PIZZA TOPPING: Tomatoes, spinach, anchovies, meatballs actually you know what he just likes 99% of pizza tbh i havent thought about it till just now but i feel like he would

MUSIC GENRE: Old old old swing, especially obscure stuff, 60's and 70's pop and motown, Dad Rock

MOVIE GENRE: Sci-fi, westerns, action movies

CURSE WORD: He's a sailor

fun stuff

BOTTOM OR TOP: Top

SINGS IN THE SHOWER: Absolutely

LIKES PUNS: Loves them but gets angry when people say them anyway

[watchmegetobsessed]

Crush // Shawn Mendes mini-series part 2

part 2 wohoooo!! this is honestly such a cute story i love writing it, im currently finishing the last part so i’ll probably update very soon!

part 1

masterlist

The awkwardness soon vanishes. This clear new chapter we just opened with Shawn allows me to loosen up and just enjoy a nice evening. Aaliyah and Eric seems satisfied with the outcome, the parents seem to hit it off quite easily and when we leave they already start making plans for another meetup.

“It was so nice meeting you!” Karen sighs happily as she hugs goodbye to all of us.

“You too, email me that recipe you told me about!” Mom points at her and she nods her head laughing.

I’m just about to step out of the house when Aaliyah grabs my wrist and pulls me back. I look at her with furrowed eyebrows.

“I need your help with a little something. Can you come over sometime tomorrow?” she whispers confidentially.

“Um, yeah. Around what time?” I ask.

“Three pm?”

“Sure,” I smile at her and she lets go of me.

On the way back home I’m thinking about what Aaliyah could need help with and the only thing I have in mind is Eric’s birthday that is on the 29th. She must be planning something special for him.

I call Maddi around midnight when I’m already in my pj’s, but I know she must be still up, maybe even drunk. For my surprise, she answers the phone quite modestly.

“How was the family union?” she asks chewing on something. I throw the cushions off of my bed and crawl under the blanket.

“Um, very interesting,” I chuckle closing my eyes and just shaking my head at the thought of the evening.

“Uh, spill the tea!” She cheers clearly very thirsty for some drama, though this story is not as juicy as she would want it.

“Guess who Aaliyah’s brother is!” I say, but I don’t expect an answer so I just continue. “Shawn Effing Mendes.”

“What?! Are you kidding me?” She gasps. “How did Eric forget to tell you this small detail?”

“Apparently, he thought it doesn’t matter to me, which is kind of true, but there is more.”

“What more? Did he hit on you? Because I’m not talking to you again if he did. He is hot!”

“No, he didn’t, but what you don’t know is that we have history.”

“Okay, now I’m confused!? How do I not know about this?”

“Well, remember my ex, Dylan? I told you about him.”

“Yeah, the asshole who cheated on you,” she hums.

“Well, Dylan and Shawn used to be best buds when we started dating, but the guy hated my guts, or so I thought. He was always mean to me, talking against me and just… avoiding me like the plague.”

“I thought he is the nicest person on earth.”

“He might be now, but when I knew him, he treated me like shit. So it was pretty awkward to see him again after all these years.”

“And how did it go? Was he an ass again?”

“No. He was… nice. Well, we both acted awkward in the beginning, I didn’t know if he would continue his act with me, but he turned out to be nice. And then at one point he told me he is sorry for everything in the past and he was just acting like that because he wanted to amuse Dylan.”

I turn to my side and stare out the window.

“That’s good, right? I mean, he grew out that mean phase and he is all good now.”

“Yeah, it’s just still weird to be around someone I knew from my Dylan phase.”

“But it’s Eric who is dating Aaliyah, why would you be constantly around him?”

“Aaliyah asked me to go over tomorrow, I think she is trying to put a surprise together for Eric’s birthday, so I’m spending the afternoon at the Mendes house.”

“Oh, then keep me updated about the details and sneak me a shirtless photo of Shawn please.”

“Maddi!” I scoff laughing. “Why would I even see him shirtless?”

“Maybe he likes wandering around in his home without clothes on, how would I know?!”

“Unbelievable. I’m going to sleep.”

“Bye bitch,” she sighs making me roll my eyes at her smiling.

“Bye.”

  I sleep late the next day, it’s past noon when I actually make it downstairs looking like a real human being. Eric and Dad are watching a documentary on WW II. while Mom is reading the newspaper at the dining table. I join her with a bowl of cereal.

“Do you have any plans for today?” She smiles at me over her narrow glasses as she turns a page. I lean closer hitting a confidential tone.

“I’m helping Aaliyah today, she asked me to go over around three.”

“Oh, birthday surprise for Eric?” she asks clearly excited.

“I think yeah.”

“Great. And you will probably see Shawn again.” Winking at me she puts the papers down.

“Why does that matter?” I ask with my mouth full. She caresses my cheek before standing up and walking over to the sink for some water.

“Isn’t he a nice young man? I think the two of you would look cute together.”

“Mom, you are literally talking about the biggest pop sensation, he is not really the kind of guy who just casually dates,” I say.

In my mind all these celebrities are living their wildest life. Even if I were interested in Shawn in any way, I’m pretty sure I couldn’t even get in the game, he must have thousands of girls waiting for him in line. We are not really on the same page.

“Oh, come on. You guys knew each other in high school, you have a past, that connection must mean something!”

“He was an ass to me!” I blurt it out making her eyebrows raise.

“He was? What did he do?”

“It’s nothing,” I roll my eyes, but Mom gives me a demanding look. “He just didn’t seem to like me no matter what I did, he was avoiding me most of the time when I was with Dylan and also made some pretty rude comments sometimes.”

“Maybe he was into you,” Mom shrugs and I almost choke on the milk.

I start coughing like I’m about to die and my eyes start watering when I’m finally able to breathe evenly again.

“No fucking way!”

“Charlie! Language!” She hisses at me, but there is a smile hiding in her eyes. “You know, young boys tend to do it. They are mean to the girls they like.”

“Mom, it wasn’t in kindergarten, it was ninth grade or something. I think he just really didn’t like me back then and I don’t blame him.” I was annoying, thinking back at it. But hey, all teens are annoying!

“You can never know,” she sighs.

 I totally ignore the theory Mom tried to make me believe, there is absolutely no chance of the nonsense she told me, and this is what I keep telling myself as I’m on my way to the Mendes house.

“Hey!” Aaliyah greets me with a wide smile. She is now wearing some more comfortable clothes than the last two times I saw her, the grey sweats and lose white shirt must be her home wear. “Come in! My parents are out at a friend’s place, and Shawn…” she starts, but just when she is about to finish he appears on the top of the stairs.

“Is here,” he chimes in. I look up and there he is, in a pair of checked pj pants and a black shirt. Looking at it, I think Aaliyah has his shirt on, it seems like the same size.

“Hi,” I smile at him.

“Come, let’s sit.” I follow Aaliyah into the living room and we sit down to the couch next to their Christmas tree. From the corner of my eyes I see Shawn going into the kitchen and for a moment I’m actually disappointed he is not coming with us.

“So. I want to surprise Eric with cooking for him, but I have no idea what. I tried to find out what’s his favorite, but he says it’s his favorite to everything!” she growls frustrated. I shake my head laughing.

“That’s typical.”

“Yeah. So do you have anything in mind?”

“Well, he really like tiramisu. He can eat tons of it, all the time. That’s good for dessert,” I offer. Aaliyah has her phone in her hands and she is typing everything I say down.

“Okay, got it.”

“Um, he likes gazpacho. He thinks it sounds fancy and you know, he likes everything with ketchup, so a soup that tastes like tomato was made for him.”

“Oh yeah, he pours so much ketchup into his sandwiches, it’s crazy,” she rolls her eyes jokingly. “Okay, so gazpacho. Anything else?”

“Um…” I try to think about the times we went to restaurants and Eric got really excited over the food. “Oh, we were once at a place and he ordered grilled mushrooms and he couldn’t stop moaning, it was very embarrassing, but I guess this meant he really liked it.”

“Grilled mushrooms, perfect,” she nods to herself noting everything down. “Do you mind helping me pick out his gift too? I have a few ideas, I want to go into the city and buy it tomorrow, I already looked up some jumpers online, but I can’t really decide.”

“Sure, show me!”

We spend the next thirty minutes scrolling through everything she had saved as a possible gift. She found some really nice ones, her taste is fantastic. As the time is passing I’m starting to feel like I’m with a friend and not with my brother’s girlfriend and I’m just hoping Eric will keep her around for a long time.

She asks me to stay a little bit longer so she can show me the awkward photos she has taken of Erik since they’ve been dating, but she gets a call and excuses herself quickly. I stay there in the living room, looking around a bit, I haven’t really had the chance yesterday, I was too occupied with the situation.

Shawn walks in, this time he has a headband on, keeping his locks back from his face.

Damn, Maddi is right. He is hot.

I shake my head at the thoughts and try to look as casual as possible.

“How is the birthday planning going?” he asks plopping down on the couch next to me.

“Good, Aaliyah basically had everything right, I just had to choose the best options.”

“How crazy is that our younger siblings are dating? I mean, I was thinking about it yesterday, the last time I saw Eric, he was about twelve or something. No wonder why I didn’t recognize him when I met him,” he chuckles and I nod agreeing. Aaliyah changed a lot in the past years too.

“Yeah. Strange that they are not babies anymore. I mean, I’m still mad that Eric is taller than me.”

“Oh I remember how you always wanted to get taller!”

“You remember?” I ask surprised. I used to never stop talking about my height, later I accepted my fate.

“Yeah, I remember once you told Dylan how you want to wear the highest heels to the dance so you two can be the same height.”

I laugh at the memory. I remember it too, it was quite early in our relationship and Dylan asked me out for the Halloween dance. I wanted to look taller and told Dylan I would wear heels. Of course, I ditched the plan as I found out how uncomfortable they are and ended up wearing my Converse.

“And at the end I looked like a punk princess with my Converse and mini skirt,” I scoff at the thought of my outfit for that night.

“I think you looked pretty,” Shawn says and I look at him. I catch his small smile before he shakes his head clearing his throat. What the Hell? “High school feels so far away, right?” he quickly says.

“Um, well for you I guess, for me… not really,” I chuckle shaking my head. “Your life got turned upside down, but not much has happened to me since then.”

“What? I don’t believe you. I’m sure you’ve been having plenty of fun. Parties, dates and everything.”

I can’t help, a sad smile plasters across my face. He can’t be more wrong.

“Not really… I had some rough years after Dylan and I split.”

“Can I ask what happened? I mean, after the split,” he shyly asks.

“Well, since I was a dumb naïve little girl, I needed an entire year before I could even think about getting to know other guys. Now it all just seems like the biggest bullshit. I shouldn’t have cared that much. And I’m not a fan of partying, I only go out on birthdays and maybe New Year’s Eve,” I shrug. Maddi has been trying to boost me up a bit, she attempts to drag me out every month or so, but I’m really not that kind of type. I thought I was, when I was with Dylan, he was a popular guy, I kept going to these lame parties with him in the last year of our relationship, but I never really enjoyed them. Shawn was long gone by then.

“I’m sorry Dylan played you so bad.”

“It’s fine, I mean, not your fault,” I chuckle. “But what happened to you and him?”

He sighs scratching the back of his neck.

“Not sure, I guess we grew apart and I realized that he is an ass. When I became a private student we kept in touch, but I met new people and I saw how different a friendship can be, so… I cut him off, I guess.”

“Did you guys fight?”

“Not really,” he shakes his head. “Well, we had one last very awkward phone call when I was in Atlanta, if I remember right. It was forced and… just awkward, really,” he chuckles shaking his head.

“And your life has been better since Dylan is out of it, right?” I grin at him.

“Yeah, you must know about it.”

I laugh nodding. I know everything about it!

Before I could even think about what I’m saying, my mouth just opens and the words roll down.

“The only good thing I got from my relationship with Dylan is that I know you now.”

My eyes widen and I wish I could take it back.

“I- uh I mean…”

I don’t even know why I’m so nervous suddenly, I didn’t even tell much. But for some reason, I can feel myself blushing.

“I meant that he basically ruined my senior year and I needed so much time to get myself over him, but at least now we can talk like, normal people,” I quickly add somehow saving the situation.

“What do you mean he ruined your senior year?” he asks with furrowed eyebrows and I’m happy he didn’t get caught up on what I said before that.

“Well, he successfully made me push all my friends away, leaving me totally alone when we broke up.”

“Wait, what? How about that friend of yours, um… I don’t remember her name, you always sat together at lunch.”

“Rochelle. Oh Dylan played us dirty. He told me Rochelle keeps hitting on him and being my dumb naïve self I believed him and not her. We had this huge fight and I called her a bitch. No wonder why she didn’t care about me when I was alone in the last couple of months of senior year.”

“Ouch, that sounds horrible. I’m sorry he did that.”

“Why did we even like Dylan in the first place?” I ask laughing to myself. It still bothers me how blind I was, I wish I could just shake myself.

“I have no idea!” He sighs rolling his eyes. “I’m sorry your senior year got fucked up, I wish I could be there to have lunch with you.”

I turn to him and swear to God he is blushing! And it is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. I feel the urge to touch him, anywhere, to take his hand in mine, but I stop myself.

“That’s… nice. Thank you,” I whisper touched.

As I’m staring at him I realize this is probably the closest I’ve ever been to him. I wonder how many girls want to be in my position, they see the popstar, the heartthrob from the stage, while all I see is the guy who used to be mean to me in high school but now we are friendlier than ever. I could never see him as a celebrity.

“Okay, so I found some- Oh am I bothering?” Aaliyah walks into the room with her phone in her hands and she is giving me a knowing look. I quickly clear my throat turning away from Shawn.

“No, you girls just… do your thing. I have to make a few calls.”

Shawn jumps up from the couch patting his sister’s shoulder before walking out of the room. Aaliyah takes his place, still grinning.

“What?” I ask her playing dumb.

“You guys… I felt the sparkle,” she says wiggling her eyebrows.

“What sparkle? Aaliyah, you see everything in pink because of my brother.”

“Oh stop, don’t tell me you don’t like him.”

“I don’t know him,” I say truthfully. “The last time I saw him I was dating a douche and he was also being a douche to me. I can’t tell if I like him, because I don’t know his new self.”

“But you seem to get along with him pretty well and I’m sure you are attracted to him.”

“I’m not talking about this with you, you are his sister!” I gasp feeling myself blushing again.

“Whatever. But I think you two would look cute together.”

I refuse to carry on with the conversation about me and Shawn and Aaliyah fortunately doesn’t force it on me. I leave the Mendes house around five, Aaliyah thanks me the help and I can’t help but feel disappointed I don’t see Shawn anywhere when I’m leaving. Aaliyah’s speech about me and Shawn is slowly getting to me.

By dinner, all my thoughts are racing around him and soon I find myself stalking his social media profiles. I knew he is very famous, but seeing the numbers on his pages makes me gasp. Millions of people are following him, waiting for him to post anything. The last photo he uploaded to his Instagram is with his family, Karen and Manny are smiling proudly into the camera while Shawn and Aaliyah are messing around next to them. Before I could realize what I’m doing I double tap the picture liking it.

“Oh shit,” I suck my breath in. I hesitate, but then I realize how dumb this is. He must be getting millions of notes every minute, he won’t see this.

Gaining some confidence from this, I decide to follow him and continue my stalking session. I’m a few months deep into his profile when I get a notification. Opening the tab my eyes widen.

shawnmendes followed charlieprkr

I guess I was wrong about the notification getting lost. A moment later I see that he has liked two of my photos.

One was taken on a family vacation. Eric and I are posing at the beach, I have a red swimsuit on and the wind is blowing my wavy blonde hair that was so much lighter back than from all the sunshine. The other one is a picture Maddie took of me last month. I’m sitting in our armchair with a mug of tea in my hands, smiling shyly at the camera. We had Christmas lights in the window and the lights made me look colorful in the photo.

I’m just about to put the phone down and go to bed when I get a dm. I’m not surprised to see Shawn’s username, but I definitely get excited.

shawnmendes I’m happy I’m not the first one to accidentally like your photo, though I was minutes away from that haha

I smile at the message rolling my eyes.

charlieprkr Ha. Ha. I was hoping I can easily hide in the millions of your followers.

shawnmendes You could have, if only I weren’t stalking your profile as well. Fate?

charlieprkr I guess.

My fingers linger across the keyboard, trying to think of something else to write and keep the conversation up, but nothing comes to my mind. I almost give up when I get another message from him.

shawnmendes I’m in a nostalgic mood, I want to have a walk in the neighborhood, around our school tomorrow. Would you like to join me?

My smile grows wider than ever reading his lines.

charlieprkr Totally.

shawnmendes Great! Sometime around 4 pm?

charlieprkr Perfect. Where?

shawnmendes I’ll meet you at your house and we’ll go from there.

charlieprkr Then see you tomorrow!

shawnmendes Yeah, good night Charlie.

[hexalene]

So i uh. Was scrolling through, and found the florist stories? And was wondering if there were any more? Cause they're great, and i love them.

There are always more, my dear anon (・ω・)ノ

So this story is about three particular interactions I had with one of the regular shoppers at our store! I want to clarify that these three interactions weren’t sequential, but over the course of about eight months, which will hopefully make sense by the end :)

—

A tiny old lady comes up to me and asks if any of the plants we have are good for coughs, like natural cough drops?

Well, as far as I knew, no. But! We did have tea, locally produced honey, and ginger root. As I’m walking her over to the shelf, I notice she’s not looking me in the eye, but at my hair.

My hair is fairly long, and dyed bright ass purple. I love it. Most older people do not. So I keep talking, hoping to get through this interaction without a lecture about jobstobbers.

