#also love that this is implying at least vaguely that there's like. phone service or something. in hallownest | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

elareine · 3 years

Note

If you could, can you please write JayTim or RoyTim (whichever one you want) trying to be romantic and woo Tim (maybe with some puns, I love puns), but Tim is a bit oblivious towards it, because the other is so cool, therefore they must be trying to make friends and be nice with him and nothing more. So when he does finally realize its an italicized "Oh" moment.

Hi lovely!! Thank you for waiting so patiently for this fill. I... ended up making it JayRoyTim, I hope that's okay? It just fit so well, but I can totally write something else with JayTim or RoyTim for you if you want :)

Also, it turned out to be about pick-up lines more than wooing, sorry. I might’ve gone overboard with googling the puns. It's long enough that I put it on ao3, too. What's your username on there? Then I'll gift it to you.

if you were a transformer (you’d be optimus fine)

“Well, here I am.”

Tim looks up, utterly confused. “I didn’t call for you, but… that’s… great?”

Roy waggles his eyebrows. It looks faintly disturbing. Redheads should maybe not do that. Or, actually, Tim revises mentally, thinking of literally every other redhead Dick ever dated—that’s just Roy. “What are your other two wishes?”

“Coffee and some silence to finish working this case?”

Roy looks weirdly deflated at that, but he does get him some coffee. Tim soon forgets about it.

—

(“How’d it go?”

“Does obliviousness run in the family?”

“Yes. Yes it does. Have you met Bruce?”

“…okay, fair. Your turn next.”)

—

“Jason? What’re you doing here?”

Sure, Jason and Roy have been spending a lot more time in Gotham lately. Something to do with a case, Tim assumes. Maybe even with the one that they worked on together in Star City five months ago?

Anyway. They’ve been around, is what Tim is saying. Not at the manor, but at Tim’s apartment and his workspace, cause apparently it’s not worth rebuilding their safe house after it went up in flames, and Bruce and Damian are too often at Dick’s place. He’s not exactly surprised to see either of them anymore. (Pleased, yes. But not surprised.) However, Tim has no fucking clue why Jason is currently grinning at him from the other side of the library desk.

At least Tim has the good sense to check his name tag before he gasps: “Jason?”

“Oh, hey, Tim.” Jason’s grinning. “Guess you figured out my new job, huh?”

“Yeah.” Tim shakes his head. “Color me surprised.” So this is what Jason’s spending his days doing. He’s gotta be shadowing someone, right? Tim’ll ask him tonight.

“I’ve always liked this place.” Jason’s gaze is far away for a moment. Tim badly wants to know what he’s remembering. Then the older man seems to come back to himself and gives Tim a weird—maybe angry?—look. “It’s a good thing I’m a librarian, too, cause I’m totally checking you out.”

“Alright, I can take a hint.” Tim grabs his book and demonstratively walks over to the self-service scanners. Really. How rude.

—

(“Are you telling me he managed to resist you in your cardigan?”

“Apparently.”

“Aww. C’mere, babe.”)

—

So Roy blows things up all the time. No, really, Tim now totally understands why Dick was so happy when he heard the duo is camping out at Tim’s place for a change. His older brother even gave Tim a thumbs-up, for God’s sake. He must’ve known.

Cause yeah, there’s at least one explosion every two days. Or Roy dropping something cause he’s too focused on what he’s thinking to remember what his hands are doing. Or something dropping on him. Jason seems used to it; he just catches whatever it is or laughs at Roy. Tim… is starting to learn to do the same, actually. Whatever Roy comes up with at that moment is usually worth it, and besides, he’s kinda adorable.

Aaaaaaanyway. (He’s using that word a lot in his own thoughts right now. Almost as if he’s avoiding thinking about something. Hmm.) Tim’s not surprised when Roy walks into a room, stumbles, and slaps a hand over his eyes with a dramatic exclamation.

Tim, in shorts and not much else cause he got drenched in pollen earlier, just raises an eyebrow. “Alright, Roy?”

“Nope.” Roy’s hand is still covering his face, but Tim can still see his grin underneath. “I’m gonna need your name and phone number for insurance purposes.”

“Roy. You have both of these things,” Tim explains slowly, wondering if Roy sustained a brain injury or accidentally dosed himself on something. “And why insurance?”

“I was blinded by your beauty.”

God. Sometimes Tim wonders about the original Titans and their socialization for the two dudes if this is how they think making friends works. Then again, Kori, Donna, and Dick probably appreciated constant compliments about their beauty. It all makes sense. Roy must be so used to it that he even uses those same methods when someone unexceptional like Tim is around.

He smiles gamely. “I’m looking forward to hearing that phone call. Must be almost as great as the time Bruce tried to convince his insurance company that Clark dropping on his car wasn’t an act of God because God is demonstrably not a Kryptonian. Neither was the giant ape punching Clark out.”

Roy drops his hand at that. “…Batman did what?”

—

(“You were doing so well, too.”

“I knoooow. How much more obvious can we get?”

“I dunno, but I intend to try.”)

—

“Do you like Star Wars? Because Yoda only one for me!”

“Haha. No. Star Trek or die.” Tim’s answer is automatic. He’s had these discussions soooo many times with Kon before. Of course Jason also goes for the space cowboy soap opera.

Besides, Jason’s boyfriend is standing right next to him. He doesn’t mean to sound flirtatious with Tim. Or maybe he does, and it’s just good fun? Or maybe teasing him? Tim can’t figure it out, but he knows he doesn’t like the weird hollow feeling he gets in his stomach when he thinks about it, so he changes the topic.

And makes both of them sit down to watch some classic Captain Kirk, of course.

—

(“Should I be insulted by that pick up line?”

“Nah. There aren’t that many lines that imply a polycule, though.”

A kiss. “Alright.”)

—

One of the things Jason and Tim have in common is their predilection for motorbikes and fiddling around with them. Not that makes them unique in the batclan; Tim has never spent days quietly working side-by-side with Dick, though, the way he does with Jason. They started out with separate projects. Then Jason saw this vintage Ducati at an abandoned warehouse he was about to blow up and, well… Would be a shame, right? Tim just happens to have had one of these before—regrettably lost to one of Harley’s exploding baseball bats—so he offers his expertise.

It’s not because it means bending over the engine with Jason, closer than they ever are, their hands brushing when they hand each other instruments. It’s not.

Roy doesn’t join them. He’s too polite to say so, but he finds normal cars and bikes boring af. Doesn’t stop him from popping his head into the garage and whistling when he sees that they are shirtless and covered in grease. It’s a damn good look on Jason, so Tim can’t fault him for that.

Roy follows it up with a: “Are you a parking ticket? Cause you got fine written all over you.”

Tim can’t help it; he blushes at the suggestive tone. Those two never stop flirting with each other, do they? So far, he has managed to avoid stumbling over them while they’re making out (not that they’re making that easy—the kitchen? Really?), and he’d like to keep avoiding that, thank you very much. He’s already feeling guilty enough for his fantasies as it is.

“Uh. I should clean up,” he mumbles and flees.

—

(“Dammit.”

“…do you think that was a rejection?”

“Nah. He was definitely checking me out before you came and fucked it up.”

“That’s saying something if you noticed it.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”)

—

So Tim has magically acquired cat ears and a very fluffy tail. Don’t ask. They’re gonna go away in eight hours, and until then, he’s gonna stay in the cave and work himself to distraction. Jason seems intent on keeping him company, though.

(It’s nice. Tim loves hanging out with Jason—that’s not the problem. The issue is that Tim is looking ridiculous, and Jason is being nice about it, and none of this is helping his stupid crush go away.)

They’re absently chatting about nothing until Jason says: “Kinda a pity you’re a cat, though.”

Tim looks up. Huh? Admittedly, he never pegged Jason as the type to go for catboys (though maybe… he did hang out with Kyle… perhaps it’s just that he definitely doesn’t go for Tims), but that’s still a weird pronouncement.

Jason is grinning. “If you were a chicken, you’d be impeccable.” He pauses. “Wait. Like even more than you already are. Uh.”

Tim sighs. Great. And now Jason is making fun of him again. “Whatever.”

—

(“A chicken?”

“Shut up. I panicked.” A sigh. “He was so cute with these ears.”

“…yeah, he was.”)

—

“You must be tired. You’ve been running through my mind all night.”

“I’m not tired,” Tim says automatically. Why does everyone keep asking him that tonight? Surely the shadows under his eyes can’t be that bad? He used concealer!

Something in Roy’s expression softens. “Aww. C’mere.” He pats the space on the couch next to him, and when Tim sits down, Roy pulls him half of on top of him and into a hug. “Relax for a bit, little bird.”

Tim sinks into the embrace, boneless all of a sudden. Roy just has that effect on him. Tim vaguely remembers thinking of him as his oldest brother’s cool friend and then Jason’s cool boyfriend, kind of a fuckboy but clearly good for Jay.

Now? Now, Roy just makes him feel safe.

—

(“So you spent the night on the couch just so he could sleep in your arms?”

“Yeah. Totally worth it.”

“Duh.”

“I just wish we could do that with him every night. Bet he fits perfectly between us.”

“Yeah.”

A pause.

“We might have to up the ante or switch tactics.”)

—

They’re talking about their favorite books—Tim doesn’t read as much as Jason does, but they discovered a shared love of sci-fi weeks ago—when Tim says: “Actually, that book kinda reminds me of you.”

“Oh?”

“Overly dramatic but good.”

Jason makes an offended noise, and Tim grins.

“I’m not sure which part I should argue about first.” Jason pretends to think.

