#and there can be any pairing really but i think either dick x danny or tim x danny would work well

[moss-on-trees]

dp x dc prompt: snow white au

danny pulls away from his friends and family due to an incident where a ghost coming to challenge him for the throne almost killed jazz. he flees to the ghost zone and spends his time ruling the ghost zone - which is suprisingly chill, considering ghosts are used to ruling themselves. he could do without the paperwork - and helping clockwork set the timeline right when it is necessary. he is only ever out in his human form when he is travelling back in time.

on one occasion, he is about to go back to the ghost zone after handling an issue with the timestream in [insert distant time period there] in another dimension when he is stabbed in the back while he is in his human form. close to death, he freezes himself with his ice so he can be safe while he heals, waiting for clockwork to take him back. but the ghost of time never does what's expected of him: he puts danny in a time out and hides him from view.

eons later, a team of superheroes find a young man trapped in glowing ice with a green sticky note stuck next to his face saying it is time for the ghost king to wake up.

[kileyrose-2003]

Dan Torrance x Fem! Reader Pt. 4

A/N: Hello lovelies, this is Pt.4 of my Dan fic with it revolving around Rose. Bare with me while I write Pt.5. I have a couple of new request coming out through out the course of this week and the next week. Pt. 5 will be picking up with Rose’s perspective on things so be prepared for an emotional roller coaster. I sincerely hope you all are doing well and I love you all. Link to intro is here, Pt.1, Pt.2, and Pt.3

Enjoy!

You spent the rest of the night in yours and Danny's bedroom, never falling asleep and simply staring at the ceiling. "How could she?" Was a recurring question you found your asking over and over as images of the poor baseball boy entered your mind.

He had a family that was never going to see him again. That was always going to wonder where he was and if he was safe. There would never be any closure for them and you found your lip trembling and eyes watering at the very thought of it.

Danny didn't fall back asleep either. Constantly pacing back and forth from the guest bedroom to the kitchen in some sort of attempt to try and release some of his worry about you. He yearned to hold you in his arm and to just make all the pain go away even though he knew he couldn't do that for you. No one could.

He was scared too. Scared that one of the members of The True Knot was going to come after you and hurt you. Or worse, they'd take you from him and all he'd be left with for a clue would be a rummaged through purse and a shoe that had no matching pair. Though he tried his hardest not to think of that. He didn't want to lose you. He feared losing his control that you helped him craft to control his power to not hit the end of the bottle. Because he knew if he didn't have you, he would go back to the end of the bottle.

Around 9:30 you heard a knock on your bedroom and rolled over in bed although you were awake. "You can come in!" You called out. Danny peaked his head through and smiled. "Hey..I didn't know if you were hungry but I made coffee and breakfast. I don't know if it's as good as your cooking but I figured I try."

Despite how dead you felt inside you managed to smile. "Thanks honey...just give me a minute to wash my face and stuff, please?"

"Sure. I'll see you in the kitchen." He blew you a kiss. "I'll be there." You clambered out of bed once he walked away and walked into the bathroom connected to your bedroom and turned the light on.

You turned the water on and stared at your reflection in the mirror, taking note of how puffy your eyes looked and how tired you felt. You hadn't felt that way since you were working in that bar back when you met Danny. "God, I'm a fucking mess."

You lowered your head and threw some water on your face. The coolness alleviating some of the pain from your puffy eyes. You reached out for your face wash to wash some of the smudged makeup from the previous day but something didn't feel right. You were cold and you felt your heart racing. Almost like you were anxious. You set your hands down on the counter and gripped the sink. Trying to get rid of some of the anxiety. You noticed your ring was glimmering from the light shining down on it from your vanity and you found your lips twitching to form a smile.

(That's a nice ring you got there, Y/n. Danny spend his entire paycheck on that or did he inherit it?)

You felt the hairs on your arms standing straight up and you moved your hands away from the sink to see a set of glowing blue eyes staring back at you in the mirror. 'Rose.'

(Well, hi there darlin.)

"Shit!" You tripped over the mat in your bathroom and fell back into the wall, squeezing your eyes shut. "You're not real, you're not real. You can't hurt me here or anymore. Go away!"

(Oh sweetie, I'm very much real.)

"Stop!"

(We've always been connected, you and I. Even all that time we didn't see or speak, I always knew where you were. I just never bothered to reach out. Until now. Now that I know what special people you have in your life now that you hold so dear to you, I feel obliged too.)

"Don't you even think about getting near them or I'll-"

(You'll what? Kill me? Please, you and I both know you don't have guts to come back home and look me in the eye and admit you were wrong. Let alone kill me. You've always been the baby in the group.)

"I'm a lot stronger now, than you think I am."

(We'll see about that when the time come for it. There's no escaping me, Y/n. Or your fate. You were always meant to be with us. One of us. The sooner you accept that, the easier that process will be for you.)

Despite Rose's still face you could see the psychoticness glinting in her eyes. "I could never be like you! I'm nothing like you! Especially after what you did to that little boy."

(Oh yes you are. You're my spitting image. In more ways than one, honeybunch.)

You could feel Rose inside your head, peaking at all your thoughts and memories and you gripped at your hair.

"Stop it! Stop it!"

(My! Aren't you a busy girl?)

"Get out! Get out of my head!" The mirror began to shake and you let out a scream. "GET OUT!"

"Y/n?! Y/n! What's happening?" You could practically feel Rose laughing with malicious glee at the panic she was causing. "Stay away from me, Danny! Stay away!"

(No, come closer Danny Boy. I still haven't gotten the pleasure of seeing your face.)

"Stop! Stop! This has nothing to do with him." As much as you swore to yourself you wouldn't cave in to give her any satisfaction, you couldn't do it anymore and tears started flowing down your cheeks.

"But it does." Her voice. It shouldn't be that close to you. You felt soft hair brush up against your shoulder and the smell of strong musky incenses and flowers enter your nostrils. Her breath was so close to your ear, you could practically feel the moisture from it sitting on your skin. "I'd imagine even after all those years in AA, he still would taste like whiskey."

You started swinging your arms and kicking your legs. "DON'T YOU FUCKING TOUCH HIM! GET AWAY! GET AWAY!"

"Y/n!" Dan went running down the hallway. "What's wrong?!" You could see his feet from the crack of the door. "Don't come in! I-i can handle it."

"Bullshit, you can." You could hear him grabbing the skeleton key and you freaked out. "No! No! No!" You didn't Rose in the mirror or standing next to you anymore but if she was right on you being connected, you didn't know if she could hear or see what you were either.

The knob on the bathroom door began to jiggle and Dan opened the door. "Y/n." You shook your head. "Stay back."

"Y/n-" You pointed a finger up at the bathroom mirror. "She-she was looking at me!

"Who?" He shut the water off and helped you off the ground and held your hands in his to try and stop you from trembling. "Rose, that woman who killed that little boy!" You started sobbing.

"Okay..okay." He pulled you into hug and ran a hand through your hair, looking at the bathroom mirror with contempt. "It's alright, honey. She's gone."

"She knows your name, Danny. I don't like it." He kissed your hair. "If that's all she knows, that's the least of our worries." You tried to interrupt him but he shushed you. "It's all going to be alright, I promise." He wiped a tear from your cheek and held your face in his hands. "Okay?"

"Okay." He let go of you and held your hand. "Come on, let's get out of here." You nodded and flicked the switch in the bathroom, following Danny out to the kitchen.

You sat down at the island and he set your coffee and breakfast of you. "Thank you." He gave a slight nod and you looked him up and down. "Why are you jeans so early?"

"I'm covering Teenytown for Billy this morning, helping out with the train." You giggled and shook your head, taking a sip of your coffee. "You're such a man child."

"True, but I'm your man child." You smiled briefly and Dan's face changed as he watched you for a moment. "Look, about last night...we're good, right?" You were quick to nod. "Yeah..what made you think we weren't?" You asked. "I don't know.. it just made me a little nervous that you wanted to sleep alone last night." You let out a sigh and Dan held your face. "I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable or upset you last night because I was acting like an asshole but look..I love you, okay? I just worry about you."

"I know, but I'm okay. I promise." Your eyes interlocked and Dan's lip hinted at a smile. "Alright." You stood up and he kissed you gently on the lips. "I love you."

"Love you too. You'll be home for dinner?" He shook his head. "AA meet tonight then work. I stop vacation today, remember?"

"Damn it. I totally forgot. It's okay though. No big deal." You smiled. "So I'll probably be home around eight tomorrow morning. I can stop at that cafe you like on the way back. Get some coffee and bagels. How's that sound?" You looped your arms around his neck. "Sounds great. You spoil me. You know that? More than I deserve."

"With all you've done for me over the years, I wouldn't call it spoiling. It's my showing of appreciation." He booped your nose and you giggled. You released him from your hold and leaned your body against the fridge as you watched Dan slip his shoes on. "See you later, sweetheart."

"See ya." You looked out the window to watch him leave. "Promise me you'll be alright?" Dan yelled from outside and you let out a sigh. "I'll be fine. Love you!"

"Love you more!" Dan got in his car, giving you a slight wave before pulling out the driveway. You breathed inwardly and turned away from the window, looking at the huge REDRUM on the wall and felt chills run up your spine. "You'll be okay, Y/n..you'll be fine."

"You're not really okay though, are you?" You were thrown off guard and looked behind you. There was a man standing in the corner wearing a navy blue suit. "You must be Dick."

"Indeed I am. It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Miss Y/n." His energy felt warm and it brought a smile to your face. "It's nice to meet you too."

"When Danny was a boy he'd talk to me a lot about you. It feels like a second ago but I imagine it's not. This world is a dream of a dream to me now." You nodded. "He's doing okay now? Last time I seen Dan, he was down the gutter bad."

"Yeah, he's okay now. He's been sober 8 years," You hummed. "Good." You stood away from the fridge. "Why are you here?"

"I'm here because it all comes run. Ka is a wheel, Miss Y/n. Though something tells me you know that already." You didn't respond for a moment and Dick sighed.

"He doesn't want to help her. He says it's too dangerous for me." Dick chuckled heartily. "Yeah well, he doesn't have much of a choice in the matter. Does he? He owes a debt. Now he needs to pay it."

"Is it going to hurt him though? To repay it?" You rubbed your face. "Either way, it's out of our control. Over 30 years later I'm still on the hook. Same thing with your mother too. Your debt is partially paid though."

"Partially?" Dick smiled. "I know where you come from, Miss Y/n. I knew since the moment Danny first talked to me about you and I knew you were two of a kind. While the two hollow souls that raised you keep at hurting children while their shine dies and their addiction grows, yours shines bright and you ended the cycle for someone else. Fighting for the separation of identity from that upbringing. I can say only that much."

He turned away. "It seems to me despite all odds, you grew up mighty fine Miss Y/n. You keep at whatever you're doing with Dan because it's working. I'll see him later on but after that, neither of you will see me anymore. You still owe a small sum of debt though: pay it."

Before you could say anymore, Dick was gone and you started crying. "Fuck! I-i can't face them. I'm not strong enough to face them." You sunk down to the floor and started rocking yourself back and forth, glancing up at the REDRUM occasionally. "I should of never of dragged him into this. I'm going to get him killed!"

You desperately wanted Danny to come home. To have him hold you in his arms and tell you it all was a bad dream. The worst nightmare you ever had but you knew that wasn't true.