Unfortunately, it was not meant to be. Tea, ginger, and honey in hand, this tiny old lady smiles and thanks me, and says,

“But sweetheart, whatever did your poor mother say when she saw what you did to your lovely hair?”

Truthfully, I respond: “She started buying me purple clothes that match the color of my hair.”

—

Around thanksgiving, we’re looking for fresh basil to season her tomato soup with.

About this time, she’s gotten used to my dyed hair, sort of (we’ve had many many many conversations about “my poor mother” who she genuinely cannot believe likes my hair).

“But don’t you worry what the boys your age must think of you?”

I’m holding two potted basil in my hands, and we’d just been talking about how this plant will keep growing if she cares for it, which she was very excited about. This foray back into The State Of My Hair is a little out of nowhere, although I could tell she was distressed over the new pink tips that had faded in.

My first impulse is to tell her that the girls I’m into have way crazier hair than me, but while she’s never said anything homophobic, I wasn’t up to that battle. Besides, I do like this woman. “Well, ma’am, I don’t think I’d want to date someone who couldn’t love me over something as shallow as my hair color…”

That seems to give her some thought, because she nods. She also sighs and says, “Jennifer wants to color her hair.”

Jennifer is her eleven year old great-granddaughter. Jennifer has also recently discovered the pop-punk scene and thinks I am some sort of pop-punk god. This is an adorable misconception that I AM going to go on a tangent about, so buckle up:

—

Jennifer usually accompanies her great grandma to the grocery store, so we’ve met a few times. This time, I’m wearing a Panic! At The Disco shirt, and we get to chatting about Fall Out Boy, when I happen to mention going to see them in concert back in 2007.

Jennifer’s eyes go HUGE and she whispers, “You got to see them in concert in 2007?? I wasn’t even alive back then!”

…the story ends here because I promptly crumbled into ash and died, leaving my florist station unmanned, my shop abandoned, and my youth draining into the gutters with the fragile remains of my ego.

“I wasn’t even alive back then!” Christ I’m getting old. This is only going to get worse as I get older too, god I remember when you could only watch anime by pirating it off of old VHS tapes and all of the cool anime merch had to be bought in a shady ass adult video store with curtains separating the kids from the dildos. My mom came in with me exactly once, and saw Inuyasha playing in shitty quality on a tiny TV and would you BE-LIEVE it had to be one of those bathing scenes. Took me years of swearing up and down that anime wasn’t synonymous with porn before she would let me buy Spirited Away on DVD, much less deign to watch—

Wait, too much tangent, back to grandma.

—

Jennifer is tip-toeing around Granny’s conservative sensibilities by gingerly applying small streaks of chalk color to her hair. Easing grandma into the idea of colored hair. I suspect I’m also being used to desensitize granny somewhat, as I’m CLEARLY employable, healthy, and sane. It’s a process.

At this moment, Jennifer is sporting one (1) streak of pink in her bangs. So rebellious. I tell them honestly that I think it looks cute, and besides, the schools around here allow it now, so it can’t be that bad, right?

Grandma purses her lips, and takes the basil plants from my hands. “Well, I suppose this chalk stuff is okay, since it washes out. But could you imagine such a thing on a woman my age?”

“Hey, why not?” I tell her. “You’ve got pure white hair so it would take the color really well, you’re married, you’ve got two generations of grandkids…why not have some fun?”

She looks absolutely gobsmacked. “Me! With colored hair! Oh, that’s ridiculous, dear.”

—

You can probably guess where this is heading.

As much as I would LOVE to say that this nice grandma went whole hog and dyed her hair bright neon pink or something, this customer isn’t that wild lmao.

Instead, around last Christmas, this happened:

The poinsettias are in, which is both blessing and curse. They come in a MASSIVE variety of boxes, with traditional poinsettia arrangements and the endless string of strange novelty poinsettia ornament vases. They’re TINY, half of them are BROKEN, and the Christmas trees will be arriving in like, ten minutes, and the early birds and prudent customers are all swarming us like VULTURES.

Among these vultures is grandma, Jennifer, and Jennifer’s father (?). They catch my eye, and break out of the kettle to speak to me. I’ve never met the man, but he just stands there on his phone looking vaguely annoyed, so for our purposes, he’s not there.

Jennifer points to her grandma’s head and whispers, “Look!”

Two locks—barely a fourth of an inch each—have been colored red and green. A strand between them is still white. All three have been tied into a red, white, and green braid. The braid is carefully clipped into a bun with a tiny gold icon of the manger scene.

As I’m gasping and congratulating grandma for her rebellion, she’s giggling with excitement and tells me, “I made sure to talk to Father Ben about it first, and he promised me that the Lord would see this as a lovely way to celebrate His son’s birth.”

She paused, then said, “It’s temporary, of course.”

“Oh, of course.” I tell her. “You can’t go too crazy right out the gate.”

And she nods, “Exactly. That’s what I told Jennifer. You know, I’ve never done anything like this in my life? Can you believe that? My husband was so surprised!”

(Last I heard, grandma has not dyed her hair again, although she is still very very proud of herself for doing so. I haven’t seen her lately, but I’m hoping she comes around this Christmas with more dyed braids)

[tokikurp]

What will it be?

Summary-  It’s a typical Friday afternoon at the cafe. That is, until a new customer comes in and catches Oikawa’s attention.

Pairings- • Main: Iwaizumi x Oikawa • Background/Hinted: Ushijima x Semi (Background) | Daichi x Suga (Hinted)

AU- Cafe

Series- The Sugar Joy

Word count- 3K

And I’m back from my writing hiatus °˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°

Just in time to post for @sound-of-inspiration‘s birthday! Happy birthday Lina!! I love you (*¯ ³¯*)♡

AO3

“Eita-chan, please tell me how we always manage to survive the Friday lunch crowd?” A tired Oikawa Tooru asked as he leaned back against the counter. Another lunch rush had come and gone, leaving the employees tired and happy that the crowd was finally thinning out. Until dinner rush would begin.

But that wouldn’t be for another couple of hours, so it was a good time for a breather.

“I ask myself that every single day.” Semi Eita responded with a shrug, counting how many curry buns they had left. “Three.” The blond mumbled, writing that down on a list.

“But it was another successful lunch hour!” Sugawara Koushi cheerfully exclaimed, coming out of the kitchen and leaning against the same counter as Oikawa. “Tonight’s dinner rush is just going to be as successful as the lunch crowd!”

“Don’t even remind me of the dinner rush.” Oikawa groaned. He didn’t want to image it after having just survived the lunch crowd. Suga laughed and patted Oikawa’s back, while Semi chuckled.

“Don’t worry, tonight is going to be another good night.” Suga tried to reassure him.

“You survived one, you can survive them all.” Semi commented, moving over to the next case.

“Ah, yeah I guess.” Oikawa sighed. Suga giggled before he pushed himself off the counter.

“I’m heading back in to start preparing for tonight. Eita, bring me the list when you’re done.” Suga announced.

“You know I always do.” Semi responded as Suga gave a nod, before disappearing into the back. “Like I could forget that.”

The brunette hummed, watching Semi count all the remaining items. Oikawa looked around the cafe, where just a couple of people were still residing in the cafe.

An elderly couple was sitting by the windows enjoying the rest of their lunch; they had been regulars at the café for years now and were always warmly welcomed by all three of them. Not far of them a younger couple had taken up a table, a young businessman and his girlfriend. She was chatting away lifely while he listened to her with a soft smile.

Lastly a rather large group of students had taken up over 3 tables, seemingly working on a project for their university courses from what Oikawa had picked up when he’d last refilled their coffee. He probably should head over there soon and ask if they needed another round.

Just a typical Friday afternoon.

Oikawa turned around and began to wipe down the counters. They didn’t need to be clean, but it gave him something to do during this down time. Just a few minutes passed when he heard the bell above the entrance door ring.

“Welcome to Sugar Joy!” Oikawa and Semi both greeted, but Oikawa turned around to help the customers. Semi on the other hand, kept doing what he was doing (doing a recount at this moment). The brunette was about to open his mouth, but closed it when the familiar person put their finger in front of their mouth. A smirk crossed Oikawa’s face as the person walked up behind Semi.

‘Oh Eita-chan~! Someone has come to visit you!’ Oikawa sang in his head as the person leaned over and wrapped his arms around Semi, startling him. Semi didn’t yelp, but jumped and groaned when he realized who it was.

“Hello, may I have my usual?”

“Wakatoshi, how many times did I tell you not to scare me like that? Do you want to give me a heart attack?” Semi asked, turning around to face his boyfriend, Ushijima Wakatoshi.

“About a hundred or two hundred.” Ushijima answered, giving his boyfriend a kiss on his cheek. Oikawa giggled as he watched Semi pout, his cheeks taking on a pink colour. Suga poked his head out from the kitchen and smiled when he saw Ushijima in the front.

“I thought I heard Eita griping at someone. The usual, Wakatoshi?” Suga asked as Ushijima nodded.

“Yes and I’ve brought someone else along.”

“Oh did you know?” Suga asked as the person stepped forward, waving.

“Uh hi, that’d be me.” The man greeted. “I’m Iwaizumi Hajime.”

“Iwaizumi recently joined the team about two weeks ago and it’s his first full day training with us. So I decided to bring him here for lunch.” Ushijima explained as Suga’s face lit up.

“Well, welcome to Sugar Joy, Iwaizumi-san! I’m Sugawara Koushi and I’m the owner. Everything is made from scratch and we serve breakfast, lunch and dinner!” Suga briefly explained. “And my wonderful four employees! My cousin Semi Eita, Wakatoshi’s boyfriend, and Oikawa Tooru.”

“Nice to meet you two, but um...you said you have four employees. Where are the other two?” Iwaizumi asked.

“BACK HERE!” A voice called from the kitchen.

“Tooru and Eita work here in the front, while my other two, Azumane Asahi and Nishinoya Yuu, work back here in the kitchen with me.” Suga responded with a smile.

“WELCOME TO SUGAR JOY!”

“That was Yuu.”

“Welcome!”

“And that was Asahi.”

“Oh I see. Well um...Wakatoshi what do you usually get here?” Iwaizumi asked, looking up at the menu. So many items to choose from like salads, sandwiches, soups and desserts (just to name a few).

“I usually get a spicy chicken salad and chicken and rice soup. Unless Eita wants to me try something new.” Ushijima responded as Semi nodded.

“And on Fridays, he gets green tea mochi, which is already waiting for him.” Semi added as he looked up at his boyfriend.

“That too. Everything is delicious here, Iwaizumi.”

“And that’s going to make it harder because everything sounds so good.” Iwaizumi groaned, looking at the menu.

“If you want, I can give you a suggestion.” Oikawa spoke up with a smile.

“Yeah sure, what do you suggest?” The volleyball player asked, leaning against the counter (still looking at the menus).

“Well, I recently tried the tomato and mozzarella flatbread and that was very delicious. The roasted turkey is a big seller here and the spicy chicken melt is a personal favorite of mine. And all the salads are delicious, oh and my favorite soup is the French onion soup.” Oikawa explained, pointing to every item he mentioned. “And the stuff in the castes are just as good. Eita-chan, how many curry buns do we have left?”

“Three. Speaking of which, Koushi!” Eita answered, but headed towards the kitchen while calling out for his cousin.

“Our curry buns sell like hotcakes and katsu sando are each made when ordered.” Oikawa finished explaining. Watching as Iwaizumi blinked and turned to Ushijima.

“You said this was a cafe, this is a full on restaurant.”

“Koushi gets that a lot.”

“Okay well umm...I guess I’ll try,” He started, tapping his chin. “The spicy chicken melt and French onion soup.”

“Excellent choices.” Oikawa responded, adding the items to the bill as Ushijima handed his card over to the brunette.

“And thanks for the suggestions. Can’t wait to try them.” Iwaizumi thanked, giving Oikawa a smile before following Ushijima to a table.

“No problem.” The brunette smiled back and watched the two men walk away.

It had been a few weeks since Iwaizumi came to the cafe and he’d come every Friday for lunch with Ushijima. He had started to try out everything on the menu and was starting to figure out what he liked and what he didn’t like. So far, the French onion soup, spicy chicken salad and spicy chicken melt were his favorites. Oh and curry buns too! He usually took one for the road when they were about to return back to training. Oikawa always had a curry bun set aside in a little go bag for the volleyball player, and he may or may not always pick one of the biggest one.

He also may or may not have left a message or a doodle on the bag here and there.

“Eita-chan, I need dirt right now!” Oikawa explained.

The cafe was just about to open up for the day. Everyone was doing something to get the place ready to open up, Oikawa had been making the coffee, finishing that up. Suga was in the back, putting the finishing touches on the last few food items. Semi was stocking all the cases when Oikawa came up to him.

“Go outside and you’ll get all the dirt you’ll need. Just don’t bring any inside or Koushi will kill you.” Semi answered, placing the freshly made breakfast sandwiches in the cases.

“That’s not what I meant and you know that. I need some information.” Oikawa pouted as the blond smirked at him.

“I know. I couldn’t pass on making that comment.”

“...You really are Kou-chan’s cousin.”

“It runs in the family. But seriously, what’s up?” Semi asked, looking up at his co-worker.

“Well, I’m not a hundred percent sure you would know. But do you know if Iwaizumi is single?” Oikawa asked, his cheeks turning slightly pink. Semi blinked for a moment before tapping his chin in thought.

“I...think so? He didn’t bring anyone to the team dinner the other night or really mentioned anyone.” Semi answered, trying to remember if the volleyball player said anything. “No, I think he is single.”

A smirk crossed Semi’s face when he asked, “Why? Are you interested in the newest wing spiker of the volleyball team?”

“NO!” Oikawa quickly responded and looked away from the smirking blond. “...Okay maybe.”

“So, what caught your attention? How his spiky hair keeps its form while it’s damped from the sweating he had been doing at training. The way he laughs when he hears a funny joke or when Wakatoshi gives him blackmail material of the other wing spikers? Or of Kuroo? Or the way his green eyes become so much more brighter when he comes into the cafe? Could it be how the sun makes his tan skin glow, that you find to be handsome?” The blond asked with a hum at the end.

“...His biceps.”

“Oh really? What’s so great about it?” Semi asked, leaning forward to listen on what Oikawa had to say about them.

“Eita-chan! Have you not seen them! They were sculpted by a god. I mean, they’re so gorgeous and have you seen his back? I mean granted, I haven’t seen him without his shirt on. But the other day when he came in with that tight shirt on, I would have fainted on the spot if I hadn’t been working. Oh and don’t even get me started on everything else like his hair- which did you know he loves Godzilla? Honestly it makes plenty of sence why his hair looks like the way it does. Because he loves Godzilla so much that he just had to have his hair spiky like them! Oh and Eita-chan, have you heard his-”

“Oh yeah, you’ve hopelessly fallen for him.” Semi responded, standing back up and closing the case. Oikawa opened his mouth to say something, but decided to close it again. He couldn’t argue against that.

“I really have. Eita-chan, what do I do?!” Oikawa asked.

“Ask him out. That’s the first step people usually do when they’re interested in someone.” Semi explained.

“B-but how? How did Ushiwaka-chan ask you out?” The brunette asked as he leaned forward to the blond.

“Take a guess how he asked me out.” Semi responded with a deadpan expression.

“...He just asked you straight forward didn’t he?” Oikawa asked as Semi confirmed.

“Yup.”

“I CAN’T DO THAT!”

“Sure you can. Look at ‘Toshi and I. He asked me out and we’ve been together for over five years. Look at my cousin and Daichi, Koushi asked Daichi out and look how they turned out. They’ve been together for four years and married for two of those years.” Semi explained as Asahi came out from the kitchen with a tray of donuts.

“Look at Asahi and Yuu, they’ve together for as long as I can remember. Thanks Asahi.” Semi added, taking the tray.

“Uh yeah, we’re going to make ten years next year.” Asahi smiled, even though he has no idea what the two of them were talking about.

“Well there’s this guy-”

“Iwaizumi, right?”

“Is my crush that obvious?” Oikawa asked as they nodded. “Okay well, yeah it’s Iwaizumi and I’m interested in him, but I don’t know how to ask him out.”

“Ah right, that’s tough. I remember when I was trying to figure out how to ask Yuu out and well, he kind of did it himself. Just ask him, Tooru.” Asahi explained before he headed back towards the kitchen.

“But he’s busy with training and is always traveling with the team-”

“If he is truly interested in you, he will find time.” Semi cut him off. “I know this, because I’m dating his teammate. You can find time to have a quick date, trust me.”

“I guess you’re right. Should I ask him today? Do they have a game this week?” Semi shook his head.

“Nope. It’s their off week, so it’s the perfect weekend for a date. Weather is supposed to be nice this weekend.” Semi responded with a smile on his face.

“Mmm, alright. I’ll ask when he comes in.” Oikawa responded with a sigh. As much as he’s nervous to ask, he might as well just try and see if Iwaizumi is busy this weekend. Maybe they can go for coffee and he can ask how much he really loves Godzilla.

And maybe he can talk about the X-Files.

“Oi Wakatoshi, I’ve got a question.”

“Yes?” Ushijima answered as the two volleyball players made their way out of the gymnasium for lunch. The Sugar Joy being their obvious choice to dine at.

“How long have you’ve known Oikawa?” Iwaizumi asked, sticking his hands into his pocket.

“A couple. I’ve known him for about three years. Why?”

“Would you happen to know if he’s seeing anyone?” Iwaizumi asked as they came to a crossing, waiting for their turn to walk across. Ushijima didn’t respond for a moment, thinking about the question. Has Oikawa been seeing anyone?

“Not that I’m aware of. Why?” Ushijima asked as he looked at his teammate.