Tim is always down to tell Jason that fuck his self-perception—Jason is a good man, one of the best Tim knows; that also feels too revealing right now. Instead, he gets up from their comfortable position on the couch and grabs the first stack on the table, carrying them over to the shelves to replace the gaps. “What kind of book would I be?”

“Babe, if you were words on a page, you’d be fine print.”

“Annoying and no one reads it?” Tim asks without turning around, trying to ignore the babe. That’s. That’s gotta be a slip of the tongue, right? Force of habit from spending so much time with Roy?

“No, fine,” and the emphasis is clear this time. Jason continues before Tim can reply: “Though if we’re talking books…”

Tim whirls around. “Save it. You don’t have to make fun of me just because I—“He swallows down the words.

Jason looks alarmed. “Tim—“

As if he can smell trouble, Roy chooses that moment to enter the room. Tim has barely heard him approach, Jesus. He doesn’t want to have this argument in front of Roy, though, so he just stands there in the middle of the room. Jason, too, has stopped speaking.

Roy, of course, takes one look at the awkwardness and decides to make it worse. Or more confusing.

“Did you just come out of the oven?” he asks.

“As this isn’t Hansel and Gretel, no, I didn’t.” Tim checks his shirt, just in case this is an actual conversation opener and not just a weird attempt at a distraction. “Do I have soot on me?”

“Nope.” Roy shakes his head, and he’s smiling that smile again, the one Tim is startled to recognize, the one he thought is reserved only for Jason— “Because you’re hot.”

And finally, Tim gets it. “Me?”

“Yes, Tim.” Roy’s moving in closer. “You.”

There’s a soft touch to Tim’s shoulder, and Tim whirls around, expecting Jason to be mad, cause his boyfriend is—is hitting on Tim, right, that’s what’s happening, Jason can’t be happy—

Jason is smiling down at him. His hand is still resting on Tim’s shoulder, but it slides down to his collar bone, a gentle presence as he murmurs: “You’re so beautiful that you made forget my pick up line.”

Oh. Oh.

Tim says the first thing he can think of: “Are you a raisin?”

Jason starts grinning. “I’m not even gonna qualify that with an answer.”

Tim smiles back. “Cause you’re raising my hopes for a kiss right about now.”

And he gets one. And then another, and then Roy joins in, kissing Tim’s neck and then his mouth and—Yeah.

They’re too busy for any more pick up lines right now.

#elareine writes #jayroytim

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hydra-collector · 4 years

Text

love & death & kisses

AO3

Pairings: Anxceit, platonic Analogical

Characters: Virgil Sanders, Janus Sanders, Logan Sanders, Roman Sanders (mentioned), Remus Sanders (mentioned)

TW: suicide attempts, self-harm, cursing, panic attacks, v v v slightly implied sexual content, food

Words: 4,153

Summary: Virgil meets someone.

Note: Human AU, I’m bad at naming, bad at summaries, Janus is ooc, i swear this is one of my better fics

Rain seeped into Virgil’s clothes, making him even colder than he already was. He’d forgotten his umbrella at work, so he’d have to get it tomorrow. Funny how things work that way. You put things off to the side for a rainy day, but when you need them they’re not there.

A tall, slim man stood beside him. He would usually avoid other people at the train station as much as he could, but he didn’t care at this point. He was cold, tired, in a depressive episode, and frankly too out of it to care.

The other man didn’t have an umbrella either, but seemed much less bothered by it. He checked his phone occasionally, but only typed something once or twice, aside from a seemingly frustrating venture on Google Maps from what Virgil could see. He was more on edge by whatever he was seeing on his phone than the weather.

“Excuse me, do you know where the nearest hotel is?”

The first thing he noticed was that the man was absolutely beautiful.

The second was his scar.

A wide scar, seemingly a burn mark, covered the entirety of the left side of his face. It traveled down his neck and past his shirt where Virgil couldn’t see it. His left hand had it as well, a pair of gloves stuffed in his pocket. His eyes were also heterochromatic, one much paler than the dark brown of the other.

Virgil didn’t want to talk to anyone, especially after the earlier events of the day, but he tried his best. He subtly hugged his side to provide pressure comfort.

“I think there’s one a couple blocks from Edwards Station. I don’t remember if it’s south or north. I can check.”

Virgil pulled out his own phone and found that it was half a mile north. Logan had sent him a text asking him why he was so late. He didn’t want to explain that he had to spend an hour on a bench in the pouring rain, trying to calm down from a panic attack. The stranger confirmed and checked his phone again, sighing when he didn’t find what he wanted.

Virgil could see his screen slightly. He’d been talking to a contact named April, both of them using a lot of cursewords angrily at each other. It looked like a pretty bad breakup. He figured he’d been kicked out.

The train arrived a few minutes after that. Virgil was never going to be comfortable with the thought of a big, heavy object rocketing in his general direction, but he wasn’t attempting suicide or anything at the moment. He learned to deal with it.

“Sorry, Logan, I’m here now.”

Logan had been Virgil’s roommate for almost three years now. He’d been his best friend even longer. He was the one there for him when he needed it most.

“What happened?”

Logan was making dinner for the two of them, which Virgil was disappointed to find out. The rule was they could make each other meals, but whoever made it got to choose what it was, and Virgil has never known Logan to make anything junkier than chili. Virgil had got him to eat macaroni and cheese a few times, so he counted that as a win.

“I… had a pretty bad panic attack.”

“Is there anything I can do to help now?”

“I think I’ll be okay. You don’t give bad hugs, though.”

Logan smiled slightly and hugged his friend firmly. He’d looked up the best ways to comfort people physically and figured out what was best for Virgil.

“Thanks, L. What’s for dinner?”

“I’m afraid you’re going to have to make it yourself.”

“Hey, you have plenty! You’re using two pans!”

“You hate fish, Virgil.”

“That’s fish? Ew.”

“What did you think it was?”

Virgil shrugged.

“Go get dry clothes.”

Virgil changed into another, softer hoodie and sweatpants. He figured he’d get something to eat later. He could go a couple hours scrolling on Tumblr or something before he’d be really hungry.

When he turned his phone on, it was still open to the hotel directions.

I hope that guy’s alright.

He’d seen him a few times before, he realized. The unmistakable bleached hair against the man’s dark clothing he recognized had never been put to a face, but he’d been at the train station a few times before. Virgil vaguely wondered if he got off work at the same time as he did and it was a coincidence seeing him today since his whole thing with April, or whoever.

You don’t know what happened, shut up.

Virgil squeezed his arm with his fingernails, hoping to make his self-hate go away.

Today was exhausting.

He didn’t want to go to work the next day.

He’d had another bad day. His boss complained about the quality of his work again. It seemed he was fucking everything up lately. He’d gotten Roman angry at him for an insult accidentally personal, and Logan angry at him because he’d started cutting again. Who could blame him, though? It was just so much easier to cope by hurting than actually trying to help himself. At least he was still showering.

At least it wasn’t raining.

It felt like it, though. There was weight on his shoulders and chest, and he needed to cry. He wished he could afford a therapist. Then again, did he even deserve help?

Stop.

His inner voice was right. He should stop being so self-deprecating, it was annoying, he’d always been an attention seek-

Stop.

Virgil exhaled, rubbing his forehead and sitting down on the bench instead of standing for the train.

“Didn’t get to thank you. For the directions.”

“Hm?”

It was the man again. This was the first time he’d seen him in the few days since then.

“I needed a place to stay, thanks for telling me where it was. I tried looking it up, then texting my girlfriend to ask her if… I ran out of data, I wouldn’t have been able to get there if you didn’t tell me.”

“Oh. You’re welcome. Glad you found the hotel.”

He half-wished he didn’t have to talk to anyone right now, but something drew him towards this man.

And then he initiated a conversation. For once in his life.

“You just get off work?”

“Yeah. I work at the zoo. Reptile house.”

“Wow. I just have a boring tech job. I’m assuming you like reptiles, which one’s your favorite?”

“It’s basic, but I’ve always liked snakes. I have three.”

“I could never handle snakes. I know they probably won’t hurt me, but I’m anxious about everything.”

Am I oversharing? Should I be talking about my anxiety? Is that weird?

“I have a deathly fear of spiders, so that’s valid.”

Virgil would have said something else, but the train came, and it was difficult to talk onboard. It was weird how easy it was to talk to this person, even though he’d just met him.

They’d got to talking about snakes.

Big breeds, small breeds, the most dangerous, the least dangerous kinds of snakes. Virgil swore he was being converted to like reptiles by this man. He talked about them with so much excitement, more than he showed any other time. Mostly he was calm and collected, a bit like Logan.

“I never got your name.”

“Oh, it’s Janus.”

Like, Janice?

“As in the Roman god, not like suburban mom.”

“Ah. Virgil.”

Neither of them smiled often, so whenever someone who knew them saw the smile, it always made them a bit happier as well. It was already happening with them, even a week or two into knowing each other.

“What kind of snakes do you have?”

“I’ve got a green tree python, a corn snake, and a ball python. Diana, Mercury, Liber.”

“All Roman names, huh?”

“Yeah, I’m a bit of a nerd.”

“It’s fitting.”

It was so easy to talk to him. More so than any other stranger. Usually he’d get anxious and all his energy would be expended (he usually had a mental breakdown if it was a lot of people). Something about him, the way he talks, moves, looks at Virgil. He’s like a reptile.

Don’t get a crush on him. He’s probably straight.

Maybe he isn’t, though. He could be bi or pan or something.

The train interrupted their conversation, but Virgil kept glancing over at Janus throughout. He was looking down at his phone, he must’ve gotten more service. Virgil got off after him, but it gave him time to consider Janus before he got home.

“Logan, I’m getting a crush on a straight guy and I just found out his name today.”

