#and coordinate going home for Thanksgiving which i really want to do but again it seems so impossible rn | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lovelyirony · 4 years

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"a single thread of gold/tied me to you" for ironhusbands?💛

If there is one thing that James Rhodes cannot stand, it is “love at first sight.” In his professional and personal opinion, there is no such thing. It is simply a concept that Disney invented so they could make cutesy stories about princesses finding their princes immediately and give people hope about love, but in the end it is all about the money.

“You’re a cynic,” his sister Jeanie tells him over breakfast. She flings a stray Cheerio at him. “You are a cynic and you’re never gonna date someone because they’re going to think you suck.”

“People are going to date me and realize that I’m a good, realistic choice,” James responds, sticking his tongue out and stealing a drink of her orange juice. “People are going to date you and you’ll be disappointed because you watched too many romantic movies and you let it taint reality.”

“Loser.”

“Dork.”

And then he’s in college.

Surprisingly, he doesn’t meet Tony Stark for two years despite the fact that every single year, they live in the same building on different floors. He has had to evacuate about twenty different times because Tony cannot stop himself from doing experiments in his room.

The third year, James is an RA and required to live with one of the residents because of “experimental tendencies.” They don’t elaborate on why he’s stuck with a roommate, what the tendencies are, or who he is.

“You’ll know,” comes the email from the coordinator, and he has never wanted to curse so badly in an email before, but here he is.

But he’ll deal with it. Just like how he’s going to deal with everything this year.

He thought he would get the room to himself for a little while before everyone moved in and brought everything and he would check them in.

But no.

There’s his roommate, lounging on a bed, and grinning.

“Simply enlightening to meet you, James. They told me I could come back if I had a trusted roommate.”

“And they stuck you with me?”

“Well they were going to stick me with some dude who got the email, and then immediately transferred to Dartmouth. So I think you were the second option.”

“Great.”

He hates life, maybe just a little bit.

Tony wants to do things. Which is fine, but he isn’t really in the mood to have the conversation of the fact that he can do things, but he doesn’t want to do them. He has to focus on being an RA and preparing for the Air Force.

“Why prepare for that when you could be living?” Tony asks, lounging on Rhodey’s bed.

Oh yeah, that’s new too. Rhodey. Apparently, “Jim,” “James,” and “Rhodes” were unacceptable nicknames.

What is acceptable is Rhodey. And of course, the “honey bunches of oats” and “loveliest RA of all time in the history of MIT” and “sugar-puff” and “sweetness overload”

He’s responding to all of them, by the way.

Rhodey didn’t think his mental health would get this bad by the beginning. He had actually scheduled it to be around October.

And then the students come. There are nervous freshmen, the sophomores who don’t say anything as they move in and get settled, and the returning juniors and seniors greet Rhodey and Tony with familiarity and laugh about the posters that Rhodey’s worked hard on.

“So, we’re having joint-RA’s or something?” Miles asks, throwing his comforter over his bed.

“No, we’re not,” Rhodey says, hoping his expression is somewhere along the lines of not-showing-emotion. “Tony’s just...”

“I’m simply too exhausting for Housing to deal with anymore, so I have a babysitter,” Tony says with a wink. “And who better than our lovely Rhodey?”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Sugar-puff?”

“Still no.”

Miles snorts.

“This year should be good. Tony, you gonna pull any fire alarms this year?”

“Rhodey has expressly banned experiments in the building, unfortunately,” Tony sighs. “It’s like he doesn’t want everyone to bond over having to leave at two in the morning...”

“Nothing says bonding like hating a rude wake-up call,” Rhodey says, and Tony nods. “We’ll let you get all moved in, Miles. Remember that floor dinner is at six!”

“You got it!”

Rhodey gives Tony a look.

“You know, I can do this on my own.”

“Aw shutterbug, I’m not gonna let you.”

“Are you really this intent on following me around?”

“Well, what if I want to overtake your position next year? What if you tragically get a raging headache and it’s up to me to know what to do? What if your mother kidnaps you and never lets you come here again?”

“I’m sure the college kids will be fine,” Rhodey stresses. “And I’ll still have access to email and the groupchat, genius.”

Tony just laughs.

“Alright, okay. I gotta go get some shit for my new class. The teacher sent out an email stating that the textbook is mandatory, and we have to do book work. This feels like eighth grade all over again.”

Rhodey snorts.

“Is it for Professor Casper?”

“Yeah, did you have him?”

“Yeah, you don’t need the book. You can find it online for free, and he never collects the book work. It’s a waste of time to get the book.”

“You’re an angel-and-a-half, love of my life,” Tony says. “And for that, I’ll snag an extra pudding for you at the dining hall.”

“Is it vanilla or chocolate this time?”

“Chocolate with cookies in it.”

“Oh my god, seriously? Already?”

“Guess they must have had a jump,” Tony teases. “I’ll see you at dinner.”

Tony has a specific way of getting people to open up and actually talk with others that Rhodey envies.

If Tony wasn’t so hellbent on convincing the group that if Miles and Kamala create a distraction, they could totally sneak out one of the pictures of the mascot.

“We are not doing that the first week,” Rhodey says. “Maybe the last.”

“It’s a beaver,” Tony whines. “Who’s gonna miss it, a Canadian?”

“It’ll be the floor bonding activity,” Gwen says, finishing off her fifth (maybe sixth) slice of pizza. “Better than talking about your feelings about the campus or whatever.”

“No.”

“We’ll convince him soon,” Tony whispers conspiratorially. “Also, who here is a freshman? I have some advice regarding the math classes and which teacher you want...”

Rhodey does have to admit, that sometimes it’s easier to have Tony around, who is so willing to stay up until the late hours because of some stupid drama or to help Peter at his chemistry homework and also ease his anxiety about leaving his Aunt May all alone.

Tony isn’t all wild and crazy as stories have led him up to be.

"I wore out all my crazy freshman year after going to two frat parties and deciding that no one knew anything about how to have fun,” he declared. “I mean, come on. Why have beer pong when you could quiz people about obscure fashion facts?”

Rhodey snorts.

“Don’t make that the next game night. Hey, what do you think about having a movie night this Friday? I’m thinking something not scary, we’ve been doing a lot of those.”

“It is October, what do you mean not scary?”

“Some of our residents don’t like scary,” Rhodey reminds him. “Honestly, I think we could do with a bit of Halloween fun.”

“Hocus Pocus? Double Double, Toil and Trouble? If you want to be slightly scared of old women and clown parties, I’d recommend it.”

“You weren’t scared of clowns beforehand?”

“Of course not, I wanted what they have; the ability to fit eighteen people in a car.”

“Couldn’t you just gut the car?”

“Not the same effect, honey-pie. Not the same effect.”

Miles and Peter both end up lobbying for Hocus Pocus, with little to no competition other than a promise that the other choice would be shown later on in the semester.

They’ve shoved all the chairs together and multiple people have brought out their own chairs, and Tony saves a seat for Rhodey under the premise of “Rhodey organized it, he gets a seat.”

It’s a tough squeeze, and Tony and Rhodey get all tangled up together.

Tony smells like expensive cologne and coffee, and he grins up at Rhodey and maybe the lights from the TV aren’t bright enough, but for a moment his heart skips a beat.

Well. Shit.

When he goes home for Thanksgiving break, Tony seems a bit...sad.

“What, your mom cook the worst turkey in the world?” he jokes.

"Sure,” Tony says, eyes unfocused. “Yeah.”

"Dude, you okay?”

“Yeah,” Tony says, turning. His smile brightens, eyes crinkling. “Why wouldn’t I be fine, buttercup?”

Rhodey gives him a look.

“I’m gonna call you when I get home, okay? You better answer.”

“I always answer to you,” Tony says, and damn Rhodey’s mind shouldn’t be going where it is.

Rhodey waves, gets in his car, and thinks about how Tony most likely has a problem on his mind, how he should probably not room with him, and his Aunt Ada’s green beans.

God, he loves those green beans.

Tony is alone for Thanksgiving. Jarvis and Ana got an opportunity to visit Aunt Peggy in England, and he knew that they hadn’t seen her in two years. He didn’t want to be selfish, have them stay just for him.

So, it looked like deli turkey sandwiches were in his future. If there’s still some soda in the fridge, maybe that too.

He sighs, and turns towards the lab. Dum-E’s not even here, as he didn’t fit in the travel car, so Tony let him loose on the floor to “keep guard” over the dorms and make sure that no one broke in or stole the cords that he knows he accidentally left in the common room.

The odd thing is, he had almost told Rhodey. Almost let him know that he’d be alone for Thanksgiving, but is that weird? That’s weird, right? To tell people your emotions just...it’s so messy.

They have to deal with it, you have to deal with the fact that they’re dealing with it, and then other people know that you both are dealing with it and it’s just a whole mess of epic proportions, you know?

Rhodey finds out on Thanksgiving, when they’re doing the parade on the TV and there’s a new snippet on the gossip channel when they go on commercial break.

Howard and Maria Stark, vacationing off the Mediterranean Coast.

“It’s reported that Tony Stark has preferred to spend his time in the vacation home,” the news reporter said, her smile wide and placid.

“Tony’s lucky,” Mama says, wrapping golden yarn around her fingers as she works on another sweater. (A small one, a tiny one. It’s for the new baby in the family for Christmas.) “He tell you about it?”

“He’s not there,” Rhodey says numbly.

“He’s not?” Dad says, eyes raised over the newspaper.

“No.”

“He didn’t tell you, did he?” Dad asks.

“No, no he didn’t.”

“Well then. Next time he’ll come with us.”

Rhodey nods.

“Christmas?”

“Clear it with his parents if they’re not spending time together.”

“Got it.”

Rhodey’s Thanksgiving is...nice. He can’t stop thinking about Tony going alone.

So he calls him. It’s two in the morning, he might be asleep, and Rhodey’s not sure if he got the “eight” in the last four digits right or not.

“Howard’s out, who is it?” comes a sleep-addled voice.

“Good thing I’m not looking for Howard, Tones.”

“Rhodey? Why are you calling me?” Tony asks, and Rhodey can imagine his eyes lighting up and that’s...that’s something.

“You spent Thanksgiving alone, I wanted to see how you were.”

“Aw, checking in your residents?”

“Checking in on you.”

Tony stills for a moment at the phone.

Besides Jarvis, no one had ever really checked in on him.

“Um, I’m fine?”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. I mean, it sucks to be alone on Thanksgiving, but I don’t really like any of the foods that people usually have, so I’ve been fine. I ordered wraps from my favorite place.”

“Good to hear, good to hear.”

There’s a silent pause for a moment, the one where they both try to find something to say.

“Listen,” Rhodey says. “If you’re ever stuck for a holiday alone, you’re coming with me, okay?”

“I don’t want to intrude on your family,” Tony says softly.

“They all wanna meet you. Jeanie says she can kick your ass at ice hockey!”

“You guys can actually play ice hockey?”

“With limited degrees of success.”

“Oh, now that I gotta see some time.”

They come back to college, and Tony is back to his usual antics, greeting everyone who comes through the elevator with a shower of shredded paper.

“Welcome to Winter Wonderland! Next stop: suffering through finals!”

“Ugh,” Kamala groans, “stop it. Stop making me think. I have to memorize Byronic poetry. Do you know how boring that is?”

"Speak for yourself, I have to build a wooden chair,” Riri whines. “Who works with wood these days? It’s so old-fashioned.”

“Create the most bitching chair alive,” Tony says. “And I’ll help you with the necessary tools. Your professor isn’t expecting much, mainly just that it can support the weight of two people, you’ll be fine. Kam, Byronic poetry is not that bad, you will be good. We will bake cookies.”

“Can we even bake cookies? I thought our floor got banned from kitchen usage,” Peter says. “Hey Rhodey.”

“Hey kiddo,” Rhodey says. “First of all, yes we are banned from the kitchen. Second, we’re only banned and get in trouble so long as they know we’re there. And since more than half of us are nocturnal creatures and I am willing to wake up to help, we can bake cookies.”

There are cheers around the room, and Tony mocks offense.

“You don’t trust me to help the future youth?”

“Given that we’re not allowed to rent out any more equipment from the front office? Yes.”

“You wound me, darling.”

“Only as much as kitchen equipment goes, sweetheart.”

Tony grins.

“Aw, you missed me.”

“Yeah, I did. Now come on, you gotta help me with a billboard about the movie night this Friday. We thinking a romantic comedy or something mildly terrifying but probably won an award?”

“Mildly terrifying!” Gwen calls from her dorm. “If we watch two people falling in love I’ll choke! We’ve been doing it all year!”

“We’ve only watched, like, three rom-coms?”

Gwen rolls her eyes, as if he’s missed something completely obvious.

“You don’t get it. I’ll try again later. Hey, are we doing floor dinner tonight?”

“They’re serving pizza sandwiches, so obviously,” Tony says. “We will feast like kings.”

Christmas is a festive time for Tony. He loves it, and goes overboard with decorations. Rhodey lets him, because you can’t stop Tony once he loves something (and Rhodey is kind of. Fond of him).

Pepper comes up from the fifth floor, whistling.

“Damn, Jim. I knew you would do a good job with decorations, but not this good. Is this...did you buy a miniature village? How was this budgeted?”

“It wasn’t,” Rhodey says. “Tony’s really into Christmas and the floor convinced him that the theme should be Christmas Village. He’s been crafting identities for each villager instead of studying for any exam. The craft store employees know him by name now.”

“Well, we all have our vices. You two seem to get along well. Housing is pleased that he hasn’t blown up anything yet.”

“If they try to serve cheese ravioli again, he might.”

“That’s a problem for Dining,” Pepper reminds him.

“Still, it’s abominable. Where did they get them, bottom of the Hudson River?”

She snorts, adjusting her shirt.

“Probably, but hey. They still got eaten, even if that one freshman threw them all back up at the entrance.”

“It was payback, they were vile.”

Tony waltzes into the lobby, arms filled with glittering tinsel.

“We are not letting you hang that,” Pepper says, gaping at it all. “Do you know how hard it is to get rid of tinsel?”

“We’ll manage!” Tony says. “Also, are you free at six-thirty?”

“No, that’s when we’re getting dinner on my floor, what do you need?”

“Just that little tidbit of knowledge,” Tony says, looking down at his phone.

A message buzzes from the groupchat, and Rhodey glances at it:

We are a go for the real Christmas tree. I have the vacuum, and a believable lie. Rhodey’s gonna tell us when the RA on duty is gonna come so we can hide it.

Rhodey looks at Tony, grinning. He smiles right back.

“Is there some weird roommate telekinesis I’m missing here?” Pepper asks.

“Yes,” Rhodey says. “We’re discussing dinner plans.”

Another text from Harley:

I’m already picking one out with Peter. I have good taste. When is the ornament-making party?

Pepper looks at them.

“You’re planning something that I probably would have to disapprove of. I’ll tell people I got your floor watched tonight.”

“Pepper, light of my life, my absolute sunshine? You’re the best,” Tony says, grinning. “Rhodey-darling, help me with tinsel?”

He can’t say no. Simple as that.

That is how tinsel gets strung throughout his hair as he’s watching Tony climb onto chairs that shouldn’t be climbed on to hang it from everywhere.

“People deserve to have a good-looking Christmas,” he says. “Besides, I wanna win the decoration contest.”

Rhodey laughs.

“Okay, okay. I think we got it in the bag.”

Later on in the week, Tony can be seen flitting about from room to room with help and jokes to lighten the mood.

Rhodey has to admit, being an RA with Tony around is...nice. Better than he thought.

And maybe he has feelings. He’s not going to say anything about it. After all, they’re roommates. He also isn’t allowed to have a relationship with anyone on the floor, regardless of anything.

It doesn’t mean every RA follows it. God knows Sharon’s snuck down to the fourth floor to see Sam near-about every night, and her residents usually keep it a pretty good secret.

Still. There’s also everything else to consider, and the fact that he doesn’t even know if Tony likes him like that.

He doesn’t have to focus on it.

At least, not until the week of finals when he’s dying and Tony’s made him peppermint hot chocolate and sits on his bed, just about an inch away from his notes for his history class.

“Do you remember what you told me on the phone?” Tony asks softly.

“You up to compete against Jeanie for this year’s ice hockey championship?” Rhodey asks, smiling.

Tension releases from Tony’s shoulders.

“Only so long as you’ll have me.”

“Always, genius. Always.”

After the last resident leaves for the holiday and Rhodey checks in with those who are staying, he and Tony hit the road, dragging suitcases behind them.

“Are you sure I’m allowed?” Tony asks. “I can always find a hotel along the way...”

“Mama wants to meet you, I keep telling them a ton about you,” Rhodey says, laughing. “They told me they want to hear your side of the great Glitter Debacle.”

Tony laughs.

“You mean the truth?”

“Uh, I’m sorry, how are you going to convince them that green glitter was needed? And that you could clean it out of carpet?”

“Determination and grit?”

Rhodey laughs again as they pull onto the highway.

After a couple of hours, they make it to Rhodey’s home. His sister comes out, hugs for both.

“Good to meet you Tony,” Jeanie says. “I’ve heard a lot, and I think we’re going to get along awesomely after I tell you every single embarrassing thing that Jim’s ever done.”

“Only if I get to share stories too,” Tony teases, grinning. “Aw, they call you Jim?”

“What do you call him?” Jeanie asks.

“Jim-Jam, angel-dear, sugar-puff, Rhodey. You know, the usual.”

Jeanie snorts, taking one of Rhodey’s bags.

“Calling you the first one from now on.”

“Tony did you have to let her hear any of those?” Rhodey asks, exasperated in a teasing manner.

“Of course I did,” Tony sing-songed. “Now after you, I’m sure your mom is waiting to hug the living daylights out of you.”

It’s not until Rhodey gets all settled in and Tony is downstairs competing with his dad in a round of chess that Jeanie sits on his bed, the intention to annoy.

But it’s...different. She looks at him.

“You love him a lot, don’t you?”

Rhodey stills.

“You wouldn’t have told him he could come here if you didn’t.”

“You’re right.”

“I’m always right,” Jeanie says, flipping braids over her shoulder. “Nice of you to finally realize that I’m the smart one.”

Rhodey doesn’t say anything as she saunters out of the room.

He makes the decision not to tell Tony.

If it goes wrong and if Tony says no, he doesn’t want it to be an awkward family event but more importantly, the most awkward rest of the year ever. He can say it as they’re moving out, and that’s that.

He tells Jeanie as such.

“I thought you didn’t believe in love,” she says as they’re preparing the soup for dinner.”

“I don’t believe in love at first sight,” Rhodey says. “I do believe in love. There’s a difference.”

There’s a hell of a difference.

First sight, you don’t know everything. The second, third, fourth, fifth, and so on? Oh you learn so much more, and they become that more important.

He learns that he doesn’t mind picking up tinsel, so long as Tony is laughing and singing along to all of the worst Christmas songs ever, and maybe. Just maybe he could picture looking at Tony underneath the fairy-lights that they hung in the dorm room for all time.

Love is terrifyingly exhilarating, even when it isn’t supposed to be.

Rhodey did not think his heart would race so much as Tony listened to his Mama talk about her wedding china, about the utter disaster that his father was.

“He forgot his tie,” Mama said, smiling. “Oh my lord, my mother had a cow about that. I thought he looked kind of dashing.”

Tony’s eyes drift towards the wedding pictures, which are slightly shaky, but everyone had such wide smiles.

It’s a far cry from the publicity photos from the Stark wedding, Rhodey remembers the solemn expressions, the stuff tuxedos.

“I love it,” Tony says softly. He looks at Rhodey across the table, setting down the final plate. “Tell me more, Mrs. Rhodes.”

“Call me Mama, honey, Mrs. Rhodes is for people I don’t like that much. I think you’re gonna be my new favorite.”

“Even over me?” Jeanie says, grinning as she kisses Dad on the cheek. “I’m your favorite.”

“You’re my favorite until now,” Mama says. “Don’t think I don’t know that you skipped out on setting the table because Tony was here and graciously offered.”

“It was nothing,” Tony says. “Just happy to help. Thank you for letting me stay at your home for the holidays.”

“We’re always lucky to have guests,” Dad says, setting down the main dish. “Now let’s eat.”

Family dinner is a brand new concept to Tony. He’s had maybe four or five of them, and the majority of which were staged for some holiday shoot or some “celebrating American values” shoot.

It was awkward, weird, and he didn’t get why.

Now, he does. Jeanie has been steadily moving mashed potatoes away from Rhodey’s plate, and Mama caught her eye and winked, distracting him with talk about his college major and news about the neighbors.

Mr. Rhodes watches it all with a careful eye and a lax smile.

After dinner, they play cards.

It should be boring, but Jeanie puts on an old record and Rhodey keeps trying to count cards, and Tony didn’t think you could count cards in a game of Spoons.

“You can’t, he’s just a try-hard,” Jeanie stage-whispers.

“You-”

Jeanie laughs, rolling herself out of Rhodey’s grasp as he chases her around the family room. Tony leans back into the couch, and shouts with surprise as Jeanie trips Rhodey into the couch.

His body twists, and Rhodey’s facing him on the couch and they’re close and with the fire roaring in the fireplace and the Christmas lights outside shining through the windows, it’s almost magic.

It is magic, but Rhodey is kind of terrified of that.

Tony breathes in, breathes out.

“Hello sugar-puff,” he says.

“Hello genius,” Rhodey says, a smile on his face.

Oh.

The night does not get much sleep.

Tony doesn’t sleep anyway, but Rhodey finds that quite often he can’t sleep without some softly-playing rock in the background, doesn’t matter if it is a highly-questionable AC/DC song. That and Tony softly murmuring about his plans, and it’s like a personalized lullaby.

Rhodey cannot sleep. Tony’s in the guest room, and he can’t sleep.

There’s a soft knock on his door.

Tony’s there in shorts and a t-shirt that’s probably expensive, but he’ll never say if it is or not.

“Can I...I can’t sleep.”

“Get in here, Tones. I can’t sleep either.”

The bed is a tight squeeze, but they make it work.

Rhodey whispers until he drifts off to sleep about Christmas and school and everything else.

Tony watches with quiet eyes, interjecting with his own stories occasionally.

They fall asleep tangled up together, and Rhodey doesn’t mind it one bit, not as he pulls Tony in closer.

Waking up is bittersweet, honestly. Rhodey has Tony in his arms, and that’s...that’s perfect. He thinks this is going to be the best thing that’s ever happened in his lifetime.

“It’s too early, darling,” Tony groans. The light from outside is already peeking through the blinds, and he has stuffed his head right back into a pillow.

“Jeanie’ll be here soon to bother us for Christmas breakfast,” Rhodey says. “And unless you want her pouncing on the bed and landing on wrong everything, we better get down there.”

Tony smiles sleepily, stretching.

“Thanks for letting me sleep in your room, honey-bunch.”

“No problem,” Rhodey said. “Missed the constant AC/DC and late-night discussions about robotics.”

“Not like I did much talking, Mr. Sap,” Tony teased. “Or was it me who mentioned that they had a favorite plate for dinner?”

“Listen, it’s superior and you did not once interrupt that story to complain. I think I did a great job explaining it.”

Tony laughs.

“I’m gonna go get dressed, okay?”

“Not until after present unwrapping,” Rhodey says. “We stay in pajamas.”

“I’m cold,” Tony whines.

Rhodey chucks his sweatshirt at him.

“Then here you go.”

Tony’s eyes light up as he shrugs it on, wiggling as he brings it up to his nose. It shouldn’t be that cute. But it is.

“You are the light of my life.”

Rhodey laughs, rolling his eyes.

“Maybe. Now come on.”

They head downstairs together, and they both get swept up into the speed of things, with Jeanie racing around the house and telling Tony that he got treats too, they just didn’t have a back-up stocking.

“Hush,” Mr. Rhodes says, handing Tony a carefully wrapped gift. “After breakfast, we’ll go ahead and open it.”

He smiles, and Rhodey thinks it’s the best thing he’ll ever see.

Christmas gifts, Rhodey thinks, are his new favorite thing to see Tony interact with.

It’s painfully obvious that he’s never really had any personal gifts, anything that reminds people of himself. He carefully unwraps the paper, careful not to rip it.

“You nerd,” Rhodey says, grinning. “Come on, show us what you got.”

Tony laughs as he opens a box with two coffee mugs from the rest of the family, emblazoned with “Rhodes” on one cup, and the other being a simple red with gold trim.

“They’re perfect,” he says. “Thank you so much.”

“You’re feeding his coffee addiction,” Rhodey answers.

“Like you aren’t doing the same,” Jeanie teases. “You made him his cups of coffee this morning.”

“That is because I have trained him well,” Tony says, grinning. “Rhodey, here’s my present to you, open it.”

He’s nervous.

Both of them are, but Tony especially so.

He told Rhodey once that he’s not good at shopping for other people. He tends to have the phrase “go big or go home” permanently circling in his mind, and it can lead to...complications.

(Rhodey remembers the overhaul of his closet for his birthday, complete with a visit from a rather well-known designer.)

Inside is a beautiful jacket. It’s all patchwork, artfully sewn together with embroidery thread spelling out “James” at the lapel.

“I commissioned Janet,” Tony says, smiling softly. “She wants you to still walk in her fashion show, by the way. Says you’re a model.”

Rhodey snorts, shrugging on the jacket.

“You helped with this, right?” Rhodey says. “I can see it in the gold thread you got on the sleeves.”

“I may have had some creative input.”

“I love it,” Rhodey says. “Now here’s mine.”

Tony breathes, and Rhodey wonders if this gift will be enough. He feels a bit stupid, it doesn’t seem like that great of a gift, in retrospect-

It’s a puzzle.

A puzzle of their favorite cafe and restaurant to go to at MIT. It was in a shop window, and Rhodey could tell that Tony would love it.

On top is a scarf, since Tony gave away his last one to another student in their philosophy class.

“I love it,” Tony breathes, tackling Rhodey in a hug. “I love it, I love it! We have to do the puzzle after this.”

Mrs. Rhodes sends her husband a look.

Yeah, Tony would be around for a long time.

They set up the puzzle on the floor of Rhodey’s room, clearing away any luggage. It’s silent for a while, Tony moving around the pieces and Rhodey looking for edge pieces.

They work closely together, side by side.

Rhodey can’t stop staring.

He should be able to. He’s stopped himself before, but now?

Sunlight is coming in through the window, playing around Tony’s fingers as he nimbly picks up puzzle pieces, and this is the eternity that Rhodey wants so badly. If he died right now, he thinks he would choose for Heaven to look like this.

“You okay?” Tony asks, eyes looking up. He took his contacts out, and now he’s just in his tortoiseshell glasses, the ones that he secretly likes more and Rhodey loves.

“I’m in love with you,” Rhodey blurts out, because he can’t stop thinking about how beautiful Tony is and how much he loves him.

He realizes that this could very well be considered a mistake. Because they still have to live together and drive back together and it won’t be the same, and the residents will notice no matter how well they both act--

Tony pops his head right under Rhodey’s chin.

“Kiss me?”

That’s all it takes.

They mess up part of the puzzle, but that’s okay. They find they don’t mind it too much. They can work on it later, when Tony’s done getting Rhodey out of his new jacket and Rhodey works his hands underneath Tony’s sweatshirt.

Mama takes one look at them for dinner and grins.

“Jeanie, you owe me a night of dish-washing.”

“Seriously?”

“Mama!” Rhodey hisses, embarrassed beyond belief.

Tony just cackles, and elbows Rhodey out of the way so he can get to his chair at the table.

“Couldn’t have fooled you for a second, could we?” Tony teases.

“Not at all,” Mama states proudly.

Rhodey rolls his eyes and squeezes Tony’s hand under the table. All will be well.

When they both get back to college, none of their residents are surprised, at least not until they have to have a “knocking before entering” policy put in place after one particular late morning.