You looked at your reflection on the metallic surface of the fridge and hated what you seen. You didn't see yourself. You seen that girl. That girl who was so scared of the world because no matter how she got told she was loved and safe, she never felt. Because even when she was in a better place, the pains she buried deep inside would open themselves. Bleeding into her happiness and when people would ask her if she was okay she would smile, giving them a show they always believed because even though she could see the truth she never wanted to face it. You weren't that girl anymore. You were strong and you were true. So why did you see that girl now?

"Because I'm afraid," You answered aloud. You didn't want to go back to Colorado and see Crow and Rose but you knew you had to and you could do it. You weren't a child anymore and they had no control over you. You were in charge of your life now and you were free to make your own decisions. For the time in a while, you felt like you were loved. You loved Danny and he loved you and you weren't about to let go of that so easily. "I won't let them hurt him. Him or that little girl." There was a soft knock at the door and wiped your face. "Just a second, please!"

"Okay!" You knew that voice. Just where from, you didn't know. You looker out the peep hole before unlocking the door. "Hi, Aunt Y/n!"

The nickname sunk deep in your mind and everything clicked together like a puzzle and you stared at child in front you before speaking. "A-abra?!" A pair of small arms wrapped themselves around your waist and hugged you tight. "Yeah. It's nice to finally meet you." You returned the hug back confusedly and eventually let go. "H-honey what are you doing here? Not that I'm not happy not to see you but it's 12. Shouldn't you be at school?" You knew the kid standing in front of you couldn't of been over 13.

"I went for my first three classes but then I skipped because I wanted to see you after everything last night." She noticed your puffy eyes. "You okay?"

"Yeah..I'm fine. I'm just glad you're okay." Abra smiled. "Can I come in?" She gestured to the inside of your house. "Yeah. Did you have lunch yet?"

The young girl stepped inside and shook her head. "I'll make you lunch then. You cool with grilled cheese?"

"Yeah, I'm cool with it."

...

Being a pediatric nurse meant you had met many different children, all of them with their own unique personalities and traits but by far Abra Stone had to be the most fascinating you knew now. Not only was she steamy but she was highly intelligent for her age. Comprehending things on a level you couldn't even picture yourself doing at her age.

The two of you sat next to each other at the island in your kitchen as the two of you talked. You had her go over the weird radios thing on how she found this boy in the first. "..You have it too, you know. Yours is a little different there because yours is more like a tracker thing. Almost like a GPS." You thought about for a moment. "Yeah..I guess you're right." Abra giggled and took a moment to regain her composure. "So..what exactly is what do called? Magic?"

"Dan always called it the Shining, so now that's what I call it." You shrugged and took a sip of water. "We shine..I like that." You nodded. "Me too. It's better than being called special. That's what my mother used to call me. Though I don't think she meant it in a good way." You rolled your eyes and forced a smile.

"There's not a lot of people like us out there?" You nodded. "And many of the people that are out there and like us, are dangerous."

"Like those people?" You breathed in sharply. "Yes." You paused for a moment. "How are you feeling after everything last night?" Abra sighed. "Okay, I guess. Still a little spooked though. Those people..who are they?"

"Empty devils of a sort. Who I don't want you interacting with. At all." Abra raised a brow. "You've seen them before?" You gave a slight cynical smile. "I guess you can say that." You could tell Abra was trying to dissect the meaning of the sentence but let it go. "What does Uncle Dan think about all this?"

"He won't say it to me but it scares him. He's afraid, for me and you. The hat woman, Rose is her name, she's always known who I am. She doesn't who you are though and I want to keep it that way."

"I hate her..I hate her for what she did to that little boy." You frowned. "I know..me too. When she comes back though, because knowing her the way I do, I know she will; I'm going to help you. Because it won't be a few days from now it will be weeks or months later at a time you least expect it."

"What about Uncle Dan?" You made a face. "He doesn't want to help. Yet. He's married to me though so when the time comes, he's going to help. Whether he likes it or not because I already made it clear to him he has no choice in this." Abra chuckled.

"Anyways, back on topic. With that being said, do not chase after these people. Understand? Or even think about them. Because like how we have weird radios that can find people like us, they have it too. A few of them might have it even stronger than we do and the last thing we need is one of them finding who you are."

"Do they know who Uncle Dan is?" You rubbed your face. "They know his name but not who he is and I'm trying to keep that the same too for as long as I can."

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't of dragged you both into this. I just panicked and-" You interrupted her. "You don't need to apologize for something you have no control over. I was your age once. I know how it feels to be scared."

"What happens when they find out who we are?" You sighed. "That a mountain we'll conquer when the times but either way, I'm not going to let them hurt you. Got it?"

"Got it." Abra slid off the chairs and gave you a hug. "Thank you for being there for me and believing me." You hugged her back. "Of course."

"I got to go. The bus ride back to my house is about an hour and neither of my parents know I skipped." You nodded and Abra grabbed her bookbag. "Take care of yourself, kiddo. And stay safe please?"

"I will. Bye, Aunt Y/n!" You smiled and waved to her. "Bye honey." As Abra left, you looked at the REDRUM and your posture stiffened. Thinking about how Rose made you seen that girl after you swore to never see her again. You gave her the satisfaction of getting to you but getting Abra, you refused to let that happen. Even if it cost your life.

"I think the fuck not, Rose. I think the fuck not..."

[snarkwrites]

FFT: galentines; john shaw

Notes:

Okay, so... Did I mention I totally fell in love with Dean Ambrose’s character John in the movie Lockdown? Because yeah, yeet, oops. This is a result of that. And maybe at some point, I might revisit this whole.. Idea.. of mine. Idk. For now, this is part 1 in a two part thing.

Summary:

Valerie and John were a thing years ago. Now they work together. But there’s lack of closure and BOTH PARTIES are still in love. Maybe drinks are had and maybe John does the sober boss thing and takes Valerie home?

Pairing:

Detective John Shaw x OFC, Valerie.

Warnings:

alcohol tw, flirting and angst.

“It’s over-commercialized bullshit, that’s what it is. No one is ever going to tell me any different.” Valerie was turning the glass upside down as soon as she slammed back her shot of tequila and shaking her head at the bitterness.

“Aren’t you worried you’ll get called into the station. By our boss and your partner, the hardass?” Tess teased Valerie just in the hopes that it’d get Valerie ranting and raving about her crush on the man in question because she was almost certain that she’d seen Officer Shaw walk into the bar earlier, flashing his badge around, looking all official. And Tess really, really, really wanted to see Valerie stick her foot right in her mouth at last. The tension between the two when they were all on the clock was almost enough to make everyone around them squirm in anticipation. It was almost as if they knew each other before they started working together on the force. Several times Tess got the feeling there was something neither of them were telling her, but she let it alone. She let them keep insisting things were complicated because somehow, she got the feeling they were beyond that.

For about 3 seconds, the words of her best friend almost sobered Valerie up. But she started to laugh and she shrugged. “I told him I get tonight off. Because Valentines Day.” Valerie giggled and shook her head, glaring at the rest of her friends when they immediately chimed in “Crime doesn’t take a night off.” her three best friends all mimicked Officer Shaw.

Valerie bit her lip, grabbing for the bottle of tequila between the four of them and after taking a lime wedge and shaking some salt onto the back of her hand, she took another shot. “Do you guys k-know how f-fucking hard it is w-working with John Shaw?”

“Oh god, here we go.”

“Hey, somebody should record this.”

“D-don’t y-you dare. With those f-fucking arms and those e-eyes, holy shit. Man is a walking w-wet dream. I c-can’t fuckin f-focus when he walks into my o-office.” Valerie was off to the races, ranting on without a care in the world and her friends were all sitting back and quietly giggling. At one point during the most filthy part of Valerie’s rant on the things she wanted Officer Shaw to do to her and a few things she wouldn’t mind doing to him, Tess caught sight of Valerie’s partner -and their boss, nursing a bottle of water and sitting at the edge of the bar, staring right at Valerie intently.

He did it all the time.

The next thing Tess knew, she was getting a text from an unknown number. The mystery was solved as soon as she opened the text though and Tess smirked to herself as her eyes scanned the message Officer Shaw sent her.

← Thought Valerie had a hot date or somethin’ tonight…

Tess had plans already, she was meeting a guy she swiped right and matched on Tinder with -if he bothered showing up. Their other two friends Rita and Addie had taken an Uber over to the bar after their shift at the hospital and were leaving as soon as their husbands got off work from a local steel factory. Tess had a feeling she knew exactly what Officer Shaw was getting at though, and just the thought that she might be right and this might be a damn good chance to play matchmaker between Shaw and Valerie. And that’s exactly what she set about doing, with her answering texts.

→ No sir. Not us. Never. ;P

→ Valerie got dumped earlier, so she’s havin’ a rough night. I think she started drinking at 5-ish?

→ I gave her a lift here, but if my Tinder guy ever shows, I’m getting outta here because I plan on getting l a i d tonight, sir. So.. Val is deffo gonna need a ride.

→  But then again, she’s the only one you were really askin’ about, am I right? ;P

As soon as she’d responded, she put away her phone. She spotted the red and black plaid scarf that her Tinder date mentioned he’d be wearing and she took two more rapid-fire shots, standing as she wiped her hands down the front of her jeans. “Ladies, my ride awaits. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do tonight. If you do, name it after me.. Or don’t. I’m outta here.”

Valerie gave a laugh and called out in a cheeky tone to her best friend, “ Wrap it up! You don’t know where that dick’s been, sweetheart!” her level of drunkenness making her usual drawl even thicker and much more pronounced. She stood, sliding off the barstool and she started to make her way towards the back, with Rita and Addie in tow.

Walking isn’t really a word for what she was doing. Stumbling was more like it. Rita and Addie flanked her on either side, holding her steady until she came to a stop in front of the old jukebox sitting next to a pool stick holder mounted to the back wall of the bar. After digging around in her pockets, she finally found a ten dollar bill and she set to straightening it, pouting and swearing when that task proved to be just a bit more difficult than she anticipated.

“Girl.”

“Give me that, holy shit.” Addie reached out, taking the badly wrinkled bill, smoothing it over the edge of the machine before slipping it into the slot. “No stripper anthems tonight.”

“Aw, c’mon, whyyyy.” Valerie whined and pouted, but burst into laughter. “Fine. W-we’re listenin t-to metal.”

“Oh god.”

“She’s gonna be so hungover tomorrow. Christ, Rita, her hair is gonna hurt.” Addie grimaced as Rita glanced over towards the end of the bar. Spotting Valerie’s partner sitting there nursing a glass of water, she got Addie’s attention as Valerie wandered over to the rack of pool sticks and grabbed one, chalking the tip.

“Okay, so here’s my thought. Tess has already told the guy that Val is gonna need a lift. When Mike and Danny show, we’ll kinda herd her over there to him.”

“We can’t do that, Rita.”

“We can and we are. Because it’s about time they both acted on the way they feel. Guy’s always around, Addie. He wouldn’t show up here if it weren’t for our wildcat best friend. And you know what Tess keeps saying, they’re always fighting. Think, Addie.. How’d it start with you and Danny?”

“Ooh. Good point. Okay, fine. I’m in. But I don’t like it. And he better not be a dick about it.”