“You’re odd, Virgil.”

“He’s hot. And he likes snakes.”

“You hate snakes. Wouldn’t someone with an interest in spiders be more akin to you?”

“...He’s scared of spiders.”

“Virgil…”

And he did get a crush on Janus.

They talked every day they saw each other, finally remembering they could exchange numbers. They spent months getting to know each other with pretty limited interactions, as neither of them texted or called much anyway. It wasn’t exactly a good thing, though, because he either spent his time at work thinking about Janus, panicking because his boss was mad at him because he wasn’t doing his work (because he was thinking about Janus), or completely depressed because he was angry at her for giving him a panic attack. And the cycle would continue.

It turned out April was his girlfriend, and they’d been in an unhappy relationship for a year or so. He was glad she’d broke it off, but was left without a house for a while. He’d managed to share an apartment with his friend Remus and that was going okay. Virgil didn’t tell him about his depression, but was open enough about his anxiety. Luckily for Virgil, he mentioned an ex-boyfriend.

He was not straight. Maybe he had a chance.

Are you kidding? He’s not gonna want to date you, worthless bitch. You can’t make him deal with your mental health, and he probably hates you anyway.

Their interactions were mostly limited to the train station, but that only meant Virgil appreciated them even more.

Still, he wished he could be happy.

The only times he was were, well, when he was talking to Janus and when Logan gave him hugs. Talking to Logan was enjoyable, but he kept reminding himself about everything going on, everything wrong with himself, how he kept fucking up, and cutting and wanting to kill himself. With Janus, he forgot. It was so easy to smile and laugh at sarcastic jokes and the cute things he did, like blush when he laughed and stick out his tongue unintentionally.

Time flew by when they were together. There wasn’t enough time before the train came to talk nearly as long as Virgil would have liked. Still, every interaction was worth it. His love for Janus grew the more he talked about what he does, and he actually seemed interested in Virgil’s job, even though he swore it must be the most boring on the planet.

“I think you’ve conquered my fear of snakes, Janus.”

“What’s this? I’ve shown my little ball of anxiety the ways of the snake with my own love for him and reptiles.”

My little ball of anxiety? And did he just say he loved me?

Was he thinking about this too much?

One corner of his mouth was raised in a smile and Virgil couldn’t help but blush, however much he wanted to ignore it. Janus chuckled slightly and picked up the conversation again, mentioning how Diana had gotten out and managed to get herself on the couch. Virgil proceeded as well, debating whether it meant anything or not.

Virgil felt sick.

He felt all things horrible. Depressed, anxious, angry, hopeless, and worthless.

Over and over it repeated.

“I’m afraid someone as unstable as you isn’t fit to work here.”

Unstable.

Unhealthy.

Worthless.

Useless.

What was he going to do? He wouldn’t have money to keep living with Logan, he had to go through the stress of finding another job, people would judge him, he wouldn’t even be able to eat.

There was nothing he could do.

He trembled as he made his way to the train station. He was going to have a panic attack. Hell, maybe he was already having a panic attack. He wanted to cry but he wouldn’t cry. He had to go home and explain to Logan and he’d just have to live until-

No you don’t.

Of course he didn’t.

He was going to the train station, goddamnit.

He rubbed his hands on his face, static buzzing in his ears as tears almost came. This was going to be okay. It was all going to be okay. Finally.

He went up a different set of stairs, avoiding Janus. As he walked, the static slowly faded and was replaced with silence. Chosen silence, that is. He could hear the cars and the wind and the rain that had just begun to fall.

Fitting.

The train was early today, thank God. Its rumbling was familiar from the distance.

He took his last few steps to the edge of the platform, ignoring the tiny bit of anxiety that came with jumping down. He vaguely heard his name called over and over by the deep voice he knew well by now. He ignored it as well, starting with a slow walk, letting the raindrops soak into his hoodie. The walk sped up, and the rain got heavier, blurring out the train’s lights in a pretty way. He forced the muffled sound of his name out again, but it was getting louder.

There’s nothing you can do.

The walk got faster and turned into a run. He needed to catch the train before it slowed down.

Funny. Catching the train.

His ears pounded with the silence. So many things to distract him, things he loved. The awful sound of rain, knowing you’re going to get wet, but reveling in it anyway. The patter of feet on ground, now wood and gravel. And his voice, his beautiful voice.

The screech from the train stopped all other sounds, even splitting the silence in the bubble he created. It was warm, he hoped it was blood, so warm, so wonderfully warm.

Janus had never hugged Virgil.

He’d assumed he wasn’t one for being touchy-feely. He was tall and handsome, like the stereotypical distant, sexy man. But he wasn’t distant. He was there when Virgil needed him, even if he didn’t always know it. He put a hand on his shoulder or took Virgil’s hands in his to calm him down. He wished he’d gotten to know what kind of embrace he would have. Was it soft? Was it firm like Logan’s? Was it too tight? Was it always awkward like some people’s?

More than that, he wanted to know how his kisses were.

He imagined them soft, then passionate. Like something Virgil had always needed, the sweet feeling of pure love. He imagined he was the type to give solemn forehead kisses when a moment was serious, and short nose ones when the moments were playful. He imagined he’d kiss wherever he could on someone’s face, on his cheeks and chin, nose, lips, neck. They’d all be perfect for the occasion. There was a difference between a peck on someone’s cheek and smushing his lips against someone’s face. A slow kiss to the jaw was different from a badly-aimed one. Every subtle difference in position would say something new.

“I love you.”

“Shut up.”

“I need you right now.”

“You need me.”

He wished he’d learned every message. He wished he’d kissed Janus before today. He wished he’d at least told him and got rejected like he knew he would. He wished he could have everything. A hug and a kiss saying ‘it’s going to be okay. Nothing’s gonna happen to you. It’s-’

“-going to be okay.”

The sound of the rain hit the stones sharply, akin to the feeling on his back. Voices shouting, his voice, and a new sound.

His heart.

Virgil let himself sink into the rhythm and the feeling of warmth that encompassed him. Something was soft through the damp fabric, moving slightly every now and then. It was the pressure of something, a body-

-Janus.

He opened his eyes to see the blurry outline of blond hair covering Janus’s face. He raised his arm slowly to push it away, just then noticing the arms wrapped tightly around him, using the most of their surface area.

Janus’s eyes were beautiful and sad, was he- crying? Virgil couldn’t tell if it was the rain or tears until he sobbed, hugging Virgil even tighter, burying his face in his shoulder and muttering words Virgil couldn’t hear.

Virgil realized he was crying too. Of course he was crying, he was… alive.

He was alive.

“I’m sorry, Virgil. Please, please know I’m here for you.”

Virgil said nothing, still mute from shock. So many things happened just then, and now he was being hugged. And it was perfect, despite the rain.

“I could’ve- should’ve died.”

“No, Virgil, you shouldn’t have. You couldn’t have, I’d never let you.”

Did he really care?

“I need to- I need to tell you something.”

This could go horribly wrong.

I don’t care anymore. I’ve made the most impulsive decision of my life today, might as well make another.

Virgil took his hand to push Janus’s chin up, thumb tracing the scar closer to his lips.

“Can I-”

“Can I kiss you, Jan?”

He let his head drop towards Virgil’s, lips so close now. He would have smiled his snake smile if he could have felt an ounce of a smile.

Virgil pressed his parted lips to Janus’s, hand resting on the back of his neck. He pulled his fingers through his wet hair, feeling its softness even now.

It was everything he had imagined.

At first it was soft and tender, but Janus deepened it, hand wriggling out from under Virgil to hold his face. The raindrops drowned out that moment from the outside world. Janus’s heart quickened, as did Virgil’s, but they both relaxed into it. The scar was rough against Virgil’s face sometimes, but it only made him want him more. All either of them could hear were the raindrops contrasting with their hearts.

Virgil wanted to kiss him longer, hold this forever. When they did break, Janus laid his burned cheek against Virgil’s.

“Do you need to go home?”

He thought of Logan and how upset he was when Virgil cut, how hard he tried and how bad he felt for him. And how bad Virgil felt for hurting him.

“Can we go to your place? It’s... closer.”

“Oh- I suppose we could. I doubt Remus will be there.”

They avoided the people trying to help Virgil, weaving through the few scattered onlookers, Janus’s arm resting around Virgil’s waist. Virgil was scared he would have a panic attack again and tried to focus on Janus.

He called a cab as he wasn’t about to take the train after that, and sat in the backseat with Virgil, not letting him go for a second. It was expensive and Virgil tried to get Janus to let him pay, but he didn’t have much of an argument. Janus half-carried Virgil up the stairs and into his apartment.

It was clean, which Virgil guessed was Janus’s doing given what he’d said about Remus, and fairly dark. It wasn’t the kind of dark that made you feel uneasy, but rather as in lighted only with soft ambient light. He didn’t get a good look at their living room before Janus pulled him into his bedroom. It was painted a pretty yellow and lit with a color changing lamp, which Janus turned to purple.

He sat Virgil down on the bed, who was still rather dazed from the day. Janus rummaged through his clothing drawers until he found a shirt smaller than the others and an old-looking pair of sweatpants.

“Here, you can change into this.”

Janus grabbed some clothes for himself and left the room for a moment, allowing him privacy. Virgil removed his soaked hoodie and Evanescence t-shirt, putting on the soft purple one Janus had found. It had short sleeves, but he didn’t have anything to lose at this point. He put on the sweatpants, soft and warm and opened the door for Janus. He was changed into a big hoodie that Virgil would kill to wear.

“Are you comfortable?”

“Yeah, I- I think so. Sorry about the, the cuts.”