#lovelyirony writes #jeanie rhodes #mama rhodes #rhodeytony #ironhusbands #pepper potts #harley keener #gwen but i can't remember her last name #spidey gwen #gwen spider-man #kamala khan #peter parker #tony stark #rhodey

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vintagedolan · 4 years

Text

mixtape | track seven

| masterlist | faceclaims | playlist |

*contains smut*

When Nicole died, Indiana convinced herself that someone was holding down a fast forward button on her life. Some greater power with a universal remote, carelessly keeping a finger shoved down on the little button with the double arrows, with no regard to the fleeting few days she had left with her most important person.

History seemed to be repeating itself, with the best physical representation being the very quickly evolving tiny homes.

The first thing on Grayson’s agenda when they’d made it back to NYC was to decorate the property for Halloween. It hadn’t seemed like the most sound plan to Indy, considering last time they were out in the field it was just raw building materials, a platform and lots of grass. But when she climbed off the back of the quad, away from Grayson’s warmth and into the chilly air, she was standing in front of a house, or at least the bones of one, with the beginnings of the loft and stairs formed inside. It wasn’t polished yet - in fact, there wasn’t even a front door to hang the spider wreath that he had bought at Home Depot. But there was a house, and it stood as a reminder that time was passing quickly.

Despite how over the top the Dolan’s were about it, Halloween was a blink. Ethan was still in California, spending a few more days with Eden, but they facetimed in their costumes anyways - Indy had been convinced into dressing up at the last minute, which resulted in a witch costume that consisted of black leggings and a black bodysuit, which got covered up by a spare hoodie of Grayson’s early in the evening, brought on by the ever-dropping Jersey temperatures. But they celebrated with Lisa, and with E squared across the miles with a bonfire and too many pieces of candy, and Indy realized at the end of the night that it was the first holiday she’d had with family in years. It filled a vacant room in a back hallway of her heart that she didn’t realize had been abandoned, and as soon as the calendar turned to November, she was determined.

“Thanksgiving. Me, you, Lisa, Ethan, Eden, Cam, Charlie and Devin. Thoughts, opinions?”

Grayson quirked an eyebrow from the other side of the couch, face lit by his laptop screen.

“Vegan thanksgiving?”

She nudged him in the side with her foot, getting the perfect angle from where she was laying to tickle him. “Nah, we’re gonna cook a whole meal that 25% of the participants can’t eat. Sounds like the holiday of dreams.”

He poked her with a toe. “Yeah, that sounds good to me. Might have to find an extra table at Ma’s though.”

“I can plan out a menu, make sure everyone brings something. Charlie can bring plates, for all our sakes.”

“Then Ethan can bring cups, cause god knows he doesn’t know what the fuck to do in a kitchen. And I can do the menu, you’ve got enough on your plate.”

“It’s not that bad this week,” she countered, but before she could say anything else he’d picked up her planner, looking at all the little color coordinated blocks that she’d drawn out. Grayson had never had a planner before, much less an hourly one, and it stressed him out a bit just to see how little time she didn’t have allotted to something. His finger moved over a little block in dark blue, a tiny scribble inside it - time with g :).

“You block out time for us to hang out?”

“I block out time to do just about everything but pee,” she laughed, keeping her eyes on her textbook as he continued to look through her pages.

“You haven’t peed in like… 3 hours. Drink your water.”

She stuck her tongue out but did as he asked, watching the way he found something on the page and frowned, eyebrows creasing across his forehead.

“What?”

“Nothing.” He answered it too quickly, and it was her turn to frown.

“Babe. What is it?”

“It just says, uh, ‘deposit from Kenneth’. Who’s Kenneth?”

Her breathing stopped for a moment. She hadn’t heard that name said aloud in years.

“Oh um. That’s my dad. Kenneth Cross.”

He switched from realization to guilt in an instant, flipping the planner shut. Grayson wasn’t privy to much information about Indiana’s father, but he didn’t need much to know that the relationship wasn’t great.

“Shit, Dee, sorry, I didn’t mean to bring it up.”

She closed her textbook, sitting it aside with a sigh. Sitting up, she crossed her legs on the couch, a bid to get a little closer to him.

“No, it’s okay. We probably should have talked about it by now anyways. What do you want to know?”

“Whatever you want to tell me.” He offered her his hand, knowing she liked to toy with her fingers when she talked, hoping it would help.

“Well. He wasn’t always a shit head. Actually, he used to be a pretty good dad. When Charlie and I were growing up, he was always there. He coached Charlie’s basketball team, then mine. He helped mom with dinner, we all went on vacation together. I mean, I had a good childhood, I really did. But things changed when mom got sick.”

“How long was she sick?”

“Six months. It took her fast, much faster than usual with her stage and her type. I thought my dad would step up, but he didn’t. He shut down. And I get that, it was hard, but we needed him and he just… wasn’t there. Charlie had to take her to appointments because I couldn’t drive yet. He stayed at home and worked, and drank, and then drank some more and called it work. He never talked about mom, never even admitted to himself she was sick I don’t think. So Charlie and I did our best, and we stayed with her as much as we could, especially towards the end. I’d ride the subway out of the city to get to school cause I slept at the hospital most nights. And I guess Charlie and I didn’t realize, but he was working on selling the house while we were doing all that, before she was even fucking gone. So, when she did go, all of a sudden she was gone, and my house was gone, and Charlie was going to school, so it was just me and him.

“We moved into a smaller house. He didn’t talk to me. He was a shell without my mom. And I thought it would get better but it didn’t. So, I taught myself how to be okay without him, and without my mom… without anyone. I think he realized it too, and some part of him felt bad. But he knew he couldn’t fix it. So, the summer before college, he said he’d pay for wherever I wanted to live for school. I couldn’t swing rent on a Jet’s salary, and I wanted to get out of his house, so I agreed. I moved in here freshman year, and we haven’t seen each other since. Haven’t even talked on the phone really. He deposits rent in my account each month, and as soon as I can get enough money to not have him do that, I’m going to tell him to stop. I don’t want him to think I need him, for anything.”

Indy looked up for the first time since her story started, and she sucked in a breath at the sight of Grayson’s watery eyes. He blinked it away and cleared his throat, but the way he opened his arms up told a different story.

“I don’t like hating him. But I don’t know how to forgive him either.”

“C’mere,” he mumbled, waiting for her to readjust and climb on top of him. His arms wrapped around her tightly, like he wanted to press her into him and make her a part of him.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that with your mom like that, I can’t imagine.”

Indy lifted her head and looked at him with sad eyes.

“Yes you can.”

The knot in his throat grew, and he kissed her head when she relaxed against him again. He let the silence settle for a few minutes, tracing a heart against her back and pressing his lips into her hair over and over.

“I had my mom though. She helped us through the entire thing. And I had Ethan, and Cam. And I know you had Charlie, but thinking about you having to do that without a parent.” He shook his head. “I hate it. Not to mention the rest of the bullshit he’s probably put you through that you’re too nice to tell me about.”

It was her turn to get teary.

“Well, I’m okay now. I made it, and so did you.”

He ran a thumb over her cheek with a soft smile.

“Wish you didn’t have to make it through it at all.”

“The feeling is mutual.”

Grayson shifted then, rolled them over to the side so Indy was between him and the back of the couch, coiling his arms around her tightly, shifting her up enough for him to kiss her. He let his hand roam down her back, over her ass, grabbing and moving until her leg slotted above his.

“I love you,” he said, hoping she knew just how much. She moved her hand from his cheek, let her arm wrap around him, trapping him closer to her.

“Love you more.”

He shook his head at her, making her laugh against his skin.

“You don’t have a nap written in your schedule, am I gonna screw it all up?”

“I can shift things. I’m flexible.”

He laughed again, a beautiful sound that bounced off the walls of the apartment and filled the space. Indy kept her leg wrapped around him, holding him close and finding his lips with hers again, breathing him in - her favorite distraction.

“Flexible hm? How flexible?” His voice had dropped slightly, throat gruff.

She knew they weren’t going to sleep, so she gave in, dipping down to kiss along his neck, taking charge a bit more than usual.

“You know, I think we might be the only couple who can switch from parental trauma to horny within 60 seconds,” she mused, smiling at the rumbling laugh it got out of him.

“Maybe we’re just built different.”

“Hate that,” Indy mumbled, moving back up to kiss him again. He wasted no time in coaxing her shirt off, sitting them up with her in his lap so he could do the same to his own, getting her bra off quickly after his own sweatshirt was gone. There was no better feeling than her skin against his, he was sure. Her hand landed on the middle of his chest and she hummed, smiling.

“You didn’t shave your chest hair.”

He pulled back a bit with an incredulous look. He hadn't even thought about it, but she was right. “You noticed that?”

“I notice everything about you. You’re my favorite thing to study,” she smiled, and his heart melted in his chest. The only way he knew to respond was to pull her back to him. In a bed, he would have rolled them over, climbed above her, but the couch limited him and he was at her mercy for the time being.

She didn’t seem to be in much of a rush, and between the slow roll of her hips and the kisses she pressed along a path from his jaw to his collarbone, he was very much wishing she would pick up the pace. His hands slid down to her hips, pressing her down against him in a bid for friction.

“Easy,” Indy laughed his favorite laugh, the breathy one that seemed like an afterthought. “If I’m gonna rearrange my schedule, I get to set the pace.”

“Well then, take it away,” he chuckled, but it faded into more of a groan when she nipped at his shoulder, letting her hands run down his sides. She left goosebumps in the wake of her nails, and he couldn’t help but shudder as she toyed with the waistband of his sweats for a moment, like she was playing a game. Grayson Dolan wasn’t used to being at the whim of anyone, and it was liberating in a way that had his nerves buzzing.

Indiana was perhaps enjoying herself a bit too much. Usually, she was so overwhelmed by him that she didn’t have time to really take him in. So, she soaked up the opportunity of having him displayed out for her, tracing her fingers over every plane of him - the v of his hips, the muscles over his ribs. Down his arms, back up to his shoulders, running her thumbs over his scruff as she cupped his face. When she made it back down to his abs she felt them flex under her hands, his hips bucking up just barely against hers.

“Baby.” His tone was stern, and she played into a bit, looking at him as innocently as she could.

“Hmmm?”

“You’re teasing.”

“I’m admiring.”

“Okay, then you’re cheesy and you’re teasing.”

“Guilty as charged,” she murmured, shrugging a bit.

Bad move.

His arms wrapped around her tightly, ensuring he didn’t lose his grip as he planted a foot on the floor and rose up just enough to roll them, getting her underneath him on the couch. It happened so fast that all she could do was gasp, eyes wide as she stared up at him, the blues bright with shock.

“Now, where were we.”

His cockiness was back in full swing, but he paused at the pout that came over Indy’s face.

“What?”

“I kinda liked being up there,” she said, running her hands along his arms as he held himself up above her.

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“You wanna switch again?”

“Kinda.”

“Okay, I’ll make you a deal. Pants off, then we switch.”

“Deal.”

He stood up first, taking her hand and pulling her up to her feet. They shimmied out of the pants and underwear quickly, leaving them in a pile on the rug in a rush to get back to each other. The mood shifted yet again when he guided her onto his lap as he sat down, lighthearted and fun as she got herself settled. Grayson had never had lighthearted sex before he met Indiana Cross. It was always scratching an itch, even when it was with people he was in a relationship with. She seemed to unlock another side of him, one that made it so much more fun to have her above him, struggling to keep her hair out of her face and get close enough to him at the same time. He wasn’t sure how she managed to be adorable and sexy at the same time, but when she finally got herself lined up and began to sink down onto him, he didn’t have the brain power left to care.

“Shit Dee,” he groaned, using every bit of self control he had to keep his hips still, letting her set her agonizingly slow pace.

She whimpered with every inch that she moved down, finally taking all of him somehow, arching her back for a moment before she caved, leaning forward onto his chest, burying her face in his neck.

He started as slow as his body would let him, groaning as she started to grind her hips, searching out an angle that kept the pressure building. It took a moment, like it always did when they tried a new position, but when she found it Grayson knew by the way her nails dug into his shoulders. He grabbed her hips to hold her there, memorizing the way their bodies fit together so he could get right back to that same spot over and over again.

“Gray,” she whimpered into his ear, bracing her forearms on his shoulders as he chased her high for her, determined to have her shaking. All she could do was moan and hold on as he thrusted into her faster with a renewed purpose, only stopping when she clenched so hard that he could barely move.

“Fuck fuck fuck,” Indy whined, every muscle in her body tightening down in defense of how overwhelmed she suddenly felt, breath catching in her throat as her orgasm ripped through her. His arms coiled around her back as if he was trying to hold her together as she shook, and he chased the last of his high, lifting her off of him at the last possible second before he came, white streaks landing on his torso. He knew it would be a mess and he didn’t care - he pressed her back to him, wrapping her up for a moment in his arms and letting the two of them come down.

“Woah. Good woah,” Indy mumbled, pressing kisses to his neck where she could reach.

“I second your good woah.”

“Good.”

“Do you have time in your flexible schedule for a shower? I got you all sticky.”

She sat up and pretended to ponder it for a moment, making a show of quirking her eyebrow just to make him laugh. “I suppose I could pencil it in. C’mon.”

She climbed off him and took his hand, leading him to her bathroom with a smile. They paused in front of the mirror for a moment, and it was the first time in a long time that Indy felt happy to be looking in one. But still, she turned around and looked up at her boyfriend - he looked better in real life than in his reflection anyways.

“You know, if you play your cards right, you might just win yourself a round two.”

That was all it took for him to pick her up so fast she squealed, carrying her behind the privacy of the shower curtain for a second taste.

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

Bekah’s hands were always cold, but they felt like ice cubes in Indy’s hands. She rubbed along her skin in a bid to warm her up, eyes wandering over to Grayson.

“She’s pale,” he murmured, keeping his distance as he stood at the end of the bed. The sight of her so still in her hospital bed was unsettling. He had expected their first visit back to be filled with smiles, and ‘I miss you’s’, stories of California and her recovery.

Instead, they’d walked into Bekah’s room to find her fast asleep underneath her Halloween blanket, brows furrowed in what he hoped was concern and not pain.

“Her body is probably just trying to get used to the new cells. Not making enough blood, she’s probably up for another transfusion soon.”

“How do you know?”

Indy nodded towards what Grayson had assumed was an IV pole - he supposed it was, but instead of the usual bags of clear or milky liquid, there were just empty hooks.

“An hour.”

Bekah’s voice was dry and horse, and although it was quiet, it made both of them jump.

“Hey! How’re you feeling?” Indy immediately perked up, painting that smile across her face that Grayson had started to associate with everything hospital, from the sounds to the smell of bleach.

“Tired. My next transfusion is in an hour.”

“Did the doctor say anything about your counts?”

Bekah looked at her and rolled her eyes, wincing as she tried to sit up in bed. Indy reached to help her but she held a hand up.

“I have a transfusion in an hour, you tell me what my counts are,” she muttered, sitting up for a moment before she let out a sigh and put her face in her hands.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay Beks,” Grayson said.

“No, it’s not. You all came to see me and I’m being an asshole.”

“No one is nice when they don’t feel good,” Gray offered, moving to the other side of the bed and resting a hand on her shoulder. It was a simple gesture, a small attempt at consoling, but it was too much for Bekah. The sniffles turned into broken sobs that shook her entire body so hard it looked like she would come apart.

“I’m just tired of this. I’m tired.”

There wasn’t an adequate response to give, so the room filled with silence apart from her sobs as they did their best to hold her together, wrapping their arms around her, around each other. Indy’s eyes were red by the time Bekah’s cries quieted, and Grayson scrambled to come up with something, anything, to lighten the mood.

“Well, if we have an hour, that means we have time for an episode of something. Didn’t you say you were watching Vampire Diaries while we were gone?”

Bekah nodded, laying back against the pillows.

“Then let’s watch one and just chill. Save your energy.”

He set it up quickly, turning off the lights and pulling his chair over to the side of her bed as it started to play. When he looked over, there was just enough light to see that Bekah had reached for Indy’s hand. And to his surprise, she reached for his too. He took it, trying to ignore the way his throat tightened at the feeling of her squeezing weakly - a silent thank you as the episode began to play.

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

The first two weeks of November passed with unrelenting speed. Indiana buried herself in her school work, carving out what she could for quality time for Grayson, even if it was just going out to Jersey with him for a movie night that ended with her asleep on his lap before the opening scene was done. He didn’t mind - he just liked having her around, watching her get closer with Ethan and his mom, knowing she was safe because she was there with him. It was hard to help someone who was so determined on being independent, but he did what he could and she did the same, spending what little time she had encouraging him and supporting him.

Grayson had his own work to focus on, and it filled the time nicely as they worked to get their brands up and running through the holidays, plus the task of finalizing the plans for the details of the tiny homes. Somehow, it was already the week of Thanksgiving before he stopped to take a breath, which he found in the backyard with his brother the day before the holiday.

“Listen. I can make rolls. I can’t fuck that up.”

“Ethan, you could fuck anything up, including rolls. Just get cups. And things to put in the cups.”

“Fuck you,” Ethan grumbled, tossing the football a bit harder than necessary across the back lot. Grayson wished he’d put on gloves, but

“When is evil coming in?”

“She lands tonight, gotta go pick her up at 10:30. Is Indy staying out here tonight too?”

“No, I’m staying at her place, her sister and her boyfriend fly in tomorrow morning so we gotta pick them up. You’re picking up Cam tonight too right?”

“Yeah. Damn, I feel like dad,” Ethan laughed, a puff of white in the cold air.

Grayson waited for him to elaborate, throwing the ball back.

“He was always the chauffeur. I mean jesus, how many times do you think he picked us up from the airport when we came home?”

“True, he fucking hated that drive too. Complained about it the whole time, every time.”

“Like you don’t hate driving into the city.”

Grayson quirked an eyebrow at him, tossing the ball a bit harder, trying to put a different spin on it.

“Okay, fine, used to hate it. Now you just like it cause you get laid at the end of it.”

“True,” Gray grinned. “That makes me sound like a douchebag though.”

“You are a douchebag.”

“We’re identical twins, so if I’m a douchebag you’re a douchebag by association,” Grayson said.

“True. You aren’t a douchebag when you’re around Indiana, I’ll give you that.”

“Yeah, she wouldn’t put up with that shit.”

“You are a simp though.”

“Says you.”

“I never said I wasn’t.” Ethan shrugged, offering up a smile as he threw. “Eden really likes her by the way. Says they’d be great sister-in-laws in the future. I told her to chill with that shit though.”

Grayson missed the ball, not even bothering to watch it bounce away on the ground.

“Why?”

“Well, you said you were never going to ask her to leave, or move or whatever. And you live in LA, we live in LA, so... I mean, being here this long is just because of the tiny houses. And I know you, you can’t do long distance bro, you’re too physical.”

“Oh fuck you, I can survive without getting my dick wet if it means being with somebody I love.”

“That’s not what I fucking meant, I mean you’re touchy, and you need to be close to the people you love. Like physically close, as in in the same room, in the same house at least. That’s why I haven’t said shit about you being at her place every night of the week. I get it Gray, it’s how you are. But that shit won’t work when you’re on the other side of the country, and I know you aren’t going to ask her to fly out there to see you after how bad those flights were for her. And I love you, and I’m gonna support you, but you can’t fly home every weekend either. We have businesses, we have shit to do. Work.”

“I know that, I’m not stupid.”

“And it makes me feel like a shit brother but you always tell me that I’m supposed to keep you on track, so if that means being the bad guy then that means being the bad guy.”

“E I know.”

“I’m not saying you have to like break up with her or anything but, I just, I think it’s gonna be hard. Like really really hard.”

“Ethan. I know.”

“I just don’t want to see you hurt, that’s all.”

“Yeah. I get it. But can you just drop it for two fucking seconds? It’s almost Thanksgiving, let’s just focus on that. Besides, you’re the one who said to wait to cross the bridge when we come to it,” Grayson huffed.

“It’s the last week of November almost. Hate to break it to you, but the bridge is right in front of you.”

The thought made his stomach drop.

“Let’s go inside. S’cold.”

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

It felt unnatural to have her sister in the back seat, but that’s where Charlie climbed in after Grayson had helped them load their minimal luggage into the back of the car and made his introductions. They’d borrowed Lisa’s SUV for Devin’s sake, knowing that his long legs would be cramped in the backseat of anything, especially the truck.

“How was your flight?” Indy turned almost fully in her seat, trying to soak in every minute she had with her sister - they had to fly out bright and early the next morning.

“Bumpy,” Charlie laughed, picking at her nails in her lap. Indy frowned when she noticed - it was her nervous tick.

“Devin I have no idea how you fit in coach bro, I barely fit and I’m tiny compared to you,” Grayson chimed in, checking over his shoulder as he pulled out of the pick up lane.

“It’s a struggle my man, it’s a struggle. But I don’t think anyone in their right mind would look at you and call you tiny. You’ve got me beat in every department but leg length.”

“Hey, if you’re actually serious about growing muscle I can throw together a workout for you while you’re here.”

“For real? That would be sick bro, I could really use the help.”

Indy held back her laugh at how they both slipped into bro mode so quickly, and Charlie seemed to be on the same page as she snickered. Eventually conversation gave way to music, Indy proud of herself for finding a perfect 2000’s throwback playlist that had everyone singing and bouncing around in their seats. By the time they made it to the house, they were all a bit breathless and full of nostalgia.

When they climbed out onto the gravel, Charlie stuck close to her sister.

“Lisa is mom. And Ethan is the twin, Eden is the sister, Cameron is the girlfriend?”

“Cameron is sister, Eden is girlfriend,” Indy laughed. “Thank god you asked.”

Charlie gave a bit of a chuckle, and Indy nudged her.

“They’re good people Char. Don’t worry, they’ll love you.”

“I just… haven’t done this in a while.”

She wrapped her arm around her older sister’s shoulders as they approached the house, squeezing her lightly.

“I know sis. I know.”

Inside, Eden was trying to be subtle as she peeked through the blinds on the windows, watching the whole crew approach.

“They’re here! Come to the door, they’re here!”

“Babe, that’s creepy. Just come sit down,” Ethan laughed, waiting for Cameron to make her next move in chess.

“It’s not creepy, it’s friendly,” she countered, but she stood back from the door at the last moment to try to make it less intimidating.

“Hey guys!” Grayson’s voice boomed loud through the house as soon as he opened the door, his excitement obvious. Cam and Ethan abandoned their chess game for a moment, and Lisa came from the kitchen with a warm smile.

Indiana officially met Cameron for the first time, happy that she went in for the hug. Lisa hugged everyone, making everyone laugh when she looked up at Devin and said “my god you’re tall.”

Once everyone had met everyone, Lisa clapped her hands.

“Alright, let’s get to work!”

The Dolan’s did things in stations it seemed, which pleased Indy’s organizational side that usually went a bit crazy around the holidays. Lisa was nice enough to assign each couple a dish to work on, which of course became a competition, like everything seemed to. Indy wasn’t sure how they were going to truly compare E squared’s vegan stuffing to Charlie and Devin’s vegan mac and cheese, but she didn’t care.

Because Grayson was beaming beside her as they worked on peeling potatoes over the trash can, and everywhere she looked she saw smiles. Devin was swaying his hips to the music while Charlie tried to copy him, just a blip behind the beat. Ethan and Eden raced to see who could chop vegetables quicker until Lisa told them to slow down so someone didn’t end up needing stitches.

LIsa was the master of the operation, working on three different things at once, waving off Indy’s offer of help.

“I used to feed all three of them and their dad. Cooking for an army is second nature,” she teased, but that familiar tone was in her voice that tugged at Indy’s heart. Ethan eventually connected to the speakers and shuffled a playlist filled with everything, from Elton John to Cudi. Grayson got vegan butter on his shirt at one point while dancing too hard, and when Indy laughed he swiped it off with a finger and smeared it on her nose. The kitchen got so hot they cracked a window, with the revolving door of the oven trying to handle all the dishes and all the bodies close together.

By 2pm, everyone took turns carrying everything into the dining room to the massive which Cameron had decorated. Everyone took their places at the table, with LIsa at the head, Grayson and Ethan beside her with the girls beside them, and Charlie beside Indy, Devin beside Eden, who had seemed to hit it off with him in their short few hours of knowing each other, and Cam at the other head.

“Before we start, I think we should all go around and share something that we’re thankful for,” Lisa proposed. “I’ll start. I’m very thankful for my health, and for my family. For my wonderful daughter, and my amazing boys, and my husband, who I love and who watches over us every day.”

She could only speak for herself, but it was a safe bet that everyone’s throats tightened. Ethan cleared his before he spoke.

“I’m thankful for my family, for the quality time we get to spend together. For my brother’s ability to deal with my ass and his help in chasing our dreams and making that shit happen. And for Eden, because… well just because.”

Eden laid her head against his shoulder for a moment before she spoke up.

“I’m thankful for my dream job, and getting to do something I love every day. I’m thankful for Ethan, for loving me and keeping me sane. And I’m thankful for all of you, especially you Lisa, for welcoming me into the family.”

“I’m thankful to be here, to meet new people and get to eat some awesome food. Thank you, for inviting us in and sharing your holiday with us,” Devin said, polite as ever.

“I’m thankful for the wine,” Cam grinned, sipping from her glass quickly just to get an eye roll out of her mom. “And for all of you, and good food, and for family. Charlie?”

Charlie threw Indy a nervous glance before she spoke.

“I’m thankful for my sister, and my boyfriend, who always keep me together and on track, and who make me laugh. And I’m thankful for new friends, and good food.”

Indy had been so intent on listening to everyone else that she hadn’t even thought of her own response.

“I’m thankful for my sister, and for all of you guys, who have been so kind to me. I’m thankful for this guy,” she bumped Grayson’s shoulder. “For loving me, and supporting me in everything I do. And, I’m thankful for the years I had with my mom. I wish she could be here today, but I know she’s up there watching, and she’s thankful that I have you guys.”

She ignored the way her eyes stung, turning to Grayson, who squeezed her thigh under the table.

“I’m thankful for my family, and for the way that dad guided us to be who we are today - all of us Dolan’s. And I’m thankful for Indy for showing me what strength and determination looks like. And for everyone here, because we’re all family. I love you guys.”

The weight of his words hung in the air for a moment as everyone soaked them in.

“Alright, dig in!” Lisa broke the silence, reaching for the rolls.

Grayson squeezed Indy’s thigh once, tracing a little heart with his index finger when she leaned over to kiss his cheek before turning back to the table. They all ate until their plates were clear, almost all of them heading back in for seconds. The final verdict was that the vegan mac and cheese was the winner of the side dish competition, much to the pride of Devin. The evening settled into various activities, from Grayson teaching Devin proper pull up form to Charlie letting Eden take test shots on her camera. Indy mostly watched from the sidelines, happy to see all the people she loved all together in one place.

Her family.

“Thank you for this.” Lisa’s voice startled her a bit, but she relaxed when the older woman moved to stand beside her.

“I should be thanking you!”

“No. We didn’t do Thanksgiving last year. Everything was still too… raw, I suppose. Everyone is here because you asked them to be. So, thank you, truly.”

The tears that Indy had been fighting all day finally found their place on her cheeks, and she sniffled through a laugh when Lisa hugged her.

“Well, thanks for sharing your family.”

“It’s not sharing if you’re a part of it my dear.”

She pulled her close for a hug before the two of them folded themselves into the mix, running around in the cold air of the backyard and enjoying each other’s company as the night drew to a close. They opted for pie and vegan ice cream to finish off the night, and Charlie insisted they take some pictures before the food comas took over. She’d thought ahead enough to bring a tripod, and she sat it up in the living room, making sure every couple got a few that they liked, and that they all got one together. Lisa requested one of just her kids where they of course all goofed off enough to annoy her. Charlie would send them all in the next few days, Indy’s favorite being the one of her on Grayson’s back, wrapped around to kiss his cheek while he grinned with his eyes squeezed shut. It became her lock screen as soon as she saved it, and Lisa went on to get the family one framed, as well as the one of all of them together too, both beside each other on the mantel held with equal importance.