“Somehow I don’t think he will, Addie.” Rita mused as she nodded in the direction of Officer Shaw. Valerie’s laughter and Sad But True by Metallica shattered the otherwise quiet bar and Rita gave a wink to the officer sipping water as his gaze flickered from her to Valerie, settling on Valerie who was currently racking the table for a game while trying to sing along with the song and wiggling her hips to it.

“At least she’s not at home ugly sobbing into a pint of ice cream like with Ben.” Addie mused as Rita nodded in agreement and reached for a pool stick. “C’mon. I feel like tonight’s that night, Val. Tonight I’m gonna push you right off that champion throne.”

“R-rita, I l-love you but n-no. N-nope. You’re h-horrible at t-this.”

“No, you’re just a little hustler. That’s all.”

Valerie squealed, smiling at her in a goofy way. “Awww, bitch, y-you always say the sweetest shit.”

“Okay, sugar. Get the stick and get ready for your beating.”

They were about halfway into the game when Rita and Addie’s husbands showed up to collect them and Rita wandered past Officer Shaw, leaning in to whisper, “Okay, stud. She’s gonna need a lift. Don’t be an ass. It’s been a rough day for her. When you two got into it earlier? She’d just finished crying in the employee bathroom while textin’ me.”

John’s gaze left Rita and settled on Valerie, watching her like a hawk. Ozzy Osbourne was playing now and Valerie was taking a long sip from the forgotten bottle of tequila. He grimaced and nodded in her direction as he asked Rita, “Any reason why?”

“Yeah, her ass of an ex, Ben. He dumped her over text.”

John grimaced again, finishing off his bottled water as he glanced at the time on his phone screen and stood. “The four of ya be careful.” he told Rita as Rita nodded and then told him, “Have fun wrangling her, Officer. Use the cuffs if you have to.”

[writing-of-a-british-bitch]

Baby Steps

 Fandom: Queen/ Bohemian Rhapsody

Specified gender: Neutral ( or at least I tried, I may have fucked up a few times)

Pairing: Roger Taylor X reader

TW: language, mention of death

Genre: angst with a fair bit of fluff

Word Count: 2.4K

Request:  can you write a roger x reader in which the reader is sad and roger consoles her and then he tries to kiss her and she gets angry with him because she thinks he is taking advantage of the moment of sadness to have sex with her but in the end, he confesses his feelings

A/N: I honestly feel like I could've written this better. Sorry guys.

Requests: OPEN

"I put my heart and soul into this song "Roger growled, moving the bacon around the pan aggressively. You strolled in, leaning on the counter between John and Brian. Bri waved silently.

"No one is disputing that, "John replied, pointing his fork in the air.

"And you don't like it because you want your song on the album" Roger accused and Bri slid you a cup of coffee.

"It's not that Roger." John huffed, his long hair following as he tilted his head in annoyance. Your rolled your eyes and Roger prickled angrily. Out of all the boys, you were the most distant with Roger. You two didn't hate each other, you just didn't have too much in common. He still cared about you, as you did him, you guys were a family after all.

"Then what is it?" Roger snapped. Grabbing the lyrics of his song off the counter, your eyes scanned the page and your face scrunched up in confusion and in slight disgust. Then a certain line pulled a laugh from your throat and Roger glared daggers at you.

"'I'm In Love With My Car'. Maybe it's not strong enough?" Brian suggested, sarcasm tinting his smooth voice.

"What does that even mean 'not strong enough'?" Roger exclaimed before Freddie wandered in, taking his place beside John.

"I know I'm late, what did I miss?" Freddie asked, bringing the mug to his lips.

"Discussing Roger's car song," John answered with a raised eyebrow

"Is it strong enough? That's all I'm asking. If I'm on my own here then I apologize." Brian stated, raising his hands.

"How does your song go then?" Roger angrily snatched Bri's song from the table, crushing one of the corners accidentally. "You call me sweet like I'm some kind of cheese'" he read, throwing his arms down.

"I mean, it's good." You responded and Roger's eyes turned to you.

"Wow." He hissed sarcastically.

"What? 'When my hand's on your grease gun'?" You shot back, carefully folding the paper and handing it to Bri. John was hiding a smile behind his mug and Freddie wasn't even attempting to contain his laughter.

"That's very subtle isn't it?" Bri enquired, shooting Roger his signature bitch face.

"It's a metaphor, Brian!" Roger snapped, eyes narrowing at the curly-haired guitarist.

"It's just a bit weird, Roger. What exactly are you doing with that car?" John interjected. He was clearly teasing, but Roger didn't get the memo.

"Children, please. We could all murder each other but then who would be left to record this album?" Freddie stated, taking a sip of coffee.

"Statistically speaking, most bands don't fail, they break up," John responded between mouthfuls of food.

"Why the hell would you say something like that? Roger, there's only room in this band for one hysterical queen." Freddie said, keeping his eyes trained on Roger.

"You know why you're angry Roger?" Brian began. You shot him a side-eyed glance, knowing he was about to reignite the fire.

"Why?" Roger requested, frustration clear in his voice.

"Because you know your song isn't strong enough," Brian answered and Roger grabbed some bacon, flinging it at Brian's face.

"Is that strong enough?" Roger yelled, before throwing some bread and eggs at you and John.

"How about that?" You rolled your eyes, knowing you'd have to wash your hair again to get it out your hair. Roger grabbed the coffee machine, lifting it over his head.

"NOT THE COFFEE MACHINE!" You all shouted and Roger stopped mid-air, steam practically rolling from his ears. Roger slammed the coffee machine back down before storming off. You watched him for a second as John and Bri continued eating.

"Sorry about that (Y/N). You're gonna have to wash your hair to get that crap out"Bri apologized and you shook your head.

"Don't worry, hun, I signed up for this when I joined the band." You grabbed another piece of bread and slotted it in the toaster.

"He'll be over it in at least half an hour," John added, standing up and placing his plate in the sink.

"Is he always this ... on edge?" You asked. You'd only been part of the band for a few weeks after being kicked out of your own band. You were a drummer and a backup singer, though singing was most definitely your strong point. Your bandmates were some people you used to be friends with in college. They were a bunch of dicks and the lead singer constantly wanted attention to an absurd degree. His name was Mike. Mike wasn't a very good singer, but because he knew singers usually got the most attention, and he wanted all the limelight, he took that up. Despite knowing that you were a better singer, he forced you to learn drums and continuously pushed you past your limit, resulting in countless scars on your hands. Every day led to a new argument, but apparently one day you 'went too far' and they kicked you out. However, a group called Queen had seen you playing and found you mid-argument. After seeing you getting kicked from your band, Freddie practically demanded you become part of theirs.

"He's got an explosive temper, threw a TV out the window once, "Brian answered. You rolled your eyes. Sounds like Roger. The toast suddenly popped up, causing you and John to jump in unison. You pulled the toast out, taking a bite as Brian began washing his and John's plates.

"Where'd Freddie go?" John inquired.

"Probably with his little pet." You muttered bitterly, mouth full of toast.

"Probably," Brian remarked. You soon finished your food and Brian took your plate off you to wash.

"I'm gonna go get this shit out my hair. I'll be back in time to record." You told the boys before sauntering towards the bathroom.

You walked into the studio, towel in hand as you dried your hair.

"Ten minutes late, my dear," Freddie commented from his seat on the couch beside John and Roger. Brian was in the recording booth with his guitar, playing a tune you'd all agreed upon for 'Lazing On A Sunday Afternoon'.

"Rich coming from you, Fred. Besides, I wouldn't be late if someone hadn't thrown an egg in my hair." You responded, slumping between John and Freddie on the couch.

"Fuck off." Roger murmured, adjusting his necklace.

"Phone's been ringing for you for the last 15 minutes." John butted in, trying to focus on Brian.

"You know who's calling?" You asked, standing up again and walking over to the phone.

"Your mother. Number's written over there." Roger said, pointing at a note beside the phone set. You thanked the three before dialling the number and bringing the phone to your ear.

"Hello?" Your mother's voice crackled through the phone.

"Hi, ma. It's just me. Is everything alright? John said you'd been calling?" You requested, speaking quietly so Freddie and Bri could converse.

"Oh, (Y/N), darling. I need to tell you something." She replied, voice weak.

"Oh sure, what's going on?" You questioned, beginning to feel anxious

"(Y/N), you know your dad hasn't been very well for a long time..." she began. You felt your heart stop.

"Yeah..." You muttered

"Well...he passed away last night. We rushed him to the hospital but h-he didn't make it." She finished. Your hand shot to your mouth and tears pricked your eyes

"We'd really love for you to come home. Your brothers will be here. Alex is coming in from Australia and Danny managed to get a break from his work to visit." She added.

"Ma, I can't come home right now. I'm recording an album with the guys. I don't really have a way to get to your house in America right now." You reasoned

"Oh. Okay. I suppose we'll see you soon." Your mother replied, disappointment clear in her voice.

"Yeah, mom. I'm sorry. I wish I could come home. Say hi to the boys for me. Bye. I love you." You mumbled before placing the phone back. You sniffed, quickly wiping your eyes.

"Everything alright, dear?" Freddie asked, glancing up from the paper he was writing on. Roger had gotten up, standing next to the sound guy, talking to Brian in the booth.

"Y-Yeah. Everything's... everything's fine, Fred." You coughed, wiping your nose, fighting back a new onslaught of tears.

"Are you sure? You're acting a bit odd." Deacy pushed and you nodded.

"Does, uh, does anyone want some tea?" You asked, trying to find any way of getting a little bit of alone time without looking suspicious.

"Me, please, darling. Bring one for Brian too."

"I'm good, thank you (Y/N)."

"I'm in the booth next, so I'm alright."

Three voices rang out and you rushed out of the room as fast as your legs could carry you. Upon reaching the kitchen, you set the kettle to boil before breaking down into sobs. Tears streamed down your cheeks and you covered your face, attempting to fist away the water running from your eyes. You should've been there for him. Now you'd never see him again. you'd never hear his shitty dad jokes, never have your hair ruffled by him again, never hear his laugh again. Never see him smile.

You were so caught up in your grief, you didn't realize that someone else had joined you in the kitchen. A hand was placed on your shoulder, the other on your cheek.

"(Y/N), what's wrong? Did something happen? Talk to me." Roger watched your every move with eyes swimming with concern. You couldn't even form words so you simply allowed yourself to collapse into Roger. He wrapped his arms around you protectively before slowly sliding down to the floor so it was either for the both of you. After spending a few minutes in that position, your tears soaking Roger's shirt and his fingers running through your hair calmingly, you began to shakily explain what had happened. Roger couldn't find a way to describe how he felt. He was freaked, to be honest. Seeing you, strong, independent (Y/N) broken into pieces was unnerving. But overall, he couldn't help but think how beautiful you looked, despite the tear stains and messed hair. And he couldn't stop himself from kissing you.

He regretted it immediately.

You shoved him back, feeling hurt and betrayed, putting distance between you.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?! I'm here, crying because my dad is fucking dead and you think it's perfectly acceptable to fucking kiss me?!"  You yelled harshly, scrambling to your feet.

"I didn't mean-" He tried

"And just when I started thinking that you care about me because I'm your friend or your bandmate! I'm not your friend. I'm just another fucking girl for you to score then throw into the gutter!" You continued, feeling more tears well up.