“It’s okay, Virgil. If you want me to get you something with long sleeves-”

“I think I’ll just end up stealing your hoodie at some point. Otherwise… it’s fine.”

“Okay.”

Virgil sat down on the bed again, craving the soft blankets. Janus took his spot beside him, wrapping one arm around his shoulders.

“Thanks, Jan. It- I’m, I’m alive because of you. I don’t know how I could repay that.”

“Tell me when this happens, and I’d die happy.”

Virgil smiled, leaning against Janus. He pushed himself against the wall, pulling Virgil along with him. He heaved the thick blanket around him and Virgil, but mostly Virgil. He snuggled into the weight and comfort, still sitting against Janus as if he were the only thing keeping him balanced.

“What happened today?”

“I got… fired. ‘Cause I’m too depressed to work. I don’t know what I’m gonna do.”

“I can help you find a job, V. It doesn’t have to be the end.”

“Sometimes it just… feels that way. Like you’re never going to get out of this pit of loneliness and you’re sure everyone hates you, and you’re so scared something will go wrong all the time even though you don’t really care.”

“I don’t hate you. And I know you can end this the healthy way. Shall we start with some ice cream?”

“Ice cream’s not exactly healthy, Janus.”

“Ssshh.”

He left for a moment and returned with two tubs of chocolate ice cream and a spoon for each of them.

“No bowls? And two whole tubs?”

“Mhm. It’s better that way. And you could have both of them if you asked.”

“Nah, you deserve some ice cream too. I probably hurt you a lot by doing that.”

“Mm-mm, Virgil. You’re hurting, not me. Self-care rule number one: you’re better than everyone for a while, put your feelings first.”

“I’m not.”

“Pretend. Now, what would you like to do?”

Virgil considered the question for a moment. It might be nice to listen to music, or to distract himself with a game or movie, but he didn’t really want that.

“Honestly?”

“Yes.”

“I… want to kiss you.”

Janus turned pink for a moment, before smiling his smile with one corner of his mouth.

Before he could say anything that he wanted to, Virgil kissed that smile. He wondered what it would be like to do so many times, so he wasn’t going to miss his opportunity. He put his ice cream down to hold Janus’s face with cold fingers, savoring the feeling of the little half-smile turning surprised and then into a giddy smile that began to kiss back. Virgil grinned when it ended, looking back into Janus’s eyes.

“So you’re going to surprise kiss me now?”

“Yep-”

Janus, just as quickly as Virgil had, kissed him quick on the nose, eliciting a blush from Virgil this time.

“Unfair, Janus.”

“Nah.”

“I’m gonna pout and eat my ice cream now.”

“Is there anything else we can do while eating ice cream?”

“I suppose we could watch a movie.”

“Lion King?”

“...Lion King? I mean, yeah, sure, okay!”

He smiled as Janus put the movie on, his familiar excitement seeping through. Virgil managed to wrestle the soft hoodie from him, revealing that one, he had no shirt, and two, that Virgil would cuddle Janus’s burn marks and he appreciated that. As Virgil fell asleep next to him, he pressed his lips to his forehead, who was just awake enough to feel.

And one by one, the messages were unlocked to him. Once, after a dance, came the desperate, passionate kiss that told him “I need to kiss you.” One Disney marathon he came to feel the peppered kisses on his cheeks that said “You’re adorable.” After a weekend trip alone he got the long cheek kiss that said ‘I missed you.’ When he finally got a job, he was given the messy kiss, cheeks held tight that said “I’m so proud of you.” One tired night he blushed at the kisses on his jaw and neck that said “You’re hot and I’m bored.”

And again and again and again, the tender forehead kisses that said “I’m here for you. I love you.”

113 notes · View notes

seeaddywrite · 5 years

Note

Prompt: malex phone calls bc sometimes its easier to say the things you need/want to say when its over the phone

I did this in a 3 + 1 format; three times that Malex can’t say what they need to express without a phone line between them, and one time they can. there’s a happy ending, i swear!

I. The first time Michael hears from Alex after he enlists, he nearly ignores the call. It’s been over a year since the incident in the shed; his hand is healed, and his heart has developed enough callous that he can pretend it has, too. Answering that call isn’t going to feed into that fantasy, because as soon as he hears Alex’s voice, Michael knows every defense he’s put up to contain that heartache is going to crumble. The smart thing to do would be to hit ‘ignore,’ and block the number – but while Michael may have a genius IQ, he’s never been known for doing the smart thing. The desire to hear Alex’s voice, to know he’s safe, overpowers every shred of common sense Michael possesses, and after the fourth ring, right before the call would be diverted to voicemail, he answers.

“And here I thought you lost my number,” Michael drawls, refusing to let on that he’s as off-balance as he feels. It’s a tactic he’s adopted more and more, lately, as the entire town starts to move on from Rosa Ortecho’s death while he’s left mired in the guilt and consequences of it. “To what do I owe the pleasure, private?” Alex isn’t the in the Army and Michael knows it, but since he’s done nothing but breathe into the receiver since the call began, Michael’s in the mood to wind him up, to get on the offensive and stay there so that he doesn’t end up letting himself get his hopes up. Again. It’s too damn easy for Alex Manes to get in his head if Michael’s not on guard against it.

The connection crackles, and Michael stands up from his bed in the newly-purchased second-hand trailer to move toward the door, where there’s usually better reception. “You planning on saying something, or should I just hang up now?” he demands, and his ears pick up the slightest hitch in breathing, a tell-tale sign that Alex is listening, and reacting, no matter what his silence might imply. But no matter how much of an asshole Michael is, he doubts it could cause the rapid breathing that sounds a hell of a lot like someone trying not to freak the fuck out.

Abruptly, Michael feels his demeanor thaw, and he sighs. “What’s going on, Alex?” he asks, his voice carefully even. “You okay?”

There’s another pause, and Michael begins to wonder if Manes had seriously called him to just sit on the line until Michael got frustrated enough to hang up. But then, finally, for the first time in over a year, Michael hears Alex speak.

“I just had a really shit day,” he says, and his voice is rough enough that Michael can tell he’s being vague more because he can’t talk about it than because he doesn’t want to. “And I got back to my bunk, and I saw your number on my phone, and I just –”

Michael blows a short, hard breath through his nose, a bitter half-smile contorting his expression. It’s a relief that Alex can’t see him, because God knows how he’d take that, but alone in his trailer, Michael doesn’t have to check himself. “And you just what, Alex? Why’d you call me? It’s been more than a year. And when you left, you made it pretty damn clear that you didn’t want to hear from me.” Guilt, Michael’s constant companion, rears its ugly head. Alex is obviously upset about something to have even made this call in the first place, and MIchael’s rehashing ancient history. But he has to know what this call is and why it’s happening. He has to moderate his expectations; otherwise, he’s going to end up thinking it’s something it’s not – and Michael’s all out of optimism.

A throat clears on the other end of the line, and Michael tries to picture Alex as he would look now, without the eyeliner and piercings, in ABUs with a buzzcut, but he can’t quite manage it. To him, Alex is always going to be the wannabe rebel who gave him a place in out of the cold – the one person who’d known about the chaos in his head and been able to calm it.

“I called because – because I watched someone die today, Guerin.” This time, it’s Michael’s breath that catches in his throat. He’s aware, obviously, that Alex is in an active fucking warzone, and that he could get hurt at anytime, but the stark reminder that Alex could end up like whatever poor, unlucky soul they’d lost today was enough to jolt him out of the harsh attitude. “And afterward, all I could think about was how much I wished you were here,” Alex continues, his voice a raw whisper. “Because you’re the only person who’s ever made me feel safe, and I could really, really use that right now. And I know I’m the last person that you want to hear from, but I –”

“You know better than that, Alex.” Michael cuts him off mid-sentence, unable to take anymore of the tremor in the other man’s voice. There’s a lot Michael would do to protect himself, to protect his family, but standing by while Alex is in pain and there’s something he can do about it is a physical impossibility. He can’t even summon anger, at the moment. “And if you don’t, you’re nowhere near as smart as I give you credit for.”

He’s about to say something he knows he’ll regret later. In person, he’d never manage to get the words out, but in the isolation of the Airstream, with no eyes on him, Michael can’t stop the words from spilling out. “I always want to talk to you. Every damn morning when I wake up, that’s the first thing I think about. Every time something good happens to me, I want to tell you about it. And every fucking night when I’m lying in bed, I wonder what it’d be like if you were laying next to me.” By the time he’s done, his voice is as hoarse as Alex’s, and he knows there’s no hiding it. As always, talking to Alex has left him flayed open and vulnerable, the layer of callous he’d built painstakingly around his heart worn away to nothing.

“So, yeah. You need me? You call me. I’ll always answer.”

Again, silence reigns on the phone line, and MIchael’s eyes slide closed against the insecurities that bubble up as soon as he realizes that Alex isn’t planning on saying anything. He rests his forehead against the humid metal of the door, staring down at the dirty tile of the entryway, and is about to end the call – and his own misery – when Alex says, so softly he can barely hear it: “That was exactly what I needed to hear.”

II. Michael doesn’t get a phone call when Alex is injured in the line of duty. He’s not family – he’s nothing, apparently, and doesn’t even rate a text. So he hears it about it from Maria in the middle of the Wild Pony a couple of weeks later, just dropped into casual conversation that Alex Manes is coming home since loss of limb disqualifies him from serving on the front lines. That night, after he’s drunk enough that he can’t think about it anymore, he punches Kyle Valenti in the parking lot. The adrenaline rush helps keep thoughts of Alex away, but the night in lock-up passes slowly, and insomnia keeps him awake, worrying and wondering about Alex, and imagining what it’ll be like to see him again. There’s no way they can avoid each other forever in a town this small, even if part of Michael would like to try, and he knows that the urge to be in Alex’s presence would overpower any self-protective instinct, anyway.