“Well I’ve been thinking about asking him out this weekend. Since you know, we have a bye week and coach wants us to rest. I was thinking of maybe asking him out this weekend to get to know him.” Iwaizumi explained as they became to cross the street.

“Really?”

“Yeah, he really seems like a pretty good guy and I mean, he’s cute. Is there anything I should know about him?” Iwaizumi asked.

“He likes aliens and I know he has a passion for space. And I remember while I was away for a week, Eita told me they marathoned The X-Files. So just a note, he likes The X-Files.” Ushijima briefly explained just a few things.

“The X-Files? Did they manage to finish the whole series by the time you got back?”

“I believe so? I’m not sure.” Ushijima shrugged. He couldn’t remember, that was over two years ago.

“So do you have any suggestions for places I can maybe take him to if he agrees? I mean, as much as I really love Sugar Joy, I’m sure he would want to go somewhere else besides going to the place he works.”

“A few places. Eita and I like to go to a cafe called The Garden View. They mainly have vegetarian dishes, but the food is delicious. Eita likes to go to different bookstores, he doesn’t have a specific favorite store. There’s a coffee shop near where we live that would also be a nice place. I suggest sitting outside since they put a lot of work into making their front patio. The coffee shop is called Extra Beans.” Ushijima suggested as they came closer to Sugar Joy.

“The coffee shop doesn’t sound like a bad idea. Maybe we’ll run into you two while we’re there.” Iwaizumi chuckled as his fellow wing spiker nodded.

“Maybe we will. We haven’t decided on what we’re going to do this weekend and upcoming week.” Ushijima responded they arrived to the cafe.

The lunch rush had ended and it wasn’t pack as it usually was during that time period. Just a couple of people still eating what remained of their lunch.

“Welcome to Sugar Joy!” Semi and Oikawa greeted.

“Usual, ‘Toshi?” Semi asked as the wing spiker nodded. “Koushi! The usual for Wakatoshi!”

“Got it!” Suga called back as Iwaizumi walked up to the menu, while the wing spiker took his wallet out to pay. The couple greeting each other as Oikawa walked over to the thinking man.

“So Iwaizumi, what will you choose today?”

“Uhh I think I’ll go with the soba noodle and chicken bowl. That sounds good.” Iwaizumi answered as Oikawa nodded as he wrote down the order. “Oh and a-”

“Your curry bun is already waiting for you.”

“You are seriously the best.” Iwaizumi chuckled and smiled at Oikawa. The brunette smiled back as he finished writing down the rest of the order. “Um hey Oikawa, can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Are you doing anything this weekend? Because if not, do...do you want to go out for coffee?” Iwaizumi asked. Oikawa stopped writing and looked up at him.

“Eh? Coffee? This weekend?”

“Uh yeah. You know, if you aren’t-”

“No, I have no plans this weekend. I was going to watch X-Files all weekend because I didn’t have any plans and I work in the morning and get off in the afternoon and I would love to go out to coffee with you!” Oikawa quickly answered in one breath.

“Oi, breathe.” Semi said as him and Ushijima looked over at them. Oikawa chuckled nervously as Iwaizumi rubbed the back of his neck.

“Does Saturday sound good?” Iwaizumi asked as the brunette nodded.

“Um yeah! Saturday sounds good. Let me give you my number.” Oikawa agreed, pulling out his phone as Iwaizumi nodded. He also pulled his phone out and the two exchanged numbers.

“Awwww look how sweet! Eita this reminds me of when you told me that Wakatoshi finally asked you on that date.” Suga joined in and hugged Semi from behind, watching Oikawa and Iwaizumi exchange numbers.

“Okay, awesome. What time do you get off on Saturday? I’ll meet you here and we can walk to a coffee place.” Iwaizumi suggested as Oikawa nodded.

“I think noon? Kou-chan is that right?” Oikawa asked, turning to the owner.

“That’d be correct.” Suga smiled. “Now Iwaizumi-kun, remember to have him back by ten o’clock, understand?”

“Huh?”

“No funny business. Ten o’clock or you’re banned from this cafe.” Semi added while crossing his fingers.

“Eita-chan! Kou-chan! Stop!” Oikawa pouted as the two cousins smirked. “OI!”

“Uh what did he mean by banned?” Iwaizumi asked while leaning toward Ushijima, as the three of cafe workers bickered.

“Koushi is married to a lawyer. Let’s just put it that way.” The wing spiker explained.

Let’s just say, Iwaizumi shut his mouth right away.

[bamfcoyotetango]

Number 7, Chaleigh please. 😁

Oh gosh, this is so very late but the Muses ate the prompt and gave me this .

7. Fake Relationship AU

Hand In My Hand

Raleigh's in the middle of setting up the music for the piano when Hansen, their bartender for the night, cleared his throat behind Raleigh.

"You need help cutting the citrus?" He asked sympathetically.

All the bartenders hate citrus and Raleigh's pretty good with a knife.

The only problem was that Hansen didn't ask for help.

Like... Ever.

"Yeah, actually. I, err, I've been meanin' t' talk with you." Hansen relented, his broad shoulders slumping in a show of emotion Raleigh didn't expect.

"Oh?" Raleigh arranged the music and left the wide performance platform, careful to step over the wires the sound crew hid under the rich red carpet. "Any reason in particular?"

The other man handed over a knife, a cutting board and a bag of mixed citrus. "Look, I know I'm not... the most social."

Raleigh snorted at that, "No shit."

"Oi, fuck off yeah? I'm trying here." Hansen growled defensively before he sighed. "I've got a problem."

"... And you think I can fix it?" He countered dryly as he sliced the fruits into multi-colored discs. "I  know I'm the bar's handyman and all but uh, I normally don't fix people as a rule."

"Yes." The blunt honesty has Raleigh setting down his knife and turning to face Hansen. "Look, you're pretty enough that my Dad might be fooled inta thinkin' we're datin', alright? He knows I don't swing too often the other way and Mako's like my sister so I can't ask her an' the rest of the bartenders-"

Raleigh held up a hand and mulled it over, parsing out the basics of it in under two minutes. It wasn't exactly a secret that Raleigh appreciated multiple types of people. Hansen might've been a surly jerk but damn if he didn't fill out his bar polo shirt nicely. "You want me to date you... because your Dad is a hard ass?"

"Look, he's coming to visit in a few months an' he keeps a hairy eyeball on my social media, yeah? He knows when I'm not datin' and he gets all sad an' mopey like he didn't do a job 'n a half raising me. My old man wants to see me happy. So... are you in or what?" Hansen grumbled even as he rubbed at his nose.

Raleigh thought of his Maman, in remission, being overjoyed that her middle child finally found someone.

"I'll make you a deal," He allowed carefully, "if this is for your Dad, then it's also gotta be for my Maman. She's in remission and now she's tryin' to meddle in my love-life. You break her heart and I'll break your face. I'll pretend to date your ass for her sake if nothing else."

"What about...?"

Raleigh gritted his teeth and sucked in a calming breath. "Let's just say he's a bastard."

"... Oh. I guess we need to outline what's not okay to touch as a topic." Hansen pointed out.

"Yeah, might be a good idea." He admitted.

"For starters, don't ask about Mum and I won't ask about the rat bastard."

"Got it."

"By the way... M' name's Chuck." Chuck held out his hand and Raleigh shook it.

"Raleigh."

Chuck, for all of his asshole tendencies, was pretty decent with the whole dating thing.

Once Raleigh got past the scowl and the snark and the Alaskan-sized chip on his shoulder, that is.

He'd even bothered to ask Raleigh for his favorite flower (sunflowers) and had presented them with a scowl at the start of their next 'date'.

Somewhere along the way, dating Chuck had become less obligation and started to feel like... something Raleigh shouldn't enjoy as much as he did.

He shouldn't enjoy the under-the-breath quips that were so sarcastic that Raleigh actually cracked up laughing when he caught them.

He shouldn't sneak glances when Chuck closed his eyes and reveled in the wind coming off of the sea.

He shouldn't save a sunflower from each bouquet Chuck "remembered" to bring.

Raleigh spun a thick stem between his fingers and quietly admitted to himself that if he fell in love with Chuck, it might not be so bad.

It wasn't like the ginger bastard would ever return his feelings after all.

Raleigh was one of, it turned out, a lucky three people who had Chuck's phone number.

""So, Chuck hasn't called in and I have it on good authority that you're dating. I got the Kaidonovskies to cover his shift but could you do us all a huge favor and go check on him?"" Sergio asked. ""He's never done this before so I'm a little worried.""

"I'm on it, Serg. I'll let you know what's up, okay?" Raleigh hummed and then scrubbed a hand down his face as he texted Chuck.

  Raleigh: Where r u?

It took near five minutes for Chuck to respond, which was way longer than his usual five seconds.

  Chuck: m sick

  Chuck: don't come over

  Chuck: if I die u get my dog

He snorted, texting as he grabbed his jacket, his scarf and his washable surgical mask Mako had given him for his birthday.

  Raleigh: drama llama

Raleigh: Ur not gonna die

  Raleigh: I'm coming over

Chuck appeared to rouse at that.

  Chuck: NO

If Chuck thought he could out-stubborn Raleigh, he had another thing coming.

  Raleigh: YES

  Raleigh: I'm making you homemade soup

Raleigh: u giant wiener

Chuck didn't respond for several moments as if shocked that Raleigh would do something that nice.

Chuck: U need my address

  Chuck: Or did u expect to kno

  Chuck: where I live, u wanker

He did laugh at that, midway through testing a tomato with his fingers.

  Raleigh: I could ask Mako

  Raleigh: She'll provide the info

  Raleigh: with half the hassle that

  Raleigh: Ur giving me

  Raleigh: btw

  Raleigh: R u allergic to tomato?

His phone buzzed with the response as Raleigh finished grocery shopping.

  Chuck: no, not allergic to tomato

  Chuck: pick up some tissue

As though he sensed he was being a little rude, he followed it with another text.

  Chuck: ... pls?

Raleigh shook his head, flicked on his voice-to-text app and said, "Already on it period. Send."

Chuck sent the address and Raleigh pulled over into a gas station to input the address. He paused, contemplated labeling it 'U Grumpy Bastard' and then grinned at it occurred to him.

Chuck's address ended up as 'My Dumbass

An English bulldog sat in his way, Raleigh's arms aching as the grocery bags creaked.

"Uh, hi, pup. Could you do me a favor—"

"Max, get." Chuck rasped, poking his dog with his socked foot to let Raleigh into his apartment.

He toed off his boots out of habit and nudged them into a vaguely neat pile near the door.

Raleigh set all the bags down, found the trash can and the fridge and got to work.

By the time the tomato soup was bubbling on the stove, Chuck had been served eucalyptus tea, meds and tissues, in that order.

Raleigh absently texted Sergio as he watched his soup, keeping half an eye on a bemused and snuffling Chuck. He reigned in the urge to kiss the frown off of Chuck's face.

Chuck frowned and then wrote on the whiteboard Raleigh had brought from home.

'What? Do I have something in my face?'

"Nah. Just an old habit from when my sister was sick. She'd sneak off the couch and then get me sick cause she likes to cuddle when she's loopy on meds." He deflected as he poked at the soup.

The squeak of the marker was proceeded by Chuck gathering his blanket nest and sitting on the tall chair next to the counter.

'U have siblings?'

"Mm, two. Yancy's the oldest and Jazzy's the youngest. I'm the middle kiddo."

'Why tomato soup?'

"I'll have you know that Maman and my Mémé would skin me alive if I fed you anything else aside from this. It's supposed to be loaded with nutrients and good protein to help you get better." He countered with a raised brow.

'Meme??'

"French for Grandma. Maman is Mom." Raleigh explained. He pulled out the bacon, frowned and asked, "Where's your frying pan?"

'Under the stove.'

"... You don't cook, clearly, cause otherwise you'd know that that's the broiler, not a drawer. Also, these are really nice pans and it's a shame they don't get used more often." He talked mostly to himself but Chuck blew a raspberry from behind the covers. "It's true."

'Don't b rude. It's my space u know.'

"Supposed to be our space, remember? Shit, should I move in?" Raleigh asked and Chuck shook his head hard enough to negate that.

'NO.'

Chuck wrote quickly and then thrust it out as Raleigh patted the bacon to get the excess grease off.

'I'm already regretting asking u, alright? The last thing I need is to see u in ur undies. I bet u wear whities.'

"Hey! I wear boxer briefs, you jerk. Tightey-whities are soooo last season. Also, Jazz would murder me for that fashion crime. She's majoring in it and if I'm related to her, I'm gonna not cause her pain by dressing, and I quote, 'like a fisherman with no sense'. She's already tried to kill my sweaters, okay?" Raleigh grumbled as he dumped most of the bacon into the soup.

'Wait. Seriously?'

"Yeah, seriously."

'Ur jumpers r how I know it's u. No one else at the bar wears them like u do.' If Raleigh tilted it right, it might've been a compliment but Chuck didn't do those.

"Uhhhh, thanks, I think. Now, eat your soup and rest some more, alright?" Raleigh served up a decent bowl that would go down well with Chuck and reserved the rest of the soup in the pot, closing it with a lid. "Don't even think about ruining my soup by sticking it in the microwave. Heat it up on the stove on low." He looked at Max. "Do I need to take Max for a poop?"

'Probably. His lead's in the hall.'

Raleigh grabbed the red leash and Max was suddenly at his feet, butt wagging furiously.

He barely had room to tug on his boots.

"I'll be back! Finish that soup, Chuck!" The door closed with a clunk behind him. He laughed when Max tugged him down the street, barely giving him time to shrug on his jacket and wrap his scarf up the right way.

"Is that Max I hear?" Max boofed and somehow his butt wiggled even harder. "It is~" An older woman was sitting on the porch, her hands cradling a warm drink with a blanket in her lap. "Oh! You're not Chuck!"

"Ahh, no. He's sick," Raleigh mentioned with a shrug, his muscles straining as Max tugged on the leash in this woman's direction. "Max, pas maintenant*." He chided.

"You must be that friend of his."

"... Umm," Raleigh's face heated up as he thought about Chuck, who was probably miserably eating his soup and scrubbed at the back of his neck.

"Oh, I see. How long?" Her confidential tone made Raleigh want to combust from embarassment.

"Coupla months," he choked out, "Gotta go, ma'am, Max is, umm..."

"Go on. Chuck's got himself a keeper! You tell him Mrs. Gage said so, okay?"

"Yes, ma'am." Raleigh agreed as Max tugged on the leash again.

"Chuck, I swear to God that you've got the nosiest neighbors—" Raleigh froze at the sight of a man who could only be Chuck's Dad.

He let Max off the leash on autopilot after he closed the door, hanging it up like he'd seen it earlier. Raleigh kicked off his boots again and set them against the foyer frame, this time a great deal neater than they'd been before.

"You must be Raleigh," the man said as though he hadn't thrown their whole plan out of wack. "I'm Herc."

"Pleasure to meet you, sir." He let his manners take over, a smile on his face as he shook the offered hand. "Can I get you anything? Tea, coffee?"

'Dad doesn't do tea.' When the whiteboard popped up from the couch, it seemed Chuck had retreated back with his blanket nest.

"Mm, coffee then?" Raleigh hummed as Herc looked between them. "Milk? Creamer?"

"Creamer, if you don't mind."

He busied himself preparing two cups of coffee and then dug into the supplies he'd organized on the counter, muttering to himself in Korean as he read the instructions for the citron tea he'd brought over.

"Coffee 'n creamer for us, tea for Chuck. Don't make that face. It's gonna feel nice and it's yuzu, vaguely lemony with honey." He sat next to Chuck, reaching to adjust the blankets and handing over the tea.

'Ur gonna get sick.'

"Mmm, yeah, probably. Do I look like I mind?" Raleigh pointed out as he gently pecked Chuck on the lips. Chuck grumbled wordlessly but snuggled closer as he drank his tea. He made a noise of surprise at the taste and looked at Raleigh with a wordless question. "So-Yi suggested it when I dropped by the bar. Y'know, half of them thought you got in a fight or dropped off the face of the planet. Being sick never even occurred to them."

'Liar.'

"No, that's what you get when literally three people have your number, you dumbass." He bickered back, looking up when a muffled laugh brought him back to their current situation.

Right.

Chuck's Dad.

"Y'know, I almost didn't believe my son when he said he was dating someone. He works hard and doesn't remember to leave time for himself but I can see he's in good hands with you." The pride Herc had for his son was clear in nearly every word he spoke.

"Yeah, well I could've said the same a while back. Chuck's sweet under like, fifteen layers of asshole, but you gotta have enough patience for the layers." Raleigh ribbed Chuck gently, letting himself touch instead of shying away from Chuck. They had to make this convincing—At least that was how he justified it to himself. "Mmm, you've got a fever." He told Chuck as he brushed the damp ginger hair away from Chuck's forehead.

'No shit, u wanker. What r u doing?'

Raleigh leaned in close and whispered his answer, "I'm being your boyfriend, hell practically the perfect one. The least your dumbass could do is play along, right?"

Chuck huffed at that and leaned into the casual touch. 'whatever. R we still doing that ice thing?'

"Like I'm gonna miss the chance to see you fall on your ass?" Raleigh teased. "We'll just have to reschedule for when you're better."

"I'll leave you two to be cutesy." Herc chuckled and Raleigh nearly face palmed.

They were totally—"Oh God, I'm the worst host-"

'Sorry Dad.'

"Don't be sorry. You two remind me of a better time." Herc only smiled at them and let himself out, nudging Max away from the door with his foot out of years of practice.

Raleigh practically turned the air blue with French curses before he sighed. "At least your Dad's convinced?"

"Why'd you kiss me?" Chuck's voice, as raspy as it was, caught his attention immediately.