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

The Thanksgiving leftovers only lasted two days in Indy’s fridge. With the stress of preparing for four cumulative finals, she didn’t have time to cook anything, and the microwaveable vegan leftovers were a god send. So was Grayson, who stayed by her side each day as she studied, quietly keeping himself busy with work until she needed him. It was a nice co-existence, both of them understanding the need for quiet but enjoying each other’s presence nonetheless. By Wednesday, she was only left with one last final, though it was her hardest, and she couldn’t convince herself that she’d prepared enough despite pulling multiple all nighters. He quizzed her when she asked, even though he butchered half the pronunciations. His commentary was the comedic relief she needed to get through it though, and she was more than grateful that he was there.

“Last set, and then you need to take a break.”

“But-”

“No buts. Unless you’re talking gluteus maximus.” He grinned when she rolled her eyes. “Baby you’ve been going non stop for 4 hours now.”

“Okay fine, hit me with it.”

“Soleus.” She pointed to the side of his calf. “Extensor carpi ulnaris.” The outer side of his forearm. “Zygomaticus major.” His cheek. “Iliopsoas.” The inside of his thigh.

“Dee, you know these. You literally don’t even have to think about it, you know them.”

She shook her head before he even finished his sentence. “I need more practice.”

“The only thing you need more of is sleep,” he countered. “C’mon, we’re both exhausted, let’s just take a nap.”

“Once we finish the set, then we can.”

“Fine. Serratus anterior.”

She tickled his ribs, making him squirm away from her.

“Biceps femoris.” She heaved his leg up from where it was resting on the couch, pointing to a spot in the middle of the back of his thigh.

“Teres major.” It was a reach, but she made it around to the back of his armpit.

“Teres minor.” She poked the same spot, just a bit harder.

“Okay, ouch, don’t abuse my teres. Uh, gastrocnemius.” She was gentler on his calf.

They went through the rest of the stack like that, with Grayson doing his best to say them correctly while Indy poked and prodded.

As soon as he flipped the last card he yawned, sitting the stack aside and leaning forward to grab her, dragging her on top of him and nuzzling his nose into her hair. Indy sighed and relaxed into him, his warmth and the weight of his arms settling her body down. She could remember the days where she’d always wanted something as simple as this, just laying on her couch with someone to hold, and she tried to soak it in.

“I love you,” she said.

“I love you more,” Grayson countered, pressing a kiss to her forehead. His hands moved under her shirt over her back, finding space.

R-E-L-A-X

“Can’t. My mind won’t stop.”

“Well, I’d offer to sing to you or some shit, but your ears would probably bleed,” he chuckled.

“S’okay. I’ll just dream about muscles or something. Innervations.”

“Sounds exciting.”

“Oh yeah, riveting stuff.”

She wiggled around to get comfortable, her cheek squished against his chest as he rubbed her back.

“Sleep, have your little anatomy dreams,” he teased, reaching over the back of the couch for a blanket to drape over the two of them.

It took a little while, but she managed to drift off to the soothing sound of his heartbeat and the feeling of his fingers against her skin.

And she dreamed.

Indiana was in a hallway. White, smooth walls with doorways that stood black and brooding on either side. Her stomach turned a bit, unease washing through her veins as she took a few small steps forward, moving to peek past one of the frames.

“Don’t sweetheart.”

Her head shot up. At the end of the hall was Nicole. She looked young, even younger than Indy’s last memories of her. Youthful, and full of life, her blonde hair familiar as it hung down and framed her face.

“Mom.”

“Hi my love.”

Indiana ran. She barreled past the doors, not even giving them a second thought as she finally, finally landed in her mother’s arms. The tears were inevitable, but she didn’t care that she shook as Nicole held her, the way only a mom could. Held her body, but held her soul.

“Where have you been? Where’d you go?”

“I’ve been here the whole time. Right here with you.”

“I miss you. I miss you so much.”

“I know. But I’m here.”

She pulled back, letting her mom brush her hair behind her ear the way she always used to when it fell into her eyes.

“Look at you. You’re all grown up. Look at those beautiful eyes. So blue.”

“Just like yours,” Indy said.

“Just like mine.”

A part of her knew that she was dreaming. She knew her mother was gone, that this wasn’t real. But her heart refused to accept it, because she could feel her mother’s skin, hear her voice, feel her like she hadn’t been able to in so long. So she just stared. Tried to memorize every part of her face, every smile line, every freckle. She wasn’t sure how long she stood there, but Nicole was the one to break the silence.

“Baby. I need you to be careful.”

Indy frowned. “Careful?”

“With your heart. I need you to be careful with your heart, with my heart.”

“Momma what do you mean?”

Nicole looked to the left. Indy followed her gaze, surprised to see that the light was on in the doorway.

The doorway to Bekah’s room.

“Beks,” she breathed. Her feet automatically moved, taking her into the room until Nicole’s arms wrapped around her shoulders and pulled her back.

“Indiana,” Nicole cautioned. “No.”

“No, no Mom it’s okay, she’s getting better, see? Look, she’s fine.”

She pushed forward, but Nicole’s grip only tightened.

“No baby. Look.”

Indy listened. And she watched. Watched Bekah try to sit up in her bed. She was probably calling for Jessica, or Emily, or maybe even Indy. Her mouth opened, and no sound came out, her eyes going wide for a moment before she fell back against the pillows, chest rising too fast, too shallow. Indy knew what that meant.

“No. NO! Beks! Bekah!”

“Shhhhh baby, there’s nothing you can do, Indiana stop, there’s nothing you can do.”

“BEKAH!” She cried anyways, fighting her mother’s grip as she watched the monitors light up, heard their mocking monotone calls as they alarmed. Nurses appeared, and Indy watched them do all the right things, give all the right medicine.

She didn’t wake up.

“No, no no no no,” Indy wailed, thrashing in her mother’s arms.

“Indiana. Indiana. Dee!”

She was back in her living room, and Grayson was scared.

“Wha-” she looked around, bewildered. She was sitting up, which disoriented her a bit, though she was with it enough to realize she was still in Grayson’s lap.

“Hey, you’re okay, you’re safe,” Grayson said, eyes still wide. He pushed her hair back out of her face as she looked down, only then realizing that she’d balled up his shirt in her hands. She let go, looking at the disheveled fabric, which was also splotched with dark spots.

“I’m- sorry, I don’t… I uh… I had a nightmare. Sorry.”

“It’s okay baby,” Grayson murmured. “You okay?”

Those two words brought on a whole other wave of tears, and she crumpled into him, shaking her head as she cried.

It took him by surprise for a moment - he knew she didn’t like to cry, and he’d never really seen her so upset. So he took a moment to process, and then he lifted her arms up over his shoulders, coiling his own around her and squeezing her to him as tight as he could without crushing her. He didn’t speak. He just held her, let her get it out of her system, whatever it was.

When her sobs turned to sniffles and his shirt was fully soaked through on the shoulder, he spoke up.

“What do you need? What can I do?”

She pulled back from him, frame seeming even smaller somehow as she sat there.

“Can you go check on Bekah? I know it’s Wednesday, and I know we’re going to tomorrow but… you don’t have to, I just, I know she’s alone up there, but I have so much work to do, and-”

“I can go. I’ll go,” he said. The pieces fell together in his brain, and he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“Thank you,” she exhaled, shoulders slumping back down.

“Are you gonna be okay here by yourself while I’m gone?”

“Yeah, I need to study anyways, I’ll keep myself busy. Just need to know she’s okay.”

“Okay. I’ll make sure she’s good, might hang out for a bit and watch something if she’s up for it.”

“That sounds amazing. Thank you.”

He didn’t like the idea of leaving her there, but he could tell she wouldn’t have any peace of mind until she knew that Bekah was okay. It reminded him off all the times he’d called his mother in the middle of the night in those last few months before he’d officially come home, just to make sure his dad was still there.

“If you need me, call me okay? I’ll turn back around.”

“I will.”

“Promise?”

“I promise. I love you,” she said, kissing him quickly.

“I love you more.”

He shifted her off him onto the couch and got up, putting his shoes and coat on quickly before he could convince himself to stay. It was already dark outside despite it only being 6pm, and he kept his head down on the streets on his way to the hospital, mind racing until he got up to the unit and signed in.

He half expected Bekah to be lying still in her bed, on her back with all her machines on. Or, at least for her to be drained and tired like she had been the last few times they saw her. But when he cleared the doorway she was sitting up in bed on her phone, random Tik Tok audio’s playing. She looked up at him and smiled her brightest smile.

“Earrings! It’s a Wednesday, the fuck are you doing here?!”

He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“You get an extra dose of me this week, deal with it,” he teased, unzipping his coat and laying it over one of the chairs.

“Where’s Indy?”

“Studying for finals. It’s a me you date tonight, you pick. What’re we doing?”

“Well, I restarted Vampire Diaries.”

“Restarted? Bro, you were on season 7 yesterday!”

“Yeah so? The best seasons are the first two, we’ve been over this.”

“Whatever, scootch over.”

She did as he asked, though he had to put the bedrails down to even fit halfway on the mattress.

“Here, get in here so we can send some motivation to Dee,” he said, pulling out his phone and opening snapchat. They moved so just their noses-up were on screen, making Bekah laugh as he sent it off.

She screenshotted it and sent back a heart, which put his mind at ease enough to relax and attempt to enjoy an episode, though he wasn’t really following the plot considering they were almost halfway through the first season.

“So, what’s happening exactly?” He finally asked 20 minutes into the episode.

“Stefan is trying to be all ‘you deserve better than me’, and Damon just doesn’t give a shit. Essentially, Stefan doesn’t want to hurt Elena so he wants her to make the decision to break it off so he doesn’t have to. He doesn’t want to be the bad guy.”

“But if he loves her, then why does he want to break it off at all?”

“Well cause he’s bad for her. She would have to give up so much for him. She’s having to lie to her friends, hide all this stuff for him. Change her whole life really. But she wants to, because she loves him, he just doesn’t think it’s fair to ask that of her. But like… he’s still asking her to do it just by being with her, you know?”

He knew.

“I mean, and he’s a fucking vampire. Yah know, suck suck and all that jazz,” Bekah laughed. “If the rest isn’t a deal breaker, then that definitely is. I mean, yeah, Damon’s a vampire too but at least he just accepts it, and he doesn’t ask her to change or anything.”

He didn’t say anything.

“I’m Team Damon, if you couldn’t tell,” she tried again.

“Yeah. Me too.”

Grayson tried to shake himself out of his thoughts, but it was proving difficult. Luckily, Bekah just mistook it as him being super invested in the show, which made her happy. Jessica let him stay an extra fifteen minutes, and he took a quick video of Bekah wishing Indy luck on her last final before he left and headed out.

The walk home was worse. It was darker somehow, colder as his mind raced with realization after realization. He did his best to do the math in his head. It was December 3rd, which meant 30 days until he was supposed to go back to LA. All the way to the other side of the country, only coming back to Jersey every few months if he was able to. Ethan’s voice rang in his head as he trudged through the lobby and into the elevator.

That shit won’t work when you’re on the other side of the country.

He tried to breathe it off, put on a positive face before he opened Indy’s apartment door, smiling when he saw her on the couch, pencil tucked behind her ear as she looked over diagrams.

“Hi! How was it?”

“It was good, she’s good. Looks great actually.”

His phone buzzed in his pocket once, then again, and he pulled it out to check it.

A notification of a payment from the joint bank account, and then a text from E.

Booked the flights for the 2nd. Hope that’s cool.

“Everything okay?” Indy asked.

He put his phone back in his pocket and smiled.

“Yeah. Everything is fine.”

#lmao at me not formatting this right haha #lets try again!#mixtape #grayson dolan #dolan twins #grayson dolan fanfiction #let me know what you think in exchange for my eternal love

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forasecondtherewedwon · 4 years

Photo

Schwarzenegger Holiday

Pairing: Peter Parker x Michelle Jones (Spideychelle) Rating: E Word Count: 11,874

Includes the following prompts:

snowed in

making latkes together

“You didn’t think I’d let you spend the holidays alone, did you?”

Summary: When MJ’s granted a sudden visit to the safehouse where Peter’s been hidden for six months, she’s... nervous. What if he doesn’t want her to come? What if he doesn’t like her that way anymore? She has 24 hours to figure out what they are to each other and make peace with it. That’s the plan. Until they get snowed in.

MJ’s leg is jumping in the backseat of the SUV, the bop of her foot barely audible over the thickly-packed snow grinding under the tires. Anywhere else, this large, white vehicle would be conspicuous, but she supposes it’s fading in pretty well against this wintery backdrop. Probably less visible from above too; she quits bouncing her foot long enough to unbuckle her seatbelt and slide over to glance up at the sky, until the driver brusquely reminds her to keep her face away from the windows.

She’s dying to snark back and ask what the darkly tinted windows are for if they aren’t good enough to conceal the face of the vehicle’s occupants, but this guy kinda scares her. He’s something more secret than the Secret Service. If Nick Fury (the real Nick Fury this time, apparently—she has a whole backlog of questions and complaints that there wasn’t time to bring up during the handoff) hadn’t done an extra security check on the driver before sending MJ off with him, she’d be really worried right about now. Her suitcase is in the trunk and she’s clutching the box May gave her to her hip, wondering how she’ll be able to use its contents for self-defence if the need arises. Tear open the bag of flour and throw it in the guy’s eyes maybe?

Her strategy with the flour is sturdy, but there’s something else in this box for which she has no plan. There wasn’t time for her and May to discuss it, like there wasn’t time for MJ to interrogate Fury on where exactly he was while Peter was grappling with Quentin Beck all over Europe. Time, time, time. It’s been months, actually, since any of them seemed to have enough of it. She’s curious to know how the summer, fall, and now early winter have passed for Peter. He doesn’t even know she’s on her way. Nervous, MJ bites at the skin around her thumb nail. She hopes he’s happy to see her.

When Jameson totally fucked up her first date (and her new boyfriend’s whole life), Peter fled. He had to. Luckily, he’s being protected—so MJ’s been told—though the trade-off for safety is isolation. If it were her, she’s not sure she’d mind being handed an extended stretch of time to catch up on her reading, but she knows Peter’s different. Peter needs people. (She needs Peter.)

MJ knows that May Parker misses her nephew desperately. That’s why she tried to get the woman to go in her place, but everything with these Super-Secret Service assholes has a reason and a rhyme, even when the Scrabble tiles for Peter’s situation clearly spell ORANGE. May visited him for his birthday. Ned spent the weekend over Thanksgiving. Taking time away from work and school qualifies as a ‘noticeable absence’ and those need to be minimized. In the plainer terms May used when she explained the circumstances (at the same time that she proposed MJ take a trip to see Spidey the Desperado), none of the people formerly known to be close to Peter Parker can draw attention to themselves. They’ve been watched on the street, questioned by reporters, photographed by tabloids, and otherwise surveyed by who knows what methods operated by who knows whom. The last is MJ’s assumption; she isn’t stupid.

Apparently, becoming Peter’s girlfriend right before his identity was leaked to the world bumped her up to the third most important person in his life. She’s yet to learn whether Peter views her that way. The people protecting him do not have a schedule coordinated with him, so this trip wasn’t his call. Windows of opportunity open and close, schemes are adjusted, and girlfriends get left on doorsteps hugging boxes with the ingredients for latkes, crossing their fingers for a warm reception. MJ hasn’t figured out what she’s going to say to him after six months of nothing.

Then again, that’s basically how their friendship in high school went until her crush on him stopped crushing her enough to allow her to get the occasional insult out.

If he’s gotten over his feelings for her or just isn’t in the right headspace to entertain her, this is going to be awkward. At least it’s only until tomorrow. The same driver (for security reasons, blah blah) is picking her up before noon. One night of struggling to transition from dating back to just friends would, ultimately, be bearable for her, if that’s what Peter needs. She’d be able to talk it out with him without pining for their quick first kisses on Tower Bridge. Or their sloppy make-out session in the airplane bathroom when they woke up from their nap with half the ocean still to cross and the sudden feeling of relief that they were both alive. Yeah. MJ could definitely put that stuff behind her. In fact, maybe it’s better not to think of it at all and go into this visit assuming Peter’s feelings have cooled in light of other priorities. That way, this can be a night away from home hanging out with a friend, and not being left undisturbed with Peter ‘Where’d Those Abs Come From?’ Parker in the middle of nowhere.

She upends the mixing bowl in the box over that other item May included.

After so much doubling back and zigzagging down what have to be the most deserted roads in Upstate New York, the driver rolls to a stop in the shadow of a cabin-like house. It’s too house-like to attract the attention of wandering hipsters thirsty for cottagecore, but too cabin-y to suggest anything beyond temporary residence. MJ judges it to be a convincing safehouse. She climbs out, hefting May’s box, and accepting her suitcase from the driver. He moves much more swiftly, evidently uninterested in assessing the dwelling’s façade. Probably not his job. Even with her arms full, MJ steps precisely in the man’s footprints in the snow, just to see if her overexaggerated precaution will get under his skin. He ignores her. By the time she reaches the porch, he’s already completed whatever secret handshake or password exchange or retinal scan he had to do with Peter and is brushing past her, back to the milk-white SUV. She turns and stares after him, her last tie to civilization (until tomorrow), squinting against the light glinting off the snow.

Eventually, when the vehicle is gone and everything’s quiet, MJ accepts that she’s stalling. Eyes lowered, she faces the open door.

She starts at his feet. Red socks, the wool bobbled, the toe of the left twisted slightly like he put it on wrong and didn’t fix it. Her throat’s thick as she scans up his legs, in sweatpants, and remembers them encased in the Spider-Man suit as he crouched on the streetlight and watched Jameson blow his life apart onscreen. Hovering by his thighs are his hands. Oh, his hands. Though MJ’s gripping the box and suitcase with all her might, she’s recalling the gentle way he fit his fingers between hers. With a shaky breath, she can’t wait any longer and her gaze darts up to his face. Peter’s wearing this look she’s seen in videos of soldiers being reunited with their dogs—specifically, she’s seen it in the eyes of those dogs. The look is mushy and wet-eyed and begging for an eyeroll, possibly some verbal ridiculing, and instead, her heart reacts by flopping around unfamiliarly inside her chest. Him, is the sound of its thumping as it stumbles into her ribs. Him, him, him.

“Hi,” she says, voice coming out high. “Don’t hug me. The porch is wet and I’m holding a box.”

“I see that.”

He speaks. MJ’s mouth twitches into a relieved, silly smile. She’s missed the sound of his dork speaking so much that three words have her tripping over the threshold, almost slipping as her snow-slicked boots hit wood floor.

“The box is from May,” she explains, putting her back to Peter in order to set it down and to collect herself all over again. She’s here. He’s here, right where he’s supposed to be and where she was expecting him, but looking at her like that and with a jawline erupting in a faint scruff. It feels like a million years since she saw him last. It feels like a day.

“Can I hug you now?”

The suitcase she just drops.

MJ whirls to throw herself into Peter’s arms, hiccupping a relieved breath when he squeezes her close. Before she shuts her eyes to concentrate on the sensation of him solidly in her grasp after so long apart, she gets a glimpse of the living area beyond, the unlit fireplace. It’s homey and she isn’t sure if that makes her sadder, knowing he’s been living here alone. His hands slide over her back and she realizes she’s been hugging him a long time.

With a tight, uncertain smile, she draws back, cupping his shoulders, then dropping her hands to swing at her sides.

“Are you surprised to see me?” MJ asks. She already knows he should be, but she has to do something besides just stare at him.

“Yeah.” Peter laughs. “Take off your boots and stuff, come sit down.”

He’s smiling at her even as she’s fumbling to untie her laces.

“Sorry,” he laughs again. “I’m not trying to stare. I’m just not used to—”

“People?”

“Well, I see some people. I get supplies. But not super often and not people I… know.”

She saw how his face went pink before settling on that final word.

“You didn’t think I’d let you spend the holidays alone, did you?” MJ teases, now shrugging out of her coat. She didn’t notice that she forgot to zip it up when she got out of the SUV. She stuffs her gloves down the sleeve and passes it to Peter to hang on a hook by the door.

“I didn’t really think that was anybody’s call,” he admits.

His tone is joyfully unconcerned, but she frowns a little, experiencing second-hand frustration at the way Peter’s life isn’t so much being lived right now as run.

“I didn’t either.” She shrugs. “But your Avengers handlers, or whatever their job titles are, contacted me through May, so I figured I might as well come out. Not that I didn’t want to see you. I did. I really wanted to see you.”

God, now she’s probably come on too strong, overcorrecting after worrying she sounded like she could take or leave being reunited with her boyfriend.

“I really wanted to see you too,” Peter assures her. His expression softens. “We didn’t get a lot of time, before.”

“I’m only here until tomorrow,” MJ warns.

“Oh, no, that’s perfect. That’s great. I wasn’t expecting you at all, so this is incredible.”

He goes to grab the box, but she shouts, “No!” Peter stares at her. “Uh,” she says, “can you take my suitcase instead? I don’t know where to put it.”

“Sure.”

She follows him into the living room in her sock feet, wishing she packed slippers.

“The floor can be cold,” he says before she can voice her regret. “I have slippers around here somewhere that you can wear, and it’s warmer when there’s a fire. We can light one tonight, if you want.”

“That sounds nice,” MJ agrees.

“You can put that down in the kitchen.” He points her through a door. “I’ll just take your bag to the bedroom. The, uh, second bedroom. There are two bedrooms. I wasn’t gonna put it in my room. I don’t want you to think—”

“Peter, it’s fine.”

He nods jerkily and walks, glancing back once. She spies the promised slippers and shoves her feet into them before racing into the kitchen. Instead of systematically emptying the box and laying out each item, MJ rifles desperately through to the bottom and grabs the thing she avoided the whole way here. What was May thinking, including condoms in the care package? Well, logically, she can guess. Peter, mostly alone, opening the door to discover his girlfriend, arrived for an overnight stay. Yes, she can see exactly why May wanted to take precautions on their behalf because MJ definitely didn’t think of that and she doubts whoever brings Peter his updates and frozen pizzas has thought to equip him with prophylactics. They’re mostly concerned with keeping him alive and out of the hands of the authorities, not getting him laid.

Knowing Peter will return any moment, MJ looks frantically around the kitchen. She thinks she hears his footsteps. Shit. She yanks a pullout drawer open and chucks the box of condoms in next to the Cheerios, hitting the drawer shut with her hip as Peter walks in and grins at her. She plasters an anxious smile on in response.

He joins her at the counter and they begin to unload the box.

“Wait,” he says, partway through, “is this the stuff for latkes?”

“Mhmm. May told me she didn’t want you to miss out on any of your regular holiday traditions, even if she couldn’t be… Peter?”

MJ observes him, sympathy wringing her heart like a wet washcloth. He turns away from her and raises a hand to his face. She hears a sniff and assumes he’s wiping at his eyes and cheeks. She reaches out, hesitates, overcomes, lays her hand on his shoulder.

“I told her it should’ve been her coming instead of me,” she mumbles.

“No, no,” Peter assures her, still facing away, “I’m so happy to see you, MJ, seriously. I just miss her.”

“She misses you too.”

When he turns to face her, eyes still shining, MJ rewards his vulnerability by taking his hand.

“It’s not fair,” she tells him.

“It’s what’s gotta be done,” Peter says with a resigned shrug. “What I want isn’t as important as fixing this mess so I can go back to being Spider-Man. People need me.”

“You’re people too. There are people you need. That’s part of your humanity.” She’s ramping up now, arguing on his behalf with no one there to argue against. “Without that humanity, you wouldn’t be a good Spider-Man. You wouldn’t be a good guy. Protecting you shouldn’t just be about sticking you somewhere and watching you by satellite or whatever! Exposing your identity is a psychological attack and Nick Fury and the rest of them should be doing everything to ensure you can weather this storm psychologically, including keeping you connected to your family and your friends and—"

“My girlfriend.”

MJ exhales.

“Maybe not her,” she jokes. “She might just come in here and rant at you about reducing your stress, which is kinda counterproductive.”

“If I could listen to you rant every day, I’d be happy.”

She flushes and busies herself with putting May’s gifts away, probably all in the wrong spots, but Peter never corrects her, just works quietly alongside her until there’s nothing left in the box. Because she wasn’t permitted to bring her phone, MJ checks the time on her watch. It’s early afternoon.

“What do you do all day?”

Peter’s face lights up.

“You wanna see the room?”

“I recognize that look. This has something to do with Ned, doesn’t it?”

Her hypothesis is proven right when he leads her down the hall and opens a door to reveal a room housing a dozen Lego models. Everything’s probably Star Wars related, but she’s lost beyond the Death Star.

“Ned,” she says.

“Ned. He brought them when he came. I’ve done them all… well, a few times each.”

“I know I should be delicate with you because you’re a genius hermit, but, Parker, that’s so lame.”

Peter laughs out loud.

“That’s not all I do. Come on.”

He takes her hand (it doesn’t seem like he’s thought for a second about scrapping their relationship) and they walk back to the living room. On one of the couches, he has his Spidey suit laid out. But it’s freaky, like a skinned animal, with the innards of its tech exposed and skinny screwdrivers scattered on the floor nearby. He’s been tinkering. Because they have nothing else on the agenda, he explains the maintenance he’s done, more features he’s discovered. The list of protocols and capabilities seems almost endless. Watching him speak so enthusiastically, she wonders if maybe this is Peter’s version of holing up with a tall stack of books.

“No tracker in the suit?” she asks when they sit down at opposite ends of the remaining couch, legs stretched out and resting against each other.

“Nah. All that stuff’s turned off.” He lays his arm along the back of the couch and tips his cheek against it. “Where do your parents think you are right now?”

“At Betty’s.”

Her family knows she pines for Peter, but they don’t know she’s been granted this opportunity to see him. She doesn’t know what they’d say. Like the majority of New Yorkers, they like Spider-Man and don’t believe that he murdered Quentin Beck. That doesn’t mean they’d want her as involved as she is—though involved feels like a strong word when she hasn’t seen him since the day he was exposed and had to ride the first leg of this journey with a blindfold on. Seemed pretty antiquated. Her parents just want her to be safe, like how May wants Peter to be safe. MJ recalls the condoms. Ok, not quite the same.

“They think we’re in some kind of study lockdown, prepping for a decathlon thing in January, phones off,” she continues. “Betty doesn’t know I’m here, but Ned told her enough that she’ll lie for me if my parents call her. I’m thinking of promoting her.”

“How’s the team doing this year?”

MJ studies him. I spend every practice thinking about you even more than Flash talks about you, she thinks. I went home and cried the day Mr. Harrington told me I’d have to fill your spot. Nobody’s as smart as you. I’m bored without you. Sometimes I worry that I’m not a good captain and I just want to talk to you because I know it’d make me feel better, but you’re not there.

She pokes her toes into his thigh.

“Decent,” she says. “Flash wanted our name changed to the Midtown Spider-Men, but Mr. Harrington said no.”

When Peter groans and tucks his face into his arm in embarrassment, MJ does what she’s been too shy to do yet: she moves down to his end of the couch and kisses him as he turns his head to look at her. He holds her securely around the waist as she darts back in for a second kiss, a slower one. There’s no one around to spy, no one to interrupt. Everything in her zings upward like a hurled snowball and the kiss gains momentum. It’s not as hasty as the one on the flight home—it’s deeper, more grownup somehow. The prick of his facial hair enhances that adultness. For her, this is a kiss that says she’s been surviving without him, but now that they’re together, she prefers catching up this way rather than with words. They kiss like they can’t be stopped. MJ cups the back of Peter’s head, then his face, as their mouths nudge and coax, their tongues tracing each other’s lips before retreating. They separate to breathe and she presses her face to his neck, letting him hold her as she sits, still twisted with her feet on the floor, wearing his slippers.

“That’s one of the toughest things to do without,” he tells her. “I forgot it felt that good.”

“Too good,” she says wryly, lifting her head.

“Hey, based on what you were saying about my psychological needs, I’m due something ‘too good.’”