Alex shows up at the ranch where Michael lives and works a few days later, every inch his father’s son, and the bitterness exudes from Michael in waves the entire time they speak. He’s losing a job and a home, technically, but he cares more about the way Alex barely meets his gaze, and when he does, his expression is cool and professional. There’s nothing in this GI Joe of the boy Michael remembers, and he resents the new Alex for so thoroughly destroying the person he loved.

t’s stupid, and probably unfair to feel that way. For the last eight years, Alex had held him to his word that he could call if he needed Michael. They’ve talked at least once or twice a year, usually when something god-awful happened and Alex needed the reminder that the world was still turning, that he was still alive. Michael wondered, sometimes, if it wouldn’t have been better for Alex to find someone else to give him that – this dynamic they created couldn’t be healthy, and spending every day hoping for a call that rarely came was slowly driving Michael out of his mind. But the point is that they’ve talked. Michael knew, all along, that military service was changing Alex – in the later calls, some of the things he said, all ruthless and aggressive, weren’t words that would have ever been in teenaged Alex’s vocabulary. So this version of the man, aloof and battle-hardened, every inch the Manes man Jesse always wanted, shouldn’t have come as a surprise. But it still did, and fuck, it hurt.

Michael gets rid of Alex after that encounter, but he keeps showing up at his door, pinning notices and flirting until he catches himself, but it isn’t until the shitty high school reunion that Michael didn’t even want to go to that he finally sees his Alex beneath the uniform. It’s also the first real glimpse he gets of the prosthetic, shiny and artificial, beneath his pant leg. That’s nothing, of course – Alex could be stuck in a suit a la Darth Vader and he’d still be the sexiest man alive in Michael’s eyes. But it’s just another reminder of everything that’s changed, and everything Michael no longer has.

The kiss that night, the sex the following one – all of it is so good, so reminiscent of their time together in high school that Michael forgets, almost, how hard it is to watch Alex walk away. He’s good at putting on rose-colored glasses when it comes to the past, but this time, he’s definitely done too well. This time, when Alex walks away, calling him a criminal and rejecting him thoroughly in the meantime, Michael feels something integral in his chest shut down. There’s no getting back up after someone shoves him that hard, and he’s not sure he even wants to. He goes through the rest of the day on autopilot; he fights with Max and schemes with Isobel to protect their secrets, but internally, he’s a living, breathing open wound.

When he finally gets an evening to himself, Michael drinks so much acetone-laced whiskey that he barely remembers leaving the voicemail the next day, let alone what it says. He’d never say any of it to Alex’s face; the guilt alone would kill him. But when Alex checks his inbox next, the words are there, heart-rending and painful, even as it’s slurred and difficult to understand:

“Hi.” There’s a loud thudding noise, and someone yells for Michael to ‘get the fuck out of the way’ in the middle of the recording. “I don’t know what I’m fucking doing, you know? I haven’t known what I’m doing for ten years. I’m just here. In Roswell, and you were halfway across the frickin’ world and I still couldn’t escape you. And then those phone calls –” Michael laughs bitterly, the alcohol granting the sound a borderline hysterical tinge. “I actually thought they meant something, you know? All that stuff about me making you feel safe. About you needing me. Makes you wonder if whoever gave me that IQ test actually knew what the hell they were doing, right?” Another one of those sour laughs distorts the recording. “I got what, two days, maybe, of spending time with you, and that shouldn’t have been enough to fuck me up when you gave up, but God, Manes, I don’t – nothing about how I feel about you makes sense. I want you so bad it hurts. I was literally laying in bed last night, staring at the ceiling, trying to remember how it felt to have you there. So yeah, I want you and I miss you, but fuck, Alex, sometimes – right now – I wish I’d never met you.”

III. After he leaves Michael’s alien-tech bunker, Alex doesn’t know whether he wants to get a stiff drink, to go to bed, or to throw a temper tantrum. He ends up at the Wild Pony and ends up doing two out of three when he sits down to talk to Maria. He realizes, looking back, that talking to her right after he found out that she’d slept with Michael, when the hurt was still fresh, was a stupid idea. He hadn’t been cruel, exactly, but he hadn’t handled it very well, either, and he knows he hurt her. He’s been doing that a lot lately – hurting people he loves. Michael’s at the top of the list, obviously, but now Maria is just below, and he doesn’t know how to fix it with either of them.

Post-deployment, Alex knows he’s a mess. He’s always been some level of fucked up; a father who’s leisure activities included breaking one’s bones would do that to a kid. But at least as a child, he’d had other people to turn to. There’d been Jim Valenti, and Mimi DeLuca, and Liz and Maria, who’d become more like family as they got older. He’d had a support system, and people to talk to when he needed to work through the things that happened to him at home.

In the desert, though, there’s an ‘every man for himself’ mentality that’s impossible to shake now that he’s home. His unit would’ve died for him, and he for them, but they didn’t talk about harsh realities or fears. That was inviting bad luck, and the had enough as it was. And then, when he was sent back state-side, physical therapy was far more important than the ‘sit in a chair and cry’ kind. He did the required sessions, but when that was done, Alex was left to cope on his own.

Michael’s born the worst of his behavior changes, he knows, just like he knows that the way he keeps walking back into the man’s life for a few days only to leave again is wrong. But how can he commit to anything permanent with Michael when he can’t even keep his own head on straight? He needs to relearn what it is to be a person without a uniform, and he needs time to do that – but he’s always thought, when he manages to do it, Michael would be there. Waiting. But Michael’s sleeping with other people and building a fucking spaceship to leave the planet, and Alex is running out of time.

Kyle’s call comes just in time to stop Alex from getting shift-faced in the middle of the afternoon, and he supposes he should be grateful. The code-breaking distraction is nice, but it leaves him with a head full of information he doesn’t know what to do with when he’s back at home in the sparsely-furnished cabin. Alone. The place hasn’t really felt lonely before, but Alex supposes he’s never known Michael hates the world enough to want to leave it permanently, either. That’s bound to make a difference.

When he’s settled in bed, prosthetic propped against the wall near his crutches, Alex scrolls listlessly through his Facebook feed, knowing he’s not getting any real rest that night. He’d like to say it’s purely accidental when his finger lands on Michael’s number – but the truth is that he’s been the number one speed dial in Alex’s phone for ten years, and the cabin is too quiet, and all Alex wants in that moment is to hear Michael’s voice and get some reassurance that he won’t disappear overnight. And why is it so much fucking easier to say things like that on the phone?

“If you’ve uncovered another government conspiracy, I don’t want to know about it,” is how Michael answers the phone. There’s no noise in the background, suggesting he’s as alone as Alex. That knowledge shouldn’t make him feel as good as it does, Alex knows, but he can’t help it. “Seriously, man, just keep it to yourself, because I’ve had about all the excitement I can take.”

Alex snorts, and shakes his head before remembering Michael can’t see him. “Just the one,” he promises. “That’s not why I’m calling, though.” He leans back against the pillow behind him, rubbing absent-mindedly at the indents left by the compression sock around his residual limb.

There’s a beat of silence, then: “If this is some sort of phone sex proposition, I’m going to have to remind you that today you said you wanted to be friends.” The drawl is full of insinuation, and Alex is infused with the knowledge that if he said that he did want to have phone sex, or the up-close-and-personal kind, Michael wouldn’t say no. Even after everything, Guerin’s still willing to drop everything for him. The realization is both humbling and terrifying.

“I lied,” Alex admits, swallowing heavily.

“I know.”

The response is simple and direct, but Alex wishes Michael would elaborate. He knows? How exactly is Alex supposed to take that? Before he can work himself up into proper frustration, though, Michael finishes, “I don’t think we can ever just be friends, Manes. And the way you took off like a bat outta hell when I showed you the console just proves it.”

Alex’s brow furrows. “What do you mean?” He thinks he knows the answer, or can at least take a pretty good guess, but he’s not sure he wants to say the words aloud and be told otherwise, so he holds his silence.

“All this time, you’ve been the one walking away,” Michael says, the words succinct and devoid of accusation – he just sounds exhausted, which is worse than any sharp-edged words Alex can imagine. “You were in control. Now, when I might be the one who does the leaving, you don’t like it.”

Abruptly, hurt swamps Alex, shoving out every other feeling, and his head spins with the redirection. “You think this is about control?” he demands, each word as quick and sharp as the pinch of a needle. “You think I was upset because I didn’t get to hurt you first this time? Fuck, Guerin, why would you even bother to pick up the phone if that’s what you think of me?”

“I told you a long time ago that I’d always be here if you needed me,” Michael answers, and finally, instead of that world-weary tone, Alex hears resentment creeping back. It’s probably fucked up that he prefers that, but he doesn’t care. An angry Michael is one who hasn’t given up yet, and that’s what Alex needs from him. “And I’d hate myself if I broke a promise to you.”

Alex doesn’t know what to say to that, doesn’t know where to even begin, so he just blurts, “It’s not about control,” like Michael hadn’t spoken at all. It’s the coward’s way out, but Alex has always lost his courage when it comes to Michael. “I know I’m the reason we’re not together, Guerin. I know I keep pushing you away and hurting you, but the idea of living on a planet where you don’t exist anymore is the single most terrifying thing that I can imagine.”