"We're supposed to be dating. If I really was your boyfriend, I wouldn't let a cold keep me from kissing you. You were just so adorably grumpy," Raleigh replied before he caught what came out of his mouth. "I-I mean, I've gone and done it with my other relationships, y'know, so I thought you wouldn't mind—"

"Raleigh." Chuck's gaze cut off his voice faster than anything else. "Did you call me adorably grumpy?"

"No," he denied it quickly, valiantly trying to ignore how his face felt like it was on fire.

"You sure?"

"Yes!"

"Raleigh, I-"

"I think I might be in love with you." He blurted and then slapped both of his hands over his mouth in shock.

Oh he was so screwed; Chuck was going to break off their agreement, break up with him even though they weren't really dating and why did that thought hurt so much?

Raleigh made to stand, one foot planted on the floor when Chuck's hand shot out and grabbed the front of his sweater.

"I thought it was hopeless," Chuck coughed before he continued hoarsely. "that there was no way in a million years that sunshine personified would ever like me enough, but you said... You said you're in love with me."

Huh. Weren't they a match made in heaven; oblivious as hell until one of them confessed.

Raleigh settled back into the blankets and whispered, "'Sunshine personified'? Really?"

"Don't you start, Rahleigh."

"Well, since we're actually dating, there is a way to shut me up."

He was going to regret it later, he knew, but the feel of Chuck's tongue in his mouth over-rode the resignation of being sick right along with his boyfriend.

Mako only laughed when Raleigh whined about being sick.

[phaniecastello-blog]

Challenge 3: A talk with a Royal

(( I finally had my rp with my fave @mallory-schreave haha. Thank you, Grace. (2.002K) ))

The ghost of the past and present

Another elimination, the second one to be exact. Two girls left the palace. I didn’t know them at all, but one of them used to give me the impression of being quiet and reserved, and the other one seemed to be the opposite. I knew where those thoughts were leading me anyone can be the next

Thankfully I was able to do several things at the same time, torture myself with scary thoughts, scroll through my phone trying to find a good Secret Santa present for Misty and feeling the urge to go to the kitchen for snacks. I quitted the first, postponed the third and gave my full attention to the second. Going through tons of photography gadgets that I wished I knew for what exactly, were they for.

My eyes stopped on a small, silver colored, square-shaped, camera. It claimed to be as good as any professional one and it was so light you could clip it on your clothes. I instantly remembered seeing Misty carrying her camera around the palace all the time, it couldn’t be much comfortable.

I guess that’s when you know someone is passionate about something, when no matter the obstacles, inconveniences or how uncomfortable it might be, you just feel the need to do it because the happiness and satisfaction are worth any difficulties. Those kinds of feelings could apply to people too. That’s how I felt about art, and I find myself hoping one day I could have that someone, too. The thought came with an image in my mind, that made me startle.

The gift. Focus on the gift.

I tapped on the ´buy now´ button and it was charged on my account instantly, according to the shopping site it was going to be shipped in a few days, just in time for Christmas.

Ok, done. Now snacks

I entered the palace main kitchen with a whim for nachos with guacamole. It was my first time in there, but I always had imagined it full of professional chefs and the best backers of Iléa, some helpers running all over the place and vapoury pots on the enormous stoves; but I couldn’t see any kitchen staff when I came in, it was very quiet, although I could still smell trails of strong coffee, teas and … perfume?

I looked around the place and my eyes founded a girl standing in front of a counter. I recognized the blonde, beautiful hair and smiled for myself. I was hoping to meet her for a long time and the occasion was finally here.

“Good evening, Princess Mallory” I said doing a small bow.

The Princess turned around facing me “Whatever” She said and then went back to her business; I wasn’t able to see what it was.

I frowned confused by her attitude and tried to remember what could I have done for her to behave that way, but I couldn’t find anything, besides hitting her youngest brother I haven't done anything wrong.”Have you seen anyone from the kitchen staff around?”

“I sent them out.”

Goodbye to my nachos. I could felt my stomach complaining and I thanked God it didn’t make any sound because that would have been more than embarrassing. The idea of making my own guacamole crossed my mind, but since I had never done one by myself before, I hesitated for some seconds. It just had 3 ingredients so, it couldn’t be easier. Suddenly I understood Nate’s disbelief when I told him I knew how to make pasta. If it wasn’t for my grandmother I wouldn’t know such a thing.

I walked towards the opposite counter. “Okaaay, I guess I will have to try to do this by myself... sorry if I’m disturbing you, but I need to eat something... Do you want some nachos with guacamole? I made the offer opening all the drawers in front of me, looking for the bowls, kitchen tools and ingredients I needed.

“God no! That's way too many carbs” She said playing with her bright hair ends.

I bite my lower lip feeling guilty for a moment that didn’t last. “Well, yeah, you are right... but it would be just this time, they won’t hurt…” I teased smirking.

She looked at the ingredients I put on the table, while I was chopping the tomatoes carefully, trying to get small and similar pieces.

When you see those kitchen shows on tv, it looks so easy

“Fine, whatever.” Mallory said.

“I have to confess I have never done it by myself before, but it’s not like I’m making paella or whatever is complicated in the kitchen world” I cut the avocados in halves and put them in a bowl to be smashed “can I ask you what were you... preparing?” I asked.

“A wheatgrass recipe” I could sense a proud tone in her voice. It was obvious she likes to take care of herself from head to toe. I was sure she was going to grow up to be as beautiful as her mother.

“Uh... yes, wheatgrass juices are popular among the models. They don’t taste very nice if you ask me” I tried to dissimulate a disgusted face. I used to have nightmares about wheatgrass when I was younger, Loretta used to make me drink those juices at least 3 times a day.

“You're a model, right?”

I nodded “Yep, my mother is a fashion designer…” My muscles tensed a little, I had tried to avoid mentioning my mother. My conscience could be clear, but if regular people used to get judgmental when they heard her name, Royals had a free ticket to do that.

I finished the guacamole and put the bowl between us. ”Here, hope it tastes good” I said crossing my fingers, then I opened a bag of nachos and spread them on a plate.

Mallory gave a suspicious look to the mixture and then finally decided to taste it. “Omg, It doesn't suck!”

I scoffed a laugh. Even though I knew my recipe wasn’t the best one, I suspected the young Princess wasn’t exactly easy to please. Men will have to work hard to get her heart.

“Thanks... I guess I can add guacamole to the things I can cook, right behind cereal and instant soup” I winked

“More than I can make” She shrugged

“Well, you are Princess you don't have to know stuff like this if you don't want to... what do you do for fun or...?” I guess it could be horse riding or maybe fencing. I had always like to learn some fencing.

“What I'm told”

Okay, maybe I’m watching a lot of movies

I narrowed my eyes at her with disbelieve “With all my respect. you, but you don't seem like a person who does what it's told…”

She turned and leaned on the counter “I'm proper when I need to be, but I've always reserved the right to voice my opinions”

“mhmm, I understand” I had tried to use that method myself, but the difference was, my mother, doesn’t even care about my opinions, and I wish I was brave enough to make her listen “but at least you like what you do, right? I mean being a princess and stuff” I continued, shrugging

“It's nothing exciting” Mallory said.

“You can always find something entertaining to do... a hobby”

“I have hobbies” She rolled her eyes at me

“Okay, okay” I kept eating the nachos, while I tried to get things straight. I asked what did she do for fun, the answer was: what she’s told, but now I’m learning that she also had hobbies….maybe hobbies aren’t enough for her to have fun. That’s when a crazy idea came to my mind and before I could think through it, I opened my big mouth “I just had an idea, but I don't know if it would be possible, obviously we would take care of a lot of security issues... would you like to go to one of our fashion shows someday? I mean, you are clearly interested in fashion” I said pointing at her outfit.

“Oh right, you're Stephanie Costello” I shivered at the change of her tone. Then she crossed her arms and continued “I know exactly why you're here”

I closed my eyes and pressed my lips together. It was happening again, my mother’s reputation was ruining my life. “It’s Castello” I corrected her,  let me guess, is it fame?  or... maybe power what you have in mind?” I tried to remind myself this time I wasn’t able to fight back like I used to do with all the pretentious girls that surrounded back at work; it was the princess standing in front of me. I already knew this could happen, I knew the royals might think the worst about me, that was one of my biggest fears since the beginning. My job now was to change it.

This is going to be harder than I thought

“Nope. You have a very nice mother, don't you?” She said sarcastically.

“Huh ... define nice” I said playing innocent. “She’s definitely different from conventional mothers”

“I heard she just adores my mother” Should I run away or? “What are you? Living out her failed dream or a form of revenge?” She raged.

My nerves tensed and my head hurt so bad, I have started to feel dizzy. I massaged my forehead and then I let go a deep breathe “Look, I-I don’t have nothing to do with my mother’s past. I guess it will be hard to believe but we have never shared opinions …”

She raised an eyebrow and gave me an evil smirk “Mmhm. I believe you”

I tried to stand as straight as I could when what I really wanted to do was to disappear. I could feel anger and frustration flowing through my veins, but I knew it wasn’t the Princess fault after all Loretta had said and done terrible things about the royals in public, even if she had promised me not to. “I don’t blame you, probably I would think the same if I were you.” I mumbled the next words “I’m also used to it.”

She crocked her hair mockingly “Tragic”

I realized the conversation wasn’t making any sense at all, there was no way I could make her believe in my words and I was just making a fool of myself.

I rolled my eyes and dropped my arms at my sides, giving up “Since I don’t have any physical proof of what I’m saying I guess you have 2 choices: You give me the benefit of the doubt, cause you know, I think you are intelligent enough to get your own opinion about someone or you just keep judging without even knowing me”

She came closer to me and taped my nose. “Mmhm” I crossed unconsciously, my eyes following her finger and then hold my breath, trying not to scream, holding the tears that were threatening to fall. I put my hands on my stomach as brushing my dress. “I-I will go now, you can have the rest,” I said tilting my head towards the nachos She grabbed a chip and dips it in the guacamole “Much appreciated” I bowed and quicken my step out of there.

In my way, to my room, I was still trying to keep myself together meanwhile my thoughts weren’t helping

If Mallory knows about Loretta who else knows? Does Nate know? Was he being nice to me just because he has to? He’s a gentleman, a Prince.

I felt my heart heavy on my chest. All I wanted was to prove the media and everyone else wrong and get a life for my own for once.

Before the meeting with Mallory I was waiting for the right time to talk to the Queen, but in that moment I just felt the urge to do it, no matter how nervous I was about it, I needed to speak with her that night.  

[arya3601]

Chai Tea & Tomato Rice Soup

AU where one person has a sort of difficult name and the other is the barista who always says their name right

also Cas gets sick and Dean is sweet

Read it on AO3!

“Cas...teel?”

Castiel sighed but smiled kindly at the barista as he took his drink. “Thank you.”

“No prob, man,” the guy threw back, already turning to prepare the next drink in the never-ending line that was the campus Starbucks during midterms.

Castiel carefully navigated the crowd, making sure not to spill any of his drink on his way back to his table.

“Why didn't you correct him?” Jessica asked as he sat down, her voice slightly louder than normal to be heard over the buzz of conversation around them.

Castiel took a cautious sip of his chai tea and made a face at the immediate burning of his mouth. “It's not really worth it anymore, to be honest,” he replied, absentmindedly flipping through his theology textbook. “I used to try, but they would always forget by the next time I ordered. Also,” he glanced up at the line, “He could use a break. It's his exam week, too, but he has to be here instead of studying. I got the drink I ordered, that's really all I ask.”

 Jess swept her long, blonde hair into a ponytail and sighed. “I'm just saying, if he got my name wrong, I definitely wouldn't just let it go like that.”

Castiel just chuckled. “Well, 'Jess' is a great deal easier than 'Castiel', so I think you're safe. Now, what part did you want to go over?”

         Jess opened her own textbook, “I just didn't really understand this part here, on page, uh, 224.”

 Castiel turned to the correct page and started explaining the main ideas.

A few hours later, Jess closed her book with an air of finality. “Thank you so much, Castiel, I feel a lot better about this test tomorrow.”

 Castiel gave her a small smile at her as he finished his drink. “It's really no problem, Jess. Explaining things to other people is a good way to help me remember the material as well.”

 She started packing her things into her backpack. “Well, either way, it was extremely helpful.” She paused and looked up at him. “Are you sure you don't want any money or something? I mean, we were here for at least three hours, and tutors usually charge like at least $10 an hour or something.”

 Castiel waved off the offer, beginning to pack up his own books away. “This wasn't a tutoring session; it was just a friend helping out a friend. Don't worry about it.”

 Jessica still looked unsure. “If you say so.” She slowly resumed her packing.

 “I do. It was no trouble.” Castiel stood, already done. “Would you like me to walk you back to your dorm?”

 Jess laughed, standing as well. “It's like 5 o'clock, Castiel, not midnight. It's still light out, I'll be fine. Plus,” she grinned wolfishly, “I'm meeting my boyfriend in about half an hour.” She checked the time on her phone and nodded, seemingly to herself.

 Castiel tossed his empty cup in the trash as they left the coffeehouse. “All right, then, I suppose I'll see you in class tomorrow. Make sure to get enough sleep,” he reminded her. “I wouldn't want you passing out halfway through the exam just because you were out until 3 in the morning with your boyfriend.” He shot her a crooked smile.

 Jess laughed and swatted at his arm. “Excuse you, I know how to control myself!” She winked at him. “Gotta go, don't want to be late!” She waved back at him as she walked briskly away.

 Castiel shook his head with a tiny smile at her sudden exit. They had met a few weeks earlier, at the beginning of the semester in their theology class. Jess, as fearless and impulsive as he now knew she always was, she sat down next to him and introduced herself.

 “Hello, my name is Jessica Moore, and you look like the smartest person here, can I sit next to you?” She had stuck her hand out for a handshake.

 Castiel had just sat there for a moment, blinking at the sudden entrance. He had shaken her hand tentatively. “Hello, Jessica, my name is Castiel Novak, and I suppose if you want to you could sit next to me.”

 Jessica’s eyes had widened at his deep voice, obviously not expecting such a gravelly sound, but all she had said was “Cool.”

 As the class had gone on, they had each learned about the other. Castiel had learned that Jess was very intelligent, but often tried to go faster than she probably should, both in class and simply in life in general. She had a boyfriend named Sam, who she had described as clumsy, tall, and adorable. She obviously adored him, and if the constant stream of texts and calls were any indication, he felt the same.

 Jess had, in turn, learned that Castiel was, at least in her mind, “the smartest person there”, and tended to work more methodically than she did. He was often, if not always, reading a book of some sort every time she walked into the classroom, but would put it away without complaint if she wanted to talk to him. He didn't seem to have a girlfriend, and by the look on his face when the guy in front of them had decided to wear a tighter shirt than usual, not very interested in looking for one. She hadn't asked about it, though, just let it be, which Castiel was thankful for. He was gay, and he wasn’t ashamed about it, but he didn’t feel the need to tell everyone as soon as he met them. He didn't really want to get into that conversation that soon.

 He did, however, want to get into his dorm soon, he thought, glancing around at the dead grass everywhere. Winter was coming, and he felt it through his jacket he had put on that morning. He started walking quickly toward his room, sticking his hands into his pockets in a late attempt to protect them from the chill.

 Jessica walked into the campus Starbucks, huge smile beaming on her face.

 Castiel glanced up from his book at the cheery jingle from the bell over the door and gave a slight smile back at her. “It went well, then?” He asked when she reached the table, closing his book and slipping it into his bag.

 “Cas, it was fantastic!” She pulled her phone out of her back pocket, tapping it a few times before turning it to show him the screen. She had pulled up her theology page in her Blackboard account, showing the grade from the midterm. “I got a 98, Cas!! Everything you said would be on it was on it, and the explanations you gave were so helpful!”

 Castiel looked up from the screen and smiled again, “I’m glad you did well. It was all of your hard work that paid off, I just helped a small bit.”

 She scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Sure, sure. I could only get so far on my own, though. You helped a lot more than you let yourself take credit for. You have to let me pay you something. Or at least treat you to a drink. You don’t have one yet, right?”

 Castiel shook his head. “No, I was waiting until you got here. I didn’t want to drink it all before you came.”

 Jess grabbed his hand, standing and leading him to the counter. “Well, I’m buying your coffee, then! What do you want, Castiel?”

 He gave a small laugh under his breath. “It really was all your studying, but if you insist, I’m not going to complain. I usually get chai tea.” He looked up at the counter and immediately slowed his steps.

 The man behind the counter was stunning. His hair was shining bronze in the afternoon sun and the standard green apron made his green eyes pop. He was standing behind the register, waiting on them to get there with a big smile. Cas tilted his head slightly, confused at the giant grin being directed their way.

 Jess smiled at Cas again and let go of his hand as they reached the counter. “A chai tea it is!” She turned to the barista, smile still in place, “Hello! I’d-- Dean?”

 The handsome man behind the counter laughed. “Hey, Jess! How’s it goin’?”

 She laughed through her greeting. “Hey, Dean! I didn’t know you worked here! I would’ve come in more often. Gotta take advantage of that friends and family discount.”

 He shook his head with a grin. “Nah, it’s new. I was just hired a few days ago. I’ve been told I make good coffee, though, so don’t try to pull any ‘re-do’ stunts or anything.” He pointed a playfully threatening finger at her. “By the way, who’s your friend? I saw you holding his hand, I need a name to tell Sam who he lost you to.” He winked at Castiel.

 Dean laughed a lot. And smiled. Castiel liked it.