"You're not-" Roger started

"Fuck you, Roger Taylor! Fuck. You." You exclaimed, raising your middle finger to the blonde haired drummer before running out, leaving Roger on the floor, calling after you. You didn't attempt to go back to the recording studio. You couldn't face your friends right now. You felt too... embarrassed...used. You threw yourself on the bed and swiftly pulled the covers over your head, wanting to hide from everyone and everything as the river returned to flow from your eyes. You loved him, you truly did. But he wasn't the time of person for commitment. He only wanted you when you were vulnerable. He could never love you.

It'd been a few hours since the whole 'Roger' incident and you'd made no attempt to move from the room, only opting to angrily song write. Your grief mixed with the awful feeling Roger had left you with left no room for anything other than anger. Suddenly there was a gentle knock on the door.

"(Y/N)? Roger said you weren't feeling so good. I brought you some soup for dinner. You're free to come to eat with us if you feel up or it." John's voice broke through the cracks in the door. You carefully placed your pen and paper down before opening the door and taking the soup with a small smile.

"Thanks, John. Sorry I missed out on the recording. Freddie's probably pissed." You mumbled, voice hoarse from crying. You placed the soup on the small table by the door, but as soon as you placed it down, a body was thrown at you, colliding into you and making you fall to the floor. The door slammed shut and after a second of groaning, you realized who had fallen on top of you. You raced to get out from under him, and you turned your back to him.

"(Y/N), I know you're angry with me. Just hear me out." Roger said quietly, you tilted your head to let him know you were listening.

"I wasn't thinking. I should've been more tactful. Kissing you was not appropriate at that moment in time. I just... you looked so broken, it hurt me. I just wanted to distract you from the pain. And I know after this, you'll probably be mad at me still but I want to say I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to take advantage of you in any way and I'm an idiot for not realizing that that's the way it would be taken. I really care about you, as more than a friend or bandmate. I would do anything to make you happy. But that kiss wasn't appropriate at the time and I'm so fucking sorry."Roger explained. You sighed, turning around, looking anywhere but the drummer's eyes.

"Rog... I love you too but I need time. I'm going through a lot at the minute and something is telling me that it's not going to get any easier in the next few months." You replied softly. Roger cupped your cheek, pulling your face up to his.

"I want to be for you (Y/N). I want to help you through what you're going through. I want to be there for you in your darkest or best moments. We can take it slow. Baby steps. Just give me a chance. Please." Roger pleaded. You could never say no to those eyes.

"Baby steps..." You agreed after a long pause. Roger broke out in a grin and he carefully entwined his fingers with yours. Maybe this could work.

Tags: @writingfortoomanyfandoms @queens-n-roses @yourealegendfred @fierce-bab @dusthas-beenbitten @silvver-rose @benhardyjones @bensroger

[my-random-ocs]

Chapter 3: Pack Mentality

Pairing: Stiles x OC (eventually)

Warnings: Language, dead bodies, mentions of death and car accidents, blood, descriptions of animal attacks

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I’m walking down the hall at school when I spot Stiles and Scott. “You think it has something to do with me going out with Allison tomorrow.”

“What has to do with you going out with Allison?” I ask as I fall into place with them.

“Scott dreamt that he killed Allison last night,” Stiles says.

I falter. “That is not good.” I take one look at Scott’s face and realize that was not the right thing to say. “Sorry.”

“You guys think I’m gonna lose control and rip her throat out,” Scott says.

“No, of course not,” Stiles assures. Scott sends him a look. “Yeah that’s totally it.”

I roll my eyes. “Scott, you are not going to hurt her. It’s going to be fine. You’re handling this really fucking well.”

Stiles nods in agreement. “You know, it’s like not there's a Lycanthropy for Beginners class you can take.”

“There should be.”

“Yeah, not a class, but maybe a teacher,” Scott says.

I shake my head. “I don’t think we know any werewolf teachers.”

“Derek?” Stiles exclaims. He hits Scott over the head. “You forgetting the part where we got him tossed in jail?”

“Yeah, I know, but chasing her, dragging her to the back of the bus, it felt so real.”

“How real?”

“Like it actually happened.”

The three of us make it outside to meet a horrifying sight. A school bus was in the parking lot covered in blood and the emergency exit door ripped off.

“I think it did,” Stiles says.

____________

“She’s probably fine,” I say as Stiles and I chase Scott down the hallway. All of us are now sufficiently freaked out.

“She’s not answering my texts, Viv,” Scott says.

“It could just be a coincidence, alright?” Stiles points out as Scott looks frantically around the hallway.

I nod in agreement. “Yeah! Maybe her phone died, or she forgot it at home, or something that prohibits her from answering you.”

“A seriously amazing coincidence,” Stiles continues.

I point at Stiles. “Okay, you are not helping.”

“Just help me find her okay?” Scott asks. I can sense him shifting into panic mode. I take out my own cell phone and text Allison, but she doesn’t answer me, either. “Do you see her?”

“No,” Stiles and I answer. Scott runs ahead of us.

“Attention students, this is your principal. I know you’re all wondering about the incident that occurred last night to one of our buses. While the police work to determine what happened, classes will proceed as scheduled.” Stiles and I both groan along with many of our classmates. “Thank you.”

____________

In chemistry class, Harris sticks to the principal’s directions and is teaching us like nothing is going on. It isn’t working though, as everyone around me keeps whispering about the bus. I cannot focus, especially since my lab partner keeps talking. “Maybe it was my blood on the door,” Scott says, turning back to look at Stiles and I.

“Could have been animal blood,” Stiles suggests, waving his pencil in the air. “You know, maybe you caught a rabbit or something.”

“And did what?”

“Ate it,” I say like it’s obvious.

I laugh softly at the look of horror on Scott’s face. “Raw?!” He exclaims.

“No you stopped to bake it in a little werewolf oven- I don’t know, you’re the one that can’t remember anything!” I snort. Guys, this is not how you whisper.

“Mr. Stilinski,” Mr. Harris calls, gaining the attention of all three of us. “If that’s your idea of a hushed whisper, you might want to pull the headphones out every once in a while. I think you and Mr. McCall would benefit from a little distance, yes?”

“No,” Stiles says simply. Mr. Harris only answers with a stern face and points to Scott, then over at Harley at the front of the room. Without a word, Scott gathers his things and moves next to Harley while Stiles takes a seat next to someone at another table.

“Let me know if the separation anxiety gets to be too much,” Harris jokes, eliciting a sarcastic laugh from Stiles.

“Hey, I think they found something!” Harley exclaims. We all rush to the windows to see two nurses roll a gurney with a man on it toward an ambulance. My eyes widen, exchanging a look with Stiles. What the hell did Scott do?

“That’s not a rabbit,” Scott whispers, fear lacing his tone as he looks at Stiles, but Stiles has his eyes glued to the man on the gurney.

Suddenly, the man shoots up into a sitting position and screams, causing me and everyone else to scream as well. Scott backs up, stopping only when he hits a table.

“This is good, this is good,” Stiles says, placing a hand on Scott’s shoulder. “He got up, he’s not dead.”

“True,” I chime, moving next to Stiles. “Dead guys can’t do that.”

The fear hasn’t left Scott’s face at all as he says, “Guys… I did that.”

____________

At lunch, Stiles and I are attempting to assure Scott he didn’t do anything. “But dreams aren’t memories,” Stiles is saying as we head toward our usual table with our lunch trays.

“Then it wasn’t a dream,” Scott says. “Something happened last night, and I can’t remember what.”

“What makes you so sure that Derek even has all the answers?” I demand. It comes out a little harsher than I mean it to, and I wince. Scott doesn't notice, but Stiles gives me a weird look.

“Because, during the full moon he wasn’t changed. He was in total control while I was running around in the middle of the night attacking some totally innocent guy.”

“You don’t know that,” Stiles says.

“I don’t not know it.” Scott sighs. “I can’t go out with Allison. I have to cancel.”

“No, you’re not cancelling, okay? You can’t just cancel your entire life. We’ll figure it out.”

Just then, Lydia sets her tray next to Scott. “Figure what out?” She demands, sitting down.

“Just, uh, homework,” Scott stammers.

Lydia smiles, believing Scott, and turns to her lunch.

I lean toward Stiles. “Why is she sitting with us?” I whisper. He shrugs. Allison walks up to the table and sits next to Scott.

“Get up,” Jackson demands of one of his friends- Jake, I think his name is- as he walks up to the table.

“How come you never ask Danny to get up?” Jake asks.

“Because I don’t stare at his girlfriend’s coin slot,” Danny smirks.

I finger my necklace, trying to take my mind off of tomorrow.

“You okay?” Stiles asks me. I nod, taking a bite of my pasta.

“So I hear they’re saying it’s some type of animal attack,” Danny continues. “Probably a cougar.”

“I heard mountain lion,” Jackson says.

“A cougar is a mountain lion,” I snap, rolling my eyes. Stiles sends me another questioning look.

Lydia, playing the part of dumb girlfriend, turns to Jackson and asks, "Isn't it?"

“Who cares?" Jackson asks, annoyed. "The guy’s probably some homeless tweaker who’s gonna die anyway.”

“Actually, I just found out who it is,” Stiles chimes in, making everyone look at him. “Check it out. He turns his phone so we can all see the news. “The sheriff’s department won't speculate on details of the incident, but confirmed the victim, Garrison Myers, did survive the attack. Myers was taken to a local hospital where he remains in critical condition."

“I know this guy,” Scott says in shock.

“You do?” Allison asks.

“Yeah, when I used to take the bus back when I lived with my dad. He was the driver.”

I close my eyes, taking a deep breath, and keep playing with my locket.

“That face does not look like someone who is okay would be wearing,” Stiles tells me.

I open my eyes, turning to him. “Seriously, Stiles, I’m fine.”

“Can we talk please about something more fun, please?” Lydia asks. “Like… oh!” She perks up and turns to Allison and Scott. “Where are we going tomorrow night?” They look at her, confused. “You said you and Scott were hanging out tomorrow night, right?”

Allison’s face takes on an expression that clearly says she has no idea how to get out of this. “Um, we were thinking of what we were gonna do,” she says, gesturing between her and Scott.

“Well, I am not sitting home again watching lacrosse videos, so if the four of us are hanging out, we are doing something fun.”

“Hanging out?” Scott asks, looking at Allison. I bite my lip, trying to hold back my smile at Scott's discomfort. “Like, the four of us? Do you want to hang out, like us and them?”

“Yeah, I guess,” she answers, just as uncomfortable. “Sounds fun.”

“You know what else sounds fun?” Jackson asks. “Stabbing myself in the face with this fork.”

“How about bowling?” Lydia suggests. “You love to bowl.”

“Yeah, with actual competition.”

Allison leans forward. “How do you know we’re not actual competition?” She smirks. I mentally high five her. She turns to Scott. “You can bowl, right?”

“Sort of,” Scott answers. Stiles and I exchange a look, knowing full well that Scott cannot bowl.

“Is it sort of or yes?” Jackson demands.

“Yes. In fact, I’m a great bowler.” I mentally facepalm.

“Hey, Vivvy, you should come, too!” Lydia suddenly says. I stop mid-bite and whip my head over to her, eyes wide.

Once I realize she actually meant what she said, I swallow my pasta and say, “Oh, um, I don’t know. I’m not sure I want to fifth-wheel you guys.”