Really, it just isn’t possible not to think about the condoms as she smiles at him and chews the inside of her lip. Having sex with Peter is something she’s contemplated. She contemplated it when she watched him play trombone with the marching band during football games, and when he smiled as he walked down the hall at school with Ned. She contemplated it when she silently observed his late entrances to decathlon practices, and when she muffled her moans in bed at night, fantasizing about him. They kissed in London and sleeping together went from a daydream to an inevitability; they separated in New York and it went back to a dream. But now…

She’s only here for one night though. It’s too soon. When MJ kisses Peter, she knows she wants to keep going, but she doesn’t want to do anything impulsive and hurt them both more when she has to leave tomorrow. They need to think about this together. She should probably tell him about the condoms, so they have all their metaphorical cards on the table. And yet, she’s not able to jump from a single reunion kiss to asking if he wants to have sex on one of her future visits (if there are future visits). It’s not organic. It feels like working out their romantic plans on somebody else’s schedule. That makes her feel gross, cheated even.

MJ sags back from Peter and asks him to give her a tour of the rest of the house.

—

She’s rubbing the skin off an onion when, pausing in the grating of a potato, he turns to her and suggests something that proves he has gone a little screwy living alone: he wants to cook the latkes in the fireplace.

“You have a stove,” she points out.

“Yeah,” he agrees, now grating vigorously.

“We cook these in oil, right? You want to put a pan full of oil on an open flame?”

“We don’t fill the pan to the top or anything.”

“Ok, right, but still,” MJ persists. “Oil. Fire. A house you kinda need to stay standing because, one, it’s your secret hideout, and two, the sun’s gone down and it’s freezing outside and we’ll be cold without shelter.”

“How could we be cold if we had a burning house to stand next to? Kidding.” Peter grins at her. “It’ll work, MJ. I’ll be careful.”

“You will? No way am I letting you do this alone.”

“Aww.” He leans towards her and kisses her cheek.

“I didn’t say that to be romantic. I’m genuinely worried that you’ll set the place on fire.”

“I know.”

They continue preparing the batter and, after pouring oil into the heavy pan May packed for this, MJ warily hands it off to Peter. He carries it into the living room, where he lit a fire half an hour earlier. Setting the pan down away from the fire, he retrieves his nanotech suit and tugs his sweatshirt off to put it on, extoling its temperature-control virtues. He’s sure it can withstand a little heat. After all, it handled the cold of space no problem. MJ watches him nervously.

At least the fire’s died down some, so when he grasps the handle of the pan to hold the base over the heat, there aren’t any flames licking up his arm. Once the oil’s sizzling, Peter withdraws the pan so that MJ won’t have to reach into the firebox to distribute the batter. She spreads each glob out quickly to avoid melting the spatula. And, after standing way back because the oil pops from the pan to splatter Peter’s metal sleeve, it doesn’t go terribly. Though some of the latkes seem overcooked to her, he assures her he likes them better crispy. The way he says it has her touching the lump her black dahlia necklace makes beneath her sweater.

They return their latke paraphernalia to the kitchen, then settle on the couch again to eat.

“Good?” MJ asks. She likes them, but she’s never eaten a potato pancake before, so she has no frame of reference.

“Best ever.”

She smiles at Peter, watching him chew for a minute.

“You’ll miss this house’s fireplace when you’re back home.”

“This is my favourite meal in a long time and it has nothing to do with the fireplace,” he says. Her heart genuinely skips a beat. With quiet pleasure, she goes back to eating.

At home, she has her phone and her books and the TV—so many reasons to postpone loading the dishwasher. Here, there is no dishwasher and MJ realizes it’s really nice to dry while Peter washes the dishes by hand. Until he somehow cuts himself on the grater, bleeds in the water, and they have to leave the remaining dishes in the sink for a rewash while she forces Peter to the paltry selection of first aid equipment in the bathroom. Thankfully, the nick in his finger is small enough to cover with a single band-aid. She glares at him the whole time.

“I don’t even need this!” he says. “It’ll be healed up by the time I go to bed.”

“Keeping it clean until then won’t hurt you. Just take care of yourself, please?”

MJ isn’t aware that she’s pleading until she glances from his bandaged finger to his face and takes in his expression. He’s looking at her like he’s starting to get that she cares. Really cares. Cares more than it would take to come all the way out here just because someone else arranged it for her and provided the ride.

“Ok,” Peter gently agrees.

Without the usual evening distractions of a night at home (and after MJ refuses to construct a Lego Star Destroyer, whatever the hell that is), Peter pulls out the checkers he found on day two of his stay. Apparently, he was stir-crazy enough by then to raid ever nook and cranny of the house in search of entertainment for his overactive mind. They sprawl out in front of the fire. Neither of them know the rules, so he stacks his checkers into towers while she lays down patterns and skips them across the board. That devolves into deciding to create a single high stack, which devolves further into attempting to flip the checkers of the collapsed tower into the air with their thumbs, like tossing a coin. Peter flicks one as MJ’s leaning forward and it drops straight down the front of her sweater. He makes an offhanded joke about retrieving it and they laugh until their eyes meet and they remember that they’re alone, that it doesn’t have to be a joke. They scatter the last of the checkers scrambling to get close to one another.

She kisses him fiercely. The fire makes one side of her body hot, one of her eyelids glow orange before her closed eyes. Every time they do this is one time closer to having to let him go, but MJ isn’t interested in that right now. His neck is warm under her palm and her foot slips on the empty checkerboard when his fingers hook behind her knee to draw her leg towards him. They aren’t in each other’s laps yet, but it’s close. She’s getting used to the scratch of his scruff against her cheeks, chin, and upper lip. Can Peter feel her sweating when he slips a hand up the back of her sweater? Is his shiver as she moves her leg over his more than a sign that he wants to scoot closer to the fire? Pulling back from the kiss, she lets him strip her sweater off. The checker plonks out. He smiles as he spots the pendant hanging against her t-shirt. He groans more than he did cutting his finger as she takes his hand and places it on her ribcage, urging him with her eyes to reposition his palm where they both want it to be. MJ watches him swallow. Looking down, she sees firelight rippling in the flower’s black glass and Peter’s hand rising to cup her breast. She leans into it and grabs the back of his neck for another kiss.

As she’s psyching herself up to straddle her boyfriend’s lap, there’s a trill from nearby.

“What was that? I thought you didn’t have a phone.”

MJ releases Peter and—it’s not her fault—her gaze skims down his body as he stands. There’s a noticeable bulge in the front of his sweatpants.

“It’s an alert,” he says, tone so serious that she feels bad for staring at his erection. She only sneaks one more glance as he unearths a tablet from amongst the tools he’s been using to fiddle with his Spider-Man suit. Two glances.

“What happened?” she asks. “Are you in danger?”

“I’d protect you if there was any danger,” Peter promises, not looking away from the screen. He says it like it’s obvious, but the statement floors MJ, preventing her from quipping back about being able to protect herself. “But it’s not that. Just the weather.”

He tilts the screen in offer and she rises to stand next to him, looking at a swirling graphic.

“Snow?”

“Mhmm.”

“But it’s already snowed,” she says. “This is worth sending you an alert about? How do we set this thing to ‘do not disturb unless someone has a missile locked onto this house’?”

“Jesus, MJ.”

She shrugs.

“Or just a shifty-looking mail carrier driving by. Whatever. I don’t want to be narrowminded in my assumption of the appearance of a modern assassin.”

“Sometimes the people looking out for me go overboard about the wrong things,” he allows. “Looks like the snow isn’t coming until around three in the morning. We’ll be asleep. It won’t bother us.”

“It’ll bother me if I have to hear that sound again for no good reason.”

Peter tosses the tablet back onto the couch.

“I’m supposed to keep it on, but we can ignore it.”

“Yes,” she agrees, the heat of the fire around the level of her knees inspiring new heat to rise higher. “Let’s ignore it.”

“We can just get ready for bed. You’re probably tired from the drive today, right?”

And he’s looking at her so honestly, so innocently, that MJ finds herself nodding at his solicitousness. He’s too busy being kind to appreciate that she wants to stay right here by the fire and rub up against him until she sees stars. But maybe he doesn’t think they’re there yet. The timeline of their relationship is slightly fucked up, what with Peter having to flee the city as a fugitive. Have they been together the past six months or is this their second date? Maybe shyly holding hands is still their speed and MJ is majorly jumping the gun in wanting to pull his pants down and get a better look at what she started by putting Peter’s hand on her boob.

So, he puts the fire out and she brushes her teeth, then changes into her pajamas in the second bedroom. The house has central heating, meaning it’s still warm, but the walls and bedspread are bland, there’s no atmosphere without the hearth. MJ realizes she’s kept Peter’s slippers all day when she sits down on the edge of her mattress with a sigh and kicks her feet free. He’s right, she should be tired. The travel and the overwhelming joy of getting to see, hear, and touch him should make it easy to crawl into bed and let the sound of the wind—it’s picking up, carrying snowflakes—lull her to sleep.

MJ doesn’t even get the blanket folded down before she’s up, opening her door and crossing the hall to Peter’s room. Her hand hovers over the doorknob, then raises, ready to rap on the door instead. No, fuck it, she twists the doorknob and steps into his bedroom. Peter’s lying on his back in the dark with his eyes wide open. She leaves the door open behind her so the light he left on in the bathroom (in case she needed to get up during the night) can continue to show her the look on his face. The look of relief.

“I was gonna come to you, but I wasn’t sure…” He trails off.

“That would’ve been ok with me,” she assures him, holding her arms as the chill of standing around in a t-shirt starts to get to her, “but I don’t mind coming to you.”

“Come to me then,” Peter says, pushing back his bedsheets and shifting over.

“I missed you so much,” she gasps.

“I missed you.”

She strides to the bed and feels his arms tug her close even as she’s still drawing the blanket over herself. Peter hugs her hard and it’s ok that it’s horizontal because he’s also held onto her a hundred feet in the air, the two of them swinging between buildings. Any way he wants to hold her is ok.

What MJ thought, when she barged in here, was that they’d have some dramatic, fiery scene with passionate kissing and creaking bedsprings. She regrets undervaluing Peter’s warmth. As a person, but also physically. Cuddling into him beats slipping between cold sheets in the other bedroom. It’s nice to be wrapped around him in a moment that isn’t immediately following an attempt on his life, knowing that he isn’t going to leave her this time. Though she’s the one who’ll have to leave the next day, trusting Peter to stay put while she sleeps is what gets her to start drifting. This is better than having him as a captive napping buddy on the airplane. No motion sickness. They’ve already landed. He kisses her temple and she ducks her head into his chest, imagining she can count his heartbeats instead of sheep, knowing the steady glug of her own heart means more to him than he could tell her in words alone.

—

This morning is not last night.

The first thing MJ does is raise her head to squint at the time on the digital clock next to Peter’s bed. The second thing is pressing her mouth to his as he mumbles a sleepy, “Good morning.” It’s 6am, a disgusting hour at home, but here, a perfect time to start the day, and seize that day, as she is seizing a fistful of the t-shirt he slept in. She can feel him smiling. She can feel him reacting in lots of ways.

When she doesn’t slow the kisses, loosen her grip on the front of his shirt, or draw back entirely in embarrassment, Peter pulls her beneath him. It’s a lazy motion, like a cat swiping at something with a paw. His weight rests comfortably on top of her. Shifting around rucks her t-shirt up, so she drops a hand to his waist and slides his up too, until their skin meets from their ribs to the bands of their pajama bottoms. Her boyfriend groans and gropes for her thigh, hiking it against his hip. The noise and the blatant display of want (in addition to the erection now pressing directly between her legs) have MJ rubbing against him excitedly. She attempts to simultaneously kiss him harder and get his shirt off over his head. They struggle together, laughing, and once it’s gone, Peter drops back onto her with fervour.

His hands grip her hips, skim her waist, get tangled up in her hair. MJ catches one and guides it beneath her t-shirt. Their gazes lock and he seems to buck against her involuntarily, lightly squeezing her breast. With an airy moan from her, their kisses turn rabid. Their hips rock agonizingly out of sync for a minute—maybe less, maybe more, her mind isn’t on the clock anymore—then his erection strokes firmly up the center of her and they figure it out. They have to. She’s suddenly hellbent on feeling that again and, honestly, Peter doesn’t look any less devoted when their kisses are forced to stop thanks to the violence of their clothed grinding.

She comes first, clutching his back and his shoulder. He comes with a sharp flick of his hips that brings to mind the way he looses a web from his wrist. Kinda the same principle, she concludes, feeling the dampness of his pajamas against her abdomen before he flops to the side with a blissful, disbelieving sigh. MJ stretches out her legs and curls her toes. A grin creeps up her face.

“Good morning,” she replies.

Peter lets out a solo laugh.

Then he just says, “Wow.”

Still smiling, she buries her face in his pillow and lets him move around her as he gets up for the day.

“It’s early,” she says, lifting her head at the creak of him pushing the bedroom door wider.

“I know.” He stares at her adoringly. There’s no other word for it. “Being in bed with you is… too good. If I stay, I’ll go back to sleep, and I don’t want that. I want to see you as much as I can before you go.”

MJ’s smile fades. Right. That.

“And you’re walking out of the room,” she points out.

“Because I have to take a shower,” Peter laughs. “A short shower. Then you can shower, or not shower, and we’ll have breakfast and make the morning last as long as we can, ok?”

Can she just make him tuck himself into the box of kitchen stuff she brought and take him back home with her? Being apart from him again—willingly turning her back on this house and making new tracks in the snow—feels impossible. They aren’t supposed to be apart. But MJ nods, knowing it’s easier on them both that way. She watches him head towards the bathroom and reminds herself that this stay with him has already meant more to her than she anticipated.

She’s in her room gathering toiletries and clothes when she hears Peter shut the shower off. That’s on purpose. She doesn’t need to wonder any more about her lack of restraint today; seeing him walk back into his bedroom soaking wet and likely dressed in nothing but a towel would definitely test her. His presence in her thoughts as she shampoos her hair under the low pressure of the showerhead is sufficiently distracting. She braids her hair when she’s done, simply to focus herself with the task (and because she didn’t bring a hairdryer and accepts that her boyfriend’s probably not hiding one here someplace). Pausing at the door, she takes a deep breath, determined to look him in the eye and not just stare at the floor and blush because he’s touched her skin and brought her to orgasm. She smiles to herself in a moment of private congratulation.

Peter would probably hear her approaching footfalls no matter what, but with his too-big slippers flapping on her feet, MJ’s prepared for him to be looking at her when she makes her entrance into the kitchen. She’s not prepared for the box of Cheerios sitting on his table. Shit. Only now does she remember the condoms and where she stowed them. As she looks on, trying to think of what to say, Peter cheerfully pours himself a bowl and adds milk.

“Two things,” he says while she shuffles cautiously into the room. “First thing: you won’t believe what I found in with the cereal. Talk about a prize in every box.”

“Loser,” she mutters, rolling her eyes even as her cheeks flush.

“Super weird that that’s not the biggest thing I have to tell you, but I definitely want to get back to it, but, second thing, it snowed.”

She narrows her eyes.

“Uh, yeah, I remember.”

“Ok, well, it really snowed. Serious snow. Big, high, white and drifted snow.”

“You’ve slipped into song lyrics.”

“I got an alert,” Peter says, lifting the tablet he showed her the night before from the table.

“I didn’t hear anything.”

“It came through when you were in the shower, though it is harder to hear the noise from down the hall.”

MJ gives him a questioning look.

“I might’ve been on my way to the bathroom to, uh, see if you needed anything,” he explains, blushing guiltily, “when I heard it and had to come back out here.”

“Is this your handlers overreacting again?” But even as she asks, she turns towards the window. Of course, for security reasons, the blinds are down and the curtains are shut. “Can I look?”

He nods and she crosses the kitchen to take a quick peek, not wanting to jeopardize his safety. The level of the snow dips down near the side of the house, but the drift rises steeply. Within a few feet, it appears high enough to come up to her hips if she waded outside. And it’s still falling.

“There’s a lot of snow out there,” MJ informs him in a mildly panicked tone, snapping the curtains back into place.

“Mhmm. Cheerios?”

“You should be eating the eggs I brought you while they’re fresh,” she counters.

Her comment is half-hearted and distracted though and she too goes for the cereal. Between spoonfuls, Peter, across from her when she sits down at the table, unspools the consequences of the heavy snowfall.

“So, obviously, this isn’t an emergency, but it’s not ideal. You’re probably gonna have to stay another night.”

“Ok,” MJ says slowly. “Another night. But my parents are expecting me home tonight.”

“I’m sure Fury or somebody’ll get in touch with May and have her make something up. Trust me, nobody wants any questions to come up that’ll lead back to me.”

“What’s the ‘probably’ depend on?”

“Hmm?” He slurps the milk off his spoon.

“You say I’d probably have to stay tonight. Does that depend on how much more snow we get?”

“Um, yeah, that and a couple other things,” Peter says vaguely. MJ frowns at him.

“I came all the way out here to be with you, Parker. I could not be more in the middle of things than I am right now. Tell me what you know.”

“You’re right, you’re right.” He lets his spoon clink into his bowl. “So, the snow for sure. I mean, I’m guessing they have something heavy-duty that could plough the road if they had to, but getting a plough here would be conspicuous thing number one and having this rural road cleared when the rest of the area won’t be would be conspicuous thing number two. If you left that way, I’d have to leave too, get put in a new safehouse—”

“I don’t want to cause that big of a problem,” MJ assures him, finally pouring out her own bowl and trying to find some comfort in breakfast.

“You’re the furthest thing in the world from a problem,” Peter says with a quick smile. “But alright, so, with the alert, they suggested another option.”

“Which is?”

“To airlift you out.”

She bites down on her spoon as her jaw tenses.

“I don’t, um, really enjoy heights.”

“Yeah,” he laughs, “I remember.”

“You dropped me and it wasn’t funny.”

“Aw, that was months ago. Can’t we laugh about it now?” Her expression is his answer. “I actually did figure you’d feel that way. This would’ve been a helicopter, no landing, just somebody coming down a ladder to grab you and help you up into the chopper.”

“Don’t say ‘chopper’ like you’re Arnold Schwarzenegger. You’re way too much of a dork to be using that word. And yes, before you ask, I am criticizing you to mask my fear over how horrifying that sounds.”

“I told them no.”

“Wait… I thought… you didn’t have communication, right? Like, that’s why you can’t talk to your aunt.” Or me, MJ tacks on internally.

“Oh, it’s not a conversation. They just send through the planned course of action and usually I don’t have a choice, but this time I could basically give them a yes or no, proceed or no-go, you know?”

She sighs shakily.

“Thank you for not making me do that.”

“Well, based on the weather, they could ask again, so you always have a chance to change your mind, if you want.”

Peter’s not meeting her eye.

“Why the hell would I change my mind about dangling from a helicopter in a blizzard?”

“If you wanted to go,” he says quietly. “You’re the other thing this plan depends on. Like you said, your parents are expecting you and—”

“Peter,” MJ says, “the fact that I’m not being subjected to an extreme chopper rescue is only the thing that I’m second most grateful for. Getting to spend more time with you is number one. If they don’t have to draw attention to this house, and if your aunt covers for me, that’s great.”

Looking up, he gives her a mostly-convinced smile. Seeing it, she knows she has to press further. She taps her slipper against the top of his foot under the table.

“I hope it snows for a week,” she says firmly.

Peter beams. He lifts his cereal bowl and holds it out to her.

“Cheers,” he offers. After a derisive snort, she taps her bowl against his.

They eat in a comfortable silence for several minutes. Blocking out the death-defying premise of the recent plan, MJ considers the ramifications of staying put. She trusts May. May will know what to say to her parents, she’s very compassionate—and hopefully a believable liar. Well, MJ figures she’d have to be, with Spider-Man under her roof. School’s on winter break, so she doesn’t need to worry about an alibi for her teachers, though the flu would’ve worked as an excuse. It seems like she’s good from every angle. Resting her cheek against her hand as she scoops the remaining Cheerios onto her spoon, she observes Peter and feels herself smiling just to see him in front of her. His face in real life is still sorta miraculous.

“So,” he begins when she grabs his bowl (the guy’s been doing his solitary dishes for months—she doesn’t mind helping out), “I have a really important question.”

“Still a no to the helicopter.”

MJ has her back to her boyfriend, placing the bowls in the sink, when he responds.

“Should I shave?”

She turns, frowning in confusion.

“That’s up to you.”

“Well, see, maybe I would’ve this morning, except I promised I would be quick in the bathroom, and then anyway, I figured you’d be leaving soon and there wouldn’t be that many more opportunities for us to—”

“Oh my god,” she says as she catches on. “Please stop.”

“But if it bothers you,” Peter presses, rubbing the back of his fingers up his stubbled cheek, “when we’re kissing…”

“It doesn’t. It’s different, but… I’m good. You don’t have to shave for me.”

“Hypothetically though, if we were kissing for a longer period of time, I wouldn’t want to hurt your skin.”

“God, Peter, how long are you imagining we’d be kissing for that my face would be damagingly abraded?”

“Then,” he says, spreading his hands to their apparent future possibilities, “what if it wasn’t rubbing against your face?”

Spinning away from him, MJ stares with wide eyes at the wall above the sink.

“Does the idea of me kissing your neck freak you out?” Peter asks her back. “I don’t have to do that.”

Her shoulders slump as she laughs.

“My neck,” she murmurs to herself. “He meant my neck.”

“What do you— oh.” Goddamn enhanced hearing. “Uh, well, I-I didn’t know you had stuff in mind.”

“I don’t have anything in mind,” she says, turning to look at him.

Peter grabs the Cheerios and gets up to put them away. Holding her gaze, he pulls the box of condoms out of the drawer as he slots the cereal in.

“These showed up when you did. Unless some assassin broke in and left me a really sickening present.”

“I didn’t pack them, your aunt-slash-wingwoman did.”

His expression changes several times as he digests that.

“That seems like something May would do,” is what he lands on.

“It’s… thoughtful of her. Responsible parenting,” MJ agrees stiffly, trying to deal with the visual of Peter casually holding a box of condoms. Cool. Fine.

“So, the thought of… It’s just May making sure, in case anything… Yeah. I got it.”

But that’s not quite right.

“I’ve thought about it,” MJ blurts. “Not for this weekend, because I only expected to be here a night and this is something we should, you know, discuss.”

“Totally,” Peter says eagerly.

“I just don’t want you to think I haven’t…” She waves a hand.

“Thought about it,” he finishes.

“Yeah.”

“Me too. I’ve thought about it. Like, a lot,” he divulges with a relieved laugh that he quickly concludes with a clearing of his throat. “A normal amount.”

“That’s good,” she assures him. Her gestures feel gawky, her features feel misplaced on her face.

“I’d definitely be up for discussing it, especially after, uh…” Peter ruffles his damp hair as his face flushes. “…this morning.”

MJ’s suddenly made up of thoughts, so many thoughts that there’s no room for words, no possibility of speaking. This morning. Uh huh. Valid recollection on her boyfriend’s part. This morning was fantastic and kind of but not wildly unexpected and certainly closer to the sort of thing they’d need those condoms for than the few times they’ve made out have been.

“That makes sense,” she says, voice weak when it finally comes out, along with plenty of nodding. Too much nodding, really.

He sets the box on the counter.

“We could talk about it now.”

“We could do that,” MJ agrees, pulse accelerating with every additional second he spends looking at her. “The thing is, it’s early, it’s really early, and if we talk about that now, we’re gonna lose the whole day.”

Peter’s eyebrows raise.

“God, yeah, you’re right. You know, I think I’m, like, oversimplifying this discussion in my head because, yep, definitely, if you have a lot you want to say about it before—or if, even!—we, uh, proceed, then you should absolutely take the whole day to just get all your thoughts out there. For sure. I… yes. I support you and you should take all the time you need. More than a day! You could definitely take more than a day, obviously. You know that. I hope you do. Whatever you want, MJ.”

“I actually just meant that if we started talking about it, we’d lose the whole day to doing it.”

“Oh.” He sits with that thought for a minute, eyes roving the kitchen ceiling. “Why would that be a problem?”

He asks with such genuine confusion that MJ has to laugh, and that relaxes her.

“If we can’t think hard enough to determine why it’d be a problem, it’s a problem,” she reasons. “I want to think this through. I want us to both be ready. That alone—” She points at the condoms. “—doesn’t make us ready.”

“Ok. We’ll completely forget about them. No problem.”

Fueled by the intense focusing power of sexual tension, they pass the morning learning something that may actually be checkers as it was intended to be played. Anything around them making sense is an accident, as far as MJ is concerned, and mastering the probably-rules of the game isn’t really a win because it means they have to scramble to find something else to distract them. Peter takes up a post on the ceiling, cross-legged, and lets the body of his Spider-Man suit dangle down while he retools something in the hands. When he puts on the mask and starts talking to Karen, MJ quits watching him and goes into the kitchen to make them an early lunch of an extra-large omelette. It seems like a nice idea to curl up and eat together until Peter touches her hip a certain way and she looks at him too long. They force themselves to sit on separate couches.

After lunch, he digs out some non-Stark-tech supplies, like paper and pens. He lights a small fire and she draws. Once he starts paying more attention to her drawings than to his stuff, she draws for him, pulling her legs back so he can share her couch. She crafts caricatures of their friends, plays them across the page in short cartoons that are semi-faithful to the boring goings-on of their lives at Midtown this fall without Peter. He falls asleep with his head resting against the back of the couch and she executes swift sketches to capture the softness of his features. She doesn’t know how long his supine pose will last. She never knows how long anything will last, with him. He stays asleep, so MJ leaves her drawings and steals into the Lego room, disassembling at will. Peter’s a little panicked when he walks in half an hour later, but sorting the pieces she’s jumbled will give him something to do while she takes her own nap, she reasons.

But where to? The spare room doesn’t call to her in the slightest and returning to his bed will bring thoughts that’ll only keep her awake. She needs to revive after their too-early morning; she troops back to the couch and passes out with the warmth of the fire near her feet and the jangling of plastic Lego bricks in the other room.

The rustle of paper is the first thing MJ hears when she wakes up. She can’t remember dreaming last night, but during her nap, her subconscious played a short film of the two of them giggling as Peter cooked his Spidey suit in the fireplace. Weird. She blinks, tracing the sound to her boyfriend, cross-legged on the floor with his back against the couch as he flips through her rough portraits of him.

“Maybe you can do one of you,” he suggests without looking back at her. “And I can keep it when you leave. I don’t have any pictures of anybody.”

She hesitates a moment, then leans to wrap her arms loosely around his shoulders from behind.

“How’d you know I was awake?”

“I heard your breathing change.” A pause. “It sounds pretty creepy when I say it out loud, but I’m just doing what you do.” Peter twists to look at her, putting his hand over the back of hers on his chest. “Observing.”

“Right.” MJ glances down abruptly. “Like with the cereal drawer this morning and what you observed in there.”

“I hate to tell you this, but it sounds like you’re gonna talk about the thing you said we shouldn’t talk about.”

“I found clarity in unconsciousness.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means our problems don’t just disappear. Obviously.” She waves one hand in front of him, indicating the room where Peter’s presumably spent most of his waking hours since arriving here. “We have to solve them.”

“Is it… us having sex… a problem?”

“I don’t want it to be. I just want us to be, you know, in agreement. Not rushing into anything.”

“I think…” Peter sighs and shifts so he can look at her without contorting. She withdraws her arms from him and sits up, crossing her legs in her lap, planting her elbows on her knees. “I think we’re not gonna get everything we want. How can we, with these conditions? I don’t even know when I’m gonna get to see you again. We can wait, which is alright with me, but I can’t tell you how long we’ll be waiting for.”

“I’m not asking.”

“Because you know I have zero control here,” he says in a tone full of more irritation than she’s seen him display yet. “I don’t even choose what I eat for breakfast! It’s not like they’ve asked me to write up a grocery list. I am so sick of Cheerios. Out there, I was helping people, but stuck here… I don’t know, MJ. I’m basically powerle—”

She folds forward and kisses him, grabbing his face to hold him in place for a few extra seconds until his lips copy hers and quit trying to form the rest of that word.