 Jessica giggled back. “Sam doesn’t need to worry. Dean, this is my friend Castiel Novak. He’s the one responsible for me acing my theology midterm!” She smiled at Castiel again. “You remember by boyfriend, Sam, right?” Castiel nodded. “This is his brother, Dean Winchester.”

 “Hey, Castiel.” Dean said his name slowly, like he was testing it out, and then smiled at him. Castiel felt his cheeks warm at the direct attention, but didn’t let himself linger on it.

 “Hello, Dean.” Castiel chuckled at the look on Dean’s face.

 “Man, I was not expecting that voice out of you.” Dean’s look of surprise quickly turned into amusement.

 “Yes, I know.” Castiel nodded at the man. “No one ever is. I’ve gotten some… interesting responses, to say the least.”

 “I’ll bet.” He laughs, “Anyway, I should actually do my job.” Dean lifted his hands to the register, ready to punch in their orders. “What’ll it be, guys?”

 “I’m treating my savior to a drink for his help, so it’ll just be one order,” Jess explained. “I’ll have a grande peppermint mocha and Castiel would like a chai tea.”

 “What size?” Dean asked, a small wrinkle between his scrunched eyebrows as he slowly typed in the order, obviously not yet used to the system.

 “A grande is fine, thank you.” Castiel told him.

 “Okay…” he poked at a few more buttons, tongue peeking out of the corner of his mouth, before a number flashed on the readout. “That’ll be $9.52.” Dean looked up with an air of triumph.

 Castiel gave him a small smile. His pride at his little achievement was cute. Dean met his eyes and gave him a grin.

 Jess held up her debit card and Dean’s face fell. She laughed at his glare. “Not an expert at the card reader, yet?”

 “No,” he grumbled, looking at the register again, searching for the right keys. “Would it kill you to pay with cash?”

 “Hey, my boss does direct deposits into my bank account.” She shrugged. “I never have any actual money on hand.” She looked at Castiel. “Do you ever have cash?”

 Castiel shook his head, “No, my boss does the same thing. I use my card for everything.” He gave a sympathetic look to Dean. “Sorry.”

 Dean rolled his eyes but let it drop. He tapped a few buttons, “Okay… you can swipe your card now?”

 She raised her eyebrow. “Was that a question?”

 “… No?”

 She swiped her card and the machine chirped.

 “Ha!” Dean beamed. “I did it right!”

 Jess giggled as she put in her PIN. “Good job!”

 Castiel laughed under his breath and smiled at the barista. “Good work.”

 Dean preened a bit before laughing it off. “I’ll get faster after a few more days. If you guys want to go sit down, I’ll call your names when I’m done with your drinks.”

 Jessica looked around. The room was nearly empty. There was a nervous looking man in the back corner and an Asian kid spread over two tables by the windows, but the rest of the room was barren. “Everyone’s gone home for fall break, Dean. There’s like two other guys in here. I’m pretty sure you can just say our order. Or just say ‘Hey, guys’.”

 Dean waved her off. “Yeah, but where’s the fun in that? Don’t you want to hear your name called out?” He looked at Castiel with an imploring face.

 “Sure.” Castiel croaked, unable to think straight with the green eyes holding him in place. And after all, he would like to hear Dean say his name again.

 “Good!” Dean grinned. “Then it’s settled!” He clapped his hands before turning to the coffee machines.

 Jess gave Castiel a calculating look as they moved towards their table. He ducked his head a little and felt himself blush, but sat down and tried to act normal.

 “So,” he coughed, “How did your other midterms go?”

 “… Fine.” She let it go, but gave him a look at clearly said we’re talking about this later. “How about yours?”

 “They went well.” Castiel smiled gratefully. “How is your job at the comic book store?”

 “It’s great! The owner’s a woman named Charlie, and she’s so cool!” Jessica gushed. “There’s a huge TV in the kid’s corner that just plays, like, Batman and other comic book cartoons all day. I can see it from the counter, and it helps pass the time when business is slow. She has Star Trek, Star Wars, Doctor Who, Harry Potter, you name it, she’s got it all over the place! It’s so colorful!” She smiled. “And, she’s super understanding if I ever have to call in or if I’m late. I’m really glad I got this job.”        

 Castiel chuckled at her enthusiasm and happiness. “It sounds amazing.”

 “It is! Are you sick of your job, yet? I know you’ve only worked there for a few weeks, but if you want I can always ask Charlie about an opening.” She offered.

 Castiel shook his head. “No, thank you. My job is great. I like working at the bookstore.” He smiled softly. “It’s a small place, but it’s fantastic. It’s run by this woman, Mary, and it’s cozy. There are armchairs, a wonderful children’s section, and most of the customers are polite.”

“Well, I’m glad we both have good jobs! It sucks to be stuck in a job you can’t stand just to pay the rent.” They shared a smile.

 “Jess! Castiel!” Dean called from the pick-up counter.

 Jessica rolled her eyes at the call and at Castiel’s resulting smile, but stood up, walking with Castiel to the drinks.

 “See?” Dean asked, leaning on the counter. “Wasn’t that more fun than me calling out ‘one peppermint mocha and one chai tea’?”

 Jess narrowed her eyes at him. “You can pretend that that was for our benefit all you want, Dean, but we both know that was all for you.”

 “Now, Jess, that hurts.” Dean protested, but his eyes twinkled. “Why on Earth would you say such things?”

 “The truth must out, my friend.” She picked up her drink, taking a cautious sip. “Your coffee IS pretty good, though, so I’ll let it slide.”

 “Told ya.” Dean winked at her. “What about you, Castiel?” He turned to Castiel, a small smile in place. “What do you think? I haven’t had any chai tea orders yet, so you get to be the first judge.”

 Castiel carefully picked up the cup, feeling the temperature as best as he could through the cardboard. He slowly took a sip, happily surprised it was warm enough to be pleasant but not hot enough to scald. “It’s good.”  He smiled down at the counter, avoiding eye contact. “Also, thank you for pronouncing my name right. Most people forget how to say it by the time they call it out.” He gave Dean a small mock toast, ears burning at his own awkwardness.

 “I’m glad you like it,” Dean’s smile dimmed. “But the name thing must suck. I’m sorry it gets messed up so much.”

 Castiel shrugged, taking a drink of his tea. “I’m used to it. It’s not a big deal, but it was nice for someone to get it right.”

 “I’ll bet.” Dean grimaced sympathetically.

 “Well, Dean, it was nice talking to you,” Jess said, “but you should probably get back to work.” She nodded over to the register, where a man was waiting patiently.

 “You’re right,” he nodded to Castiel, “It was nice meeting you, Castiel. Jess, you still comin’ to dinner tomorrow?”

 “Yup! Wouldn’t give up a chance for Mary’s cooking!”

 Dean chuckled as he started walking to the customer. “See you then!”

 Castiel turned to Jess. “Did you say Mary?”

 She led him back to their table. “Yeah, Dean and Sam’s mom name is Mary. Her cooking is to die for.” She made an appreciative sound.

 Castiel hummed in thought as he sat down. “I wonder if it’s a coincidence that Dean’s mother and my boss have the same name.”

 Jess looked considering. “I think it is? It’s a pretty common name, and I don’t think Sam has mentioned anything about a bookstore before. He probably would have said something if his mother owned one, you know?”

 “You’re right. Ah, well,” he dismissed it. “They’re probably not the same person. I’m being silly.”

 “That would’ve been so great, though.” Jessica laughed.

 Castiel just smiled, but secretly agreed. If the Winchester boys’ mother and his boss were the same Mary, he’d have had more chances to see Dean.

He looked at the cup when he got home, after talking with Jessica for a while at Starbucks. Dean had written his name in solid letters, and, amazingly, he had spelled it correctly just from hearing it. Castiel smiled and ran his thumb over the Sharpie. He hoped Dean would be working the next time he went for a drink.

Winter break was not his favorite vacation, Cas decided, leaning against the register at work. Sure, he didn’t have to do any homework for a few weeks, but the mind-numbing boredom sort of ruined that reward. Mary had let him work more hours after he had told her that he wasn’t going home for the holidays, but there were still his days off and long nights alone in his apartment with nothing to do. Yesterday he had spent over an hour attempting to make chai tea as good as Dean had made, simply because he had nothing else to do. He hadn’t succeeded (but then, he hadn’t thought he would).

“Excuse me, uh, Ca… Caw… Cah-sty-al?”

 Cas straightened up and put on his bright customer-service smile. The older woman looked a little angry that she needed to ask for help, and the type to complain about every second Castiel wasted not helping her find what she wanted. Castiel didn’t want to start a scene in Mary’s store, he liked the calm atmosphere here. He’d rather it stayed that way for those trying to read. “Yes, how can I help you, ma’am?”

 After answering increasingly belligerent questions, smiling politely in response to a few pointed jabs at his names and his parents (“What could they have been thinking? A name like that…”), and walking the woman over to the cooking section, he felt justified in sitting behind the register and laying his head down on the counter.

 “You could have told her to leave, you know.” Mary’s voice came from behind him. She sounded amused, but he could hear the edge of anger. “I would’ve supported you. She was being incredibly rude and belligerent.” She walked up next to him and rested a motherly hand on his shoulder. Her wavy blonde hair looked as soft as it had the day she hired him, and her eyes shined with concern.

 Castiel raised his head and sent her a weak smile. “It wasn’t a problem. Everyone has to deal with rude customers at some point. We can’t kick them all out or you’d never make any money.”

 Mary squeezed his shoulder but let her hand drop. She sighed, “True, but that doesn’t mean it’s ever a fun experience. Did you straighten up the children’s area?”

 Castiel nodded. “The romance and cooking sections, too. I should just have to do a final walkthrough after closing.”

 “You can head out early, if you want to, hon.” Mary gave him a kind smile. “I can do the closing stuff just fine. I’m sure you’d like to go home after dealing with her.”

Castiel nodded gratefully. “I’d like that, if you’re sure you’ll be alright.”

 She rolled her eyes and waved a dismissive hand. “You’re only leaving ten minutes early. Besides, I ran this place by myself for a long while before you got here, Castiel. It’ll be fine. Go,” She shooed him away playfully.

 He smiled at her gratefully as he grabbed his bag from underneath the counter and logged out of the register. “Thank you, Mary.” He shrugged on his coat quickly.

 “Don’t thank me yet!” She called as he opened the door, bell ringing cheerfully. “You still have a double shift on Friday!”

 “I’m looking forward to it!” He laughed, the door swinging closed behind him. He walked down the street, hiding his hands from the chill in his pockets. He could go home. Or… he could go to the campus Starbucks and see if Dean was working. He rubbed his hand against the inside of his pocket. He could use a warm drink, his throat felt kind of scratchy today… and he couldn’t make his tea as good as Dean’s…

 Castiel redirected his footsteps to lead to Starbucks, hoping Dean was on shift.

 When Cas reached the café, Dean was behind the counter, but it didn’t look like he’d be able to talk. Castiel wasn’t the only one wanting a drink; the place was absolutely packed, a long line wrapping around the floor. A dark-haired girl was running the register, tapping away much quicker than Dean had been the other day. Dean had been assigned to making all of the drinks, by the way he was flitting around behind the counter. Castiel smiled to himself at Dean’s controlled panic, obviously overwhelmed but managing well. Waiting patiently in line, he watched as Dean moved his hands fluidly over the machines, quickly scribbled names on cups, and yelled to be heard over the crowd. His hair was messier than last time, like he’d been running his hands through it in panic every free moment. Castiel smiled to himself at the thought.

 The woman at the counter was polite and looked much more accustomed to the rush than Dean. She smiled at Castiel as he stepped forward. He could see the relief in her eyes at his simple order, and smiled back thankfully when she wrote down his name without any laughter or judgement. He decided to tip her a little more than usual. She could probably use it, he thought, taking long, complicated orders all day.

 He walked to the other counter to wait, hoping it wouldn’t take too long. He really was feeling drained from work. He glanced back up at Dean and froze when his eyes met shining green ones.

 Dean grinned at him and waved with a Sharpie-holding hand before looking down at the ticket and writing a name on the cup.

 “Alfie!” He called, clicking the Sharpie and hooking it on his apron. Alfie took his cup with a bright smile and cheerful nod, thankfully blocking Castiel from Dean’s line of sight for a few moments. His ears felt hot.

 Castiel pulled out his phone to distract himself, texting Jess about the vacation. She was very disappointed that classes resumed in a few days, unlike Castiel. She had spent nearly all break with her boyfriend, apparently, and didn’t want that to end. He assured her that Sam would no doubt text her as often as humanly possible, and they could always meet up.

 “Castiel!”

 Cas nearly dropped his phone. He looked around for the friend calling his name, cocking his head when he didn’t see anyone.

 “Drink for Castiel!”

 Oh. He blushed and walked up to the counter. Dean was grinning at him, looking amused. Castiel was relieved to see that his smile was kind, at least. More like the “laughing with you” feeling than the “laughing at you” kind.

 “Sorry,” Castiel ducked his head a little, reaching for the cup. “I’m not used to it sounding…” He trailed off, trying to find a nice way of wording it. Dean had remembered his name. And how to pronounce it. Correctly.

 “Correct?” Dean supplied, still grinning. His smile slid off and suddenly, he looked concerned. “Wait, that was right, right? Cas-tee-ell?”

 Cas nodded, looking at the cup to avoid eye contact. “Yes, you’re correct. Um.” He glanced up and back down immediately, embarrassingly red-faced. “Thank you for remembering.”

 “Yeah, ‘course, man.” Dean looked like he wanted to keep talking, glancing regretfully at the huge stack of orders to fill. He sighed. “Well, better get back to the grind.” He looked delighted at his pun, smiling like the sun at Cas. “See you later?” Castiel hoped he was actually hearing the hope in Dean’s voice and not just imagining it.

 Castiel nodded, awkwardly taking a step backward. “Yes. I, um,” he took a deep breath. “Yes.”

 “Cool.” Dean smiled at him again before turning away.

 Castiel walked home, alternatively running his thumb over the Sharpie letters and cursing himself for being an idiot.

Castiel walked into Starbucks, struggling to fix his scarf. He finally got to lie how he wanted as he reached the counter. He looked up, only to be met by a handsome barista with amusement in his green eyes.

“Hey, Castiel.” Dean said. “Is your scarf trying to strangle you?”

 Castiel stared at him for a moment. Dean had remembered him. He had remembered his name without reading it from a receipt.

 “Um…” It sounded like he had gravel coating his vocal cords. Castiel cleared his throat, ears burning. “Hello, Dean. Yes, it seems like it might be. Although the wind almost blew it away, so I suppose it was the better alternative.” He rasped. “At least this way I get to keep it.”

 Dean chuckled, but his eyebrows creased. “I guess so. How are you?” He looked concerned. “I remember your voice being deep, but not that gravelly. You don’t sound too hot.”

 Castiel shook his head, pausing to cough before he replied. “Unfortunately, I seem to have caught a cold.” He winced at the pain in his throat.

 “That sucks, man,” Dean said sympathetically. “Do you want your chai tea to be a little hotter than normal today? It might feel better on your throat.”

 Oh. Dean had remembered his order, too. Castiel was unable to stop the full-on blush that took over his face. He ducked his head a bit, hiding in his scarf. “Yes, that would be nice.”

 “Alright.” Dean smiled softly at him. “So, a hot grande chai tea?” His fingers flew over the screen much faster than before.

 “Yes, please,” Castiel said hoarsely.

 “It’ll be $3.50.”

 Castiel tilted his head to the side, confused. “Isn’t that a little low? It’s usually $4.25.”

 Dean shrugged, smiling. “Friends and family discount.”

 “Oh,” Castiel said softly, pulling his debit card out of his wallet. Dean thought of him as a friend. Cas suddenly felt warm and hid his smile in his scarf. “Thank you, Dean.”

 “No problem, Cas.” Dean winked, hitting the buttons to bring up the card payment. “You can swipe your card now.”

 “Cas?”

 Dean blinked. “Oh, yeah, sorry, it just slipped out. Bad habit, I guess. I give everybody nicknames. Sammy, Jess, you know.” He gave Castiel another concerned look. “Is it okay if I call you Cas?”

 “Yes.” Cas replied, looking down, purposely breaking eye contact to swipe his card. It was more than okay. He had a small smile on his face as he keyed in his PIN. “It’s perfectly fine.”

 Cas finished paying and walked to a barstool, trying very hard not to trip and embarrass himself. He sat down at the bar next to the counter, facing Dean. He wanted to talk to the man more. Dean was cheerful and incredibly nice.

 Cas set his bag down on the stool beside him and opened it. He sniffled, rooting around to try and locate a tissue in the bottom. Going from the cold outside to the warm interior of the store was making his nose run like crazy. Snot was not attractive. And besides trying to look attractive, he just felt gross and wanted to be able to breathe through his nose.

 “Hey, Cas!”

 Castiel looked up just in time to see a small to-go pack of Kleenex plop on the counter in front of him.

 Dean winked. “Former boy scout. Always prepared.” He laughed at himself and turned back to the machines.

 Castiel smiled at his thoughtfulness. “Thank you, Dean.”

 “No prob, Cas.”

 He picked up the packet and pulled out a Kleenex, turning away from the counter to try and blow his nose as discreetly as possible. It still sounded horribly loud in the nearly deserted café, and it ended with him coughing roughly, but at least he could breathe now. Kind of. “Hey, Dean?”

 Dean threw him a glance and a smile as his hands tinkered with the machines. “Yeah, Cas, what’s up?”

 “Would you mind watching my bag for a moment?” He grimaced at his germy hands, one still holding the dirty tissue. “I’d really like to wash my hands now but I don’t want my laptop or anything stolen.”