“Then we’ll find you a date,” she says definitively. “I know some cute lacrosse players.” Her eyes light up with excitement over who to set me up with.

I quickly shake my head. “Thanks, Lydia, but I’m not really interested.”

Lydia blinks, trying to figure out the meaning of my words before realization dawns on her face. “Oh, well in that case, I know some really cute cheerleaders.”

I smirk. This whole exchange is actually making me more calm. I exchange an amused look with Stiles, who knows exactly what I’m talking about. “I mean, you’re not wrong, but also not interested.”

“Then what exactly are you interested in?” Jackson snaps.

The smirk falls from my face, and I retort, “People who don’t pry into my personal business.”

Of course, Jackson does just that and asks, “Chicks or dicks, Byrne?”

Allison scrunches up her nose, grimacing. “Classy, Jackson,” she says.

“Dude-” Stiles starts, glaring at Jackson, but I interrupt, sitting up straighter in my seat.

“Well, newsflash, bisexuals exist!” I say enthusiastically, a big fake smile on my face, announcing it like I’m a game show host. I even include the jazz hands.

Stiles, chokes on the gulp of water in his mouth, unable to hold in a laugh at my words. Scott keeps his head bowed, trying to fight smile that threatened to break out. Danny covers his small laugh with a cough. Allison makes no effort to hide the wide grin on her face as she reaches forward, giving me a high five.

Meanwhile, Lydia rolls her eyes, amused. “Okay, well, you have to go with someone.” She turns her gaze on Stiles. “Stiles. How do you feel about taking our darling Vivian bowling tomorrow?”

Completely caught off guard, Stiles chokes on his own food. Coughing, he flicks his eyes between Lydia and I, stammering out, “Oh, uh- yeah, sure. Sounds like a blast.”

“Lyds, I really don’t think-” I start but Lydia interrupts.

“Your birthday is tomorrow, right?” After my confirmation nod, she continues. “Well, then, this is how we’ll celebrate.”

I shake my head. “Lydia, I really don’t like to celebrate my birthday.”

She rolls her eyes. “Fine, whatever. But you’re still coming tomorrow night.”

Before I can protest any more, the bell rings, and everyone makes their way out of the cafeteria, the matter apparently settled.

____________

“You’re a fucking terrible bowler,” Stiles says as him, Scott, and I walk down the stairs.

“I know,” Scott says. “I’m such an idiot.”

“God, it was like watching a fucking car wreck.” He freezes and turned to me. “Sorry, Viv.”

I shrug. “It’s fine. Seriously, though, Scott, first it turned into a group date, then that phrase came in.”

“Hang out,” Scott confirms.

“You don’t ‘hang out’ with hot girls, okay?” Stiles says. “It’s like death. Once it’s hanging out, you might as well be her gay best friend. You and Danny can start hanging out.”

“How is this happening? I either killed a guy or I didn’t.”

“I don’t think Danny likes me very much,” Stiles muses.

“I ask Allison on a date and now we’re hanging out,” Scott continues.

“Am I not attractive to gay guys?”

I look between my friends like I am watching a tennis match. “Okay, you two need to calm down.”

“I make first line, and the team captain wants to destroy me, and now- now I’m gonna be late for work.” Scott runs ahead of us and out the door.

“Wait, Scott!” Stiles yells. “You didn’t- am I attractive to gay guy-!” He cuts himself off and turns to me. “Viv, am I attractive to gay guys?” I pretend to think about it for a minute. “Vivian!” He exclaims in frustration.

I laugh. “Yes, Stiles, you are attractive to gay guys.”

“Thank you. By the way, I think you are totally attractive to gay girls.”

“Why, thank you.” I pause. “Look, you don’t have to come bowling tomorrow. I’m not even sure if I am.”

“No, it sounds like fun,” he says. “We haven’t bowled in forever.”

“Yeah, but Lydia kind of forced herself and Jackson in, then she pulled us in, and I totally get it if you don’t want to go.”

Stiles smirks. “Seriously, Viv, it’s fine.” He shrugs. “It’ll actually be kind of nice hanging out with you outside of school. We haven't done much of that since Scott was bit.”

I smile softly. “Very true.”

He hesitates, then says in a more serious tone, “About your birthday-”

I cut him off mid-sentence. “I don’t want to celebrate.”

“But you’ll be sixteen,” he protests. “That’s kind of a special birthday.”

“It was going to be special with Hazel. And my parents.” I blink, trying to stop the tears before they come. Looking for an out, I glance at the clock. “Well, as much fun as this conversation is, I have to get home. My brother’s meeting me at four.”

Stiles’s expression softens. “Do you want me to come with you? You know, to visit...”

I smile faintly. “Thanks, Stiles, but I think Griffin wants it to just be me and him. I’ll see you later.” I adjust my backpack on my shoulders and start heading home.

____________

An hour later, my brother and I are at Beacon Hills Cemetery, standing in front of two headstones. The one on the right reads Hazel Charlotte Byrne, beloved daughter and sister, 1995-2008. Below that was a quote Hazel used to say all the time: It’s not about how you get knocked down; it’s about whether you rise up again. The one on the left is the one for my parents, stating their names, their birth year, and their death year.

“Do you remember how Hazel used to blast her music every time she entered a room?” Griffin asks me.

I nod, smiling a little. “I still have ‘A Place In This World’ by Taylor Swift memorized.” My smile drops. “Where do you think she’d be right now?”

“High school, same as you,” Griffin answers. “Working toward a college with a good journalism program. She always wanted to be a journalist. Was determined to help people by giving them the truth.” He pauses. “We don’t talk about them a lot.”

“It’s hard,” I say. “Sometimes I hear the TV downstairs and think about how Dad would always watch a John Wayne movie at eleven o’clock at night, or how Mom would put on the Morning Show every Sunday, with Kathie Lee and Hoda. I can smell Dad’s pancakes.” Tears well up in my eyes. “Griffin, I really miss them.”

He puts an arm around my shoulders. “I know, kiddo. You know what they would say right now? They would ask us why we’re crying and missing them so much.”

“I know they would want us to move on,” I say.

“They’re in a better place now, Blackbird. They would want us to be happy.”

I look up at him in surprise. “You called me Blackbird.”

“Yeah,” he says hesitantly. “Sorry- it’s just being here- I know Mom used to call you that, and- I don’t know, it just came out.”

“Griffin, it’s okay,” I say.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. It’s nice to hear it again, even if it’s not from Mom.” I pause. “You know, if you want to keep calling me that, I wouldn’t mind.” When I was kid, my mom and I used to listen to the Beatles all the time, and my favorite song was ‘Blackbird Fly.’ And since I loved to sing, Mom started calling me Blackbird, and it just sort of stuck.

He doesn’t say anything to that, but I see a ghost of a smile across his face, and we go back to staring at the headstones and wishing our family were here.

“Hey, about your birthday tomorrow-” Griffin starts, but I groan.

“Why does everyone want me to celebrate my birthday?” I grumble. “You, Lydia, Stiles- what’s so great about tomorrow?”

He holds up his free hand in surrender. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you upset, but it’s been a few years, and I thought maybe you might be ready.”

“Well, I’m not,” I snap. “It’s not just my birthday tomorrow- it was supposed to be Hazel’s, too, you know.”

“I know, it’s just-”

I cut him off by pulling away. “Can we go home now? I have a lot of homework, and your shift starts soon.”

Griffin nods. “Yeah. I’ll drop you off on the way to the station.”

With that, we head off toward Griffin’s car.

____________

Later that night, Stiles drives Scott and I to the school bus yard. According to Derek, Scott just needs to go back to the bus to remember what happened to the driver. Stiles and I get out of the Jeep to follow Scott. “Hey, no, just me,” Scott protests. “Someone needs to keep watch.”

“How come we’re always the people keeping watch?” Stiles asks.

“Because there’s only three of us.” Scott says as he pulls Stiles off the fence he was climbing.

Stiles huffs. “Okay, why is it starting to feel like you’re Batman and I’m Robin? I don’t want to be Robin all the time.”

“Nobody’s Batman and Robin any of the time,” Scott says, looking at Stiles like he’s crazy.

“Not even some of the time?” Stiles asks, slightly saddened.

“Just stay here,” Scott insists. “Both of you.”

“Oh, my god, fine!”

Stiles and I walk back to the Jeep as Scott hops the fence. As Stiles and I settle into our seats, I glance over at him. “You know, I don’t think you and Scott are Batman and Robin.”

“Really?” Stiles asks in surprise. “Why?”

“Well, for one, I’m not included in that scenario. Two, I think we’re more like Luke, Leia, and Han Solo.” Stiles’s eyes light up at the analogy. “Scott is obviously Luke Skywalker- the chosen one. I’m badass Princess Leia, and you’re Han Solo.”

Stiles grins. “That is a wonderful analogy.” He pauses. “You know I’m only going to call you Leia from now on, right?”

I laugh. “Only if I can call you Han.”

“Deal,” Stiles says immediately, and holds out a hand to shake on it, both of us laughing as we do.

Suddenly, we spot a light shining near the bus. I look closer and see it’s a deputy. Stiles starts honking the horn trying to get Scott’s attention. We are successful as we see Scott parkour over the fence and hop in the backseat of the Jeep. As soon as Scott is in, Stiles backs the Jeep down the road and drives as fast as he can away from the school.

“Did it work?” I ask Scott, who is turned around in the seat to make sure the deputy didn’t spot us. “Did you remember?”

“Yeah, I was there last night,” Scott said, facing forward again. “And the blood- a lot of it was mine.”

“So you did attack him?” Stiles asks.

“No. I saw glowing eyes on the bus, but they weren’t mine. It was Derek.”

Stiles glances at him for a second. “What about the driver?”

“I think I was actually trying to protect him.”

“Wait a sec,” I say, “why would Derek help you remember that he attacked the bus driver?”

“That’s what I don't get,” Scott says.

“It’s got to be a pack thing,” Stiles says.

“What do you mean?”

“Like an initiation. You do the kill together.”

“Like, the pack that slays together stays together?” I ask.

“Because ripping someone’s throat out is a real bonding experience?” Scott questions, incredulous.

“Yeah, but you didn’t do it,” Stiles says. “Which means you’re not a killer. And it also means that-”

Scott smiles. “I can go out with Allison.”

“I was gonna say it means you won’t kill me and Vivian.”

“Oh, yeah. That too.”

____________

The second I open my locker, bright pink balloons float out at my face. I immediately attempt to shove them back in, but they keep floating out around me. I sigh.

“Wow,” a voice behind me says, and I turn to see Stiles.

“Please don’t say anything,” I grumble.

He holds up his hands in surrender, fighting a smile. “I’m not.” He takes in the sight of my locker, which I now notice is decorated with yellow streamers inside. “Wow, I wish I had sunglasses, because that is bright.”

I grab a fallen streamer and throw it at him. “Come on,” he says through a small laugh. He picks up something from the ground and holds it out for me. “I think you dropped this.”

I take it and realize it is an envelope with my name written in a pretty cursive. I groan, ripping it open and unfolding the card. “‘Happy 16, Vivvy!’” I read aloud. “‘You mean the world to us and we hope you have a great day. Love, Allison and Lydia.’” I snap the card shut, stuffing it into my locker with a huff.

“That was nice of them,” Stiles tries.