“No,” MJ insists, face still close to his, “you’re not. And just so you know where I stand…” She takes a deep, terrified breath, pushing out the only truth she’s ever had trouble articulating: “…you are everything I want.”

Peter’s eyes are awed and hopeful as his gaze darts across her face.

“What about what you said about not rushing?”

“That was for your benefit. Personally, I can’t rush what I’ve already decided.”

“Especially not when May sends you here prepared, I guess,” he checks with a coy smile.

“We don’t have to do anything else,” MJ emphasizes, sidestepping the dork’s comment. “It’s amazing just being with you—and I will deny I said that so bluntly if you ever tell anyone.”

She smiles so he knows she’s teasing. He still jerks his head back in mock offense. Suddenly, his expression clarifies to… horror.

“You don’t wanna do this because you’re worried, do you?” Peter demands. “Not because you think I’m gonna forget about you or stop caring about you like this?”

“No.” But she averts her eyes because she did have that concern on the drive here yesterday, right up until they hugged. “I’m not trying to use sex for anything. If… if you did stop… and you wanted to be just friends again, that’s not something I could prevent. I realize now that I can’t focus on that possibility because—”

“Because it’s not a possibility at all.” He ducks his head until her gaze is trapped by his. Shaking his head, Peter says, “I’m sure about you, MJ. I’m not sure when I’ll be home or if the world—or even just the neighbourhood—will still want a Spider-Man by the time I can be that guy again, but I know the first thing I’m gonna wanna do when I get back is give you a kiss. Not as friends.”

“What about now? Do you want to kiss me now?”

“I always wanna kiss you.”

Right as he stretches towards her—seemingly poised to prove what he said—MJ jerks back. Peter looks up at her quizzically.

“Anything while I was asleep? Any alerts? I don’t want a whole team to come storming in here while I’m taking your pants off.”

It takes her boyfriend a few seconds to get his words out.

“I-I don’t want that either,” he says, voicing cracking as his cheeks redden. He shakes his head. “No alerts. Nothing. That means no change to the plan for you to stay here tonight.”

“Good. I was sorta getting used to the idea. They would’ve had a fight getting me out of here.”

She raises her chin confrontationally and Peter grins.

“And some people think Spider-Man’s trouble. They should meet his girlfriend, who marches in with a box of condoms and won’t leave until he sleeps with her.”

MJ gapes at him.

“That’s not what I did.”

Peter pushes up to his knees, smiling as he cradles her face in his palm.

“It’s basically what you did.”

“You massively oversimplified the events of the past—” She squints and makes a guess. “—thirty hours.”

“I was hitting the highlights,” he argues, sliding his hand to the back of her neck to draw her down to him.

Her laugh is as brief as one of her quick heartbeats as Peter’s fingers stroke her neck and he angles his head.

“Is that how you’re going to tell this story to our grandkids?”

The mirth falls from both of their faces; they absorb her facetious quip in the same instant. Then, their mouths slam together—MJ diving down, Peter surging up. Though she has the high ground (and doesn’t say as much to the guy with a roomful of Star Wars Lego), he builds momentum out of nowhere, driving her up until he’s hovering, then lowering, on top of her. She’s holding him as tightly as she can as they continue to kiss hard.

On instinct, she assumes, their bodies copy the morning’s posture with her thigh against Peter’s hip. He grasps it and presses his hips to hers. MJ swipes her tongue along his when she feels him hardening between her legs. This was always only a maybe, she thinks, eyes moving fast behind her lids as they follow the red glow of the fire that the movement of his head is causing to shift across her face. But this definitely feels like they know where they’re going. Somebody’ll need to go get the condoms from the kitchen at some point. Peter swings his head to kiss down her neck and MJ sighs. Yeah, at some point.

These clothes might not come off as easily as the red suit on the opposite couch, but his eagerness compensates for the fact that he can’t just tap his chest to drop everything to the floor. When both their top halves are bare (as with anything, Peter does not mind lending a hand in undressing her), he pulls MJ up so he’s sitting with her straddling his lap. He groans into her mouth as she traces the muscles of his abdomen and she hops forward to nudge her hips into his again.

“If I don’t go now,” he pants, “I don’t know when I’m gonna get up to grab a condom.”

So, he’s been thinking the same thing she has. MJ smirks.

“You should probably get one,” she encourages.

But he has her jeans undone and her hand down the front of his sweats—still over his underwear, for the moment—before he manages to repeat his words with any resolve. She throws herself aside and stares into the fire, licking her lips to chase the memory of his mouth’s pressure, while he scurries to the kitchen. His naked torso is beautiful in the glow when he jogs (dork) back in.

“You think it’s safe to leave that?” MJ asks, nodding towards the fireplace. “My preference would be not doing this on a couch the first time.”

“Second time?” he jokes.

“Maybe,” she says seriously, just to see the dumbfounded look it puts on his face.

“Yeah… we can, yeah… It’ll be fine. So, you wanna… my bed?”

“The traditional yet practical choice.”

He happily sighs out his, “Yeah,” and she wonders if he heard anything following her agreement to a theoretical second round. Probably not—he spoke staring at her boobs.

“What if I carried you?” Peter blurts as she’s about to stand.

“…I can walk.”

“Yeah, but… can I carry you?”

She watches him for a moment as he awaits her answer. She’s watched him so many times, but never while he was waiting for her, trying to find something to grasp in the silence, this guy who’s more than human and always flitting from one web to the next. MJ ends his freefall.

“Ok, Peter.”

As giddy with nerves as she was on their first date when he held her tight and wrenched her off her feet, she stands. He steps in close, taking her face softly between his hands, kissing her. She hops into his arms the second he lets go and laughs at Peter and herself when the action tips him back. He holds on though, pulling her thighs in snugly around his waist before catching her back to press her to his chest. MJ’s scared to kiss him as he walks them to his bedroom; arms wrapped behind his neck, she stares at him instead. They’re about to do this. He’s going to be inside her.

“You got it?” she checks once he’s sat her on the edge of the bed.

Peter plucks the condom from his pocket to show her. MJ nods in acknowledgement and he sets it on the nightstand. With a condom nearby—this assurance that they are responsible people and can therefore do whatever the fuck they like—she reaches for his hand and draws him in. Kissing, she scoots back and he crawls over her. She gasps when he moves his mouth enthusiastically to her neck and he jerks his head up with a self-satisfied expression.

“The sheets are cold,” she lies defensively. Peter just smiles and burrows his face back into the warm crook between her neck and shoulder.

“They’ll get warmer.”

MJ can’t believe it when she’s the one being stripped out of her pants first (her boyfriend is such a willing undresser). She feels vulnerable, between the sheets in only her underwear, but she’s determined enough to relocate Peter’s hand from her waist to her breast. He thanks her in a passionate mumble that raises hairs on the back of her neck as he darts in to kiss her firmly. Parting her thighs, she thanks him in return, for the kiss or the way he’s kneading her nipple between finger and thumb or something, relieved when he lowers his hips and she can feel his erection under his sweats. Fuck, a week ago, she was trying to convince herself that she’d be lucky and get Peter back next year. This is the greatest surprise.

Though she doubts she could knock the wind out of him, he huffs when she squeezes her thighs to his hips and unbalances him, rolling him over and landing on top.

“Wow, you wanna do it like this? I mean, yeah, awesome.”

Sitting astride him, MJ rolls her eyes.

“I just thought it’d be easier to get you out of your pants this way, since you seem like you’ve forgotten that you need to actually take them off.”

Peter shakes his head rapidly.

“I just didn’t want to rush you, like you said. Or freak you out or scare you,” he rambles.

This idiot.

“Why would I be scared? Are you concealing a weapon or something?”

“No,” he jokes with a goofy smile, pressing his hips upward, “I’m just happy to see you.”

“You so did not deserve those condoms.”

“Didn’t I?” Peter asks, the two of them working his sweatpants and boxers down. (She’s touching his thighs. His bare thighs. Jesus.)

“No. Huge mistake. You’re not mature enough for this. I’m going to tell your aunt.”

As long as MJ keeps talking, dropping onto her side and slipping her own underwear off is just a background thing that’s happening while she speaks. Her heart is hammering.

“Oh, are you?” he questions, running a warm, tentative hand down the curve of her naked hip.

“Mhmm. She’ll be really disappointed in you for, uh, wasting supplies.”

“Maybe I could make it up to you and you could forgive me.”

Peter’s fingers trace low over her belly, making her stomach flinch with the anticipation. He touches between her legs, the contact the subtlest flirtation. The look in his eyes says he doesn’t know what he’s doing either, but that he wants to do it together. Holding his stare, she rolls onto her back.

He proceeds when she widens the space between her thighs. His touch feels… fine, but not exciting, and MJ wonders if it’s because she’s watching him, possibly making him nervous. She closes her eyes and instinctually angles her head to press her forehead against Peter’s shoulder. Gradually, he strokes her with more assurance and she quietly mutters “yes” each time he does something that feels good. By the time he’s gotten her seriously wet and turned on, she’s gripping the sheet with one hand and his wrist with the other, urging him to go faster. Her body’s not satisfied but humming as Peter jolts recklessly across her to snatch the condom. He kisses her right as she’s opening her eyes at the disturbance.

“Yeah?” he asks, dick in hand.

She nods, breathing quickly and needing him to act before the sensations he’s stirred up dim.

“Yeah.”

It’s out of character, how slowly he moves next. He’s capable of care in abundance, of course, but patience? Caution? Restraint? None of these are words that would come to mind if someone asked her to describe her boyfriend. They cling to each other as he works his way deeper in incremental thrusts. Because he’s trembling, she holds him tight. She probably would regardless. Things almost stall, but then he gropes between them, locating her clit, and her clutch on him squeezes and releases, allowing him to suddenly slide all the way home.

“Fuck,” he says softly, head hunched down beside hers.

MJ rubs her hands over the quivering muscles of his back, certain the two of them are generating enough heat to melt the snow around the house and all the way up the road.

“I’m gonna come if I do anything,” Peter says in a desperate tone. “I can’t move.”

“You can move.”

“No. I… I wanna take care of you. MJ, please.”

Between them, she finds his hand and guides it in rubbing her clit. His body’s held taut above her and she turns her head to meet his searching eyes. Her neck arches involuntarily at her first unexpected moan and Peter clamps his eyes shut like it’s all too much. So she watches his tense, determined face while manipulating his fingers over her. When she’s close, coating his cock in her arousal many times over, MJ tells Peter to open his eyes. Then, she begins to rock her hips, letting him glide in and out. Their hands continue to stimulate her until she orgasms with a wet cry and pulls his fingers away. They hold hands hard and he thrusts with crazed strokes, coming with an understated choked noise.

He hasn’t quit shaking when he climbs off of her to deal with the condom.

“I don’t know,” Peter says, sliding back into bed and allowing her to weave her limbs around his. She smiles at how baffled he sounds.

“You’re ok.”

“This feels like shock, like I get after a bad beating.”

She sighs exasperatedly at this news. She might’ve suspected his secret identity for a while before he confirmed it, but she doesn’t know everything, isn’t in on all the missions and outcomes yet. When he gets home—after all this bullshit—she’ll demand to be kept in the loop.

“I guess you’re just overwhelmed.”

“That felt really fucking good,” Peter confesses in a low, stunned voice.

MJ starts to giggle and can’t stop. Tears stream down her face, into her hair, onto her boyfriend’s skin. He laughs too, but holds her greedily all the while. It reminds her how temporary this is.

Except, no. It’s not. No one can stop them from remembering this after she goes and he stays. No one can stop them from making plans, having hopes. Days are temporary, like snow, but feelings can last. How she feels about Peter definitely can. She’s made it this far and, on his end, so has he. On impulse, MJ kisses his forehead.

“I know what’ll help. Something to eat. We can see what else you have that can be cooked in the fireplace.”

“Frozen lasagna?” he proposes.

“Why not? Let’s try it.”

#my writing #promptmas #spideychelle #spideychelle fanfiction #peter parker #peter x mj #peter x michelle #peter parker x michelle jones #michelle jones

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internalsealpanic · 4 years

Text

Explosive Chemistry

Summary: Chemistry labs can be a bit tedious. Nothing laser vision can’t fix though.

A/n: You can all blame @birdy-bat-writes for this fluff and @knightfall05x for the amazing mood board. This might feel a little rushed so apologies and Clark is kind of hard to write (ope). Anyway, here is your regularly scheduled comedy. Thanks again to @knightfall05x for proof reading!

warning: swearing, reader’s terrible moral compass, and some injury

masterlist

You met Clark- Well, ‘met’ might be too formal a word for what happened.

You discovered Clark during a mundane Metropolis afternoon. Taking a break from your studies (read: a group project that had not been going smoothly), you hopped on to a trail car to go to your favorite sandwich shop right across from your favorite diner.

The sandwich shop itself was nothing too special, not in a good way at least. It was even what your delicately paletted father had politely described as ‘subpar’ which as far as you knew was the worst insult he could give. Frank- the owner- was, of course, inclined to disagree. You were, on the other hand, inclined to agree with the opinion especially after biting into a raw piece of chicken in one of their “famous” chicken sandwiches. But it was cheap and it offered the best view of the diner across the street.

In truth, you liked the food at the diner better. Their blueberry pancakes were absolutely delightful, at least, on Mondays. But more than anything you found more delight in watching its contained chaos. You’ve watched people propose, get divorced, have fights, and everything else in between. The sheer absurd theatrics of it all captivated you. It was people-watching at its finest. Frank just thought it was creepy to which you simply nodded and nibbled at your sandwich.

As you watched the usual ensemble cast in the diner, you witness a tall, handsome guy with black hair and blue eyes get mugged. Ok, well, almost get mugged. He was a big boi so you weren’t entirely surprised when he was easily able to stop the scrawny knife-wielding assailant. What did surprise you were the proceeding events. To your utter disbelief (and amusement); instead of throwing the guy into the gutter as custom dictates, the buff guy just guided his assailant to the diner and had a chat with him. You chew your sandwich slowly as you watch them talk as if nothing strange had occurred minutes before, digesting the odd comedy unfolding before your eyes.

Moments later and a few tears shed, they parted ways. You frowned thinking that would be the end of it and you were about to whine to Frank about how anticlimactic that was. But then it just kept going.

He got mugged.

Again.

And again.

By the fourth time, Frank sat beside you to watch finally leaving the spot he was polishing alone. Repeated muggings were weird enough but the guy kept inviting them to talk. You choked every time but made no move to intervene, only nibbling at your sandwich and watching with near clinical interest.

After the fifth mugging, Frank raised a challenging brow at you as you continued to chew on your sandwich. You shrug at him as if to say ‘I’m eating what do you want me to do?’. Frank’s eyes didn’t leave you even as another mugger approached the buff guy. You cut him a look and chew a little faster. For a guy running what is most likely a money-laundering scheme, he sure was noble.

Having finally finished your sandwich, you wave your hand halfheartedly to Frank, your middle finger extended skyward. Kicking the shop door open and jamming your hands into your hoodie pockets, you made your way to the other side of the street ignoring the cars driving past you, blowing and whipping the skirt of your dress every which way.

Neither of them pays you any mind as you approach them, which was just as well. You shifted the strap of your backpack on your shoulder deciding whether to use it. Your laptop was in there so probably not. You decide to christen your new flattops by giving the man a good harsh kick in his nether regions. He goes down with a squeak.

“Scram!” You snarl, baring your teeth. In a surprisingly well-coordinated motion, he does, looking honestly scared for his life. You pivot to the guy who you assume is some kind of tourist.

Most people would say that Clark towered over you but the truth was that no matter how tall Clark was he couldn’t really measure up to the height of you. Nothing about you was inherently intimidating, especially as you stand before him in flat tops, hoodie, and short dress, except maybe for your shoulders. But that had less to do with their actual shape and more to do with how uncommonly broad they were compared to the rest of your body. Some people say it made you look like an angry dorito to which you unfailingly replied with something Clark would rather not repeat. At least, not in polite company.

You regard him with a pinched brow which makes Clark straighten as you openly assess him. You memorize the angles of his features, all the sharpness and corners of it not noticeable due to the softness of the way he carries himself in a typical hometown boy kind of way. You note your university’s logo on the edge of his sweatshirt.

You reach your hand out. “Y/n L/n but just call me Y/n”

“Clark Kent” He answers, shaking your hands. You note the distinct midwestern shape of his syllables which explained a lot.

“Yanno muggers aren’t exactly good speed dating partners, right?”

Clark smiled at the, admittedly, terrible joke. By the way, your eyes flash with interest, he’ll be seeing a lot of you.

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

Your foot bounced erratically against the metal bar serving as your stool’s footrest. You watched the thermometer with a pinched face and a ticking brow as the mercury in it remains unmoving. Your mounting frustration amusing Clark making him cover his mouth. You fix him with a look and the door actually whistles “innocently” and looks away, pretending to be intently reading the procedure as if you two haven’t been reading it for the past half hour trying to figure out why your solution wasn’t boiling. His baby blues none-too-subtly flicking in your direction. You give him one last scathing look, which he easily glances off, before turning back to your solution. His eyes have been flickering at you as if he’s been meaning to ask you a question. That question likely being ‘could you possibly stop looking like you’re going to murder the molecules in our solution’. His eyes flicker again to watch you seethe and pout at the liquid and it takes everything in Clark not to tease you about being cute.

Bouncing your leg again, you gently turn the hot plate’s nob until the screen reads 1000 F. Clark makes a choked sound, finally tearing his attention away from what you assumed to be a particularly interesting semicolon. Clark reaches over and turns the damned thing back down to 300 F. You glare at him before, violently, turning it back up to 1000. Clark just as quickly turns it back down.

Click

You two continue on like this for a while ‘til your instructor, pinching his nose, strolls over to your lab bench to politely tell you to knock it off. With a shrug, you two settle on 650 F as your compromise. You, however, continue to glower at the solution while Clark peruses through the next lab distinctly reminding you of someone in the waiting room of a dentist’s office which makes you scrunch your nose and worsen the impatient ticking of your limbs. “Glaring at it won’t make it go faster,” Clark chuckled in his Midwestern sweater voice. You had the urge to pour the hot acid of the flask on to him but you suppressed the urge mainly because it wouldn’t actually hurt and pouring it on him meant starting over and that just sounded tragic.

You place your hands primly on your lap and spin your chair towards Clark. “Not all of us can watch grass grow, Paul Bunyan.” You snip. Clark shakes his head at you, whether it’s from your tone or the nickname you can’t tell. All you could discern was that it irritated him and some petty part of you was satiated the way old gods were when someone made an acceptable sacrifice.

“Is that what you think we do in Kansas?” Your first impulse is to say ‘yes’ even if it wasn’t the truth. You thought better of it though. Picking a fight with Clark Kent was a terrible idea, superstrength or not. You were, of course, familiar with Kansas as a concept the same way you were familiar with Mars. Both seemed equally distant, equally alien, and equally irrelevant as such you never dedicated too much thought to it. The last one might have changed a bit with your chance encounter with Clark. You remember him mentioning going home for Thanksgiving Break. You also distinctly remember wanting to ask if you could come along. After all, you didn’t have much in the way of killing time during holidays seeing as most of your relatives were overseas and the relatives you did have here were indisposed either due to work or due to other families. You felt silly thinking about it now and even sillier contemplating how you would explain the special brand of unpleasantness of being bored over the holidays. Maybe you should get a boyfriend- your eyes flicker to Clark but you shake your head- or a girlfriend or maybe friends who weren’t either foreign exchange students or farm boys from Kansas with laser vision.

You whip your head to Clark who was mumbling something about not staring at the grass. He frowns at you, not finishing his sentence.

“You have that look.”

“What look?”

“The bad idea look.”

“I do not”

“Ok, let me rephrase. The let’s do something stupid for science look.”

You huff indignantly. Clark looks unfazed and a little smug. You did not have that kind of look and sue, you’ve asked once or ten times to use his powers to do something ridiculous but this was a matter of importance.

“Use your heat vision”

“Wha-”

“Heat vision. Flask. Go faster.” You punctuate each word with a wild flick or gesticulation of your hands.

Clark moves his glasses up and pinches the bridge of his sharp nose.“We’re not going to use my heat vision-”

“-Yes, we are.”

“No, we aren’t. Do you want me to list the ways this could go wrong?”

“Relax, my human shield is invincible.”

“You’re horrible.”

“Yup.”

“I really can’t convince you?”

“Nope.”

“What if I just don’t?”

“Then I dip out and break into a different lab to get a bunsen burner.”

Clark laughs, shaking his head fondness seeping into his smile. It made your heart melt and your face heat. You know you’ve won when Clark moves his seat closer to you. For some reason, Clark always insisted on sitting just a little farther from you no matter the circumstance.

You two lean in. Clark gives you a side glance. “For the record, I said this was a bad idea.”

“Fine, I’ll quote you on that once I’ve won the Nobel Prize for Chemistry.”

Clark snorts. He removes his glasses, the blue of his eyes shifting to an angry red. It makes your breath hitch every time being reminded just how dangerous your sweet, gentle best friend really is.

You watch the liquid in the flask begin to boil and you make a noise of triumph, throwing your arms up in the air in delight. Clark smiles at you and you feel a little embarrassed by your reaction but the smile on your face doesn’t disappear. You both lean back and you toss him a smug smile. He huffs at you amused and rolls his eyes.

“Fine, not all of your ideas are-”

Crack.

Shatter.

Shards of glass fly everywhere as the flask shatters. You yelp high and surprised. Clark pulls you into his arms shielding you from the glass and hot acid. You hiss when a shard cuts against the delicate skin of your forehead. You’re numb as you feel the blood trickling staining Clark’s shirt. Your senses were more focused on the way he wraps his arms around you and how safe you feel despite the graze on your forehead.

“Y/n, Clark, are you two ok?”

You hear the frantic footsteps approach you but neither of you pulls away. You just focus on how tightly Clark holds you against himself. You feel the flex of his large muscles as he pulls you closer.

“We’re fine sir but I think Y/n needs to go to the clinic.”

Do you?

Your fingers rise up your forehead and your stomach drops a little when they come away red. You’re aware that you’re bleeding but it takes some time for the knowledge to fully sink in. Your professor is practically shoving you out of the room by the time you even make any move to react.

“Y/n, I-”

“I swear to god if you say I told you so I’ll punch you in the face-” You look into his eyes, your voice amazingly calm. He opens his mouth again. “- and if you say I’m sorry I’ll punch you in the dick.” His mouth closes and you both fall silent even as you go down the hall towards the university’s health office which was just a glorified clinic with the addition of counselors and a waiting room with Rubix cubes instead of magazines. Clark doesn’t loosen his grip on your shoulder even as you wait for the nurse to come out and treat you.

Your mind feels far less frantic than it did a few moments ago.

“I told you it was a bad idea.” Clark jokes offhandedly.

You snort at the remark and glare at him without any real venom. “You really aren’t as nice as people say you are.”

“Nope.”

“Jackass.”

This draws a tired laugh from him. “Well, I’m sorry. Why don’t I make it up to you then?”

“Unless you’ve got a Porsche in your back pocket”

He winces. You snort again.

“How bout coffee?” You blink at him. “Or maybe dinner? This Friday?” He adds with a hopeful lilt.

“Just as long as you don’t invite a mugger to come along.”

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

THANKS FOR READING

taglist: @batarella, @anothertimdrakestan, @lucy-roo, @multifandomgirl-us, @idkmanicantenglish,@birdy-bat-writes, @boosyboo9206, @americasmarauders , @l-horizon11, @arestorationofbalance , @cloudie-skay , @wunderstell

#superman #superman x y/n #superman x reader #my writing #clark kent #clark kent x reader #superfam #kind of #in the future if I continue with this reader

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birdhaslostit · 4 years

Text

🎁🎄❄️What the Lupin Gang would do for Christmas!❄️🎄🎁

Helloooooooo Lupin fans! You may or may not remember me as that one chick who made that Halloween headcanon post a few months back, as well as the Jigen’s bangs post. I’m back with a Christmas post!!!

Please note: Personally, I really only celebrate Christmas in a non-Jesus-y way. (Which is how I’m also writing this post, because let’s be honest, do you really think Lupin is going to confession and shit? Absolutely not.) It’s purely out of habit because I was raised Catholic, but I practice witchcraft now. My family doesn’t know that though. Because of this, I considered also making posts for other winter holidays, so I could include Lupin fans that don’t celebrate Christmas. But I didn’t want to accidentally mess it up, or write something inaccurate about a holiday that I don’t celebrate. It felt disingenuous to make a Hanukkah post because I’m not Jewish and it doesn’t seem like my place, and I didn’t want to do a Yule one either, because no two people celebrate it the same way. So, I strongly encourage others to add their respective winter festivities to this post if they want to! We’re all about inclusivity here.

Without further ado:

🎁LUPIN:

I don’t feel like it needs saying, but this man goes bonkers for Christmas.

He flip-flops his choice of red or green jacket by the year. But it always comes with an equally garish Christmas-themed tie, just to make explicitly clear that this is The Christmas Jacket for the year, as opposed to the standard red/green jacket.

The hideout(s) are always decorated to the GILLS inside. It’s an odd mix of older classy decorations he’s inherited from his family, and absolutely horrendously tacky ones he’s bought himself.

Picture real branch garlands, wrapped tastefully around gilded candelabras that have been passed down through several generations. And then one of those singing, dancing stuffed animals from Walmart that plays “Jingle Bell Rock” when you squeeze its paw, right next to it.

Christmas-themed heists? You know it, baby. But he won’t steal anything on Christmas Eve or Christmas. It just isn’t in the spirit of the season, in his opinion. But he’ll leave a little something-something with his calling cards during the rest of December. A candy cane, a sprig of mistletoe, a bough of holly, etc.

Lupin despises eggnog. He loves any other Christmas drink, just not eggnog. He’s too grossed out by the idea of drinking eggs with alcohol- some things just shouldn’t be mixed.

Will not allow anyone to mention the truth about Santa Claus in his presence. Yeah, he knows, but that’s not the point. It just feels like bad luck to say it out loud. The harder Jigen tries to debate with him that Santa isn’t real, the harder he digs in his heels that “of course he is you absolute Scrooge, how dare you! If you don’t believe, you don’t receive.”

Favorite Christmas Songs: Anything peppy!

Wonderful Christmastime by Paul McCartney

Step Into Christmas by Elton John

Rockin’ Around The Christmas Tree by Brenda Lee

We Need a Little Christmas by Percy Faith and his Orchestra

A Holly Jolly Christmas by Burl Ives

All I Want For Christmas Is You by Mariah Carey

Santa Claus’ Party by Les Baxter

Favorite Christmas Drinks: Literally anything except eggnog.

Favorite Christmas Foods: Anything obscenely sugary. Especially gingerbread men and other decorated pastries.

Favorite Christmas Activities: Loves to ice skate and make gingerbread houses! But his houses usually look fairly pathetic, no matter how hard he tries.

Favorite Christmas Movie(s):

The Grinch (Jim Carrey version)

Home Alone

Scrooged

Christmas Gifts: The king of gag gifts, but he also gives surprisingly thoughtful presents too. He’s the kind of guy that would get a person something they mentioned once offhandedly that they really liked, and he’d go back and get it for them.

🎅JIGEN:

Lupin always wants to decorate the hideout(s) the second Halloween ends, but it never happens. With Jigen being the only American in the gang, he always puts a stop to it in order to preserve the quickly-disappearing border between Thanksgiving and Christmas.

What can I say, dude loves his Thanksgiving excuse to eat like shit and do nothing for a day. Even if it is a fucked-up holiday, historically speaking.

But once the Thanksgiving meal is over, he gives Lupin the okay to go crazy. He’s pretty stoked about Christmas too, but too full of turkey to contribute, so he just watches Lupin hang up Christmas lights everywhere while he lays on the couch and digests.

Jigen likes Christmas a lot, but like, in a normal person kind of way. Nowhere near Lupin’s insane level. He’s surprisingly open about his enthusiasm too. The average person would think he doesn’t really care about Christmas much (or anything else really), but to the gang, Christmastime is the most openly excited they’ve ever seen him.