 Dean nodded as he slid a cardboard sleeve on an empty cup. “Yeah, ’course.” He held out his hand over the counter. “If you’re really worried, I can keep it back here for a minute. Not technically allowed,” he rolled his eyes, “But it’s, like, two minutes and there’s no one else working who’ll rat us out.” He winked, hand still outstretched.

 Castiel gave him a soft smile and carefully handed over his messenger bag, feeling his cheeks warm. “As long as you’re sure I’m not getting you in trouble. Thank you, Dean.”

 Dean bent and tucked the bag under the counter with one hand, waving the other dismissively. “Don’t worry about it, Cas,” He straightened and playfully shooed Castiel off of his barstool. “Now go decontaminate, we don’t need an epidemic starting. Especially not while I’m on shift.”

 Castiel chuckled quietly as he slid off the seat, the sound raspy. “I doubt it’ll cause much harm, it’s just a cold.”

 Dean leaned back dramatically, raising his hand in a pose like a bad Shakespearian actor. “I can see the headlines now! ‘Local Barista Brings Zombie Apocalypse! Experts Say Bad Handwashing Habits to Blame!’”

 Castiel shook his head but smiled. “How about, ‘Local Barista Floods Store. Caused by Lack of Attention, Experts Say.’”

 “Nah, that’s too long to be a good headline.” Dean scoffed. “Also, I doubt you can flood the entire store by not paying attention when you wash your hands. There’s a drain in the bathroom floor for that.”

 “Dean,” Castiel rolled his eyes, “I wasn’t talking about me.” He pointed behind Dean.

 Dean furrowed his eyebrows before turning around and cursing loudly. He hadn’t been paying attention to the machines and the coffee cup had overflowed, spilling hot water over the counter and in a growing puddle in the floor. He rushed over to shut off the machine.

 Castiel laughed as he turned to walk to the bathroom, throwing the used tissue in a trash can on the way and ignoring the grumbled curses behind him. The door swung shut and he walked to the sinks, washing his hands thoroughly. As he tried to dry his hands with the sub-par paper towels, Cas caught his reflection in the mirror and leaned forward, frowning slightly. His face was redder than it should be. He brushed a hand across his forehead, pushing his hair back and feeling the temperature there. It felt a little warm.

 He ignored it and turned to throw the wad of paper towels away. It was probably just from being around Dean, he reasoned. He usually blushed more around the man.

 Cas regained his seat at the counter, smiling to himself at Dean’s put-out expression.

 “You,” Dean pointed, with the hand that wasn’t holding up a mop, “could have told me about that before it spilled over.” He seemed more amused than upset by the incident.

 Castiel hummed acknowledgement. “I could have.”

 Dean continued to grumble with mock severity as he mopped. “After everything I do for you, kindheartedly gifting you tissues from my own personal emergency stash, selflessly protecting your laptop from random coffeehouse strangers,” he leaned the mop against the back wall, throwing Cas a teasing glare as he started over on the drink. “Even using my precious friends and family discount on you! I should make you give me that 75 cents.” He grinned at Cas to show that he was joking.

 “You should.” Castiel agreed, nodding solemnly. “I deserve to pay you back for this wrong I have committed.” He smiled down at the counter, leaning his elbows against it. “Unfortunately, unless you have a card reader for your cell phone, I am woefully unable to pay you back for this atrocity.” He looked up at Dean, laughing quietly to himself at the man’s concentrated stare at the cup. It was not going to overflow this time, that much was for sure. “No cash, remember? I only have a debit card.” He coughed roughly into his elbow.

 Dean sighed loudly as he turned off the water, “I suppose, if you truly cannot pay with money, you could repay your debt another way.” He grinned as he sat down the completed drink in front of Castiel, leaning his elbows against the counter in a mirror of Cas’ position. “Drink for Castiel.”

 Castiel smiled and raised his eyebrow, taking a slow sip of the tea. He closed his eyes and sighed for a moment. The heat really did feel wonderful on his raw throat. Calming. “What did you have in mind?” He opened his eyes to see Dean watching him intently, eyes narrowed. “Dean?”

 “Sorry, just,” Dean muttered, raising his hand to brush Cas’ hair back, his fingertips resting gently against the man’s forehead. “Are you sure you’re okay, man? You look flushed. And you feel a little warm.”

 Castiel blushed hard at the sudden attention and Dean’s cool fingers against his skin. “It’s just a cold.” He replied quietly, not really answering the question.

 Dean hummed, looking thoughtful, but withdrew his hand.

 Castiel fought the irrational urge to grab Dean’s wrist and put his hand back. He ducked his head into his elbow as he coughed again.

 “Um,” Castiel began, embarrassed at his own scattered thoughts, “would you mind handing me my bag? I need to get a couple pages of my paper done before work.”

 Dean still looked concerned, but gave Cas his bag back. “Are you sure you’re good to work? You’re really worrying me here, Castiel.”

 Cas ignored the shiver he got when Dean said his full name. He nodded his thanks and gave Dean a small smile. “I’m really fine, Dean. If it makes you feel better, I work at a small bookstore, it’s not incredibly strenuous work.” He took out his laptop and pressed the power button, glancing at Dean’s still-worried face as it booted up.

 “Do you have any plans for tomorrow?” Dean asked abruptly.

 “No,” Cas responded, too quickly. He blushed and coughed, as much to hide his embarrassment as to clear his lungs. He took a couple of deep breaths. “I don’t have any plans.”

 “Good.” Dean pointed an authoritative finger at him. “Take some cold medicine before you go to bed and take it easy tomorrow.” He sounded motherly. “You don’t want to be passing out or starting epidemics.”

 It reminded Castiel of Mary, oddly, and he smothered his smile at the comparison. “Alright,” he agreed softly. It felt nice to be cared for, even if it was just in passing, from a friend of a friend. He pushed away the twinge of hurt that thought awarded him. Dean thought of him as a friend, right? He had used his “friends and family” discount, after all.

 “Good.” Dean brought back the sunny grin. “So what class is the paper for? If you don’t mind answering, I mean. I’ll understand if you want to write, I’ll just…” He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, cutting himself off.

 “Oh, no, it’s fine.” Cas told him. As cute as nervous Dean was, he didn’t want to make the man feel unwanted. “It’s just for a lower-level English class. I’m not sure what program I’m going for yet, so I’m working on getting all the basic classes out of the way.”

 Dean’s smile returned, and Castiel was happy that he could put it there. He still looked worried, but was masking it pretty well. “No shame in not knowing yet. It took my mom a few years before she figured out what she wanted to do. It’s better to decide later and know for sure than to pick something early just to get it out of the way, you know? What’s the paper supposed to be about?”

 Castiel smiled quietly at Dean’s assurances and took another soothing drink of his tea. “Our interpretation of a work. It’s theme, diction, symbolism, and all of those things.” He opened a new document on his computer. “It’s nothing dreadfully exciting.” He coughed again, his already weak voice waning from overuse.

 Dean looked concerned again, but obviously decided to stop prodding. “If you say so, man. I’ll let you work. I’ll be right here. If you need anything let me know, alright?”

 Castiel nodded. His throat hurt. His head was starting to hurt, too. He really should get some cold medicine before tonight.

 Castiel typed for a long while, the steady click-clacking of his fingers on the keys melding softly with Dean’s distracted humming. A few more people came in for drinks, but the cold wind was obviously keeping most of them away.

 His eyes started getting fuzzy and his headache steadily worsened. Eventually he stopped typing, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands and leaning forward, resting for a moment. He felt a warm palm on his shoulder, gently comforting.

 “Hey, Cas.” Dean sounded really worried, he noticed faintly. “I made you some herbal tea, okay? I put a lot of honey in it, so it should feel really good on your throat.” Cas heard the clink of a cup set down in front of him. “Hey, look at me.” He said softly.

 Castiel opened his eyes and let his hands fall to the counter, blinking blearily at the man in front of him.

 “You’re really making me worry, here, dude.” Dean peered into his eyes like he’d be able to see any viruses swimming inside.

 Castiel blinked a few times to clear his vision and smiled at Dean. “I’m really fine.” He carefully picked up the mug in front of him, trying to minimize any accidents or spills. His fingers felt oddly clumsy and thick. “I have to work tonight.”

 He didn’t, not really. He had enough to pay rent and scrape by on groceries, even if he would have to eat a bit more Ramen than last month. Mary was nice, she’d understand. But he couldn’t go back to his apartment. His empty, cold apartment.

 His mind was suddenly flooded with childhood memories. Castiel, sick and alone in a house that felt too big, even now, when he went back to visit as an adult. A place that was always just a house, never really a home. It was too cold for that, too full of emptiness, stuffed to the spotless ceilings with smothering, suffocating silence. He remembers being a little boy, sweating from fever and shivering from fear. The white walls echoing his stares, the empty hallways resounding with dead air. His whimpers went unheard, his mother too busy to tend to a sick child. She sent the housekeeper with food and medicine, but the housekeeper never liked him. A messy child in a house with white walls, carpets, curtains. The source of never-ending messes to clean and laundry to bleach. She left as soon as she had made sure he hadn’t died. And Castiel was left alone, a scared child in a spotless house.

 Dean’s face came back into focus, and he looked somehow even more anxious than before. His hand still rested on Cas’ shoulder, a calm, comforting weight. “I have to work tonight.” Cas repeated. He took a long drink of the tea. Dean was right, it took the edge off of the burning pain in his throat. Cas looked up at Dean. “I’ll take cold medicine tonight and sleep all day tomorrow, okay?” He wasn’t sure why he felt the need to comfort Dean, but he did. “Don’t be so worried.” He managed a half smile.

 Dean didn’t look like he was going to follow that order. Dean looked like he was going to smash that order to pieces. He raised his other hand, resting it on Cas’ forehead. “Cas,” he said softly, “You’re burning up. You need to sleep. Call in to work, okay? Tell your boss you’re sick. I get off in ten minutes. Let me drive you home.”

 Cas closed his eyes at the feeling of Dean’s cool hand against his skin. It was tempting. So tempting. But… “No, Dean.” He didn’t open his eyes, not wanting to see the pinch of frustration he’s sure Dean’s eyes would be showing right now. “Thank you for the offer, but I have to go to work.”

 Dean huffed. “If you say so, dude. Your boss should be impressed by your determination.” His hand was growing warmer, absorbing heat from Castiel’s flushed skin. “You’d better come in on my next shift, though, and show me you’re alive.”

 Castiel hummed an affirmative and finally opened his eyes. “Sure. You’ll have to tell me when your next shift is, though.” He glanced at his phone screen to check the time. “I have to go now, if I want to be on time.” Dean’s eyes, green and gold, worry and anxiety, stared back. Castiel broke the eye contact, packing up his laptop carefully.

 “Hey,” Dean’s voice still sounded concerned, but he managed to trim the edges with humor. “I know how you can pay me back for your grave misdeeds today.”

 “Oh?” Castiel said lightly, brain a little foggy. “How’s that?” He coughed again as he stood from the stool, preparing to leave.

 “Give me your number.”

 Castiel blinked slowly.

 “How else am I supposed to tell you my next shift? I don’t want to make you late for work. This way, you’ll know, and I can rest assured that you’ll know when to come in and show me proof that you weren’t taken out by the cold from hell.” Dean joked.

 “Um,” Castiel blushed through the fever flush. He hoped Dean used it for other things as well. He liked talking to Dean. He was funny, witty, and caring, Cas could already tell from their limited interactions. He would really like to get to know Dean better. “Yeah. Okay.”

 His shift was almost over.

 It wasn’t. He was trying to trick his brain into believing it, trying to push himself through until he could get home. No matter how much he didn’t want to go there, either.

 It was a mantra he was repeating to himself. It was what would get him through the next few hours.

 His shift was almost over.

 He had abandoned his scarf long ago, feeling too hot. He began sweating, and every time he ran his hand through his hair if felt wetter.

 The tea had felt so wonderful on his throat, but the warmth had worn off on the walk to the store. His throat was so rough, he felt like he had swallowed carpet and it had given him rug burn all the way down. Burning pain, worsened with every swallow.

 His shift was almost over.

 He tried to stay behind the counter as much as possible, leaning heavily on it. He smiled at the customers, helped them find things, and immediately retreated to what was increasingly feeling like his “safe space”.

 He was trying to convince himself that the mess the last patron had left in the cooking section would be easier to clean up now than it would be in an hour. He wasn’t really succeeding.

 His shift was almost over.

 “Castiel!” He heard Mary shout from the back room. “Could you please move these boxes to the front and start shelving? And be careful, they’re a little heavy!”

 “Yeah!” He called back, immediately regretting the decision. Burning discomfort had turned sharp, a heat blister burst open. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to ride out the wave of pain.

 His shift was almost over. His shift was almost over.

 “Thank you,” her voice neared the doorway. “They’ve been in the back for a while now, so I thought—“ She walked through and immediately cut herself off. “Castiel, you look awful, are you alright?”

 He nodded, unwilling to speak on the heels of the recent agony.

 Mary, if anything, looked more concerned. “Honey, you look like you’re about to keel over any second. I think you need to go.” She reached out and felt his forehead, an odd mirror of Dean. Castiel missed him, strange as that was. Dean was nice, and he let Cas be quiet around him. Cas wanted to be quiet. Unfortunately, Mary was clucking her tongue at the temperature she felt. “Definitely a fever. You’re burning up. You need to sleep. You’re going home.”

 Castiel geared himself up for another round of “I’m fine’s” before sighing in defeat. Screw it. He really wanted to go home, no matter how hollow it was. At least at home he could lie down. “Okay.”

 His shift was over.

 He sagged to the counter, finally allowing himself the luxury to do more than lean.

 “Here,” Mary dragged a folding chair from the back room and pointed at it sternly. “Sit.”

 Castiel sat. He put his arms on the counter and laid his head down.

 “Now, I’m calling my son.” Cas heard the rustling as Mary pulled her cell out of her pocket. “I’m not going to let you walk home with a fever in this wind. I know it might be a little awkward to be in the car with a stranger, but I raised my boys to be gentlemen. He’ll get you home safe and sound, and he’ll call to let me know not to look through the obituaries for you.”

 Castiel didn’t say anything, struggling to stay awake now that he had let himself relax. Mary was on a roll anyway, and she was stubborn at the best of times. Nothing he could say would change her mind regardless. He drifted in and out of awareness as Mary called her son. Cas hoped he was nice. Mary was a good woman, her son was probably polite, at the least. Hopefully.

 “Could you come down to the shop… one of my employees… fever… don’t feel right in letting him… needs a ride home… know his address? Well…”

 Castiel moved his arms apart and let his forehead rest on the cool counter. He hoped that when he stood up he didn’t leave a damp spot from his sweat, that would be pretty gross. Actually, thinking about it, he hoped that he could stand up. He was feeling pretty shaky now, and he was so tired.

 “Okay… See you in a few minutes.” Mary hung up and pocketed her phone. Castiel shook himself in an attempt to fully absorb what she was about to say.

 “Okay, sweetie, he’s on his way. Don’t worry about those boxes, I’ll get him to come move them after he drops you off. Just worry about getting better, alright? Do you have your bag and everything you need before he gets here?”

 Castiel lifted his head with difficultly. It felt incredibly heavy. “Yes.” He ground out. He reached up with shaky fingers and carefully logged himself out of the register. He pulled his bag from under the counter and set it on his lap, wrapping his arms around it like a favorite stuffed animal and thunking his head back down on the counter.

 She slowly rubbed large circles onto his back. It was a weird sensation, Castiel decided. It was oddly comforting and soothing, but it was entirely unfamiliar. He wondered if every mother did this for their kids. Well, every mother besides his own. “You’re not going to pass out on me, are you?” She sounded like she was trying to joke, but the words belied her actual concern. Castiel really thought she should meet Dean; they were so similar.

 Castiel shook his head against the counter. Well… that was a lot of spinning for just a shake of his head. Castiel hummed and changed his answer to a shrug.

 “Alright, sweetheart. You can rest if you want to, okay? I’ll wake you up when he gets here. Do you want to go to the beanbag in the young adult section to nap?”

 It was probably better for his back to sleep in a beanbag than hunched over a counter, and he would probably fall off of the folding chair at some point, if he didn’t move. The beanbag was safer. Castiel nodded and slowly sat up. He coughed, groaning at the pain it caused his throat.

 He slowly stood, leaning heavily on the counter. Mary supported him from the other side and across the open area to the young adult section. He was dimly surprised by her strength, he wasn’t exactly small, but didn’t comment. He sat heavily and immediately curled up as small as possible on his side in the beanbag, still clutching his messenger bag like a teddy bear.

 “Go ahead and nap, Castiel, you have a few minutes. He had just gotten home from work, so he had to get ready to leave again. I’m going to look in the back and see if I might have anything for a cold or fever in my desk. I’ll wake you up to take it if I do, okay?”            

Castiel nodded approval, hoping he wasn’t wiping his sweat on the material. He’d pay to clean it when he was better.

 He fell asleep, waking up once to painfully swallow the teal pills Mary found. He hoarsely thanked her, for the pills and for everything. She smiled and pushed his hair off of his forehead.

 “It’s not a problem, Castiel. You’re an excellent employee and a good man. You know, I have two boys of my own, around your age, and when they get sick they’re completely reliant on whoever they can be.” She winked at him. “The big babies always beg me for my tomato and rice soup.”

 Cas smiled at her as she left. She was a wonderful woman. He should really bring her something nice for her birthday. People like flowers, right? He could do that. Or chocolates? Maybe Mary was more of a homemade cookies kind of person. He drifted back off thinking of all the increasingly outlandish things he could give to Mary for her birthday.

“Hey, mom! You back there?”

 Castiel dimly recognized a voice from the front of the store. He was only half-awake and he was determined to get his other half back under. He clung stubbornly to the dream he had been having, something to do with nice baristas and pretty eyes.