I sigh. “Yeah it was.” I turn toward him. “Look, can you please not mention my birthday to anyone else here? I just don’t want to think about it.”

He nods. “Yeah, of course.”

“Thanks.” I look back at my locker, balloons still sticking out of it. “How did she even know it’s my birthday?” I wonder.

Stiles winces. “That might have been me. She asked me last week, and I told her.” He sees the look on my face, and says, “Sorry.”

I shake my head. “No, it’s okay. I knew I would have to face this day eventually.” I slam my locker door closed, trying to shut out any sign of my birthday, but one bright balloon gets stuck floating on the outside. I close my eyes and sigh, shouldering my bag. The warning bell rings, and Stiles and I start walking toward our first class.

“You don’t want to celebrate at all?” Stiles asks.

I shake my head, saying simply, “It won’t feel the same without Hazel.” We turn the corner into the English classroom, and Stiles drops the subject.

____________

Lydia and I are at Allison’s house that night, helping her pick an outfit for her date with Scott. Allison holds a shirt up to us while we sit on the bed. “Mm, pass,” Lydia says. Allison puts the shirt back and holds out another one. “Pass.” Finally, she gets up and walks to the closet, and I follow.

Lydia rifles through Allison’s closet saying pass to every top she sees. “Pass. Pass. Uh, pass on all of it,” Lydia says. “Allison, respect for your taste is, uh, dwindling by second.”

I step up to the closet and pull out a sequined black top. “How about this?”

Lydia examines it. “Hmm. Yes.”

The door opens and Allison’s father walks in. I remember this is the hunter out to kill my friend, and I tense without meaning to. “Dad, hello,” Allison says.

“Right,” Mr. Argent says. “I’m sorry, I completely forgot to knock.”

“Hi, Mr. Argent,” Lydia says, flopping onto the bed.

I hold up a hand in a half-wave. “Hi,” I say quietly.

“Dad, do you need something?” Allison asks.

“I wanted to tell you that you’ll be staying in tonight,” Mr. Argent says.

“What? I’m going out with my friends tonight.”

“Not when some animal out there is attacking people.”

“Dad, Dad, I’m uh-”

“It’s out of my hands,” Mr. Argent protests. “There’s a curfew, no one’s allowed out past nine thirty p.m.” Allison tosses her shirt on the bed, obviously annoyed. “Hey, no more arguing.” With that, he leaves the room, shutting the door behind him.

“Someone’s daddy's little girl,” Lydia teases.

“Sometimes,” Allison says. “But not tonight.” Allison places a beanie on her head and opens her bedroom window.

As she starts climbing out of it, I share a look of confusion with Lydia. “Allison, what the hell are you doing?” I ask. Allison walks along the roof and flips to the ground, giving me a mini heart attack.

“Eight years of gymnastics,” she whisper-yells up to me and Lydia. “Are you guys coming?”

“We’ll take the stairs,” Lydia answers, and we head downstairs, meeting Allison at Lydia’s car to get to the group date/hang out fiasco.

____________

At the bowling alley, the two couples gravitate toward each other, leaving Stiles and I behind as we go through the doors. At the sight of the large amount of people milling about the alley, I cross my arms in front of my chest, trying to draw myself in more. I know Griffin wants me to be more social, and while I am comfortable around my friends, I just wasn’t expecting the building to be so crowded.

“I do not want to be here,” I say bluntly. “How mad do you think they’ll be if we just go home and watch Star Wars?”

“Ah, come on Leia, this is nice,” Stiles smiles. “We finally get to hang out for, like, the first fucking time since school started, and, hey, it’s-” Knowing what he is about to say, I whip my head around to glare at him, and he stammers out, “Friday. It-it’s Friday. That’s what I was going to say the whole time. Aren’t you glad it’s Friday?”

I sigh, trying to cheer myself up a little, and remind myself my parents and sister wouldn’t want me wallowing, especially today. Here I am with my friends, about to potentially have a good time, and that isn’t something to be sad about. I nod, smiling slightly. “Yeah. Let’s go, Han.”

____________

Pretty soon, we’re all seated at our own lane taking turns shooting the ball toward the pins. I allow myself to zone in and out, only really paying attention when it’s my turn. However I zone back in when Jackson says, “You’re up, McCall.”

We all turn to Scott, who looks stressed out. Allison nudges his side encouragingly. “You can do it, Scott.”

He rubs his knees, stands, and grabs his ball from the rack. He heads toward the lane, nervously tapping the ball before shooting the ball toward the pins. He slips a little as the ball leaves his hands, and goes straight into the gutter.

I wince in sympathy as Jackson bursts into laughter.

“Jackson,” Allison says, glaring at him. “Mind shutting up?”

Still laughing, Jackson says, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry- I’m just flashing back to the words ‘I’m a great bowler.’”

Stiles and I exchange an eye roll.

“Maybe he just needs a little warm-up,” Allison suggests.

Jackson scoffs, “Yeah, maybe he just needs the kiddy bumpers,” which elicits a laugh from Lydia as well.

Tossing another glare towards the asshole, Allison says to Scott, “Just- just aim for the middle.”

“How about you aim for anything except for the gutter?” Jackson asks.

“How about you shut up and let him focus,” I snap, narrowing my eyes.

Allison throws me a grateful look and turns back to Jackson, officially annoyed with him. “Thank you, Viv. Let him concentrate, Jackson.”

“Come on, Scotty, you can do this,” Stiles chimes as Scott gets back into position.

Scott still slips letting go of the ball, and we all watch in anticipation as the ball makes its way down the lane. It's almost to the pins and… falls into the gutter.

“Ohh!” Jackson shouts, and laughs. Embarrassed, Scott comes and sits back down. “Great job McCall. Man, you are a pro.”

Stiles pats him on the shoulder. “It’s alright, man.”

“Don’t worry,” Allison says. “We only just started.”

“Viv, it’s your turn,” Lydia smiles.

I get up and grab my ball from the rack, then move into position. “You got it, Vivvy!” Stiles calls encouragingly.

I take a breath, bring my arm back, and swing the ball forward, letting go only when I know it’s at the right angle. The ball makes its way quickly down the lane and knocks every pin down.

“Yes,” I whisper to myself, smiling as I go back and sit next to Stiles, who gives me a big high-five.

“That was awesome,” Allison says. “I mean, that was literally perfect form.”

“Thanks,” I blush. “My brother used to take my sister and I bowling all the time.”

“Oh, you have a sister?” Lydia asks, turning to face me. “Does she go to school with us, too?”

I hesitate, and Stiles squeezes my hand. “No, she- she doesn’t. Hazel, um- Hazel and our parents died about three years ago.”

The group went silent after that. “I’m sorry,” Lydia says after a moment. “I had no idea-”

I shake my head quickly. “No, no, it’s okay. I just- I don’t really talk about it.”

“What happened?” Allison asks, then quickly adds, “If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Car accident,” I answer, my nose beginning to tingle. “A drunk driver ran a red light. My dad and sister died on impact, and my mom later at the hospital.”

“Were you in the car?” Jackson asks.

“Hey, man-” Stiles starts with a glare toward Jackson, but I interrupt him, saying, “Yes, I was.”

I pat my knees, breathing in sharply. “You know what, I’m going to go grab a snack. I’ll be back in a few minutes." With that, I stand and walk as quickly as I can to the snack bar.

____________

I don’t make it to the snack bar before the tears start falling and blur my vision. I barely feel a pair of hands grab me and sit me back down in a seat. I wipe the tears out of my eyes, and focus on how Stiles is sitting across from me, his elbows resting on his knees and hands folded in front of him.

“Sorry,” I manage to say. “I feel like I kind of ruined the vibe over there.”

“You didn’t ruin anything,” Stiles assures me. There’s a minute of silence, then he asks, “Are you okay?”

I sniff. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

He shifts a little in his seat. “You don’t have to be.”

I send him a slightly deadpan look. “It’ll be three years in March, Stiles. I think I have to at least start working on being okay.”

“You will be,” he says definitively.

He looks me in the eye as he says this, and somehow I know that he’s telling the truth. It won’t happen overnight, but I know that eventually, I will be okay.

He taps my knee. “Hey, what do you say we get out of here? We’ll go to the diner, get some food. Then go home, and maybe watch some Star Wars?” My eyes brighten at the mention of Star Wars, and Stiles laughs a little.

“That sounds good,” I smile.

“Come on, we have to go tell the group.” He stands, offering me a hand up. I take it, stand, and we make our way back to the group.

As we approach the group, they all stop talking and look up at us. “Hey, uh, this was fun, guys, but we’re gonna head out,” I say, managing a smile.

“If this is about earlier,” Allison started, “we didn’t mean to pry-”

I silence her with a quick shake of my head. “No, no, it wasn’t you guys. I just need to get home, but I’ll talk to you guys later.”

Stiles waves to everyone as we walk toward the exit.

____________

Thirty minutes later, we are seated across from each other in a booth at Granny’s Diner, cheeseburgers, fries, and chocolate shakes in front of us.

“Thanks for coming tonight,” I say, swallowing a fry.

“Hey, I had fun,” Stiles says, smiling a little.

I move my gaze to my food. “Sorry about the freakout.”

“Don’t apologize,” he says firmly. “What happened to your family, it- it’s gonna take some time to get over.”

Tears well in my eyes again, and I furiously swipe at them before they fall. “This is why I didn’t want to do anything today. Yeah, it’s my birthday, but it’s also Hazel’s. We’ve been planning our Sweet Sixteen for half our lives. We were going to have a slumber party with our friends, have a High School Musical marathon, and eat more pizza than our stomachs could hold. It doesn’t feel right celebrating without her.”

After a moment of silence between us, Stiles speaks up. “After my mom died, it was just a constant feeling of emptiness,” he says, his eyes on his burger. “That feeling hit me the worst when I realized that everything I used to do with her, I couldn’t do anymore. She couldn’t take me to baseball practice, or help me with my homework. We couldn’t have dinner together, or watch movies together. And that hurt. A lot. But I got through it.”

“How?” My voice cracks as I ask the question.

“I had my dad. And I had Scott.” He hesitates. “And I had you,” he adds, moving his eyes to mine. “I had you, and your family. I got through it. You all helped me, and now it’s our turn to help you.”

I shake my head slightly. “What?”

“Viv, you have a lot of people who care about you. You have Griffin, and my dad. And now you have Scott, and Allison, and Lydia. And you have me.” His lips quirk up in a smile. “You’ll always have me, Leia.”

I give a small smile at the nickname. “Thanks, Han.”

After that, I have a pretty good night. Stiles and I talk and laugh, and I feel better than I have in a long time. And when I come back from the bathroom, and find a cupcake with a single candle in it, I don’t protest. Instead, I listen to Stiles sing ‘Happy Birthday’, and while I miss Hazel, and my parents, and wish that they are here with me, it doesn’t hurt as much as it did this morning.

I know that I have my brother, and Noah, and my new friends here. And I know that I definitely have Stiles. And whatever happens next, whether it be werewolf related or just life in general, I know I’ll always have Stiles. And as I blow out the candle, I make a wish.

Stiles cheers as the flame goes out. “So, what did you wish for?”

I shoot him an amused look. “You know I’m not supposed to answer that.”

Stiles scoffs, smiling. “Oh, come on, just tell me.”

“No, if I tell you, it won’t come true,” I say through a laugh. “I’m not going to risk that.”