One year’s Christmas-themed heist involved Jigen dressing up as a mall Santa as a part of the plan. The gang powdered his beard, gave him a pillow for his stomach, and sent him on his way. Everything went surprisingly smoothly, and he actually did pretty well with the kids. At first they were a little intimidated, and Jigen was kind of nervous- but he gave them all candy canes and they changed their minds pretty quickly.

Jigen enjoyed it a lot, actually... to the point that he may have potentially started volunteering to be the local mall Santa. Every year during December, he leaves for a day or two on “business.” Nobody in the gang can prove it though, and trust me, they’ve tried.

Favorite Christmas Songs: The classics and the chill ones, with a few rock ones thrown in for a little kick.

Mele Kalikimaka by Bing Crosby

Sleigh Bells by Gene Autry

(There’s No Place Like) Home For The Holidays by Perry Como

Jingle Bells by Frank Sinatra

Caroling, Caroling by Nat King Cole

Let It Snow, Let It Snow, Let It Snow by Dean Martin

Silver Bells by Dean Martin

Happy Holiday by Bing Crosby

Run Rudolph Run by Chuck Berry

Merry Christmas Baby by Bruce Springsteen (Sang this once after too much eggnog and will never live it down)

God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen by the Barenaked Ladies (He’s not into all the Jesus-y stuff, but it’s pretty catchy.)

Favorite Christmas Drinks: Jigen is ALL. ABOUT. THAT. NOG. He’ll make his cup a little stronger than everyone else’s.

Favorite Christmas Foods: He really likes candy canes, especially the mini ones. He’ll keep a few in his pocket with his cigs, and switch between them depending on his mood. Out of habit, it’ll usually dangle out of his mouth like a cigarette would.

Favorite Christmas Activities: Watching Christmas movies and laughing at Lupin’s shitty gingerbread houses.

Favorite Christmas Movies:

Anything that’s on at the moment, really. He likes to lounge by the TV, and he’s not picky.

He has a soft spot for A Charlie Brown Christmas though.

A Christmas Story, solely because of the BB gun.

Scrooged, because Bill Murray’s hilarious.

Christmas Gifts: Something practical and useful that the person never realized they needed until they opened the box.

☃️GOEMON:

Goemon wasn’t originally a huge fan of Christmas. Shocking, I know.

He now enjoys some aspects of it, and tolerates others. He likes the idea of giving heartfelt gifts and spending time with loved ones as a tradition, but dislikes the cheesy commercial aspect of Christmas.

He already enjoys the snow and walking through the forest, so the gang usually commissions him to pick a tree for them and cut it down with Zantetsuken. (If they’re somewhere where that’s an option.)

Unbeknownst to the rest of the gang, he will always replant the tree he cut down, and he will wrap something cozy around the bottom of the sapling to keep it safe. Yes, this was directly inspired by A Charlie Brown Christmas. No, he will not admit to this.

Favorite Christmas Songs: The instrumentals, and a few he’d rather die than admit to liking.

The Nutcracker March from The Nutcracker

Waltz of the Flowers from The Nutcracker

Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy from The Nutcracker

Christmas Time Is Here (Instrumental) by the Vince Guaraldi Trio

Greensleeves by the Vince Guaraldi Trio

Last Christmas by Wham! (He likes the storyline and the romantic aspect of it.)

Do They Know It’s Christmas? by Band Aid (He likes that it was for a good cause, even if it has its flaws.)

Happy Xmas (War Is Over) by John Lennon and Yoko Ono (Again, flawed, but he enjoys the intended message of peace. Also, represents Japan on the side with Yoko Ono.)

White Winter Hymnal by Fleet Foxes

Favorite Christmas Drinks: Surprisingly fond of hot cocoa. Heavy on the whipped cream and marshmallows.

Favorite Christmas Foods: Doesn’t really like eating gingerbread men, but enjoys decorating them. They’re always pristine, like something you’d get in a bakery.

Favorite Christmas Activities: See above. Also enjoys going out in the snow, and making ice sculptures with Zantetsuken.

Favorite Christmas Movies: Refuses to admit he likes any of these.

Any of the classic Rankin Bass claymation specials.

Any other animated ones for kids. Has a soft spot for A Charlie Brown Christmas and The Polar Express.

A few of those cheesy Hallmark ones.

Christmas Gifts: Something small and sentimental he saw while walking by a store that reminded him of the person he’s giving it to. Nothing extravagant, but thoughtful nonetheless.

⛸FUJIKO:

Fujiko decorates the tree. Period. Lupin cannot be trusted to do this on his own. Goemon picks the tree, Lupin and Jigen put it in the stand, and from there, it’s all Fujiko. The ornaments, lights, and tree skirt are all perfectly color/theme coordinated, and arranged like a pristine store display.

She also has a few ornaments that she bought for each specific member of the gang. Lupin’s is a monkey (he was not pleased, but he’s whipped for her, so he let her keep it). Jigen’s is a carved wooden pistol. Goemon’s is porcelain, with hand-painted sakura blossoms on it. She bought one for Zenigata too as a joke one year- a tiny bowl of ramen noodles.

Her ornament? The star on top of the tree, because she’s the star of the show, baby. It’s actually a snowflake, made of the finest crystal she could steal.

Favorite Christmas Songs: Pop music and Motown’s finest.

Underneath The Tree by Kelly Clarkson

All I Want For Christmas Is You by Mariah Carey

Santa Tell Me by Ariana Grande

This Christmas by Donny Hathaway

What Christmas Means To Me by Stevie Wonder

Sleigh Ride by The Ronettes

Rockin’ Around The Christmas Tree by Brenda Lee

Christmas (Baby Please Come Home) by Darlene Love

A Marshmallow World by Darlene Love

I Like A Sleighride (Jingle Bells) by Peggy Lee

Favorite Christmas Drinks: Hot chocolate and mulled wine.

Favorite Christmas Foods: Loves baking and eating gingerbread men. She lets Goemon decorate them with her. Hers have lots of candy and sprinkles on them, while his are just icing.

Favorite Christmas Activities: Along with baking, ice skating! She’s the best at it out of the whole group. None of the guys are particularly good at it, but she makes them go with her at least once regardless.

Favorite Christmas Movies:

Hallmark ones, solely to make fun of them.

Babes In Toyland, but only the 1986 one, because it has Keanu Reeves in it, and “I don’t care if I’m your girlfriend, Lupin. In this house, we support Keanu Reeves.”

Christmas Gifts: Something expensive/extravagant that will make the person think of her every time they use it.

🎄ZENIGATA:

Zenigata is the second biggest Christmas enthusiast, just behind Lupin.

He doesn’t get to settle down and decorate anything really, since he’s always running after the gang, but he does lots of other little things to celebrate instead. Like getting hot chocolate instead of coffee, tuning the squad car radio to the Christmas station, getting an air freshener that smells like gingerbread, and wearing a festive scarf and gloves with his trench coat to keep out the cold.

In years past, Zenigata still had to work on Christmas Eve/Christmas, even if Lupin wasn’t out stealing anything. Lupin found out and thought that was a little harsh of ICPO, so he came up with a plan.

Each year he sends a calling card to the station with the conditions that only Zenigata can come to investigate. Zenigata does some research, shows up to the location on Christmas Eve, and every year, nothing’s there except for a neatly wrapped present from Lupin.

Zenigata keeps the present as “evidence,” goes back to the station, and they give him Christmas off to go investigate on his own, in case Lupin tries anything else. Lupin never does, but the station doesn’t know that. Bada bing, bada boom, Lupin just got Zenigata a vacation.

Zenigata never catches on, bless his heart.

Favorite Christmas Songs: Ones he can sing/hum along to in the squad car.

The Man With All The Toys by The Beach Boys

Celebrate Me Home by Kenny Loggins

Feliz Navidad by José Feliciano (Does Zenigata understand Spanish? Absolutely not. Does he get the point and think it’s festive? Darn right.)

A Holly Jolly Christmas by Burl Ives

Rudolph The Red-Nosed Reindeer by Dean Martin

Winter Wonderland by the Eurythmics

Silver Bells by Dean Martin

Happy Holiday/The Holiday Season by Andy Williams

Santa Claus Is Comin’ To Town by Gene Autry

December by Earth, Wind, and Fire (Let him have this okay, it’s a good song and he gets made fun of for liking it by the rest of ICPO)

Skating by the Vince Guaraldi Trio

Favorite Christmas Drinks: Hot cocoa and eggnog, but not strong eggnog like Jigen’s.

Favorite Christmas Foods: Anything, really. It’s something besides cup noodles, so he’s grateful. Lupin’s gift always includes lots of various Christmas goodies because of this.

Favorite Christmas Activities: Zenigata enjoys the snow in theory, but doesn’t handle the cold well. So he likes to watch the snow from his window while he listens to Christmas music in his squad car and sips his hot cocoa.

Favorite Christmas Movies: He doesn’t really have a lot of time to sit down a watch a movie, with how hard he works. But he remembers a few from when he was younger, and he really likes those. His favorite is Frosty the Snowman.

Christmas Gifts: Something inexpensive because ICPO vastly underpays this poor man, and he’s always embarrassed because of that, but it’s always something super sweet and heartfelt.

MERRY CHRISTMAS! And for those who don’t celebrate it, HAPPY HOLIDAYS! <3

#lupin #lupin iii #lupin the 3rd #lupin the third #rupan sansei #daisuke jigen #jigen daisuke #fujiko mine #fujiko #mine Fujiko #koichi zenigata #zenigata #goemon #goemon ishikawa xiii #ishikawa goemon xiii #Christmas #Xmas #obligatory Christmas post right after thanksgiving

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solarwriting · 4 years

Note

can u do the 4 soulmate au with ricky? pls i love ur writing

any cuts or bruises appear on your soulmate

y/n had kinda been known as a klutz and being dragged into auditioning for the musical by ashlyn probay wasn't the best idea.

"y/n come on, i've seen you dance. it's the one time you have one hundred percent coordination. and you can sing like no other." ashlyn pleaded as she lead you to the auditorium.

y/n sighed, "okay," ashlyn let out an excited squeal which y/n interrupted, "but, i'm not playing anyone with any solos, or lines."

ashlyn deflated sighed slightly but smiled nonetheless, "i'm taking it as a win, now let's go." ashlyn grabbed y/n's hand and drug her to the auditorium.

after an amount of time y/n couldn't even begin to measure, rehearsals were over and the cast list was up and ashlyn got her part as mrs. darbus and y/n got background dancer, just as she had hoped. ignoring the triangle drama between ash's cousin and ricky and nini, ashlyn and y/n went out and got celebratory milkshakes, a tradition they had when there was something to celebrate.

the two were sitting together drinking their milkshakes and talking about the excitement of the first rehearsal tomorrow when y/n felt her arm start to throb, she rubbed the spot in a futile attempt to soothe it.

"what'a wrong?" ashlyn asked, tilting her head at y/n's arm.

y/n shook her had, pulling up the sleeve of her shirt, "uh, soulmate bruise." she chuckled lightly brushing it off, changing the subject back to the musical.

carlos was walking through the steps of the dance is the second act and it seemed like no one was getting it. "can we at least lose the blindfolds?" y/n asked, tugging the blindfold off, the other dancers mumuring in agreement, "'cause i could get this dance down pretty quickly if i could actually see the light of day."

"okay, fine! we can go through it once without the blindfolds." carlos sighed reluctantly sinking back into the chair.

the group went through the steps again and the klutz in y/n came out for a moment because one moment y/n was upright, learning a dance and the next she was on the floor, her ankle already starting to turn purple.

"oh my god, y/n! are you okay?" carlos asked, pulling you up with the help of seb.

y/n groaned, "i'm okay," she tried to stand on her injured foot only to crumple again (carlos and seb caught her), "maybe not."

"well at least it's thanksgiving break, right?" ashlyn offered weakly.

"that's right!" miss jenn announced as she entered tomorrow will be our last rehearsal until after the break people, "what happened here?"

"um, y/n rolled her ankle." carlos explained as he helped her to a chair.

"take her to the nurse, stay home tomorrow y/n. and heal up during the break please." miss jenn sighed.

carlos nodded as he and ashlyn walked y/n to the nurse where they passed by a worried looking nini and gina surround a hurt ricky. ashlyn gave nini a look that asked what happened? which nini returned, looking at y/n. ashlyn shrugged as they continued to help y/n to the nurse.

y/n spent the next few days her ankle wrapped, elevated and iced. and she was getting stir crazy and ashlyn texted her about a thanksgiving party she was having. after some begging from y/n and a compromise of using a crutch while walking, y/n was permitted to go, if she got a ride (which she did from carlos).

when she walked into ashlyn's using the one crutch, she had refused to use both of them, explaining that her family made her when everyone look at her with confusion. they responded to her explanation with laughter. y/n went into the kitchen where ashlyn stood, looking slightly dumbfounded.

"what happened?" y/n asked, nudging her.

ashlyn blinked, "um big red, complimented me, i think."

"get it, girl." y/n said nudging her again.

ashlyn smiled before going back into the living room leaving y/n to stand in the kitchen alone standing against her crutch. that didn't last long because soon gina and ricky arrived and were in the kitchen. gina put her cupcakes down and greeted y/n, "ashlyn told nini and i about your ankle, how is it?"

y/n chuckled lightly, "yeah, it's okay. i have to carry this around for another week but then i'll be better and ready to back you guys up."

"that's good," gina smiled, looking back at an awkward looking ricky mouthing talk to her before turning back to y/n, "i'm going to go say hi to everyone."

"yeah." y/n muttered turning back to face ricky who was still at the doorway with his hands stuffed into his pockets, looking uncomfortable.

ricky cleared his throat, walking further into the kitchen, "so was that why you were gone friday? your ankle?"

y/n nodded, adjusting her grip on the crutch, "y-yeah, i twisted it thursday running through the choreo. it still hurts, a bit."

"um i bet," ricky trailed off, "hey, i'm sorry."

"what are you talking about?"

"we've drifted apart, since sophmore year." ricky began.

y/n interrupted him, "you mean since nini."

"y-yeah, i don't know it was a first l-love kind of thing, i guess." he explained.

"and you though she was your soulmate, right?" y/n asked.

ricky sighed, "yeah, i-i did."

"yeah, i feel bad for whoever my soulmate was, i bet their ankle hurt pretty bad for a bit there." y/n laughed, "plus they're kind of a klutz themselves, i had this huge bruise on my shin for like three weeks when we started rehearsals."

"um, y/n?" ricky said looking down at his feet.

"yeah?" y/n asked.

"is your ankle still bruised pretty bad?" he asked, moving to sit on the counter in front of her.

"uh, yeah. why?" she asked trailing off.

"well, you were right," he rolled up his pant leg and tugged his sock down, revealing a dark purple bruise trailing down his ankle, an exact copy of y/n's wrapped ankle. "oh, and that shin bruise happened when i was practicing the troy dance and i ran into the coffee table."

"oh my god, you're," y/n stopped looking to her left to see a living room full of people watch the scene unfold in front of them.

"yeah," ricky trailed off, looking at the group. he turned back to y/n, "want to talk somewhere more private, to talk?"

y/n nodded, tearing her gaze from her audience to look at ricky, "yeah."

he grabbed her free hand and lead her to the stairs. where they sat, attempting to sit comfortably with y/n's injured ankle, which she ended up elevating on his lap with an short chuckle. "so um," he started inly for y/n to hold up and hand for him to stop.

"you guys can stop eavesdropping now!" she called with a light laugh, getting a chorus of laughs in response.

"okay," y/n sighed, "continue."

"it's okay, i didn't really have anything, to say. um, this is weird, don't you think?" he said beginning to ramble.

"hey," y/n said softly, putting her hand on his reassuringly, she whispered "what about nini?"

"there's nothing there anymore, we've both moved on. i want to focus on this. and i've wanted to for a while now." he explained, his voice soft as to avoid any eavesdroppers from hearing.

"really?" y/n asked hopefully.

ricky nodded, "so, do you want to go back in there and play carlos' weird game?"

"of course!" y/n said, "same team?"

ricky nodded, helping y/n up and into the living room where the group look at them expectantly, "let's play this game!" ricky and y/n announced, a chorus of cheers following.

after the game and gina's phone call, y/n and ricky walked to his house, their fingers intertwined. y/n leaned on ricky more than her crutch for support as they made the short walk to his, thankfully, empty house.

"so..." ricky trailed off, sitting on the couch. "what do we do?"

"i don't know." y/n shrugged, sitting down on the couch next to him. she laughed, "i feel like we should watch glee or something."

ricky chuckled, "i haven't actually ever seen it."

"what? no, that's it. we have to watch it. you better get comfortable because it's a lot."

ricky laughed as y/n sunk into the couch a bit more, scooting herself a little bit closer to him. "so earlier you said that you wanted to focus on this, us. how long have you felt that way?"

"so you rememeber when miss jenn was going to lose her job and we all sang that song for her?" y/n nodded. "well it was when i saw you dance and how you and carlos made and taught up that choreography in one night. that's when i realised i didn't really want to be your friend. so then, when ashlyn told me and gina about you hurting your ankle at the same time as i fell, that's when we both figured out that we were soulmates."

"is that why gina walked with you today?" y/n asked, picking at her sweater.

"yeah, she was helping me get the balls to tell you we were soulmates." he laughed.

"well i'm glad you did because now i can do this," y/n wrapped her arms around his neck, connecting her fingers as the nape if his neck and pulled him closer and kissing him. after the initial shock wore off, ricky grabbed y/n's chin and deepened the kiss. he pulled away for a moment, his forehead resting against hers, still holding his chin and they both tried to catch their breath.

"so," y/n started.

"so," ricky echoed.

"glee?" y/n asked, ricky laughed in response. he grabbed the blanked that was thrown over the back of the couch and draped it over them as y/n put glee on the tv.

ricky's dad smiled to himself at the sight if y/n resting her head on ricky's shoulder, his head on hers.

#ricky bowen x reader #ricky bowen x nini salazar roberts #ricky x nini #ricky bowen #nini hsmtmts #ashlyn hsmtmts #hsm the series #hsmtmts imagine #hsmtmts #hsmtsts spoilers #hsm2 #big red x ashlyn #nini x ashlyn #ashlyn caswell #gina x ricky #gina x ej #gina hsmtmts #gina x nini #gina porter

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press-x-tojason · 3 years

Text

Giant Bomb is dead, and I care way less than I thought I would. Probably because 83% of the people who I ever cared about had already left or died, or were already relegated to reduced content roles.

Honestly, though, the writing’s been on the wall for a bit. They haven’t had anything worthy of paying for premium in several years, and, even though they’ve had well over a year to figure out a plan for the COVID era, they maybe made it a month with their plans to have a series of streams daily. I actually managed to forget I followed them on Twitch at all, for about 4 months, because they only streamed the podcasts and the occasional former Harmonix employee (who was literally paid to make content with their games while employed at Giant Bomb, which was funny because he blocked me on Twitter for making a post, addressing no one, back in 2014, which was asking about the legitimacy of the leaked list of “games “””””journalists”””””” who had taken money from publishers for positive reviews, a list which included him and multiple then-coworkers. I didn’t follow him, he didn’t follow me. He was manually searching the keywords, because he was, and is, a prick.) solo Rock Band stream in the last 8 months or so. Even when Jeff would manage to do one of his 20 streams from home a year, it would be on his own channel. There was just no content. And they’re surprised their “pay for our unique premium content!” model failed. They always “feigned” anger at Dan for “making” them do the Mario Party Parties, and literally never promoted his and Drew’s Metal Gear series after the first game... but I bet that, when only those, UPF, and the ad-free versions of the podcasts were premium features, those two series were keeping them afloat. Well, that and the remaining goodwill they miraculously managed to hold onto for a few years after Ryan died. Shit, I follow several people who are GB staff-adjacent, and... I can’t think of the last time they mentioned anything that happened on-site. Even the people who’ve been directly supporting them for over 10 years were out.

But yeah, the site is super dead. They pretended in the announcements like they’re going to make a go of it still, but... you’ve got like 4 content people left, and the only one people give a shit about is Jeff. You just saw 3/4 of the side of the site that was still trying these past several months jump ship in a 3 month span. One of those was, by nearly any definition, a founding member. Of which you had already lost one, and are losing another from the main side. Jeff’s been way less active until the last week or two, probably because he heard they were leaving and was like “oops, should probably check on the ship that’s been sinking for years!” Then you have Jason “The Human Mumble” Oestricher, the charisma vacuum, whose legitimate public-facing reaction to first hearing that all but one of his GB predecessors were going to be gone. was, and I quote, “Hoo Boy.” Ben and Jan are the definition of “fine”. They would have been great, as they are today, as secondary members 8-10 years ago. But carry the site, they cannot. They’re down to, what, 5 named members now? It hasn’t been that dire since the beginning of 2009, before they hired Drew, when they hadn’t even started the P4 endurance run. You know, that surprise massive, internet-changing thing that essentially popularized the Let’s Play concept, loosening its definition and making it something that could be as personality-driven as game-driven, made simply to give them something to put on the website, beyond the rare review and, slightly later, quick look. This kinda illustrates the problem with modern Giant Bomb. When they were figuring shit out, flying by the seats of their pants, they came up with great shit, and they gave enough of a shit to make it happen. 0.000% chance they do a 10 hour Thanksgiving Kinect stream if the Kinect was new today. 0.000% chance the core members would have done an endurance run in the last 10 years if CT and Shenmue (which I haven’t watched) weren’t driven by the younger members. And you could see it in the fact that they never made a real, true mobile app. The number one thing that would have made them indispensable this past decade, an app to integrate premium features, the podcast, their video player, etc. all in one place in a mobile-friendly package, that could sync with the website... and they never even raised the idea publicly. I wonder how much of the innovation was the group think-tank of the first 5 years. Beyond Dan’s couple major contributions, I don’t think they added a single new type of content after 2012, which... still means the last 6.5 years lacked any semblance of innovation. I guess that’s a big part of why I fell off tremendously quickly after late 2014. There was just nothing new, and believe me, I was looking. I wanted reasons to stay watching. I supported them with my dollar. I believed in those brave early days. And I went back yesterday to watch the DP endurance run from VJ again. I still miss that rapport. And really, that hurt, too. Vinny moving back east, less than a year after Ryan passed... short term, it was fine. You had more people than ever to cover the gaps. But the spark was gone. The chemistry made the site. When I think of Giant Bomb, I still think of Jeff, Vinny, and Ryan, first and foremost. Those early podcasts, the NintenDownloads, the crazy tangents that everyone could seamlessly follow up on(well, except Brad, because he essentially slept through most of the podcasts, unless he was talking about the thing he did that week), the weird high-concept GOTY stuff... it wasn’t perfect, but you were entertained. You laughed. You were engaged. It never felt like you were watching them working, even though you could see the work they put in. It felt like, when they released something, you were experiencing a group of legitimate friends doing what they wanted to do anyways.(And boy have I seen enough groups do everything they can to NOT be enjoying doing that, and break up as a result due to hating the jobs that they chose to do).

Part of me would love to make it as simple as “Ryan died, and so did the original spirit”, and... to a degree, it’s true. If you go back to any retrospective they’ve done about the founding of the site, or the podcast they recorded after Ryan passed, you can’t help but recognize that Giant Bomb never happens if these core members don’t all quit their jobs, led by Ryan, because they respect their boss/manager, Jeff, and know he’s doing the right things(for them, for the reader/viewer, etc.) ahead of what GameSpot management wants him to do. Jeff could have been left in the wilderness, trying find a spot elsewhere, with the rumor going around between executives that Jeff wasn’t going to help them promote anything, essentially killing their revenue. He would have been done in terms of getting employed by a major site. But Ryan first, and soon after, Vinny and Brad, gave up their jobs to make this fledgling little project go. As much as the ERs brought me in and gave the impression that Jeff and Vinny were the long-standing duo, no, it was Ryan who was Jeff’s partner in crime. And, 8 years later, I can comfortably say... Giant Bomb never recovered from losing him.

But it was so much more. Everything that set them apart slowly went away, in time. I don’t think they’ve posted reviews for games in consecutive MONTHS since 2017; 2018 at the latest. They have done one Endurance Run in 9 years. They have not had a meaningful live event in 6 years. Unprofessional Fridays were more formulaic and lesser in volume and frequency after the major players started moving east. The lack of coordination between coasts killed the camaraderie, to the point that I think one of the last 5 true gameplay crossovers was their series of 2016-2017 PUBG shitfests. I remember when Vinny starting GBEast was supposed to be the start of a new era of content, and... it was, but not in a positive way, like it sounded. When half of each side seemed to constantly have no interest in making anything, nothing got made. But I guess that’s what happens when your second in command in one of your headquarters is just a former marketing grunt with an attitude problem, and the guy with the biggest ego on the team is the one who refuses to move to join either side, and just pushes out the most self-important drivel as a header to what were literally just copy-pasted articles from other sites every week while sitting at his desk, dreaming of the days Gawker would pay him to plagiarize political drivel instead, because that’s what really gets the soulless clicks. One of your founding members becomes depressed due to losing his two closest work friends, one for real, one to a 3000 mile separation, within a year, while the other one who is left virtually stopped playing anything but DOTA 2 for 2 years. Suddenly your most prominent personalities are the 2 new guys(one the aforementioned charisma vacuum, the other a walking mark) and your previously-mostly-off-camera producer who is best known to the wider Internet for... blinking. So, yeah, lifeless. And NOW, all you’ve got is old melancholy dad, charisma vacuum dad, and the two ADHD kids whose defining trait is that they choose to exclusively refer to their partners as “my partner” in voices that make it sound like they are embarrassed to have partners, while also talking more about what their partners are doing than what they do. It’s confounding.

But yeah, TL:DR: RIP zombie Giant Bomb. Glad you’re finally getting taken behind the shed. It took 3 years too long, minimum.

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doyouever-daydream · 5 years

Text

Story of Boy Meets Girl

A/N Here I am writing the date I wish I’d have with Spencer Reid but instead I am at home, writing fanfiction for our entertainment, be safe, dear humans!

I wrote this while listening to the When Harry Met Sally score and the (500) days of Summer soundtrack, that’s how I came up with the title, hehe. Also I am a plant nerd (but there might be some mistakes) and for this fic I downloaded a book about the USBG and saw a 20 minute tour on youtube (which is a great thing to do while on quarantine) and I fell in love and now I wanna go so bad, so if you also like plants hmu and I’ll share the links.

First oneshot for my BAU does Blind Dates series for the prompt blind date for my @cmbingo card

Summary: Both, Spencer and (y/n) have no expectations for their blind date, but their mutual friend Penelope seems to think they can be good together so they’ll just have to find out while they visit the U.S. Botanic Garden.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Femal reader

Warnings: None.

Word count: 2183.

My other nonsense

Penelope was out shopping with her friend y/n, they had met in a hand embroidery class a few months ago, (y/n) was a salvation for Penelope, she was still adjusting to her new job, and her best friends (and boyfriend) were extremely busy fighting bad guys so having her made Penelope feel less lonely. (y/n) on her part wasn’t very social, she got along with her coworkers and most of her close friends were back in her hometown, so for her, Penelope also was a gift from her lucky stars.

“What’s got you smiling so big Penelope?” (y/n) asked while they were at a vintage dress store.

“Luke’s coming home from a case today, they wrapped the case sooner than they thought” She showed the text message to her friend.

“That’s great, hopefully he won’t get another case during the weekend”

“I hope so, I really want to spend some days with him without stressing about his safety and the rest of my friend’s safety as well” Penelope sighed, the team have been away many days in some difficult cases that had her nerves on the edge.

“You will, I’m sure you’ll have a great weekend together.” (y/n) smiled at her.

“What about you, huh? What are your plans for the weekend? Any hot date?” (y/n) laughed.

“Ha! No, just me, my plants and comfort food” She sighed.

“Hey, you’re young, you have more than enough time to find someone” Penelope knew she had been struggling with her personal life. Or rather the lack of it.