 “Yeah, ‘course, mom. Y’know, it’s weird, I know a guy who was looking pretty bad earlier, too. I hope he made it okay.” The son muttered to himself. “I’ll have to call him when I get home.”

 “Must be going around,” Mary said. “He’s back in the young adult section, I made him nap in the beanbag. You might stop on the way to his house and get some cold medicine, in case he doesn’t have any. Better safe than sorry.”

 “Yeah, good plan, mom,” the voice was growing closer, but Castiel was slipping back under and didn’t really care.

 “Oh,” the son’s footsteps stopped in front of Cas. “Oh, buddy.” Castiel felt someone get closer. From the rustling, it sounded like the son had crouched. “Hey, sleepyhead. You want to wake up for me?” Castiel felt gentle fingers brush his hair back again. No, he did not want to wake up. He mumbled a little and snuggled further into the beanbag, trying to sleep again.

 Wait, that voice sounded kind of familiar.

 Mary’s son chuckled. “Come on, sunshine. Wake up. Let me see those pretty eyes.”

 Castiel felt light fingers trying to gently shake him awake. He knew that laugh, too.

 “Dean?” He mumbled, groggily opening his eyes.

 “There he is.” Dean said, voice low and warm. “See, I told you your boss would understand.”

 Cas squinted at him for a moment. “What are you doing here?” He rubbed his eyes and slowly uncurled his legs.

 Dean smiled at him. “Mom called me. Said she had a worker that needed a ride home. That you?”

 “Um,” Castiel sat up fully and hugged his bag to his chest again. “Yes.” He paused again, sleep- and fever-addled brain trying to work it out. “Mary is your mother?”

 “She sure is,” Dean nodded. “Best mom anyone could ask for.” He smiled again. “Guess we’ll be seeing each other a lot then, huh?”

 Castiel just nodded. His throat was aching again, and he was so tired. He sneezed, turning his head as close to his elbow as he could without letting go of his bag.

 Dean’s smile turned soft and understanding. “Let’s get you home, alright? Once you get some medicine in you, you can sleep all you want.”

 Castiel nodded again. Sleep did sound nice. He was still sweating a lot and his head was starting to pound. He slung his bag across his body and carefully stood, trying not to topple over.

 Dean stood smoothly and helped pull Cas to his feet, supporting him once he was upright. Cas leaned heavily on Dean, trusting Dean wouldn’t be grossed out by his sweat. He hadn’t been at the café, right? Cas tried to reason.

 “You good?” Dean asked, still holding both of Cas’ hands.

 Cas nodded. He regretfully withdrew his hands and swayed a little on the spot.

 “Are you sure?” Dean peered into his eyes again. “I don’t mind helping you out. I’d rather you not pass out and hurt yourself fallin’ on somethin’.”

 Castiel nodded. He took a couple of deep breaths before taking one step forward. His knees immediately buckled, but he managed to catch himself and keep mostly upright.

 “Okay, no.” Dean ducked under one of Cas’ arms and supported him with an arm around his waist. “You’re not falling on my watch.”

 Castiel’s ears burned red, but he had to admit that it was a better alternative to giving himself a fallen-bruised forehead. “Thanks.” He said hoarsely.

 “Not a problem, man.” Dean said cheerfully, leading him into the main shop. “Hey, mom,” His voice turned softer, and Castiel could see the obvious love Dean had for his mother. “Me and Cas are going to head out, alright? We’ll stop at a Walgreen’s or something for medicine.”

 Mary looked confused by the closeness of the two, and raised an eyebrow at the nickname. She just shook her head at her son, smiling. “Okay, sweetheart. He did take a couple NyQuil just a little bit ago, but it’ll be good to stock up. Call me once you get there, okay? Can’t have my best employee go missing.”

 Dean snorted but nodded. “You got it. Oh, can you text me the address, by the way? I think Cas needs to rest his throat for a bit.”

 Castiel smiled at his thoughtfulness. He turned his face into Dean’s shoulder, trying to hide his silly grin from Mary. He wasn’t so sure he succeeded.

 “Yes, of course.” Mary walked to the door and held it open as they awkwardly made their way through. “I’ll talk to you later, Dean. Castiel, get some rest, okay, hon?”

 Castiel nodded to her. She walked back inside, probably to get her phone and text Dean his address.

 They walked up next to the passenger door of a gorgeous black car. Cas didn’t know what year it was, but it was obviously an older car. And lovingly cared for, looking at the shine. Cas would’ve complimented it if he didn’t feel like his throat would bleed if he tried to speak. Dean held onto Castiel’s waist tighter, moving his other arm up to grab his keys out of his jacket pocket. He leaned forward slightly to unlock the door and eased it open with a small creak.

 “Okay, here we go.” Dean muttered.

 With Dean’s help, Castiel eased himself onto the smooth leather seats, pulling his bag’s strap over his shoulder and resting it on his lap.

 Dean closed the passenger door gently and walked over to the driver’s side. The door creaked as he opened it and slid inside. He closed the door and started the engine in one smooth motion. “Alright, Cas. I should get mom’s text in a minute, but can you point in a general direction for me? We can hit a Walgreen’s on the way.”

 Castiel lifted his hand and pointed the way he usually walked to work before wrapping it tightly around his bag. He didn’t know why holding his bag brought him comfort, but he wasn’t about to overthink it. “Would it be okay if I took a nap?” He whispered. The NyQuil Mary had given him was really hitting him hard. Cas was having trouble keeping his eyes open.

 “Yeah, buddy.” Dean said softly. “That’s fine. I’ll run in and grab stuff when we get there. Do you have anything you want besides the cold medicine?”

 Castiel shook his head and leaned it against the window. The engine noise was strangely comforting, the low rumble promising safety from silence.

 “Okay. Get some rest if you can.”

 Castiel hummed. He felt a brush against his stomach and opened his eyes to see Dean reaching across and fastening his lap belt.

 “Safety first.” Dean muttered, leaning back.

 “Former boy scout thing?” Cas managed to whisper.

 Dean grinned at him, relief in his smile. “‘Course.”

 Castiel noticed that Dean didn’t fasten his own belt before reaching for the gear shift. He vaguely wondered if that meant anything as his eyes slid shut again.

 “Sorry there’s no shoulder belts,” Dean said, reversing out of the parking space.

 Castiel blinked his tired eyes open to look at Dean. His mother had always been very strict about looking at someone when they were speaking, and it was a hard habit to break.

 “Baby’s a classic and I don’t want to change anything about her.” He grinned roguishly as he drove in the direction Cas had pointed.

 Castiel hummed again in understanding. His eyes slipped closed. He knew it was the polite thing to do, to look at someone when they were speaking, but he was so tired. He hoped Dean would understand.

 Dean kept talking but Castiel couldn’t catch the words. The sounds streamed through his mind, the lulling timbre of Dean’s voice, but they were waves in an ocean, holding no meaning or shape. Castiel fell asleep to the sea, buoyed by the dull roar of the engine.

“Cas?”

 Castiel felt a hand resting on his shoulder. He mumbled something and turned his head towards the noise.

 “Hey, bud.” Dean’s voice was soft again. Castiel liked it when Dean’s voice was soft. It made him feel nice. “Can you wake up again for me?  We’re at your place.” Castiel felt the thumb of the hand on his shoulder slowly brush back and forth.

 “Mm?” Castiel murmured. His eyelids were incredibly heavy, but he managed to slowly drag them open. He sluggishly blinked at Dean.

 Dean’s smile was as soft as his voice. “There he is.” He hummed. “You with me or are you still asleep?”

 Castiel stared at Dean for a minute, trying to make his brain work. He saw that Dean was crouched by Cas’ open door before losing the battle of keeping his eyes open.

 “Ca-as,” Dean dragged his name out. He sounded like he wanted to laugh at Castiel. Cas wished he would, he really liked Dean’s laugh. It made him want to laugh, too. “Come on.” He shook Cas’ shoulder gently. “I may look like I could carry you up ten flights of stairs, but I swear I can only do two.” His hand moved from Cas’ shoulder to brush his hair back from his forehead again. A lot of people had been doing that lately. Maybe he should get a haircut. “And from the address mom texted me, you live on the third floor.”

 Castiel succeeded in blinking his eyes open again. “There’s ‘n elevator.” He mumbled tiredly, admiring Dean’s face as he laughed under his breath. He turned his head and coughed tiredly into his shoulder.

           “Are you usually not a morning person or is this the NyQuil talking?” Dean asked, still chuckling as he reached across an unbuckled Cas’ seatbelt.

 Castiel blinked down at his legs, trying to force them to move. “Both.” He managed to get one leg onto the pavement relatively okay. The second one made contact with asphalt, but it forced him to turn. He was hit with a wave of lightheadedness. He swayed, nearly falling forward onto Dean.

Dean caught him by his shoulders, looking exceedingly worried. “I’ll keep that in mind.” He muttered, carefully standing while holding Castiel in place. “Are you going to be okay to just sit here for a minute while I grab the bags?”

 Castiel fought down the dizziness and grumbled affirmation. He wobbled a little bit, but stayed upright while Dean walked around to the driver’s side for the bags. The white plastic rustled loudly as it was pulled out of the car. Cas wondered why there was more than one bag. Hadn’t Dean just bought cold medicine?

 “-tiel?”

Castiel blinked and his eyes focused on Dean, crouched in front of him again. He looked anxious.

 “Are you sure this is just a cold, man?” Dean felt Cas’ forehead again. “You’re burning up. You’re kind of scaring me, here.” Dean gave Cas an uncertain smile. “What would I tell Jess if her favorite tutor died on me?”

 Castiel smiled softly. “M’okay.” He relaxed his grip on his bag and slowly reached a hand up to rub at his eyes. “Tired.” He whispered.

 Dean’s hand moved from Cas’ forehead to his hair. He ran his fingers through the sweaty curls. It felt nice. “I know, buddy, I know,” he soothed. “You can go to sleep once you get home.” He smiled crookedly, “Come on, let’s brave this elevator of yours.”

 Castiel nodded slowly. He clumsily pulled his shoulder strap over his head and slid closer to the door.

 Dean stood and gave Cas some room, plastic bags in one hand. He reached out with the other to help pull him to his feet.

 Castiel leaned his forehead against Dean’s shoulder. He fought the urge to just bury his head in the other man. He would bet it would feel lovely, just leaning against Dean while he slowly stroked Cas’ hair, but he had woken up enough to realize it wouldn’t be the best idea.

 Dean managed to swing the passenger door shut with the hand holding the bags and turned toward the door, arm slung firmly around Cas’ waist. “You don’t need a key to the building or anything, right?”

 Castiel shook his head as they walked. “Just the apartment.” He whispered. His voice didn’t want to go any louder.

 Dean nodded in confirmation as he slowly supported Cas up the steps to the door. “Man, I’m glad your building has an elevator.” He said, pushing open the door and leading Cas through. “I’m not sure you could make it up three flights of stairs.” They made their way across the lobby to the elevator.

 “I’d be fine.” Castiel protested softly, determinedly reaching out to push the elevator button. As if that showed his exceptional ability to climb stairs.

 “Okay, man.” Dean chuckled. “I believe you.”

 “Good.” Castiel muttered mulishly. He was a little grumpy, but he had just woken up, after all. He needed to get some coffee. Or go to sleep again, that sounded better.

 There was a ding as the elevator arrived and the doors slid open. They walked in and turned around slowly. Cas reached forward and poked at the right button, still stubbornly trying to prove that he would’ve been fine with stairs.

 “This elevator stinks.” Dean’s nose wrinkled.

 “Mm,” Castiel hummed agreement as the doors slid shut. He usually took the stairs, but he had used the elevator a few times. It always smelled like an odd combination of cooking cabbage and wet dog. “I think Mrs. Pemberton on the fourth floor uses it to take her dog out for walks.” He mumbled, still pretty sleepy.

 “Well, sure, that explains the dog smell. But why the rotten egg smell?” Dean gently shook the arm that was supporting Cas. He was probably trying to keep him awake, Cas realized. “Do you have a weird neighbor that hides eggs for Easter egg hunts and then forgets to tell anyone to look for them?”

 Castiel blinked at the glowing “3” button. This elevator was very slow. “Um,” he tried to focus. “I always thought it smelled more like cabbage than rotten eggs.”

 Dean chuckled. “Then, do you have a weird neighbor that hides cabbage for Easter cabbage hunts and then forgets to tell anyone to look for them?”

 “No,” Castiel’s throat was hurting. “He tells us to look for them, we just don’t bother. No one here is really a fan of cabbage.”

 Dean laughed loudly as the elevator dinged again and the doors re-opened. “Really? Not one person takes the opportunity for free leafy green vegetables? Think of all the money you would save on meals, Cas!” They stepped out of the elevator and paused. “Which one is your place?”

           Feeling slightly more awake, Castiel took a few steps forward without Dean’s support and stopped in front of his door. He unzipped his bag and started rummaging through it to find his keys. “Sure, I would save money, but think of the other consequences.”

 “Other consequences, huh?” Dean was watching him very closely to make sure he wouldn’t fall. “Like what?”

 “Cabbage breath.” He made a face at Dean. His hand brushed against cold metal and he pulled out his keys.

 Dean laughed again. Cas liked making Dean laugh. “That’s true.”

 “All the money I saved with free cabbage would be wasted on extra toothpaste and mouthwash.” Castiel muttered as he slid his key in the lock and opened the door.

 “Ah,” Dean lamented as he trailed behind Cas into the room, “The sacrifices we make for minty fresh breath.”

 Cas shut the door behind them and put his keys in the bowl he had by the door. He gestured Dean towards the kitchen, hoping that Dean would understand his need to be quiet for now. He smiled thankfully as Dean just nodded and walked into the other room.

 He set his bag on the couch and threw his coat over the back before joining Dean in the kitchen. He tilted his head in confusion as Dean unloaded what was definitely more than just cold medicine.

 “So,” Dean looked slightly embarrassed at himself, “I bought a few extra things? I saw a Walmart before we passed any other stores so I figured it wouldn’t hurt to just… get some other stuff.” He rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously.

 Cas smiled slightly at Dean and gave him a little thumbs-up to show it was okay. He slumped down at the table and looked muzzily at the pile of items. Something about sitting down in his own home made his drowsiness come roaring back.

 Dean smiled at the thumbs-up, eyes crinkling, but didn’t say anything about it. “I grabbed some NyQuil and some DayQuil because, well,” he shrugged, “you may want to be awake for some of tomorrow.”

 Cas squinted at him in skepticism. Dean was being incredibly thoughtful. He probably wouldn’t know that being asleep was the best way to get through sickness alone. It sounded like he had always had Mary watching out for him, or Sam for company. Not bleached silences and deaf walls.

 He shivered at bit at the thought of being alone. NyQuil was definitely the better option.

 Dean’s concerned mother look retuned. “Are you cold? Do you want a blanket or something?”

 Castiel closed his eyes and shook his head. He dragged them open again and raised his eyebrows slowly to indicate that Dean should continue telling him about the groceries.

 Dean narrowed his eyes at Cas, as if he was scanning for lies. “Okay, I’m going to tell you what I got, but then it’s straight to bed, mister!” He pointed a finger at Cas, jokingly serious.

 Castiel huffed a breath through his nose, a facsimile of a laugh, and tilted his head in understanding. He coughed into his elbow again.

 “Good,” Dean muttered.  His eyes returned to the tabletop. “I grabbed a bottle of orange juice, for vitamin C and all.” He picked up the small orange bottle and shook it a bit. “Some tissues because I thought you might want to breathe a little,” he smiled as he tapped a blue Kleenex box. “I, um,” he looked embarrassed again, “I also got some tomatoes, a few other vegetables, and some rice.”

 Castiel blinked slowly.

 “My mom always makes us this soup when Sammy and I get sick,” Dean haltingly explained, “Tomato and rice? It’s really good, I swear,” Dean sounded like he was trying to convince Cas of something.

 Castiel furrowed his brow but nodded. She had told Cas that just a bit ago. Maybe Cas was too tired to understand what Dean meant.

 “I thought you might want to try some?” Dean looked incredibly nervous. Almost… scared? “I mean, I can leave if you want me to, I know we don’t know each other all that well, but it always makes me feel better and I thought you might like it.” Dean was ranting now. It was pretty cute, Cas thought. “You don’t have to try it; you might not like it. Damn, I didn’t even ask you if you were allergic to anything, you aren’t allergic to tomatoes or anything are you?” Dean stopped suddenly and flushed.

 Castiel stared at him for a second before smiling as wide as his face would let him. Dean wanted to make him food. His mother’s special comfort food that Dean craved when he was sick. That was unbelievably sweet, and Castiel felt a thousand times better already. Plus, he wasn’t leaving Cas alone yet. He shook his head, happy but still sluggish. He really needed a nap.

 Dean recognized the smile as acceptance and smiled back. “Good. Go change into pajamas or something more comfortable and take a nap. That NyQuil’s probably still in your system and you look wiped.” He shooed Castiel gently from the table. “I’ll make food. Do you want me to wake you up when it’s done or would you rather sleep?”

 Cas bit his lip in thought. As tired as he was, he was also pretty hungry. And he’d rather be awake when Dean left than wake up later to a cold, empty apartment. He glanced at the food and back at Dean, seeing if he got the message.

“I’ll come get you when the food’s ready,” Dean winked at him.

 Castiel smiled and nodded his thanks before sluggishly walking to his room. He closed the door gently and switched out his jeans for old, baggy sweatpants. He pulled off his nicer work shirt and pulled on a ratty old t-shirt from high school that proclaimed the fighting power of the “St. Joseph’s Mighty Angels” in cracked black letters.