He pulls in a shaky breath, holds it for a moment, and lets it out. It’s one of the few useful things his VA-appointed therapist had taught him, and it centers him enough to let him realize that this is the worst possible way to tell Michael anything important, when he can’t even see his face or kiss him, but Alex can’t stop now. “I’ve been in love with you since I was seventeen, and I’ve always had this picture in my head of what my life would look like, you know? I’d be old and grey and sitting a rocking chair on a front porch somewhere far away from Roswell, somewhere where there’s actual green grass. And when I pictured it, usually on really shit days when my dad had just knocked me down the stairs, or when I was sweating my balls off in the middle of Afghanistan, you were always right there next to me on that porch– still trying to flirt even with bad eyesight and a bum hip.”

He chuckles, the sound sadder than it should be, and cuts off anything Michael might have said. “And I just wanted you to know that, before I tell you that the last piece of that console is in your truck bed. I left it there, this morning.” Alex struggles to keep talking; it’s hard to push sound through the lump in his throat, but he manages. He always manages. “Jim Valenti left it for me, and I’m – I’m giving it to you. So you can find your home. Because I want you to be happy, Michael. There’s no one who deserves it more than you. So – I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

Alex doesn’t want to hear him say goodbye, or to stumble through what would be the final, official end of this thing that’s burgeoned between them for a decade. His heart can’t take that.

He ends the call.

IV. Less than a month later, Michael hasn’t gone anywhere.

Alex has seen him, worked with him, and even flirted with him, but they’ve avoided talking about anything personal. There’s too much raw emotion compressed between them; if given the smallest flame, it would explode and devour them both. There’s no time, anyway – Isobel’s husband is an alien serial killer, Jesse Manes is masterminding a government conspiracy that has to be stopped, and Michael’s entirely too distracted by the realization that his home planet may not be somewhere he actually wants to go. (The latter is hopeful thinking on Alex’s part, since they aren’t talking about anything personal, but after hearing what Noah said about a war-torn world, it’s a distinct possibility.)

Now that things have settled down more, Alex finds himself alone a lot. It’s no more than he was lone before being dragged into the madness that was aliens and government conspiracies, but the constant company and forced camaraderie that developed among the group of them working to keep Michael and his siblings safe had been almost nice – and the absence of it is obvious, now, while he sits alone in his living room, staring mindlessly at the television.

His enlistment with the Air Force ended that morning.

Alex still hasn’t wrapped his mind around that fact; the thing that is simultaneously the best and worst thing that ever happened to him is gone, now, and he’s free. There are choices to make, pros and cons to consider, and all he’s managed to do that day is sit around and feel sorry for himself in the dim lighting of his living room. And drink. Can’t forget that last part.

What is he going to do, now? Aside from continuing to work on taking Jesse Manes down, Alex has no plans. He can live for a while on his retirement stipend, but eventually, he’s going to need to get a job – go back to school, maybe? Get a degree in IT? It would be the expected thing, considering his background, but Alex can’t help but think a job behind a desk sounds like the most boring fate imaginable. He lost a leg, not his sense of adventure, and he want doesn’t to commit himself to something that he’s going to hate.

So, what then, does he want from his Air Force-less future?

When the answer comes, it’s the same one as always. Alex wants to be happy. He wants to leave Roswell and move somewhere that he can have a real yard, and see all four seasons. He wants to have a dog and a job doing something that interests him, and a big enough kitchen that his friends can come for dinner without an invitation. But all of that is secondary to the most obvious of Alex’s desires: Michael Guerin. He wants that future he spelled out for him in that last, painful phone call, with rocking chairs and wrinkles and inappropriate flirting, and he wants it so much that his chest physically aches with longing when he thinks about it.

Maybe it’s the beer, or maybe Alex has just had enough of waiting and hoping that life will just work out the way he wants it to. He’s been a passive observer in his own life for too long, letting his insecurities and anxiety run the show, and for once, Alex is going to take control for himself.

Before he can talk himself out of it or even second-guess the decision, Alex is behind the wheel of his SUV, headed toward the junkyard where Michael parks his trailer. He has no idea what he’s going to say, or how Michael will react to Alex just showing up like this, but for once, the uncertainty doesn’t scare him. They’ve both managed to be honest before with a phone line between them – it’s time to stop hiding behind his iPhone and admit that he’s in love with Michael Guerin out loud and in person. After that, the ball will be in Michael’s court, and Alex will have at least tried. If it doesn’t work, at least he won’t have to go to his grave wondering what would have happened if he’d been strong enough to do it.

Alex’s heart is racing by the time he pulls up in front of the trailer, and his palms are sweating. He feels like that teenager about to make a move on the boy he likes in the shed again, and it’s astounding, since Alex has been pretty sure that part of him died in Baghdad.

Michael meets him outside the front door, wearing old jeans and a ratty t-shirt that mean he’s been working on engines all day. Oil streaks his hands and clothing, he’s sweating, and obviously in need of a shower. Sane people wouldn’t be attracted to that.

Alex has never wanted to kiss him so badly.

“I thought about calling you,” he begins, a small smile playing around the corners of his lips. “Since we only ever seem to be able to actually talk that way. But – I don’t know. I guess this time, I wanted to be able to see your face.” The space between them closes as Alex steps forward. Michael doesn’t come to meet him, but he doesn’t step back, either, which Alex takes as a good sign.

“The last time I asked you what you wanted to talk about, you got the after-school special version of my childhood,” Michael says dryly, sauntering toward the lawn chairs sitting around the fire pit. “And then you told me Max, Iz, and I were on a government watchlist, and under suspicion of being serial killers. Should I start packing to run, this time?” He’s mostly kidding, Alex thinks, but there’s something in the depths of his eyes that says it would be easier for him to believe that someone else was coming after them than Alex wanting to commit. Alex supposes he deserves that, even if it stings.

He joins Michael at the cold fire pit and sits, taking a moment to adjust the compression sock where it’s slipped and rubs against his skin. As usual, Michael doesn’t bat an eye at the sight of his prosthetic – he still can’t quite believe that the other man just took the loss of Alex’s leg in stride the way he did. Even when they were having sex, Michael didn’t ask any questions, or treat him any differently than he had before the amputation. That alone is enough to solidify Alex’s certainty that he needs to at least try to convince Michael to give him another chance.

“I don’t have any bad news this time, I swear.” Alex looks over at Michael and smiles nervously, taking a moment to catalogue every curl of his hair and lines on his face. If this goes sideways, he wants to remember Michael just like this when he leaves Roswell – relaxed and content, heathy and at least mostly happy, now that he and his family are safe.

Michael gives him a moment before raising an expectant eyebrow. “There’s a shower calling my name, Manes, so if you want my attention you better start talking.” The teasing note in the other man’s voice is the same one that has crept in the last few weeks as they danced painstakingly around the giant pink elephant in the room, and Alex hates it. He hates the distance it puts between them, and everything it represents.

“The last time I called you, I told you that I was in love with you,” he blurts, and immediately wishes he could take it back and dress up the declaration into something better than that bald, blunt truth. “And I wanted to say it again, in person, because last time it got twisted into a goodbye, and I’m so fucking tired of saying goodbye to you, Guerin.”

Stunned incredulity blossoms over Michael’s face, and Alex sits stiffly in the ensuing silence, waiting for him to say something. He understands needing time to process, but Alex feels like he’s sitting on pins and needs as he waits.

“What?” When the response comes, it’s not at all what Alex wants. Michael looks genuinely confused by what he’s said, like he thinks he heard wrong or something ridiculous, and Alex wants to shake him, to say it over and over again until he understands.

“I love you,” Alex repeats baldly, turning frustration to courage with sheer force of will. He pushes himself out of the flimsy lawn chair and skirts the fire pit, moving to Michael’s side and grabbing his hand to tug him up, out of the chair. To his relief, the other man doesn’t fight it, and stands directly in front of Alex, less than six inches of space separating them. They’re close enough that Alex can feel the heat wafting off of Michael’s body, and the scent of a man who’d spent a long day doing physical labor in the sun shouldn’t electrify his skin, but a shiver runs down Alex’s spine anyway. Sex has never been a problem for the two of them, and even now, Alex is pretty sure he’d want Michael in any form he came.

“I’m in love with you,” he modifies, in case there was any doubt, and rushes on before Michael can tell him to stop or leave. “I was sitting at home today trying to figure out what I want to do with the rest of my life, now that I’m out of the military, and the only answer I could come up with was that I wanted to be with you. Everything else, I have no fucking clue. Do I go back to school? Do I get a job? How am I going to support myself? I don’t have any idea, but I know that I want to get old with you and make people uncomfortable with how sappy and in love we are in fifty years.” Alex can hear the hopeful longing in his own voice and hopes that Michael can, too, so he knows how serious he is, this time.

Michael opens his mouth to say something, but Alex puts a hand over his mouth, shaking his head. “I know what you’re going to say. I’ve shown up like this before, and I’ve always gotten your hopes up and left, and I’ve hurt you so many times that you have absolutely no reason to trust me, but God, Guerin, I feel like I’ve been on pause for a decade of my life, waiting to finally feel like the person you deserve to be with. But I’m never going to be that person. This is who I am – but every part of me is in love with you, and I’m done running. Try one more time. Take a chance; I swear you won’t regret it. I –”

Anything else Alex might have said is swallowed by Michael’s mouth on his. The movement is so quick Alex can barely track it; suddenly, there is a big, calloused hand at the back of his neck and another at the collar of his flannel, yanking him in. He almost overbalances on his bad leg – and shit, wouldn’t that just ruin the moment? – but Michael’s chest is there, warm and firm and supportive. And then, just like that, they’re kissing.