“Can you call my mom and tell her that too? She has baby fever, or grandchildren fever, I don’t even know how to call it.” She placed of her hands in her face getting anxious just thinking about it.

“What about you? Do you pressure yourself to be in a relationship? To have kids?” Penelope carefully asked.

“Well… I did before, all my friends getting married and me just being the single one, I felt like I needed someone but then I just let it go, and that’s the way it’s been my whole life, everyone with their boyfriends, girlfriends and me, the independent woman that moved half across the country from her family and friends to work in a place that I loved”

“I understand, trust me, I completely understand the need to find someone just so you stop being the single friend but sometimes you just gotta let it happen.”

“I know, I know but I can’t even remember the last date I had!”

That’s when Penelope had an idea.

“How would you feel about a blind date?” (y/n) looked at her with an amused face.

“You know me, I’m too shy and awkward to go on blind dates”

“Let me try, I can be a really good matchmaker, please?” (y/n) thought about it, Penelope had been playing with an idea in the back of her mind for a few weeks, she even talked to Luke about and he supported the idea so she thought she might go through it.

The next thing (y/n) knew, was that she had a date for Saturday with one of Penelope’s friends, she was too nervous, but Penelope and even Luke reassured her that she’d be fine.

“Uhm, excuse me, are you (y/n) (y/l/n)?” A tall guy with light brown hair asked her.

“Yeah, you must be Spencer, Spencer Reid” Both of them had shy smiles on their faces, hoping their mutual friend was right and they could have a nice day.

“Shall we go in?” He signaled to the entrance of the United States Botanic Garden.

Once they started to walk through the gardens of the USBG, they realized they hadn’t talked at all.

“You chose a beautiful place, (y/n)” Spencer said while he looked around and put his hands in the pockets of his pants.

“Thank you, have you been here before?” She asked in a low voice, feeling really awkward.

“Just once, many years ago, I brought my mom” He remembered fondly that one time her mom had visited him and the only thing she wanted to do was visit the USBG.

“That’s amazing, I want to bring my mom here but she haven’t visited me” She was feeling more relaxed.

“Oh, where does she live?”

“California, she lives there with my dad, and well, all my family and friends are there” Spencer could see the sadness in her eyes.

“How long it’s been since you moved?”

“A year and I’ve seen them, I fly for Christmas and Thanksgiving but I’m not the most social and outgoing person so it’s been a little tough on me” She confessed and he smiled sympathetically.

“I understand, I don’t have many friends beside my team, and Penelope, she changed her job but yeah, it’s just them” He awkwardly explained.

“Introvert life, I get it” So far (y/n) was feeling more at ease with this nice and good looking stranger. “I think that’s why Penelope came up with this idea”

“Yeah, maybe that was it” He looked at her and smiled, and suddenly his mind went blank, he didn’t know what to talk about so he did one of the things he did best: telling facts “The story about this place is quite interesting, the first idea for its creation goes back as far as 1796, botanical studies started to be more prominent during the eighteenth century but the creation of it officially started in 1820…”

Spencer started to quote almost the entirety of a book he had read about the U.S. Botanic Garden, and as they walked through it and (y/n) listened fascinated by the way he talked. Once or twice she had made her own comments about what she knew and soon enough they were comfortable with each other.

Once they entered the Tropic exhibit, (y/n)’s face lit up, Spencer noticed that and stopped talking for a second.

“This is my favorite part of the whole place, I love seeing all kinds of greens and their contrast, also here they have calatheas which are my one of my favorites” Spencer smiled as he listened to her.

“Ah, calatheas, some people refer to them as a family of plants when in reality they are…” He was interrupted by an overly excited (y/n).

“A genus of plants, they belong to the Marantaceae family, sorry, it’s just I really love this exhibit” She blushed.

“Oh, don’t worry, do you come often then?” She looked even more embarrassed, Spencer was not sure why.

“Uh, actually I work here” (y/n) confessed as she bit her lip.

“Really? Oh, wow, I never asked what you did, and what it is that you do?” He was pleasantly surprised.

“I have a degree in Botany, I moved all the way from California to work here, today’s my day off obviously, but I always thought it would be nice to have a date here, it’s a place I know like the back of my hand and here I could have something to talk about” She was worried Spencer would think she was pathetic for wanting to have a date at her workplace instead he was worried he had been talking too much.

“Oh God, you love this place, you work here and I just told you things that you probably already knew, I am so sorry” It was his turn to blush.

“Don’t worry, I enjoyed listening to you, I knew some things but not all of them, and I just really liked knowing there is someone else that knows the history of this place, it was really nice” Being the awkward person she was, her face was now as red as a tomato.

Spencer only smiled at her and decided to look carefully at the plants, something (y/n) was grateful for, as she tried to regain her normal color.

“Come on, let’s go up to my favorite spot” Once they were there, Spencer understood why she liked that specific spot.

They looked down from the mezzanine and could see the beauty of the whole exhibit.

“What do you think?” She asked with a small smile.

“It’s beautiful, I don’t think I came up here before” He felt happy as to how the day was turning out, not only the whole place was a delight but the company of (y/n) was wonderful “Add some weeping angels statues and it would be even better”

“Oh, and maybe a TARDIS” He turned to look at her, he was shocked she had caught the reference.

“Do you watch Doctor Who?” (y/n) looked at him and then back to the scene below them.

“No, I don’t” Spencer’s smile faded just a little, she was still great and he was hopeful they could go out again.

“Penelope does and she talks about it so much, once she did an embroidered TARDIS, and that’s why I got the reference” She played with the fabric of her blouse.

“I am really glad that Penelope thought about this” He said looking at her.

“Yeah, me too” She nervously shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

“Would you like to have coffee?” He dared to ask.

“Sure, when?” She replied while looking at him in awe, she couldn’t believe the date had gone far better than she had expected.

Spencer shrugged his shoulders and looked around “What about now?”

“Yeah, let’s go”

Once they were at the coffee and had ordered, they sat down close to a window.

“So what do you do at your job?” Spencer asked while sipping on his coffee.

“I am a part of the conservation team, but the past few months I’ve been more focused on coordinating activities and the creation of programs for visitors, and I love it, it’s different from what I thought I would do but I enjoy doing that” She held her mug tightly and Spencer sensed there was more to it.

“Was that the position you originally wanted?”

“No, I wanted to work with plants and only plants, but then the opportunity presented and I took it and loved it but my family thinks that I moved across the country for a job that’s not entirely related to my degree, and it’s pretty much a desk job which is not true, but I can’t seem to make them change their minds” (y/n) looked sad.

“Are you close with them?”

“Very, moving here was by far the hardest decision I’ve ever made and I don’t regret it, but it’s been tough” She looked out the window and Spencer looked at her empathetically.

“I imagine this has been difficult but I’m sure you’re doing an amazing job, I’ll try to go more often and participate in the programs, I’m curious as what you and the USBG has to offer” (y/n) smiled and took a sip of her coffee.

“Thank you, Spencer, but enough about me, I don’t know much about you, I know you’re a profiler but I am unsure as to what a profiler does, care to elaborate on that?”

Spencer nodded as he went on to what his job was about and (y/n) listened with amazement in her eyes, she knew the BAU chased down bad guys but she didn’t know exactly how they did it.

The stayed there, both of them drinking cup after cup of coffee, and talking about everything and anything, by the end of the afternoon, they both felt as if the had met each other for a lifetime.

They both walk back to the metro station together and Spencer is feeling unsure as to how he could suggest seeing each other again but (y/n) beats him to it.

“Spencer, I really, really enjoyed today, thank you for coming”

“Of course, I also had a great time today”

“Should we do this again?” She bit her lip hopeful he would agree.

“Go the US Botanic Garden?”

“Oh, not necessarily, I meant go out, I could use some company and I enjoyed yours”

“Ok, yeah, yeah, I would love to see you again” He’s smile was so big his eyes squinted and she felt her heart beat faster.

“Ok, you got my number, right?”

“Yeah, I saved it when you texted me” He pulled out his phone and held it up as if to prove he wasn’t lying.

“Have a good night” She smiled and waved at him, both of them had to take the metro in different directions so she started walking towards the opposite of him.

“You too, (y/n)!” If anyone looked at Spencer they could see the heart eyes he had while seeing the girl walking away from him.

As he was ready to start his way home, he felt a tap on his shoulder and as soon as he turned around he received a hug from (y/n).

“Bye, text me when you’re home” She whispered in his ear and pulled away to start her way once again.

He stood there watching her walk away, being unable to move, remembering to call Penelope the minute he got home to thank her a million times for setting them up.

#cmbingo20 #cmbingo #criminal minds #spencer reid #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds fanfiction #cm fanfic #spencer reid x reader

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thedeaditeslayer · 4 years

Photo

Crash Palace Interview: Catching Up with Dana DeLorenzo.

This interview briefly brushes over Ash vs Evil Dead and Dana’s latest projects.

Even though it has been over two years since Ash vs Evil Dead has been on the air, fans still clamor for their favorite badass, Deadite slaying heroine, Kelly Maxwell. Dana DeLorenzo, the actress behind her is equally adored and cherished by admirers of the Sam Raimi legendary horror franchise.

So, as always, I was thrilled to speak with her about life after Ash, her latest movie, the heartwarming holiday comedy, Friendsgiving and what she has on the horizon. Welcome to the Crash Palace Interview with Dana DeLorenzo…

The Denouement of Ash vs Evil Dead Crash Palace: Thanks for speaking with me, Dana. It’s always a pleasure. Let’s talk about life after Ash vs Evil Dead. As you know, Lee Cronin is helming the latest installment in the Evil Dead franchise, Evil Dead Rise. Fans were hoping that the Ghostbeaters would be a part of that venture. While we know it is going in a different direction, do you think Kelly Maxwell could show up some time in the future?

Dana DeLorenzo: One can dream, right? Let me take this moment, right off the bat to say something I say often because I mean it, and I can’t say it enough. People who know me know this is not fan service. I say it when I’m not doing interviews; I say it to my closest friends and my family on the regular.

I am so grateful to the fans of Ash vs Evil Dead and the Evil Dead franchise all over the world. They have truly been my Jiminy Crickets throughout this insane, bizarre year that is 2020. They have gotten me through so many of the toughest days, just by keeping the bloody love alive. With every year that passes, even though we haven’t filmed a season of the show for three years, it feels like it’s fresh because of the fans .

So, to all you Ghostbeaters out there: I thank you from the bottom of my heart. I hope I get to meet all of you someday. But I can’t convey enough how your passion and love of the show has gotten me through this 2020 roller coaster; thank you for keeping Kelly’s ass-kicking spirit alive! On that note, I have really missed the show, I’ve missed playing Kelly. I posted some things recently about Ash vs Evil Dead, photos I hadn’t looked at in a while. I miss it a lot. I like to keep hope alive that someday, somewhere, the Ghostbeaters will be reunited. Even just for a quick Ghostbeaters fist bump.

Is Kelly Maxwell going to show up in this film? No. I won’t say never, but from what I understand, this is an alternate universe for Evil Dead Rise, separate from Fede Alvarez’s movie with Jane Levy and it’s separate from Ash vs Evil Dead. It’s a new adventure in the Evil Dead universe. And I can’t wait to see the new blood and guts journey Lee Cronin takes us on. I would like to think in the Ghostbeaters’ universe, we’re still kicking it and we’re still fighting evil. But I am loving that the fans are clamoring for it! They can keep pestering Rob, Sam and Bruce the way they have for twenty-five years before Ash vs Evil Dead came to be — their persistence is what got me that dream job.

So, if they want to continue to pester to bring us all back, I won’t stop them! Because we know the fans have the power to persuade. It might take another twenty-five years. But I am always down to play with those guys and our great crew.

CP: Do you keep in touch with anyone from the show?

DD: Yeah, I try and keep up with what everyone is doing and shoot them a message to tell them I miss them like the sap that I am. I just miss seeing their faces every day, you know? I miss Lucy’s face pretty hard, and not just because she’s ‘Lucy Flawless’! She’s got new shows left and right, she never stops! Ray and I randomly text Pablo and Kelly’s catchphrases to each other. “How are you holding up? / What is happening?!” We said that pretty much every episode so it still makes me laugh. Arielle and I chat often even though she lives in Australia, she’s like my little sister! Bruce often responds “ in character” with the latest Snapchat filter. He loves those — just check his Twitter feed — and it’s all my fault. I showed him how to make them while filming Season 3. He could probably do a show solely with Snapchat characters — I’d watch.

Fall from Perpetual Grace

CP: Let’s shift gears for a moment and talk about another series that you appeared on. You had a great run on EPIX with Perpetual Grace, LTD working with the talented Jimmi Simpson, Luis Guzman and of course, Jacki Weaver and Sir Ben Kingsley. There was some talk about a possible movie to tie up all the storylines after the show ended. Do you know if that is in the works?

DD: I have no idea, but I really hope that happens. Steven Conrad is a genius and so was that cast. If you haven’t seen or become a part of the cult following of Patriot on Amazon or Perpetual Grace, you should. But the people he casts and the stories he writes and the beauty of the cinematography, all create a piece of art that is in its own category. He has such a strong point of view, aesthetic and vision, you always know when you’re watching a Steven Conrad show.

I’ve been very lucky to be part of two shows where both casts were like extended family. Like Luis Guzman. We talked recently, I adore him. Side bar: I feel like in a crazy, crossover world, Luis could be Pablo’s other uncle because of his giant heart and comedic delivery. Anyway, we’re both working on my friend Joe Ahern’s indie comedy, The Disappearance of Toby Blackwood, which he co-wrote with Doug Mellard. And I can’t wait for people to see Luis slay the screen, yet again. The filming process is pretty innovative during COVID, where everyone but the two main characters filmed their parts at home using an app. These guys were doing it before anyone else, so kudos to them.

Friendsgiving: The Gift that Keeps on Giving

CP: I had the pleasure of watching Friendsgiving the other night and it was an enjoyable holiday film. You had some hilarious bits as Kat Dennings’ wise cracking sister, Barbara. What drew you to the project?

DD: Thank you for watching the film and I’m so glad you enjoyed it! It’s the kind of original comedy we all need right now.

I knew I was auditioning for Kat Dennings’ (Abby) sister Barbara, whose part of Abby’s Jersey-Italian family. Within the first two lines of that family exchange, I was cackling. I’m drawn to anything that grabs my attention on the page and holds it for the entire sitting of reading the script. Those lines of dialogue, the way the family members are unapologetically who they are, and the fact they mean well but are constantly giving you their two cents when you don’t want it or ask for it, hooked me. And that kind of art-imitating-life comedy held up for the rest of the script for me. Nicol Paone hit it out of the park, both on the page and behind the lens. And I’m pretty sure it’s loosely based on a Thanksgiving that Nicol and Malin Ackerman shared.

The subject matter was also relatable. I’ve celebrated Thanksgiving with my family as well as a couple of Friendsgivings. And the bottom line is, the holiday is just dysfunctional, always. It might be a lot more fun with your friends but it’s still going to be dysfunctional.

That concept makes me laugh. It’s not funny when you’re the one going through the stress and drama of Thanksgiving. However, it’s very funny watching someone else go through it. It’s cathartic. That’s why I loved it.

CP: With so many talented actors in the cast, do you have any behind the scenes anecdotes?

DD: There was a lot of laughing in between takes. It’s always a good sign when the crew laughs. Abby’s (Kat Dennings ) Jersey-Italian family was cast perfectly, and the actors were so damn funny! Rose Abdoo plays our mom, Nadya Ginsburg as Aunt Anna and Johnny Williams plays Uncle Sal. Like I said, it was already funny on the page, and Nicol being a New Jersey Italian herself really captured the essence of those family conversations. The actors brought Nicol’s words to life, and on a few takes she let us riff. In one scene the Aunt Anna character was telling the scripted story of a sexual gesture; I remember laughing so hard at her adlibbing additional euphemisms for that particular act by referencing Italian food.

One of my favorite things Nicol did was add some of the funniest ad-libs and bloopers in the end credits. I love seeing those! Now everyone who sees the film will get to see those behind the scenes moments.

The Show Must Go On

CP: When we were coordinating this interview, you told me that you were going into the studio to do voiceover work. Can you give us a hint about this upcoming effort?

DD: The show features a cast of familiar faces that might have worked together recently. I just realized what everyone is probably going to think when they read this.

CP: Sorry everyone, it isn’t Ash vs Evil Dead. However, you have more work on the way. According to IMDb, you have completed a short film called PCH. What else can your fans look forward to?

DD: The Disappearance of Toby Blackwood which I mentioned before but we’re still filming that. I am so excited about this voiceover project because it’s completely original in every way, it really hasn’t been done before. And of course, Friendsgiving is out now in select theatres and VOD. It’s the perfect film to watch this Thanksgiving when we can’t celebrate as we usually do. You can laugh at the characters’ holiday drama and maybe even be grateful to take this year off.

CP: Will you be appearing at any virtual conventions like Bruce and Ted are doing for Wizard World events?

DD: There are a couple in the works. But in the meantime, I’ve teamed up with this new platform called, Real Talk Live, which is both an app and on the web. It’s like a virtual convention where you can live video chat one on one, basically like a Zoom call. You can schedule the video call in advance or whenever catch me whenever I’m live. I think it’s a great solution, and personally I’m really looking forward to connecting with Evil Dead fans this way until live events pick back up. And it’s accessible worldwide so this will be great to finally see the amazing fans I hear from overseas. I miss interacting with them in the flesh, hearing their stories and seeing their badass cosplays! And do I miss pose-punching them in our epic photos. So I end with this, because I can’t say this enough: “Thank you, Ghostbeaters! I love you more than Ash Williams loves his Delta!”

Many thanks to Dana DeLorenzo for spending time with me at Crash Palace. For those of you that haven’t had the chance to catch Friendsgiving, it is available online by buying or renting it as a video-on-demand on iTunes, FandangoNow and VUDU.

#Crash Palace #Dana DeLorenzo

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recurring-polynya · 5 years

Text

You might have noticed that I am more than a little obsessed with @kaickos‘s Squad 6 Guard Dog and All-Round Good Boy Milo. She was kind enough to let me write a fluffy little story about him. It is not 100% consistent with the beautiful comic she is drawing about him, because we were working in parallel and great minds work alike, but maybe not perfectly alike. Anyway, I had a lot of fun writing this over my Thanksgiving weekend. (Seriously, BEHOLD HIM )

Shinigami’s Best Friend (AO3 | ff.net)

Squad 6 acquires a guard dog.

Rated T because apparently I can’t even write some fluff about a dog without cussing. It’s Rukia’s fault, I swear!

Captain Kuchiki Byakuya stepped over the large lump lying across the entrance to the Squad Six Captains’ Office. He smoothed his haori as he sat down at his desk. He read three memos from his inbox before he very calmly said, “Lieutenant, what is that pile of damp fur doing in the doorway?”

His adjutant, Lieutenant Abarai Renji looked up from the mission report he was writing up. “Ah, he appears to be sleepin’, sir.”

Byakuya narrowed his eyes. Eleven years of working with this lummox, and trying to get information out of Abarai was still an enormous trial. “But why, Abarai?”

“Well, he had a very exciting day, sir. ‘Spect he’s worn out.”

Byakuya squeezed his eyes shut. “Let us back up. What… what kind of animal is it? It is an animal, yes?”

“He’s a dog, sir.”

“Really ? Are you sure?”

“Pretty sure, sir. I thought you knew about dogs, sir. Pretty sure you mentioned havin’ a couple once or twice.”

“I do. I own three dogs, actually.” They were champion hunting dogs, of the finest bloodlines. They were creatures of pure muscle encased in velvet coats, noble, handsome, and perfectly obedient. They looked absolutely nothing like this sentient dust mop, who was currently snoring softly and kicking one hind leg frantically. “My dogs are kept in a kennel, where a dedicated servant looks after their needs. Why is this one in my office?”

“Oh, well, sir, I’m trying to find him a home. Returning the favor, as it were.”

“The favor.”

“He saved my life, sir.”

This is the point where Byakuya should have known he had lost, because Abarai delivered this phrase exactly as he did when he told the story of how he had met Rukia. Byakuya did not ask for further detail, but he received it anyway, in typical Abarai fashion.

Abarai had been leading a sweep of one of the higher numbered districts of Rukongai -- his own home district, as it happened-- for an elusive Hollow that had been terrorizing the area. He had noticed the dog investigating a rubbish heap as he himself investigated a blind alley. Finding it to be empty, he turned to leave, when the dog let out a frantic bark of singular intensity, a bark that imported the urgency of the situation so clearly that Abarai drew his sword immediately, just in time to block the razor-sharp claws of the Hollow that was materializing from the shadows behind him.

“The thing was apparently able to travel from shadow to shadow, sir, completely untraceable,” Abarai noted. “But the old fellow sniffed him right out and let me know! Once I spotted it, the Hollow wasn’t that tough. Got his mask in one blow, but if I hadn’t seen him in time… Well, sir, you might be holding lieutenant auditions this afternoon, is what I’m saying.”

The alleged canine rolled onto its back, its legs hanging in the air.

Everything about this story sounded like, as Rukia would say, “some bullshit.” But Byakuya had put up with Abarai for long enough that he knew it was a trap to dwell on how they had ended up in this situation. It was more important to focus on how they were getting out of it.

“You said you were going to find it a new home,” Byakuya pointed out. “When is that slated to commence?”

“Well, I needed to file my report, first,” Abarai explained. “And it’s gettin’ kinda late in the day. Figured I’d probably just take him home with me, send a few texts around. See if anyone’s looking for a dog.”

Something about this struck Byakuya as a bad idea, but he did not want to get drawn any further into this nonsense. “Very good, Lieutenant. While, obviously I am grateful for his… services… to the Sixth Division… I do not wish to see him tomorrow, do you understand?”

“Oh, you won’t, sir!”

- - -

It was the next morning.

Byakuya was here.

Abarai was here.

“The dog is here, Abarai,” Byakuya observed.

“His name is Milo,” Abarai announced.

“Why is the dog-- Milo? What kind of name is Milo? Dogs are supposed to have names like Sakura Bloom Cascade. Mountainside Granite Crest.”

“Are they? I dunno. Ichika picked it. I think it’s after a character in one of her books.”

The dog was much cleaner than it had been the day before. It had clearly been bathed, the tangles teased from its coat.

Byakuya narrowed his eyes. “So it is your dog now.”

“No, sir, course not! Rukia’d be pretty pissed, I think, if I did something like that without consulting her.”

“She is still in the Living World?”

“Yeah, for a few days, yet.”

“Ichika will grow attached to it, if she has not already.”

Abarai regarded him seriously. “Me and her had a talk about how he’s just a visitor and he can only stay for a few days. She understood.”

“She is very pragmatic,” Byakuya agreed. Amazingly so, all things considered. “So tell me again why the dog is back my office?”

“Oh, well, Iba said to bring him by, see if he gets along with Gorou.”

Byakuya wracked his brain. “Is Gorou the Seventh’s adjutant?”

Abarai gave out one of his barking laughs. “That’s a good one, sir, I’ll have to tell Iba that.” He abruptly realized that Byakuya wasn’t joking. “Uh, Gorou is Iba’s dog. He used to be Captain Komamura’s. He lives at the Seventh, the whole squad is real fond of him.”

“Perfect,” Byakuya replied. “I hope it goes wonderfully.”

- - -

When Byakuya returned from his afternoon theoretical tactics exercises (which is what he wrote on his agenda when he wanted to go play shogi with Captain Hitsugaya), there was a distinct absence of canine in the office.

“The meeting with Lieutenant Iba went well?” Byakuya asked.

“Oh, yeah, those two old boys got on like a house on fire,” Abarai announced.

“Excellent,” Byakuya replied. He had just gotten settled at his desk again, when there was a rap on the office door.

“Third Seat Ohno and one good dog!”

“Come in!” Abarai called cheerfully.

The door slid open, and Milo trotted into the office, followed by an uncharacteristically smiling Third Seat Ohno. The dog sat down neatly in front of Abarai’s desk, and barked exactly once.

“Captain’s in the office, Milo, you gotta go greet him first,” Abarai informed the dog, as though he was talking to a human.

Bizarrely enough, the dog stood up, ambled over to Byakuya’s desk and repeated the procedure. “Er, at ease,” Byakuya informed the creature.

The dog looked back, questioningly, at Renji.

“Good boy,” Renji informed him.

The dog then went over to the corner, took an extremely loud and messy drink from a water bowl that had not been present yesterday, and then flopped down on a pillow that had also not been there yesterday.

“How was he?” Renji addressed the Third Seat.

“Oh, he was great! He loved chasing the ball. Fourth Seat Kuchiki wanted to throw that frisbee thing he has, but I told him, I won fair and square.”

“He just has to work harder tomorrow,” Abarai suggested.

“He can try,” Ohno replied, a competitive sneer creeping onto his face. “Anything you need, sir?”

“Get those mission reports from the unseated guys organized and filed, would you?”

“No problem, sir!”

Ohno saluted smartly and left.

Byakuya stared at this spectacle.

Their Third Seat was a prissy, waspish stickler for rules. He despised messes. He despised deviations from the usual order. Primarily, he despised Abarai.

Byakuya could feel an elongated “whaaaaaaat?” forming in his mouth, but he somehow couldn’t manage to get it out.

However, after their many years of working together, Abarai was quite adept at reading his captain’s unspoken thoughts. “The seated officers just love Milo,” he provided. “I told Ohno and Kuchiki whoever won their spar could give him his afternoon runabout. Both of ‘em went in-all in for it, I was surprised. Wouldn’t’ve pegged Ohno for a dog guy. Learn something new every day, eh?”

“I thought the dog was going to live at the Seventh!” Byakuya finally managed.

“Oh, no, sir, they’ve already got a dog.”

Byakuya squeezed his eyes shut.

- - -

Over the next few days, Milo made a grand tour of the Gotei 13.

He had pleasant visits at both the Third and the Fifth, but neither extended a permanent invitation.

Milo did not care for the Eleventh. “Too excitement much for an ol’ boy like him,” Abarai explained.

A thank you card arrived from the Coordinated Relief Station in appreciation for “cheering up the patients.”

He was promptly banned from the Ninth, something about a fundamental incompatibility between dogs and newspapers.

Captain Yadoumaru claimed to be “a cat person.”

Milo actually did find a new home at the Tenth for all of an hour, before Captain Hitsugaya, who had been in a meeting, promptly delivered the dog back to the Sixth, glaring harshly at Byakuya, as though he had anything to do with it.

Surely, something would pan out sooner or later.

Surely.

- - -

Friday brought Milo again, along with a very shamefaced Lieutenant Abarai.

“What is the excuse today, Lieutenant?” Byakuya intoned.

“Well, Rukia got home last night, sir,” Abarai explained.

“Ah. So you will now actually be seeking a home for Milo.”

“Not… exactly. Um, do you remember when I said I had a good talk with Ichika about settin’ expectations?”

“Relying on the practicality of a seven-year-old did not turn out as you hoped?”

“Ah, Ichika’s not the problem, actually… it’s just that same talk didn’t work so well on Rukia.”

Byakuya glared at his brother-in-law.

“Well, you know how she is about cute stuff! I mean, look at him, sir, he’s such a charming guy! ”

Milo, as was his usual habit, was asleep on his back, limbs splayed in all directions. Most of him had fallen off his pillow. His tongue had also fallen out of his mouth.

“Perhaps he could spend his days over at the Thirteenth, then,” Byakuya suggested dryly.

“Oh, no, sir, Lieutenant Sentarou’s allergic, you see.’

“I see. You do have a house, Lieutenant. I have been there.”

“Well, sure, sir, but now that Ichika’s in school, no one’s there during the day. He’s so social, I don’t think he’d be happy all by his lonesome.”

Social. Of course. A dog who appeared to sleep for upwards of 22 hours per day.