 He gently eased the door open again, smiling to himself at the clattering of dishes in the kitchen. He collapsed onto his bed and burrowed into the covers, falling asleep quickly.

 The walls were melting. The ceiling was sagging lower and lower, and Cas knew that he would suffocate when it reached him. He couldn’t move. He could only watch as it dipped, trapped by his military-tight sheets.

 He could scream or yell for help, if he wanted to, but he didn’t bother. He knew it wouldn’t matter.

 He tried to thrash against the restraining cloth, whimpering to himself and sobbing breathlessly. Every movement pulled the blankets tighter, his throat constricted by the cloth and the panic.

           “Oh, Castiel.” His mother sighed, leaning against the doorway. Had she been there just a moment ago? Had she always been there? Was she even there now? “You shouldn’t fight it, Castiel. You know better.”

           Her hair was pulled back in her usual bun, suit as well-pressed and presentable as always. Her face was in the professional smile he always saw it in when she was in the newspaper or online.

 The ceiling drooped, steadily stretching terrifyingly closer.

 “Mother,” he begged, tears leaking down his face. In the back of his mind he knew it wouldn’t change anything, his mother only ever did what she felt like doing, but in his panic he couldn’t help himself.

 She just tsked at him in disapproval and watched. Her eyes were blue, like his own, but so void of warmth they were black holes.

 The ceiling sagged so far it touched his nose. He felt the heaviness of it, the stone cold texture.

 He screamed and thrashed as he was slowly smothered by the weight.

 Castiel awoke to himself clutching onto Dean’s shirt and immediately sat up, nearly cracking their skulls together in the process. He felt tears in his eyes and couldn’t hold back the sob that escaped him.

 “Hey, hey,” Dean soothed. He was sitting on his bed and rubbed Cas’ back soothingly. “S’okay, everything’s okay, it was just a dream.”

 Castiel whimpered and buried his face into Dean’s shoulder.

 “I know,” Dean whispered calmingly. “It’ll all be okay, you’re fine.”

 “I was so alone,” Cas whispered. “Mother was there but she wasn’t there, no one was there, it was just me and this… this thing.”

 Dean hummed in acknowledgement, hand still moving in calming circles.

 “It was all so quiet, everything was silent.” Castiel laughed hysterically. “I was suffocating and all I could hear was myself dying, nothing else even squeaked or, or cracked, or anything.”

 Dean’s hand moved up to run through Cas’ hair. “You’re okay now, Cas.”

 Castiel drew in a shaky breath and just let himself rest against Dean for a few moments. He had been right, earlier, this was nice. Dean’s fingers felt nice running through his hair.

 Castiel’s brain finally engaged and he realized that he was leaning, sweaty and tear-streaked, against a man he wasn’t even quite sure counted him as a friend. He leaned back, blushing at himself.

 Dean almost looked like he wanted to leave his hand where it was, but he let it slide down to the bed.

 “Sorry,” Castiel whispered, looking at an old tea stain shaped like a bean on the corner of his comforter.

 Dean tilted Cas’ head up with a hand under his chin. “Don’t be sorry,” he looked sad. “Nightmares happen to the best of us. Can’t control that.” He quirked a little smirk. “And, hey, at least you had good timing. The soup is ready if you want some.”

 Castiel nodded. His throat felt worlds better, scratchy rather than blistering, but he was in a quiet mood. That NyQuil really did its job. Or maybe he had just overworked it earlier, talking to Dean in the café?

 “D’you wanna come out to the kitchen to eat or d’you want me to bring a bowl in here?” Dean’s soft smile returned. “I don’t mind either way, but I am legally required to tell you that you have a 95% less chance of spilling scalding hot soup on yourself if you have a table in front of you.”

 Castiel did feel like he could handle shuffling out to the kitchen and collapsing into a chair. He tilted his head toward the kitchen in silent choice.

 Dean’s smile stayed firmly in place as he moved his hand from under Cas’ chin (how long had that been there?) and backed up from the bed. “Need help?”

 Castiel shook his head. He could stand on his own, at least.

 “Okay, I’ll go ahead and dish a bowl.” Dean walked to the kitchen.

 Castiel wiped off his face with his sheets, hoping he didn’t have tear tracks on his face. He stood slowly and reached for his fuzziest, most comfortable blanket. He draped it around his shoulders like a cloak of security and shuffled to the kitchen.

 Dean’s back was to Cas as he ladled some soup into a bowl, but he turned his head at the rustling.

 Cas was sure he looked like an absolute disaster, bedhead sticking up all over, nose running, face probably red and blotchy from crying. Not to mention the green fuzzy blanket he had over his shoulders.

 Dean’s eyes crinkled as he turned back to the soup and muttered something to himself. Cas couldn’t hear it, but it sounded like he said “boot”? Maybe “fruit”? Something “-ute”.

 Castiel sagged down into a chair, watching Dean. He had taken off his leather jacket he had on, now just wearing a plaid over shirt with something underneath. Castiel couldn’t quite tell from the back.

 Dean turned around and set two bowls down on the table, reaching over to a drawer and pulling out two spoons. “I hope it’s okay, I made myself familiar with your kitchen.” Dean quirked another smile, but underneath it Castiel could read the slight anxiety.  

 He just smiled and nodded, reaching a hand from under his blanket to take a spoon.

 “Careful, dude, it’s hot.” Dean warned as he handed the utensil over.

 Castiel took a spoonful and blew on it, raising his eyebrows and over exaggerating the motion.

 Dean rolled his eyes and took a spoonful of his bowl. “Okay, smartass, but if you burn your tongue you have no one to blame but yourself.”

 Castiel nodded seriously, the corner of his mouth twitching. He made sure it was cooled enough to eat and tried a bite. He smiled at the bowl. It was delicious, just like Dean had promised. He took another spoonful.

 “Soooooo,” Dean prodded.

 Cas raised his eyebrows innocently. “Mmhm?”

 Dean gave him an unimpressed look.

 Castiel chuckled. “It’s good, Dean.” He said, finally able to manage a normal volume. He still sounded gravelly, but much better than before. “It’s fantastic, actually. Is there any way I could bribe you into giving me the recipe?”

 Dean snorted, but it did look like Cas’ answer had put him more at ease. “First of all, my own mother didn’t even give me this recipe, I had to figure it out by myself through years of careful experimentation.” He sighed dramatically. “So many good tomatoes. So many bad results.”

 Castiel nodded gravely and took another bite. “Their sacrifices were not in vain.”

 “Thank you,” Dean replied, eyes glittering. “Secondly, I regret to inform you that there is no actual ‘recipe’.” He took a bite of his own portion. “You see, Cas,” he pointed at Cas with his spoon, “This is something we call ‘country cooking’. It’s all in pinches and dashes,” he shrugged, taking another spoonful. “You add when you think will taste good in the amount you want. No ‘teaspoons’ or ‘cups’ or any of that.”

 Castiel blinked at Dean. He grew up in a world of exact measurements and straight lines. This sounded like… chaos. Castiel beamed at him. It sounded like fun.

 Dean looked surprised by Castiel’s reaction but beamed back happily. “Looks like you’re alright with that, then. I suppose,” he gave a put-upon sigh, “If you truly desire, I can teach you my ways.”

 “Really?” Castiel asked, finishing his bowl. It had been wonderful.

 “Under one condition.”

 Castiel leaned back, re-wrapping his blanket around himself. “Of course,” he replied, nodding seriously. “I would expect no less. One cannot just go around revealing secrets with reckless abandon. Society would fall.” He coughed into his blanket, and, thankfully, it sounded less rough than before.

 Dean laughed.

 “What’s the condition?” Cas asked with a small smile.

 Dean turned a little red and he coughed in to his hand. “Gonadatwithme?”

 “What?”

Dean took a deep breath and looked Cas directly in the eyes. “Go on a date with me?”

 Castiel just stared at him in surprise.

 “I mean,” Dean began rambling, “You don’t have to say yes, I’ll still teach you if you want me to, and this isn’t like, me asking for payback or anything,” he gestured wildly to the soup and the box of tissues still on the table, “That shit was all just because you were sick and I wanted to help you out a little- “

 “Dean.” Castiel interrupted, laughing. “It’s okay.”

 “- and you can kick me out right now if I’m making you uncomfortable, I didn’t mean to make this- “. Dean stopped himself short. “Yeah?” He asked sheepishly.

 “Yeah,” Castiel said, smiling. “I’d love to go on a date with you.”

 “Oh, well.” Dean’s smile was radiant. “Good.”

  Five Years Later

  “Caaaas,” Dean whined, head hanging over the back of their couch. “I’m dying.”

 Castiel chuckled as his kissed Dean’s forehead. “You’re not dying, Dean, it’s just a cold.”

 Dean sniffled and wrapped his blanket tighter around himself. “Is the soup done yet?” he asked miserably.

 Castiel tasted a spoonful. “Mm, just a few more minutes.”

 Dean pouted at the Cas’ answer but didn’t complain.

 Cas smiled as he thought about the numerous times he had made it over the last five years, at first just for Dean and then Sam. Mary had laughed and passed the metaphorical baton, claiming his tasted better anyway. He had even made her a batch last August, when she had caught a bug off of a child visiting the bookstore.

 Jess, who had been a happily married Jessica Winchester for two years now, had craved it all throughout her pregnancy. He chuckled to himself as he remembered the calls at crazy hours begging (ordering) him to bring over a pot of tomato rice soup. Dean was always grumbly about the 2 AM calls, but Cas always managed to calm him down with soft kisses and jokes about unfound Easter cabbage.

 “D’you think Mrs. Pemberton would let me borrow her dog if I asked nice?” Dean wondered aloud. “From the wet dog smell in the elevator, that has to be one fluffy dude.”

 Castiel tried not to smile as he replied. “She might, but from the way she was looking at you the other day it might be ‘under one condition’.”

 Dean groaned. “Oh my god, Cas, that was five years ago.” He buried his face in his hands, “Let me live. And,” He peered into the kitchen, pointing as seriously as he could with a fluffy blanket wrapped around him, “You said yes, remember?”

 Castiel hummed and let his smile show, “Sure, but it’s still cute.”

 “Caaasss,” Dean groaned. “Stoooop.”

 “Of course, Dean.” He walked over and sat next to Dean, leaning in to whisper, “Under one condition.”

 “Caaaaassssss.”

 Castiel laughed, running his hand through Dean’s short, brown hair. “Okay, okay. Do you need anything?” He murmured.

 Dean turned to Cas and hugged him, resting his head on Cas’ shoulder. “Just you.”

 Castiel laughed quietly but continued petting Dean’s hair. “I’m not going to make your cold go away any faster, you know. You might want to replace me with some medicine.”

 “Nah,” Dean’s grip tightened, “I could never replace you.”

[asuitcaseofmemories]

As We Walk in Fields of Gold

It was a day like any other. We loaded into the van excited to explore a new location. Traffic was hellacious, but we didn’t care. We put on some music and jammed out the only way a Chinese, a Filipino, and two Americans know how. Us three girls were given the decision of a mountain or a music/artist town. For this adventure we went with mountain.

There was a heavy smog that day in the city, a clear reminder that winter is approaching. As we drove out of the city of 7million, we were excited to see patches of blue sky and fluffy clouds greeting us. I looked to both sides of the highway and saw unbelievably golden fields. I have never seen anything like this before, so I asked what it was. They were rice fields. My mind was boggled by this as I’ve seen rice fields before and they just look like patches of water. Apparently, this is the final step before harvesting. I still have so much to learn.

Our friend and driver, John asked us if we wanted to stop for some photos; the answer was, and always is YES. The heat hit us as we exited the car, and I was overdressed. Nevertheless we gallivanted through the fields, soaking in the sun, taking photos. I felt like we could’ve been in the music video for Sting’s “Fields of Gold.”

The local farmers passing by no doubt wondering why Americans find rice so amusing. One older woman was driving by in her red wagon/vehicle and stopped for a moment to chat. We exchanged hellos and smiles.She began speaking in Chinese, most of it indecipherable to me, except when she asked if I was American, to which I responded yes. I pointed at the field and told her in Chinese it was “beautiful.” She giggled and I could feel the sense of pride and happiness exuding from her. She circled around a few more times smiling, and watching us.. for good measure. A grandson and grandfather combo offered up a chance for a nice candid moment.  There was a very rural looking school to the right of them, and children were being picked up for lunch.

After we’d sufficiently photographed the area, we headed towards our destination. Since the smog cleared I said “look a mountain.” Our driver laughed at me and exclaimed that it was just a hill. Well, it LOOKED like a mountain compared to flat Hefei so I stand by my statement.

We kept driving and eventually came upon a small rural town. I pass little places like this often on the train and daydream about being able to talk to the locals and snag some photographs of this side of China. Their houses are mostly composed of cement and bright red bricks, their roofs similar to temples. They appear to be very minimal. I have grown to love the “no frills” type of architecture. We came upon a rice farmer, drying their goods in the street, something else I knew nothing of.

We got to the mountain park after passing through town, and it despite a restaurant on the outskirts, appeared abandoned. Initially we thought it was a quiet tourist day, and decided to drive up the mountain in search of the “good view.” Well, on this one lane, twisty road, we came across a gate. Uh oh. We convinced John that he could turn around doing an easy 100 point K turn and pleaded with him not to kill us by going over the cliff. We got turned around and to our surprise there were two Chinese soldiers looking at us bewildered. John had a conversation with them and we took off. They claimed that there was no longer access for civilians to go to the top. John thought MAYBE they were fibbing and we better try the other road that cut off from that. Turns out they weren’t lying after all.

Feeling a bit defeated we parked at the bottom and walked around there taking photos. There were some gravestones on the side of the mountain, which was very odd to see here in China. They cremate everyone these days so you don’t see as many graveyards as the US. Joann and I did our usual chasing of butterflies, while John looked at us like we were crazy. I was hit in the face by two aggressive ladybugs, which is strange because that’s two more than an average day. Joann saw a praying mantis and a ladybug that was reverse colors (mainly black with red dots).

John told us to pick some flowers to take home with us, which I got quite the laugh about. He coined me “Flower Killer” quite some time ago after picking a flower on a walk. He explained that these were wild flowers so it’s okay. We each picked some flowers to take with us. Aileen saw this dying little Charlie Brown Christmas tree look alike, and she wanted to take it home to replant. Next thing I know John is yanking on it with all his might and pulled it out of the ground roots and all. Something about this visual makes me die laughing. We are an odd bunch, that’s for sure.

All this flower picking worked up quite the appetite. We went to the restaurant at the bottom of the mountain, and they were very happy to have us. I was really happy to see they had dogs. And also they had bathrooms which is very important when you live in China. Joann was taking a picture of some veggies they had in a bowl outside when one of the workers (owner I think), decided that we needed a tour. Bless this woman’s heart. She took us through the kitchen (which initially I was all oh god please no), and out the back door. She had a very large vegetable garden, and was proudly showing us. I imagine she was telling us that all her dishes are cooked with ingredients from there. She even plucked something out of the ground to show us. I think it was a giant radish but I really don’t know. She showed us the pigs they also have, which both made me happy because SO CUTE and sad because they’ll get eaten. There was a gaggle of geese around the restaurant too; every once in awhile the workers would go running toward them yelling so they’d go back outside and they’d squabble away. On our way back through the kitchen we met the chef who was excited that we wanted his photo. This place was legit farm to table.

I decided I needed a beer because it was like 1:30 obviously. We ordered some veggie dishes, a soup, and tomato and egg dish. All the workers kept stopping by our room and were so excited that the foreigners liked their restaurant. They wanted to take photos with us out front, which is always a funny experience in itself. The kindness of these people shows no bounds. I mean how many restaurant owners would show so much kindness to foreigners eating at their establishment?

The owner told John about a local festival going on at the top of the other side of the mountain. She thought we may be able to catch it. So when we were filled up we left in the hopes of watching it. We had to stop a few times because the windy mountain road was tempting us with views we couldn’t resist. I got out of the car and hopped onto the barrier next to the road (pic below) and Joann screamed, scaring me shitless. From the angle she was at, it appeared a straight drop off, and well you know my clumsy ways (Sorry for the heart attack). A little farther up the road I saw in the distance vibrant yellow fields. We took photos but we didn’t really know what it was/how to get there.

We continued to the top of the mountain to where to our surprise we found a temple. The festival was over by this time unfortunately, so we walked around. I walked down the path, both sides of me were covered in what I found out were tea leaves growing. I looked into the distance and could see the smog rolling in, covering what I am sure was a breathtaking view. We found this really old rock wall, with an old metal gate adorned with a star; mystery was clearly behind it. A dog began barking so we knew someone lived there. The man was a grumpy old man, but he allowed us to enter for the price of a few coins. Inside was a well with some of the clearest water I’d ever seen. John said that people have polluted it with coins (making wishes), but that it was special water. It was humbling to see his home, which was lacking most modern technologies.

We left there with the intent to figure out what those bright yellow fields were. John is a very trusty navigator and got us there pretty easily by taking the road less traveled. To our amazement it was MASSIVE fields of bright yellow flowers. The owner of the property allowed us to enter and take photos. The workers smiled and laughed as we took their photos. They are such hard workers picking EACH flower head off the plant. At first I was confused on why they were just picking the flower heads, and then I recalled chrysanthemum tea. This type of tea is very popular throughout China. Obviously, it tastes very floral and is quite delicious. It was cool to see the process. The view these workers had was unbelievable. The owner was a kind soul, and allowed us to take some of his flowers home with us.

As the day turned to night, that was our cue that the adventure was over. The day wasn’t what we’d originally thought it would be, but it was more than we could’ve imagined. I think this was one of the more memorable days I’ve had here. Good company, kind locals, and a good all around cultural experience.