Just like every other kiss they’ve shared since they were seventeen, this one is so intense that Alex goes from anxious to turned on in less than a moment. Every brush of Michael’s skin against his feels like static electricity, and he can feel himself flush under the attention. It’s soft, tentative and sweet for a fleeting moment as they get used to each other again, but it turns hard and bruising quickly, as both men lose their patience to pleasure. Alex would have been fine to end the conversation there. This is what he wanted – to touch Michael and be touched in return, to kiss him and hold him whenever he wanted, to know that when he needed him, Michael would be there, and vice versa. They’d been dancing around this for so long that now, standing on the cusp of it, Alex felt like he was diving off of a cliff … and he’d never been happier to be so fucking terrified.

“You talk too much,” Michael rasps, when their screaming lungs force them to come up for air. Their foreheads are leaned together, sweaty and flushed, but Alex only cares that they’re still fused together. Half of him is afraid that if Michael lets go of him, the magic of the moment will wear off and Alex will find himself back at home, alone again.

Alex tries to glare at him, but he’s fairly certain the expression is far too sappy to be considered angry. “Excuse me?”

“You talk too much,” Michael repeats, unrepentant. “If you’d let me get a word in edgewise, we could’ve been kissing like ten minutes earlier, and we could be in bed already.” He nuzzles a kiss alongside Alex’s jaw, just the barest hint of lips against the sensitive skin, and Alex shudders. In return, he slips the fingers of one hand up into Michael’s curls, carding at the matted hair gently in the manner he knows will make the other man melt. To his delight, Michael pushes his head into the contact, urging him to continue.

“Everything I said was important,” he tells Michael, trying to muster up some indignance – and giving in quickly. He’s too euphoric to feel anything but happiness, and he doesn’t wan to even try. “You have to know that I’m –

Michael huffs, and shakes his head, interrupting Alex’s explanation. “You still don’t get it,” he says, and there’s a fond exasperation in his eyes that makes Alex feel warm all over. “I told you a long time ago that I’d always be here when you needed me, Alex. That wasn’t bullshit. I’ve never given up on you. Even when I wanted to. So it doesn’t matter how many times you’ve walked away, as long as you’re walking back.” He drops a kiss to the corner of Alex’s mouth, then wraps his arms around his waist and hugs him so tightly that Alex gasps a little at the impact. He clutches back just as tight, feeling a little light-headed. This is real. This is happening.

“So, that means –”

“It means we’re gonna have to figure out where we buy matching old man rocking chairs,” Michael drawls, the fingers of his good hand soft as they slip beneath the hem of Alex’s shirt and rest against his bare back. “Because you’re stuck with me for at least the next hundred years.” He kisses him again, then, and Alex tastes the words he didn’t say on his tongue.

I love you.

#malex fic #my fic #michael guerin/alex manes #roswellnm #angst #prompts

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southside-vixen · 6 years

Text

Fire and Ice (Sweet Pea) 3

Chapter 3. Hold My Beer

AO3

Adrianna Rivera has just made a difficult move from Arizona to the southside of Riverdale. With the history of her life in Phoenix behind her will she be able to find a new family in the Southside Serpents? Or will a certain tall, dark, and rage inducing Serpent cause issues?

A couple weeks passed since the debacle at Pop’s. Things were quiet for the most part. Adria and Sweet Pea ignored each other like their lives depended on it. The worst being the history class that she only shared with him. But overall things were improving. She and Toni were growing closer, and she was also spending quite a bit of time with her new neighbor. When he wasn’t spending time with the enemy that is.

“Thanks for the ride home, Fangs.” Adria handed his spare helmet back to him

“Of course, Ads. We’re next door neighbors, why wouldn’t I give you a ride home?”

“Ugh. That’s going to stick isn’t it? I guess I don’t hate it.” She shivered as she watched Fangs put his bike under the car park next to his trailer “I don’t know how you guys live here. With all this…weather.”

Fangs laughed “If you owned anything aside from crop tops and ripped jeans maybe you’d survive. Not like I’m complaining, it’s a good look.” He winked at her. There was no way she would be able to buy an entire new wardrobe with her budget of 0 dollars. She’d have to ask Ness if she had anything she could use. The idea of using hand me downs was definitely a hard one to get used to.

“I’ll see you at school tomorrow” Adria smiled and walked into her new home to see Ness sitting on the couch, the screams coming from the TV indicating she was catching up on the old horror movies she loved so much.

“Hey, Ness. Can I ask you something?” Adria threw her purse down on one of the kitchen chairs and plopped down in the chair next to her aunt

“Yeah of course” Ness sat up and paused the TV, causing the room to go silent “What’s up, buttercup?”

“Well. The weather here sucks and I have nothing to deal with it. The warmest thing I own are some thin sweaters.”

“Oh, shit. Yeah your crop tops aren’t gonna keep you warm for much longer. I think I have some old clothes from a few years ago in the basement that I never got around to getting rid of. Let me bust ‘em out and we’ll wash what you want and finally donate what you don’t. You look to be about my size when I was a few years younger.”

Adria looked at Ness, her aunt looked more like her than her own mother did. At least from what she could see from pictures. Even some of the older Serpent members had mentioned that she looked like Ness from high school.

“I didn’t know we even had a basement. Or that trailers had basements in general.”

“Cool it with the classism, Penthouse Barbie” Ness laughed “First off, this is a double wide. Second, it’s a glorified crawl space filled with cobwebs. Not a place for late night parties. Don’t worry though, I’ll clean the spiders off the bags before I bring them up.”

“I really didn’t need to know about the spiders” Adria shuddered “And I don’t think anyone’s called me a Barbie before.”

“You’re a beautiful girl, Adrianna. I would know since you look nearly identical to me when I was your age.” Ness flashed a smile and got up from her seat “I’ll be right back”

Adria watched as Ness opened a door in the hallway and disappeared behind it. She settled into her phone looking at all the photos her old friends were posting on Instagram. Pictures of their recent trip to some new exclusive club in Las Angeles. Sitting in the VIP area with bottle service. She missed her old life more than anything. Brunch with her father on Sundays, Friday nights with the girls at a different club each weekend. In Riverdale her fake ID would get her nowhere, not like the Wrym carded anyone anyway.

A long sigh escaped her lips, it was easier to pretend her new life was fine when she avoided social media. None of her old ‘friends’ contacted her after her father’s trip to prison. The isolation from her old group was hard to cope with, but none of them had any loyalty to her. Hell, she wouldn’t even be surprised if they were close to her because of her family and her money. She wanted to believe that people here were different, even if they only reason they were around her initially was at her aunt’s request.

“Something wrong?” Ness threw two large black trash bags of clothes onto the floor and shut the basement door behind her

“Just in my own head, I guess.” Adria put her phone back into her pocket “When do you think my dad’ll be able to call from prison? It’s been about a couple weeks now.”

“He’s probably just settling in and spending most of his time with his lawyers, I’m sure you’ll hear from him soon.” She brought the bags to the living room and dumped their contents onto the ground. There was loads of blacks and greys with some dark blues and greens thrown in here and there. Adria plopped herself on the floor and began sorting through the sea of flannel and leather. Finding anything that stood out to her. It wasn’t her style at all, but then again Toni rocked it so maybe she could too.

“I don’t think your classmates will give you as much shit with all this. You’ll look the part of a Southside High student. Ness said “Just remember, it’s just for the colder seasons. If it’s really that bad we can check out the local thrift stores but we definitely don’t have the budget to match the clothes you brought.”

“I know, Ness. I understand.” Adria had resigned herself that this might be the case on the bus ride in. She felt a bit like Alice falling down the rabbit hole at times. Riverdale was an entirely new world and she was determined to show she was strong. Even if that meant sucking it up and wearing hand me downs and thrift store finds. Hell, she would even make them look good.

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

The next day Adria walked into school in her ‘new’ clothes she received from Ness. After careful consideration in the mirror that morning she decided on ripped jeans, a black tank top, dark green flannel, and to top it off- her aunt’s old, patch free, leather jacket.

For once, she blended. No Ghoulies looked at her like she was an injured deer waiting to be gutted. It was actually pretty refreshing. She sat down at her lab table for chemistry and plopped down her bags. Conveniently enough she had chemistry with Fangs. Not like it was great for either of their grades since they were both terrible at it.

“Ads?” She lifted her head to see Fangs standing wide eyed at the end of the table “Shit. You almost look like a completely different person.”

“I look like an idiot, don’t I? I knew I couldn’t pull off flannel and leather.”

“You look like a Serpent. Pretty impressive transformation for overnight. It’s a good look for you.” He set down his bag and sat next to her “You shouldn’t worry so much about appearances. They don’t matter as much as you think they do.”

Adria breathed a sigh of relief “Yeah, I’ll try. Just difficult when I feel like a kid playing dress up.”

“You’re overthinking it. It’s just clothes.”

He was probably right. Just clothes, she was still the same Adria. Even if she was wearing flannel, something she swore never to do. But it was for warmth. Not because she was trying to be something she wasn’t. Nope, same Adria. Just in a leather jacket. That was it.

By the time she arrived to lunch the table was already buzzing.

“Hey, guys. What’s going on?” Adria took a seat next to Toni. The conversation died immediately after she arrived, and more than one person’s jaw dropped to the ground.

“Ads?” Toni asked, a smile creeping on her face “Damn, girl you look great! Fangs said you had a makeover but this is something else.”

“I told you it was a good look!” Fangs walked over and slung his arm around her shoulder “what do you think Sweet Pea?”

Oh no. This is exactly what she didn’t want right now. He would open his mouth and all of her self-doubt that had been easing away over the course of the day would come flooding back.

For a long moment Sweet Pea didn’t say anything

“She certainly looks the part”

Adria was in awe. It wasn’t an outright insult. Sure, it was vaguely implied but it wasn’t outright malicious.