Byakuya folded his hands. “I have been very tolerant, Lieutenant, but the Sixth Division is a place of calm and deportment and…”

In a flail of legs, Milo suddenly rolled over and sprang to his feet. A noise was emanating from deep in his little doggie ribcage.

“What is happening?” Byakuya asked, alarmed. “What is that sound?”

“He’s growlin’,” Abarai replied curiously, brows creased. “You have a bad dream, guy?”

Milo crept over to the office door, lip curled, hackles raised.

“HEY, BYAKUYA-BOU!”

Every muscle in Byakuya’s body seized. He scrabbled for Senbonzakura.

The door was thrown open and that frightful woman, Shihouin Yoruichi, pranced in.

Or at least she started to.

“Guess who’s back in tow-- aiieee!” The Demon Cat danced backward when she noticed the ball of grey and white fur growling at her feet.

“Milo, heel!” Renji commanded, standing up.

“Milo, belay that!” Byakuya ordered, also standing.

“What the--?!” Yoruichi exclaimed. “When’d you get a dog, Renji? I know that thing doesn’t belong to Byakuya.”

“He is a member of the Sixth Division!” Byakuya roared.

Yoruichi tried to take a step forward, and Milo slunk around her, his growl rising in pitch. “I was just stopping by, can’t stay. Too busy, y’know.” She pointed an index finger at Byakuya. “I will find you later. I know where you live.”

“Ah, too bad, I am dining with the Abarais tonight!” Byakuya snapped. “At their house, where Officer Milo spends his evenings!”

“You are?” Renji asked, puzzled.

“Yes, it is the night you make that thing I like, is it not?”

“You don’t like anything I cook,” Renji pointed out.

“I have changed my mind!”

Yoruichi was growing more and more uncomfortable with the dog snarling at her heels. Finally, she leaned down, made an angry hissing noise and dashed out, slamming the door behind her. A moment passed, then the door slid back open and stuffed her head back in. “I’ll get you, Kuchiki! And your little dog, too!”

Milo barked a single bark at her.

Yoruichi shuddered and slammed the door shut again.

Milo very triumphantly trotted back to his pillow, circled once, and settled back down.

“Good boy,” announced Byakuya.

Milo was back again the next day.

When Byakuya entered the office, he and Abarai stood up in unison to greet their captain.

Byakuya strode up to the dog. “You have proven yourself useful,” he announced. “As long as you continue to do so, you may stay.” He knelt down, and affixed a handsome leather collar around Milo’s neck. From it hung a badge. On one side was etched the character for six, on the other, a camellia. “But members of the Sixth Division must be in uniform.”

#bleach fanfiction #my writing #milo dog #byakuya is a sucker #renji is full of lies #rukia isn't even in this story and yet her vibes are so powerful #just a hint of byahitsu brotp

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theladyofdeath · 5 years

Text

Perfect

12 Days of Christmas in July {day 5}.

Chaol + Yrene

Written alongside my soulmate, @throne-of-ashes-and-beauty

Chaol was miserable.

He was in the middle of a thousand people, all of whom wanted the same toy as they did. He and Yrene had left right after breakfast and gotten to the mall as soon as it opened...only to be met alongside hundreds of other needy parents.

“Is this necessary?” He mumbled under his breath, unsure if his wife could even hear him.

Yrene’s eyes quickly snapped to his. “This is our first Christmas as a family. It’s going to be perfect.”

He fought the urge to roll his eyes, knowing that would only get him in deeper shit.

“Taylon isn’t even one yet, do you really think he’s going to remember whether or not we got him the-.”

Yrene looked over at him again and he shut right up.

She leaned in and whispered, “The woman behind us brought a map — a map, Chaol! This is clearly not her first time doing this. The family in front of us? They have a list of coordinates. We are severely outmatched here and if these people smell our fear, they’re going to eat us alive!”

Chaol just shook his head, suppressing his laughter. When Yrene put her heart and mind into something, it was all or nothing. It was one of the many reasons why he had fallen in love with her.

“Alright, as you wish,” he said, and Yrene grinned in satisfaction.

The doors were about to open and the crowd began to hum with excitement. They were going to go in, get what Yrene wanted, and get the hell out of there as soon as possible.

Except for the toy that Yrene wanted to get for Taylon? Every other set of parents was there to get it, too.

“What happens if we get separated?” Chaol joked.

As Yrene pursed her lips, he could see that she was taking his question seriously. “Probably should meet up at the restrooms or something.”

“Baby,” he chuckled, holding her hand in his. “Calm down. It’s Black Friday shopping, not a war zone.”

He had no idea how wrong he was…

The doors of the mall were unlocked and Yrene grabbed Chaol’s hand to drag him through the chaos. People were bumping into him every other second, and he felt horrible for all the toes he ended up stepping on.

The mall was already fully decorated for the Christmas holiday even though twenty-four hours had not yet passed since they’d eaten their thanksgiving dinner.

Chaol instantly felt sorry for all the poor souls that had to work at the mall on Black Friday.

Front and center was the animatronic teddy bear that was the “hot toy” of the year. He had to admit, it was pretty cute — until it started talking to you.

Regardless, this was the must have toy and his darling wife had made it clear that they must have it.

There were close to 500 boxes piled up in a pyramid and Chaol let out a breath of relief. This wouldn’t be so bad. They could grab the bear, hit the register and be back home before Taylon even woke up.

And then, in the blink of an eye, the pyramid was gone.

“Shit!” Yrene called and her hand was ripped from his as she ran towards the crowd of people gathered around the display.

Chaol watched, half in horror half in awe, as Yrene hurried toward the pile, reaching for a box. Perhaps he should have been the one to go in, but she was quicker, smaller, and far more adamant. If it were up to Chaol, they would’ve gone shopping the week before Christmas to get toys that didn’t cost nearly a hundred dollars.

Yrene was lost among the sea of parents, so Chaol made his move, weaving in and out of the crowd. He finally spotted her pulling and tugging on a box.

Except she wasn’t the only one pulling and tugging. A woman with blonde hair, nearly the same size as Yrene, was tugging on the other end.

“I don’t give a shit if you had it first, I need this toy!” the blonde woman yelled.

Chaol quickly moved in as Yrene was losing her grip. He stepped closer and winked at the blonde woman. “Need some help, ma’am?”

“Please,” she said, sighing. “I have to have this. It’s a collectible.”

His hands closed around the box and both he and the woman pulled the box from Yrene’s hands.

With ease, he took the box from her and it was then in his own hands and under his arm. “She did have it first. Happy shopping,” he said, walking away.

With a smirk and a vulgar gesture, Yrene followed him.

They hurried to the registers and, to further Chaol’s dismay, the line was forever long. It wrapped around the edge of the store and by the time they found the end, Chaol was wishing it was manly and socially acceptable to publicly throw a hissy fit.

Yrene, however, was beaming. She had gotten what she had come for, and Chaol decided that was all that mattered.

Yrene and Taylon were all that mattered. If they were happy, Chaol was too...shopping mall chaos and all.

_____

“Is he asleep?”

Chaol nodded, joining her beneath the lit Christmas tree. He pressed a kiss to Yrene’s forehead before grabbing the tape to help her wrap Taylon’s gifts. It was Christmas Eve, and although there was no way their infant would remember his first Christmas, they did all the traditions.

They made sugar cookies in different holiday shapes, decorating them with icing and sprinkles. They put them on the coffee table with a tall glass of milk, ready for Santa. And to please his reindeer, they also put out a few carrots.

“Do you think he’s going to like it?”

Chaol looked up at Yrene. She was touching an ornament, painted with Taylon’s handprint.

“Like what, love?” He asked, finishing the wrapping on one present and stacking it on top of another. For being less than a year old, he was definitely going to have more presents than some adults.

“His presents,” she said, looking around. “The tree and the decorations. Christmas as a whole.”

He moved the box he had just set in front of him to the side and grabbed Yrene’s wrist, tugging slightly.

“Come here,” he breathed.

She climbed on top of his lap, straddling his waist.

“He’s going to love it,” Chaol smiled, pressing his lips to hers. “Promise.”

She wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck, just holding him. He ran a soothing hand up and down her back.

“Keep doing that and you’re going to put me to sleep,” she said, drowsily.

“That’s the plan, baby,” he laughed.

“What?” She asked, sitting back and looking at him. “No, there’s too much to do and -.”

“And I can handle it,” he said, finishing her sentence and kissing her. “You’ve already done enough. Go to bed, my love.”

After some more persuasion from Chaol, including a few promises regarding his arrival in bed, Yrene relented and pressed a kiss to her husband’s lips before heading up the stairs.

Not long after Chaol followed, stopping in to check on Taylon, who was sound asleep in his crib.

The next morning, Chaol fulfilled one of his promises to Yrene, and when he went to wake up their son, his hair was noticeably more messy. Good thing there was no one but a baby to judge him.

Yrene was still laying in bed when Chaol came back with Taylon, babbling and bouncing in his father’s arms.

“There’s my handsome baby boy,” she crooned, sitting up. Chaol handed him to her and she kissed all over his face. “Merry Christmas, my sweet boy. Merry Christmas.”

He squealed in delight from the attention.

The snow had already begun to fall, the hot chocolate already steaming and sitting on the kitchen counter.

“We have to go see if Santa came,” Yrene said, smile wide and she talked to her little man. “Yes we do.”

Chaol watched them walk down the staircase in front of him, admiring his wife who was wearing one of his old teeshirts. Taylon went wide eyed when he saw the colorful display of wrapped boxes in front of the lit up Christmas tree. The minute Yrene set him on the rug, he was crawling toward them all.

“Looks like Santa ate all the cookies,” Yrene mused.

Chaol cleared his throat. “Yes, and he thought they were delicious.”

“And the carrots?” She asked, raising an eyebrow and glancing at the plate. All four baby carrots remained.

Chaol ducked his head and went to intercept a curious Taylon as he reached to put a Christmas light in his mouth. “Reindeers weren’t hungry. Let’s open presents!”

Yrene only laughed as she sat down on the floor and took Taylon from Chaol.

One by one, Chaol removed the wrapping paper he so meticulously put on the night before. But each time Taylon’s eyes lit up or his squeal of delight filled the house, he knew it was completely worth the little sleep he got.

When there was only one present left, Yrene said, “Let me open this one for him.”

Chaol rolled his eyes, knowing full well which present was left. He slid the package across the floor and took his son from her outstretched hands.

Yrene helped Taylon opened the gift, the bear in which they had waited hours for and wrestled away from another mom.

Once it was opened, Taylor hit the bear’s nose a few times before crawling off Chaol’s lap and picking up a cardboard book about dinosaurs.

Yrene blinked, staring at the bear with her mouth hanging open. Chaol had to fight the laughter that was bubbling up in his throat.

“He…” Yrene hesitated. “Taylon, look at this bear! It talks! It sings! You can name it whatever you want! See the bear?”

Taylon was babbling to himself, hitting his new book against a plush soccer ball he’d also gotten.

Chaol, unable to stop himself, burst out laughing, ending up on his back and clutching his side.

“I can’t believe this,” Yrene said, lip slightly pouting. “I punched an old man for this thing and he doesn’t even care about it.”

Chaol blinked, sitting up. “You did what now?”

She sighed. “Okay, so I didn’t punch him, but I did aggressively shove him. But regardless, he doesn’t even care! He’s more concerned with trying to make dinosaurs play soccer!” She watched him, Chaol keeping an eye on her, and he watched as her face softened. “But he’s happy. He’s happy and that’s all that matters.”

It was moments like these that Chaol couldn’t believe how lucky he was, how amazing his life really ended up.

Taylon let out a sweet, high pitched giggle as the ball rolled away toward Chaol, who picked it up with a smile and rolled it back to his son.

“I think he’s having a great Christmas, babe,” Chaol said, smiling at his wife.

Yrene’s grin widened as she leaned over and kissed her husband, then her son. “He is. So am I. It’s perfect.”

“You don’t want one more gift?” Chaol asked with a smile.

“Didn’t you already give me one this morning?” Yrene was blushing, but Chaol could see a glint in her eye.

Chaol laughed, shaking his head. “Not exactly what I meant, but nice to know where your heads still at this morning.” He stood, turning to walk in the kitchen.

She called after him, “Still thinking about where your head was earlier.”

He threw his head back and laughed, retrieving the small silver box from under the cabinet.

“I’m reminded every day of the many reasons that I love you,” he said, keeping his hand behind his back as he walked back into the living room. “And one of those reasons is your humor.”

“And some others?” Yrene asked, crawling into his lap as he sat down.

“Your beauty,” he said, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “You’re the most brilliant person that I know.” He kissed the other cheek. “You’re the best mother to our son.” A kiss to her nose. “And you’ve got a fine ass.”

“Chaol!” Yrene laughed, swatting at his chest.

He leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to her lips. He lifted his hand to reveal the box. “Merry Christmas, baby.”

Yrene’s eyes went wide. She sat up and straddled his waist. “Baby, we said no gifts this year.”

He smirked. “Yeah, I’ve never been good at following directions.”

It wasn’t wrapped, the filigree along the top of the antique silver box decoration enough. Yrene skimmed her thumb along the lid, before opening it.

“Chaol,” she breathed. “It’s beautiful.”

It was. The sapphire in the middle of the Art Deco style ring was sparkling, shining in the colorful lights of the tree.

She slipped it onto her finger, her eyes lined with silver as she admired it. “Thank you so much.”

His lips pressed against her forehead, then her nose, and her lips.

Taylon quickly crawled over and tried to grab the ring, causing Yrene to fall into a fit of giggles.

This was it, their first Christmas as a family of three.

All Yrene wanted was for it to be perfect, for it to be a day that they would remember for the rest of their lives. And it was just that.

Perfect.

#christmas prompts #chaorene #tog #sjm #fanfic #fanfiction #12 days of christmas #in july #collab #tacmc x throne of ashes and beauty

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parkerparts · 5 years

Text

Christmas Chaos & Confessions

Parkner Week 2019 Day One: “Road Work Ahead” / Parades / Identity Porn

Read it on AO3 here.

Peter loved Christmas. It was probably his favorite holiday, although Valentine’s Day was a close second. However, this Christmas parade shebang was sucking away a good bit of his Christmas spirit.

“You know, I always thought Mr. Harrington was a bit odd, but I didn’t think he was cruel,” Ned said as he walked with Peter.

Midtown had a float for the Christmas parade but a shortage of students who wanted to ride it. Mr. Harrington, in a charitable act, had signed the entire decathlon team up.

Peter sighed. “Yeah, well, at least we get service hours for this. I still need, like, forty.”

Ned started at him. “Dude. You’re literally a superhero. You patrol almost every night. Don’t you think you’ve done more than enough community service?”

“I can’t exactly tell that to the school though!”

“Keeping secrets, are we Petey? Come on, fess up. Is it you who’s been leaving lipstick marks all over the bathroom mirrors?” Harley interjected. Peter felt his face heat as Harley smirked at him. He hadn’t realized they had already reached the Midtown float.

“Don’t call me Petey. And you wish.”

“I do, actually. Light pink lip gloss would really suit you.”

Peter, whose face was surely bright red by now, was saved from having to respond by MJ. “Your gay really popped out, Harley. Calm down. What’s up, losers?”

“We’re good!” Ned replied brightly. “Well, I mean, personally I’d be much better if I was asleep and warm than out here for this stupid parade, but that might just be me?”

A chorus of negatives responded, not just from Peter and his friends, but the rest of the decathlon team and an assortment of other students on the float as they climbed on. Peter shivered as the float started moving. He was wearing no less than three layers underneath the Midtown sweatshirt he had to wear for the parade, but the New York winter wind was biting. His inability to thermoregulate, a definite downside of his spider genes, meant he was still freezing.

Suddenly, he felt a warm, heavy weight on his shoulders, and he looked up. Harley raised an eyebrow when Peter caught his eye. “I know you’re always cold, so I brought an extra blanket. You’re welcome.”

“Thank you, Harley,” Peter murmured, pulling the thick, flannel blanket around himself. It smelled like the lab and DUM-E’s favorite air freshener. The familiar mix of scents warmed him just as much as the physical blanket did.

He felt like he could overheat when Harley smiled gently back at him. For a moment too long to be normal and too short to be satisfactory, they just stared at each other, smiles frozen on their faces, eyes locked on the other’s.

When Harley Keener moved to New York, he found himself a place in Peter’s life so easily that one might think there had been a Harley-shaped hole in his life all along.

Their little moment was broken by a sudden screaming in Peter’s mind to get down, and he screamed the words in panic just before the world burst into flames. He heard the explosion before he felt it, a sharp, metallic bang followed by a gust of heat and smoke that knocked him to the ground. Peter couldn’t see through the smoke, couldn’t breathe, and for a terrifying moment, he was fifteen years old again, trapped under a burning building.

Help, please!

The sound of screaming, Betty and Ned’s screaming, dear God, startled Peter back into his body. He gasped. Smoke filled his lungs, but he coughed it out as he stumbled off of the float and into a hazy alleyway.

Come on, Spider-Man.

Peter pressed a button on his watch. He and Mr. Stark had built it together over Thanksgiving break for emergencies. It housed a compact version of the Iron Spider suit that assembled around Peter in seconds.

“Hello, Peter,” Karen’s calm voice greeted. Peter would have quipped back a response if he hadn’t been too busy gulping in fresh air through the suit’s filtration system. “There seems to be a problem at the intersection of Main Street and Kissena Boulevard.”

“Yeah, I know that. Thanks, K. What am I looking at?” Peter scrambled up the wall of the nearest building and perched on the side of it, looking out at the street. The float in front of Midtown’s was on fire, and it was quickly catching, so Peter swung down as he listened to Karen’s report.

“Osborn Corporation’s float exploded. My scans show that it resulted from a gas leak. There are no deaths or critical injuries. I suggest we contain and put out the fires and move any civilians out of the surrounding area.”

“Any backup?” he asked, landing on Midtown’s float. He knew he should contain the fire first because it was quickly spreading onto Midtown’s float, but those were his friends, and he needed to make sure he got them to safety. He helped a squealing but otherwise uninjured Flash off the float as he scanned the area. Ned and Betty were already running off with a group of other students, MJ was helping Brad off of the float, but Harley was nowhere to be seen.

“Iron Lad is in the area. ETA two minutes.” Peter smiled beneath his mask as he shot a blanket of inflammable webbing over Osborn Corp.’s float. Iron Lad was a relatively new superhero. He had shown up in New York around three months ago in his shiny red and silver suit to help Peter out during a particularly difficult confrontation. Peter had called him his knight in shining iron armor.

Iron Lad was another teenage vigilante. He had described himself as a friendly neighborhood Iron Man when Peter ran into him on patrol the next day. Tony had laughed at that for hours when Peter told him. The other boy also apparently was in contact with Tony, who was frustratingly tight-lipped about the subject whenever Peter brought it up. Peter was grateful for the help. He swallowed his pride and developed a patrol schedule in coordination with Iron Lad, which allowed him a little more time for other stuff. Junior year was rough, and although he felt some niggling guilt about slacking off on his superhero duties, he trusted the city was in good hands with Iron Lad. Peter’s favorite nights, however, were when he would patrol with Iron Lad every Sunday night. They’d usually end by sitting together on a rooftop somewhere and watching the sunrise, despite knowing that they had school the next morning. They spent those nights stopping crime together, sure, but they also ate pancakes from iHop on their rooftop picnics and talked into the early morning.

One night, Peter had confessed his crush on Harley Keener. He decidedly didn’t mention his other crush on Iron Lad. In return, the boy had confessed his own crush, a boy at his school who was apparently a super genius. He hadn’t mentioned a name, though, and Peter hadn’t wanted to ask. It made Peter’s heart sink, but he ignored it and decided it was probably best if the two of them remained friends, anyway.

It didn’t stop him flirting with the other superhero to the best of his ability, but that was nobody’s business but his own.

“Great,” Peter said as he landed on the road next to Osborn Corp.’s float. “Can you find Harley for me?”

There was a heart-stopping pause before Karen shiftily replied, “I cannot—“

The rest of her answer was cut off by the panicked buzzing in Peter’s brain and the following explosion.

“Not again,” he groaned. The impact had thrown him against a building, knocking the wind out of his lungs. He leaned his head back for a moment as he tried to catch his breath and recenter himself. “What was that?”

“The float in front of Osborn Corporation’s was carrying pyrotechnics, which caught fire and went off. Iron Lad is on the scene.”

“Hey, Spider-Boy. How’s it going?” Peter grinned weakly as a familiar figure landed in front of him.

“Better now that you’re here, Iron Knight,” he teased.

“Just a little road work ahead, huh?”

Peter took the outstretched hand and got to his feet. “Uh, yeah. Sure hope it does!” He delighted in the sound of Iron Lad’s laughter as he swung away, the other hero flying right behind him.

Alongside the fire team that eventually showed up, Spider-Man and Iron Lad got the situation under control. While Iron Lad helped contain and put out the fires, Peter cleared the area of civilians and treated the minor injuries he saw. Some people with more severe burns and broken bones, he helped into the ambulances that arrived.

Finally, the two superheroes left the scene behind for the policemen, who would handle the legal side of things. They hovered in the air for a moment, Peter on a web and Iron Lad with his repulsors. “Good work, Spidey.”

Peter grinned. “Thanks, man. Don’t know what I would have done without my favorite crime-fighting partner.”

“I’m your favorite? Wow, I’m flattered. Don’t let the big man hear you say that. He’d get jealous.”

“I’ll face Iron Man’s wrath for you any day.” Peter said. “See you around, Iron Lad!”

As Peter swung away, he saw the other boy salute, causing him to laugh. He spotted his friends and the other Midtown students gathered on the football field, so he quickly dropped into a nearby abandoned building to get out of his suit before running over.

A cheer went up as they saw Peter jogging across the football friend. He suspected it had more to do with the fact that, with the roll call finally complete, they could all go home and be done with the whole mess, but it made him smile, anyway.

“There you are, Peter!” Harley cried, running to him and meeting him halfway. “Jesus, I was so worried about you. Where were you? What took you so long to get here?”

“I got lost?” Peter started before nodding to himself. “Yeah, I got loss. The first explosion really shook me up, and the smoke made me disoriented. I was probably halfway to Brooklyn before realizing I was going in the wrong direction.”

Without warning, Harley pulled him into a hug. Peter really hoped that he couldn’t feel his heartbeat racing. “I’m just real glad you’re okay, Petey.”

“Don’t call me Petey,” he grumbled into Harley’s shoulder. “Sorry, I lost your blanket. I’ll buy you a new one.”

Harley laughed, a rumble that Peter felt more than heard, and it warmed him to the core. “You’re adorable.”

“I’m not!” Peter cried indignantly, pulling away.

“You are,” MJ butt in as Ned swept Peter into a hug of his own. Ned and MJ both knew about his whole Spider-Man gig and were therefore much more chill about his late appearance than Peter. Well, Ned always worried whenever Peter became Spider-Man, but they had both seen him unharmed in the midst of the chaos.

It wasn’t like Peter hadn’t told Harley on purpose. He trusted Harley with his heart, but he just never got around to saying anything about it. However, as Harley swung an arm around his shoulders and pulled him into his side, Peter resolved to tell Harley later that day. He hated seeing the other boy worried, and he didn’t want to keep secrets from him anymore.

“Do you guys want to go get hot chocolate or something? It’s on me, since I made you worry so much,” Peter offered.

“As lovely as that sounds, we’ll have to take a rain check, Peter. It’s about time we started heading back for lunch. I’m sure everyone saw the news, and I let them know we’re both fine, but you know how they are. Unless you want Iron Man showing up in the middle of Starbucks to drag us both home, we should probably save it for another day,” Harley reminded him.

Peter pouted. “Fine. We’ll see you guys later!”

Ned and MJ waved them off as Harley and Peter started walking. Leah and Abbie had arrived the night before from Tennessee as soon as Abbie’s Christmas break started, so Tony was hosting a get-together lunch at the penthouse he, Pepper, Morgan, and Harley lived in. May, Happy, and Rhodey would all be joining them. It was a little family reunion for the holidays.

Peter and Harley walked in a comfortable silence. The bustle of the city, the wind whistling in his ears, and the steady drum of Harley’s heartbeat calmed Peter down. The last sound especially washed away the lingering panic he had felt when Harley was nowhere to be seen after the first explosion.

“I have something to tell you,” Peter said, suddenly, at the same time as Harley. They both stopped a block away from their building and turned to face each other.

“You first,” Harley said with a laugh.

Peter shook his head. “Nah, it’s fine. You go first.”

“This is my first white Christmas,” Harley said, the sudden softness of his tone startling Peter. “Abbie’s too. I’m just really glad to be spending it with y’all. All of y’all. Tony, Pep, Morgan, Abbie, Mama, and you. You’re my family, and I just, I guess I’m just trying to say thank you.”

“Oh, Harley,” Peter murmured, grabbing the other boy’s hand. “You’re so welcome. We’re so lucky to have you here.”

Harley smiled and squeezed his hand. “Thanks,” he repeated. “Now your turn.”

Peter took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a second. “I’m Spider-Man.”

He opened his eyes to watch Harley’s reaction. It surprised him how passive it was. His face didn’t change, and he didn’t make any noise. If it wasn’t for the twitch of his lips and the knowing glimmer in his eyes, Peter would have thought Harley didn’t hear him.

“Yeah, I kind of figured.”

Peter stared at Harley for a moment. “I’m sorry, what? How?”

“Working alongside you to do vigilante work feels a lot like how we work in the lab and do school work together, and you have that moral goodness and self-sacrificing tendency of a superhero.”

Peter shrugged his shoulders. “Yeah, okay. That’s fair. Wait, hold up. Rewind. What did you say? We do vigilante work together? Who-” It took an embarrassingly long few seconds to put together all the pieces in his scrambled brain, but he realized “You’re Iron Lad. Oh, crap. That’s embarrassing.”

Harley laughed and bumped Peter’s shoulder with his own. “Hole in one, Parker. I always knew you were a child genius. And how is that embarrassing?”

“Because,” Peter sighed, resigning himself to another confession. “I distinctly remember telling Iron Lad that I have a crush on one Harley Keener.”

At that, Harley had a more pronounced reaction. His eyes widened, and his grip on Peter’s hand tightened. “Oh. That’s right. Forgot about that.”

“Yeah.”

“It’s okay though. I told Spider-Man that I have a crush on Peter Parker.”

Peter let go of Harley’s hand in surprise. “I’m sorry, you what now? I definitely would have remembered that.”

“Didn’t I?” Harley asked, tilting his head to the side. “I remember telling you as Spidey about the time that you as Peter Parker bitch slapped Brady for leaking a freshman girl’s nudes and how that was the moment I realized I kind of really liked you.”

Peter laughed at the memory. “I do remember that actually, but you never mentioned any names, and I didn’t know what school you went to, so how was I supposed to know?”

“You’re a genius, aren’t you?” Harley laughed. Peter couldn’t help but smile.

“Not when it comes to you, I’m not. I never know what to do with myself around you, yet somehow I’m like most comfortable around you,” Peter admitted.

Harley smiled softly. “Back at you, Petey.”

“Don’t call me Petey,” Peter reminded him as he hugged the other boy. “In case it wasn’t clear, Harley Keener, I really, really like you.”

“And I really, really like you too, Peter Parker,” Harley whispered in his ear. They stayed like that, hugging each other in the middle of a winter flurry, for a moment that Peter wanted to last forever.

Then a snowball crashed into the side of his face, and Peter remembered that good things never last forever.

“Abbie!” Harley cried indignantly, tearing himself from Peter’s arms to chase after his giggling little sister. “You little gremlin, come back here!”

Peter laughed as he chased after the both of them. “Good to see you too, cowgirl!” he cried, stopping to pick up a handful of snow in his mittened hands.

Later, as everyone gathered in the penthouse’s living room to watch a Christmas movie, Peter placed himself in Harley’s arms as they sat surrounded by blankets on the floor. This, he thought, placing a tender kiss on Harley’s cheek, is my happy place.

#parkner week 2019 #parkner week #harleypeter #parkner #parley #harley keener #peter parker #fluff

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