Stiles sighs, faking frustration, and holding his hands up in surrender. “Fine, whatever.” When we finish the cupcake, he says, “I’ll drive you home.”

As Stiles drives toward my apartment, my smile never leaves my face.

You guys didn’t think I would tell you what I wished for, did you? I’m not going to, but I hope to God it comes true.

____________

“Thanks for tonight,” I say as Stiles and I walk down the hall toward my apartment. “I had a lot of fun.”

“Yeah, me too,” Stiles says. “You know, it doesn’t have to end.”

I raise my eyebrows. “Star Wars?” I ask as we reach the door.

Before we can say anything else, the door opens and Griffin walks out. “Oh, hey, guys. You have a good time bowling?”

“Yeah,” I say. “We were just going to start a Star Wars marathon.” Then I notice that Griffin is dressed in his deputy’s uniform. “Wait, where are you going?”

“Ah, well, I probably shouldn’t be telling you guys,” Griffin says hesitantly. Stiles and I exchange a deadpan look and face back to my brother. He sighs. “You guys are just going to find out anyway. You know the bus driver, Garrison Myers, from the attack the other night?” At our nods, Griffin continues. “Well, Stiles, the hospital called your dad. Myers just died.”

____________

“How is this the second time within, like, two weeks that we are breaking into Scott’s house?” I ask, both of us climbing onto the roof.

“Last time we didn’t succeed,” Stiles points out. Minor details. Finally, he manages to open the window. We climb through the window and land on Scott’s bed. Suddenly, the door opens, and Ms. McCall is running up to us, brandishing a baseball bat.

All three of us start screaming as Stiles grabs me and pulls me behind him, both of us scrambling back. “Stiles, Vivian what the hell are you two doing here?” Ms. McCall demands as we try to calm down.

“What are we doing?” Stiles asks.

“Do either of you actually play baseball?” I ask when I see the baseball bat Ms. McCall is holding.

Before she can answer, the light turns on and Scott walks into the room. “Can you please tell your friends to use the front door?” She asks Scott.

“But we lock the front door,” Scott says, not seeing the issue. “They wouldn’t be able to get in.”

“Yeah, exactly.” She looks at each of us. “And, by the way, do any of you care that there’s a police-enforced curfew?”

“No,” Scott, Stiles, and I say in unison.

“No,” she repeats. “Alright then. Well, you know what? That’s about enough parenting for me for one night, so good night.” Ms. McCall tosses the baseball bat on the bed and leaves the room.

“What?” Scott asks as he pulls up his chair.

“My brother left for the hospital fifteen minutes ago to meet with Stiles’s dad,” I start. “It’s the bus driver.”

“They said he succumbed to his wounds,” Stiles continues.

“Succumbed?” Scott questions.

“Do you not know what ‘succumbed’ means?” I ask. At the headshake Scott gives me that he in fact does not know what ‘succumbed’ means, I continue talking. “Scott, he’s dead."

[dcbicki]

“You’re Gonna See it Someday; It’s Affection Always” - Chapter 3

Fandom: Veep Characters: Dan Egan, Amy Brookheimer Pairing: Dan/Amy Rating: T (use of mature language) In which Amy’s pregnant, and Dan already has a plan mapped out for them.

If she’s in this for the long haul then he will be, too. If she’s keeping this baby (his baby), then he’s keeping her close by.

If she’s ready for this, for change, for restless nights and shitty diapers at two o'clock in the fucking morning, then he’ll join her.

They fucked, and now they’re fucked.

Chapter 1: x | x Chapter 2: x | x

-

Selina's eyes are boring into him.

"There I was, when Catherine told me you were mostly sterile, thinking the world would be free of pint-sized Dan Egan-looking fuckers." She holds up one hand, near pinches two fingers together to make her point.

"With all due respect ma'am, it's really none of your fucking business."

Fire him? She might. The threatening look - she tries, bless her- she shoots him has him thinking she's at least considering it.

No respect intended.

"That's where you're wrong," she approaches, bracelets jangling against her watch as she slides a hand over the back of a chair, "because, while you're not my employee, you fucked my employee, and now you've fucked us all."

Both hands fly up then, and her head shakes, and Dan is seriously considering walking out of this goddamn office.

He's a grown adult - Amy, too - and they really don't need to be on the receiving end of a lecture (as though they're teenagers, as though they're incapable of recognising their own mistakes). A lecture by someone who has never exactly been Mom of the Year.

If they want to do this, if they're going to do this (or at the very least even try to do it), then Selina's going to have to mind her own damn business-

"When the press gets wind of this because, you know, they will, it's gonna be your mess to clean up, Danny."

"I'm more than aware."

"And, well, we're obviously going to be working this into the campaign, right?"

There it is. That golden fucking opportunity.

"Ma'am?" Amy voices, quieter than her usual, sounding uncertain as though she's ignorant to the machinations of Selina Meyer, as though Dan hadn't already warned her that her batshit boss would do this.

Come the fuck on, Amy.

"Don't give me that school girl caught with her panties down look, Ame." Selina warns, finally slides into her seat at the head of the table, taps polished fingernails against her wood, "You're campaign manager. Work it out."

With all due respect, ma'am, you're a cunt.

No respect intended.

"As an advisor, ma'am, I strongly suggest we find another way of going-"

Amy's staring at him, all wide-eyed and tense and shit, and he almost wants to smile, because she just knows.

In truth, he's on board with this whole scheme because he can see its advantages, because he's weighed up the pros and the cons, and the pros won out.

"I strongly suggest you keep your mouth shut and your dick in your pants from here on fucking out, Dan."

"Were we having a meeting or an interrogation? Jesus."

Ben is in the doorway, oversized mug in hand, Kent at his heels. The older men in the room take seats across from each other, beside Amy and Dan alike.

"You call the firing squad yet or are you gonna be doing the honours yourself, ma'am?" Ben is joking, but no one laughs because no one knows whether they should or not, because no one wants to publicly find humour in this situation.

Dan really wants to say something, to add something to that, but he refrains (because Amy is still sending him some seriously fucking demonic shade).

Leaning back, Kent nods once, twice, and then he clears his throat.

"I see."

"What?" Ben scowls, flicks open the lid of his mug.

"It seems as though we've added a new member to the Meyer 4.0 team."

At that, Ben turns to face the rest of the team, all frown and confusion.

"Anybody understand what the human computer is trying to say?"

Dan stills, Amy sighs, Gary grins, and Selina fumes.

"Dan here," she gestures, "is going to be given some new responsibilities starting today." She wags a finger over for Gary, at the man is by her side within seconds, "Gar, can you fetch me some of that lemon tea? And an Advil?"

"Sure thing, ma'am."

He hurries away, practically skips like a little girl who's accomplishing a task for her mommy.

"Amy, are we letting this become public knowledge or are we announcing it?"

"It's a little early for... that."

Dan holds up on finger, slides an elbow over the conference table, "If I may, I suggest we hold off on any announcement until it's closer to the twelfth week-"

"Yeah, she basically just fucking said that, you ripped condom."

"Hold the fuck on!" Ben finally exclaims, stupid mouth gaping wide, seemingly disbelieving. "Are you fucking pregnant?"

She's like a surrogate daughter for him (in a weird way), Dan thinks to himself, watching as the older man's face turns from shock to dread.

Congrats, Cafferty. You've got yourself a fucked-up surrogate grandchild.

"Sadly, for everyone." Amy confirms, pushing some blonde hair behind her right ear, "Mostly just for me." She mumbles, and Dan rolls his eyes.

"Jesus, fuck. I'm surprised you haven't been downing whole bottles of toilet cleaner if Dan's the father."

It's almost a joke, but nobody laughs.

Shut the ever loving fuck up, Ben.

"You and me, both."

Dan sighs, fed up with the little comments, "Fuck you." They both did this.

"You fuck you."

"You did. That's what got us here."

"What got us here is your overeager dick-"

"I recommend you refrain from conversing like this in front of the growing embryo, or foetus - I don't know how far along you are - from now on."

The grey-haired man is holding up his index finger, on eyebrow raised pointedly, too. "Studies show the repercussions could be extremely negative in the child's later life."

"Oh, fuck off, Kent."

"Yeah, Kent, shut up." Selina buts in, changes the subject as though she was never the instigator in the first place, "We need to talk caucus people, people! We can hold off on these talks for a couple more weeks. Right, Amy?"

Does Selina actually care? Is she actually giving a shit about Amy?

Amy looks up, blue eyes wide, lips pink but dry, "Yes, ma'am." Her shoulders are stiff, her collarbones clearly uncomfortably raised, curved. "Dan can announce it then."

"Plenty of time for that then." Selina shoots the younger man a look, "You, screw your head back on now. You can go back to daydreaming about your mini-me later."

Yeah, because that's what he was doing.

Because he wasn't already thinking of creative ways to announce this or anything. Definitely not.

Two weeks have gone by when Amy finally finds him of her own volition, answer in hand and pride in tact.

He's actually surprised she hasn't sought him out sooner, hasn't tried to talk to him about anything other than work or Selina or Leon trying to hit on her.

At one time, they used to talk about anything and everything (just not, you know, relationship shit), when it was all about Selina's campaign, when it was Selina's presidency, when they were still stuck at the crossroads between friends and enemies, and exes and lovers.

"Is there a reason you're in my apartment?"

He tosses his keys down on the table, slides his coat straight from his arms and hangs it up as the question lingers in the air, unanswered.

She's sat in his kitchen, looking a little more at home, at ease then he'd like.

"Is there a reason you were here before I was?"

"Well, you left a key spare under the mat, so that's either an invitation to walk right in and rob you blind, or it's there for one of those many, many little cling-ons to find so they can sneak into your apartment and blow you in the middle of the night."

"Amy," he greets. He's in the kitchen now, watching her dig into a bowl full of pretzels, the empty bag on the counter beside her, the cupboard door hanging open. When the fuck did he buy those?

"You almost sound jealous."

"Please, I've known you for like ten years. You think I don't know you invite overeager dipshits over to come and fuck you because they think they'll be getting something out of it?"

"I think that you think that. And, no, nobody comes here." Dan nods, steals a pretzel and holds it between clenched teeth, "Still haven't answered my question, Ames."

"Which one?" She lifts a brow, pulls the bowl closer, watches as he crumbles up the bag and throws it in the trash. "Oh." She smiles, faintly, but it's fake all the same, "I made a decision."

"On how to kill Selina and frame Gary? Yeah, believe me, I've thought of that, too." He jokes, takes a seat opposite from her after pulling a beer from the fridge. She looks serious though, so he squints, "Do tell."

"I'm not marrying you." She tells him, carefully avoiding his gaze, fully aware he's probably glaring down at her. "But I'll let you... in."

"In?" Brows knit, lips curl, "Into you?"

Of course.

"Fuck off." Amy frowns, shakes her head softly, blonde hair sweeping past her shoulders. "This was your idea, you know."

He's twirling his beer bottle in one hand, running his thumb over the cool rim of the top, and she isn't sure he's even taken so much as one swig yet, "My proposal was-"

"Your proposal was fucking shit, but the proposal - the idea - in itself was actually quite genius." She rolls her eyes at his grin, at the mention of the word 'genius', "I mean, it could do with some serious work but-"

"But you wanna date me?"

Fuck him.