“Okay then” Toni nodded with a smile, “Anyway big news, Ads. Starting tomorrow you won’t be the new kid anymore.”

”What, really? Who is it? Do you know them?” Adria was more than excited to not be the newest one in the group. Maybe it would get Sweet Pea to lay off her once he had someone else to take his anger out on.

“Forsyth Pendleton Jones the Third. FP Jones’ son.”

“Who’s that?” Adria looked around at the rest of the table. Clearly everyone else knew what was going on.

“He’s the leader of the Serpents. Well. Kind of. He’s in jail right now.” Fangs responded

“Figures she doesn’t know the name of the leader of the gang she’s trying to imitate.” Sweet Pea swept some of his hair out of his face “She may look the part but she’s still not one of us.”

“Fine.” Adria slammed her hand down on the table “What do I need to do to prove to you that I have what it takes?”

“Tomorrow. The quarry. We’ll figure something out.” Pea stared back at her across the table. She was at the end of her rope dealing with his attitude. She would do whatever the idiot wanted to prove herself worthy to be part of his stupid little group. The stupid little group that was starting to mean a lot more to her than she initially planned.

The next day came quicker than she would have liked. Sure enough, Toni was absent most of the morning showing around the newest member of their group the school. She didn’t see her again until she was able to pull her into the bathroom after English.

“Toni, what did I agree to?” She looked around to make sure no one was around to hear her fear “I was up all night worried about what the hell that douchebag is going to have me do”

“Okay. Calm down and take a deep breath”

She did as Toni instructed

“You’re going to be fine. It won’t be as bad as you think, I promise. That’s all I can tell you as I’ve been sworn to secrecy.”

Toni’s reassurance didn’t make her feel any better. She greeted the newest member at lunch, Jughead Jones. He seemed nice enough, although she couldn’t focus on anything aside from what might be happening at the quarry. The sand in the clock ran out much quicker than she would have liked. Before she knew it she was on the back of Fang’s bike on the way to the quarry. The only promise that Toni and Sweet Pea would meet them there.

“How are you feeling?” Fangs asked once they had finally arrived. The quarry was too cold for swimming this time of year. Adria walked over to the fire pit that he was trying to start. Waiting for something to warm her up.

“Nervous. But you have to promise not to tell that pompous asshole you call your best friend.” She whispered harshly. More of the Serpents she didn’t really talk to were starting to show up and her nerves continued to grow. She had genuinely hoped it would just be the four of them.

“I won’t say a word. Promise.” He put a hand on her shoulder and ushered her to a fold up chair by the fire.

It seemed like ages before Toni and Sweet Pea showed up. When they finally did they brought enough booze to drown a small family.

“Hope you’re ready for what’s to come, Princess.” Sweet Pea walked over and put an entire bottle of whiskey into her hands “This one’s yours. Better get started.”

This was it? Her task was to drink a bottle of whiskey on her own? This was like an average Tuesday back in her old life. This was going to be much easier than she thought.

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

Toni, Sweet Pea, and Fangs were all in awe about how much the small framed city girl could put away. She drank her entire bottle of whiskey without even batting an eye, then had a couple swigs from Fang’s bottle. By the end of her bender she was sitting on Toni’s lap, giggling at just about anything that was anyone said. Sure everyone else had been drinking, but she was the drunkest girl at the party by far.

“So is this it?” Adria slurred “This is nothinggggg” she laughed, throwing her head back. She barely missed bashing Toni in the nose.

“I think she’s ready” Toni peeked around her friend at the guys

“Alright, Ads. Welcome to your trial” Fangs said, trying to be serious although he was also clearly drunk.

“We don’t keep secrets in the Serpents so your first task is to go around and tell us all what you really think of us” Sweet Pea stared her down from across the fire “Let’s start easy. With what you think of Toni Topaz.”

Adria looked turned to look at Toni and smiled

“Toni Topaz. I first thought you were a huuuuuuge bitch. But you’re so nice!” Adria’s grin grew “You’re a precious angel in what I thought would be a hell hole. I love you, Toni. You’re such a good friend” she grabbed her friend around the neck and gave her a huge hug, listening to a small chorus of ‘awww’ around them.

They went around while she gave her opinion of the other Serpents that were there, not like it was much considering she barely talked to most of them. They were all superficial drunk ramblings. Then it brought around to the end, with only Fangs and Sweet Pea left.

“Fangs…Don’t think I don’t notice you’re a huge pervert” She laughed “But you’re cute so I forgive you. Thanks for being around and helping me feel like I have a home here”

“Cute, huh?” Fangs laughed and gave her a wink

“Not gonna happen.”

“Well. We’ve saved the best for last Ads. Tell us exactly how you feel about Sweet Pea.”

This one was a doozy and everyone around the circle knew it. They had been watching for weeks as the two barely spoke and when they did everyone around them prepared to break up a fight.

“Sweet Pea, huh?” Adria’s smile faded as she locked eyes with him across the flames “Sweet Pea is the biggest dick I’ve ever met. I have no idea what is issue is with me as I’ve done literally nothing to him. This is all made significantly more infuriating by his face. His stupid attractive face.”

Adria stopped dead in her tracks. The whole idea of the gathering was that getting her outrageously drunk she would speak exactly what was on her mind. And sure enough she did, even the things she had shoved way in the back. The murmurs around the circle had gone completely silent as everyone stared at her.

“This has been so much fun. Toni, can you take me home now?” she looked at her friend pleadingly.

“Well, there is one more thing Ads.” Toni gave her a half-hearted smile as she pushed her off her lap

“Strip.” One of the other Serpents said, she was pretty sure his name was Andre.

“What?” Adria looked back at Toni “This is a joke right?”

“I’m afraid not. I’ll help hold you up” and she did. Toni held Adria’s arm as she removed all her clothing down to her bra and underwear.

“Fine. Now what?” She demanded, her buzz quickly wearing off with the cold and fear settling in

“Now you jump in the quarry. Show us how tough you are” Sweet Pea stood up from his seat “That’s what you wanted, right? A chance to prove yourself?”

Adria looked down, it was only about a 10 foot jump into the water. The incredibly cold water. She was already shivering, even with all the alcohol. She looked back at Toni who gave her a small nod, urging her to just get it over with. So she did.

Adria took a deep breath as she ran and jumped, doing her best to brace herself during the small fall for her fate. But it wasn’t enough. The cold water hit like daggers and took her breath away. At least she thought it did but the scream she heard echoing through the air sounded a lot like her own. When she regained her composure she noticed Fangs standing on the edge of the water, his hand outstretched.

She swam over and her friend lifted her out of the water, placing his jacket over her shoulders. Trying to rub her arms to warm her up

“You killed it Ads, you looked tough. Screaming and all.” Fangs smiled “Let’s get you by the fire”

Fangs walked her back to the small beacon of heat as everyone around her cheered and gave her pats on the back. She stood in front the fire with another bottle of whiskey trying to warm herself up before putting her clothes on

“Holy shit, I’m glad that’s over.” Adria lamented to Toni while she put her clothes back on “I’ve never been that cold in my life”

“You held up really well. Especially for someone who just arrived from the southwest a few weeks ago. There’s no way Sweet Pea can deny you’re tougher than you look now” She took the bottle from Adria and took a couple of swigs herself.

“Speaking of, where is the devil incarnate?” Adria asked, scouting the clearing which had erupted into a full blown party now that they were done with her ‘trial’. She didn’t see him anywhere and she had a drunken bone to pick.

“Last I knew he went to take a piss in the woods. Why, what’s up?”

“Funny coincidence. I also have to take a piss. In the woods. Right now. Be right back!” Toni stood, confused, as Adria all but ran to the tree line. What in the hell was she doing?

Adria reached the trees and glanced around. She found a couple people who snuck away from the fire to go make out in the privacy of the trees. She ignored them and continued her search for who she was actually looking for. And she found him. Sweet Pea had turned around from a tree outside of everyone’s view and was zipping up his pants when Adria spotted him.

“You!” she yelled “I need to talk to you”

Sweet Pea stood dumbfounded as she strolled right up to him, chest to chest as she stared into his eyes.

“Why do you hate me for no reason? And yes, it is no reason because you’ve never even bothered to have a conversation with me.”

Sweet Pea just stared down at her for a few seconds. He was at a loss for words and the booze wasn’t helping.

“I know exactly your type. Girls like you think they can get whatever they want because they have money. But not here, Princess. Not with me or the Serpents.” He didn’t take his eyes off her

“You’ve never met a girl like me.” Aria attempted to stand on her tip toes to look taller and more imposing but she failed miserably. She was far too drunk to be taken seriously. She teetered back and her reflexes were all but gone. She made no attempt to catch herself as she fell backward.

Sweet Pea instinctively grabbed Adria’s arm to keep her from falling and pulled her back up, securing her with a hand behind her waist. Adria looked up, both of them looking shocked at the other. She could hardly feel the pain in her shoulder from being yanked so hard.

For some reason neither of them moved to correct the issue. Later, both of them would blame being too drunk. Adria stared up at the boy she told herself she absolutely despised. Hands grasping his arms. His incredibly toned arms. And then there was yelling.

“Ads?” she heard Toni yell “Please don’t be dead in a ditch” Toni turned the corner to see two people up against a tree, the dark obscuring their faces. “Have either of you seen Adria? She’s been gone for far too long.”

Both of them moved too slowly to have avoided it. Sweet Pea quickly pushed Adria back and she whipped herself around to face Toni. Both of them looking incredibly guilty.

“Uh. Hey…Toni.” Adria stood in front of Sweet Pea, putting her hands behind her back “Is it time to go home?”

#sweet pea #sweet pea x reader #sweet pea x oc #riverdale #fanfic

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