Amy swallows, drops her eyes to his mouth rather than his eyes because it's easier for her to focus, "No." She shrugs, grabs a handful of the snack without looking, "This isn't dating. This is just convenience. You wouldn't know how to date someone if you were given a fucking handbook and tools, Dan."

"I beg to fuckin' differ, alright?" He holds up one hand, finally has a sip of his drink, and then he's staring down at her, "You just never had the full experience."

"Oh, please." Amy laughs, snorts, "The full experience? What, do we go on long walks on the beach, do I get candlelit dinners and picnics in the park? Jesus Christ, your head is so far up your own bleached asshole."

She brushes him off, stands to stretch out her legs. She's been here for about three quarters of an hour now, waiting for him to get back from wherever the fuck he was, from whoever the fuck he'd been doing.

So, she'd made herself somewhat comfortable - much as was humanly possible in his goddamn man cave of an apartment - with some food and her phone on an almost full battery.

"First of all, I fuckin' hate the beach, so that's never happening. You can't even fuck on a beach without sand getting everywhere and I'm honestly just not up for that. Been there, got the rash, all right? Secondly, Ames," his bony shoulders raise, his elbows drop against the countertop, and she hates how fucking endlessly lean he is, "do you actually want me to take you on a date? Because it sure fuckin' sounds like it."

He's smirking, that fucker. And she hates him.

"You can have all the entrées you want, I'll drink the booze you're not allowed, of course." He's watching as she rounds his kitchen counter, phone sat abandoned, pretzels in her hand, because he can, because she's in his home.

"Is that supposed to sound inviting?"

Dan shrugs, boyishly.

"We can talk about work, you tell me all about what's got you so fuckin' stressed out this time, we come back to my place, we fuck-"

"Are you even capable of dating someone without fucking them on the first date?"

"Took two dates with you last time, if I remember correctly." He teases, "Usually, just one's enough to do the trick."

"You're such a slut."

"Unapologetically. And this slut wants to bring you to-"

"I thought you didn't bring women back here."

"Well, this is different."

"Because you've already fucked me... over?" She looks down at her stomach, swallows, feels a small smile dance on her lips (it isn't sweet), "Damn, Dan, and here I was thinking I was special." She feigns a sulk, bats long lashes up at him, lips puckered.

"Well, you said you wouldn't marry me, but you never said no to moving in together."

"Wow, that was quick. Not even screwing me on the semi-regular but we're living together already?" She blinks, pops in another salted pretzel, draws her hand back when he goes to snatch one, "I'm not living here."

"Fine. I'll find us somewhere new."

"Somewhere you haven't fucked half the straight women of New York, you mean."

"Half? Underestimating me, I see." Dan boasts, brows raising up and down twice, shit-eating grin plastered across his face - because of course - and he grabs her wrist, turns it over, "Somewhere I haven't fucked you yet, sure."

"You're not gonna be fucking me, either." Amy declares, eyes wide and certain.

"We'll see." He pries open her palm, looking down to watch as white knuckles turn pink, and then he steals a pretzel, "You'll change your mind soon enough."

"You're so fucking sure of yourself, aren't you?" She licks her lips, sucks at the bottom one, stares up at him, "And why am I gonna change my mind? Because you're just oh, so irresistible?" She snorts, pulls that face where he knows she's half fucking with him, half buying into it herself.

Dan sighs, moving to grab ahold of his beer, and he swings it around in her face, watches as she shifts back slightly with a scowl, "Isn't it obvious?"

He stands to copy her then, only he's taller, but Amy refuses to pull her shoulders in, refuses to back down and resign.

"You think you can live with me and not wanna fuck? You think you can live with any guy who knocks you up and not wanna fuck? It's biology, sweetheart."

"Here I was thinking it was chemistry." She purses her lips, "It wasn't any guy that knocked me up though, was it? That was just you and your retarded sperm." Amy reasons, "Maybe I would fuck any other guy but you're not him."

"Would you fuck Buddy?" He's staring, intently. It makes her uncomfortable as all hell, and he loves it. "Assuming he could even get you off in the first place," Dan trails off, eyes darting up to the ceiling as though he's pondering something.

"Did you just, like, lie back and think of C-Span or what?"

Her face is flushed, redder than it had been a moment ago. He's hit a nerve. Great. Good.

"Jesus, what was it with that guy, Amy? He have like a cock made of broken glass or what? Or was it some new necrophilia roleplay thing where you're the corpse and rigor mortis has already set in?"

"He was nice."

"Nice?"

"Yes, nice. I don't know if you're ever cracked open a dictionary, but generally it means that someone isn't a complete fucking twat."

"You don't like nice."

"Yeah, well, I thought I might."

"That why you came back to me?"

"I didn't come back to you." She walks around him, heads toward the short hallway but stops mid-way and spins on her short heels, finds him directly behind her.

How the fuck is he so stealthy?

"You came to me." He shrugs, tells her, approaches but does not touch her.

She doesn't like people touching her, even in the slightest, lightest of ways. And he's not a complete asshat. He can still invade her space, though. He can still get too close. "You came for me."

"You're gonna keep bringing that up, aren't you?"

"Well, I mean, it's not like I need to." He gestures down, and Amy really fucking wants to slap him across the face. "I just kinda like the reminder that I clearly have more of an effect on you than any other guy you dated."

We barely ever dated, asshole.

"Dan, the only effect you have on me is that I want to down a bottle of bleach every time you open your fucking mouth."

He pauses, seems to gulp, and she doesn't know why. But then she gets it.

"I'm not going to... obviously." She raises her left brow, "God forbid I rip the cord that ties you to me forever."

"You wouldn't want to be rid of me."

"I'd like to be. I just know it won't happen. You wouldn't know what to do if I did."

Something seems to click then, and she's suddenly looking up at him with wide eyes and the faintest traces of a smile etching on her face,

"Holy- Is that why you're doing this? Christ, Dan, I know you're fucked in the head, but is that why you want me to have this kid? You're so fucking possessive."

"And what's wrong with that?"

"What's wrong is that I'm not, and this... child," she gulps, "is not something for you to have. It's creepy."

"Possessiveness isn't creepiness, honey. Think of it as flattery."

"Until flattery turns into obsession, and obsession makes people violent." Amy folds her arms over her chest. "And you're already a borderline sociopath."

Her blues eyes darken and she grins up at him, watches amusement turn to annoyance, "Fuck, do you want me to pack up my job so we can move to a trailer park and you can keep me cooped up forever? You'll look mighty sexy in a string vest, I've gotta say."

She crinkles her nose, takes one closer to him, bridges the gap, "A bit lanky, but I'm sure by the time I pop out the seventh kid you'll have put on some daddy weight."

"That would require you to do some actual fuckin' cooking, Amy?" He tells her, brow raised sharply, his face the picture of smug.

"Would you hit me if I didn't have dinner ready by seven? Or would you just buy the kids a McDonalds and hope that does the trick?"

"Oh, so, I'm working? I'm not a complete deadbeat?"

"Part-time, CVS." She holds her breath, and he kind of wants to pull her hair, "Meanwhile, I stay home and fuck the guy that lives in the renovated shabby chic trailer next door."

"Do I know you're fucking him?"

"I tell you one day to piss you off, and you throw me up against the wall and grab me by the neck."

"And I fuck you?"

"No." Amy shrugs, lowers her gaze, "You eat me out but don't let me finish because you're a possessive asshole and you think I'm gonna keep begging for more."

Dan smirks, settles his beer down on the side, "Sounds about right. But, you know, if we lived in the suburbs we wouldn't have that problem."

"You're right. I could just fuck the mailman every other day and you'd never have to find out."

"I somehow don't see you faring too well out there with the Stepford Wives of New Jersey, Ames."

"I could eat those bitches alive and you know it."

He does, "You're not gonna pull a Gone Girl on my ass? You're already halfway to batshit."

"And you have the face of someone capable of killing their spouse."

"I don't kill you, though. I just wait for your crazy ass to come home and screw me over again, like the cunt you know you are."

"Wouldn't that make me the cunt you married?"

"Only if you married me."

"Only if you ask me nicely, like a good little boy."

"Fuck you."

"You would like to."

She's turned this whole thing around, flipped the fucking table on him, and now she's stood on top of it, tapping her heels like some spoiled little brat.

That bitch.

Fine. He'll jump. He'll bite. He'll play.

"Yeah. I want to fuck you."

"Order me dinner first."

"Fine. What do you want?"

"Thai."

"The place on the corner's shut. You'll have to settle for Chinese."

"Fine." She frowns, spins around on her heels, heads for his bathroom, "I'm going for a shower. There better not be any dirty underwear in there."

"Only yours, Ames."

Amy flips him off then, one hand behind her back, the other messing with the zipper of her skirt, "Fuck yo-"

"Yeah, you're gonna."

"What, you didn't bring a change of clothes?"

She's in the doorway to his living room, a pair of flannel shorts on her hips (which he's fine with), and an old white t-shirt with some French crap written on the front covering her chest (he minds this).

"I'm sorry, no. I didn't pack a fucking overnight bag."

"You could've at least asked."

Amy smirks, slips one leg over the edge of his sofa to sit her ass down on the arm, "Do you have some weird thing about people wearing your clothes or what?"

He's petty, and metrosexual, and polished, and dramatic as fuck.

"No."

"Then stop staring at me like that." She nods once to catch his attention, moves her arms back to pull her hair up in a ponytail. "Did you order?"

"Yeah, it'll be here any minute."

Dan's still staring at her, unmoving, blank expression. If only his face could properly convey emotion, he'd be a little easier to read. He looks... unsettled?

"Are you having a stroke?" There's glee in her voice, and Dan truly despises her.

"Shut the fuck up." He's running a hand over his face then, and he clears his throat, "Can you sit on the cushion, please?"

Amy holds up her hands, slipping down from the arm of the sofa onto the seat, curling her legs up beneath her.

The pre-campaign campaign has been going well, so far, and she hasn't given anybody any reason to suspect anything. Dan figures this is why she seems relatively chipper. Or at least less pent-up than usual.

"You know, we have five minutes..."

"You know, I don't give a shit." Amy shrugs, sniffles with a crinkle of her nose, draws her brows together, "What's that?"

There's a little dark book buried beneath some magazines and folders on his coffee tables, and she reaches forward to grab it before he can stop her.

Oh.

Amy grins, "How many people have you fucked?"

"Does it matter?"

"Just wanna know so I can tell the kid what slut level its father has reached."

"Well, you found the log."

Jesus fucking Christ. "Log? You're such a pig." She looks up at him again, palm flat across the cover of the notebook. He's closer, nearer than he had been a moment ago. His shirt's been swapped out for a t-shirt, and his jeans have lost their belt.

"It's not even the right colour, you moron."

The little navy coloured book resting in her lap flies open then, Amy's fingers wrapped over the cover.

"Am I in it?"

"See for yourself."

"This is some next level Dangerous Liaisons kind of shit, Dan. Seriously, you need therapy."

She flicks through the book quickly, not really paying much mind to anything written on the pages. There are names - so many names - and what looks to be beginning and end dates below each name.

How gross.

"Didn't wanna go back for seconds." Ah, the dates.

What she doesn't understand is the colour code.

The majority of the women's names are written in black ink, but she notices how there are a few - so few really - written in red.

"I take it the poor women who got the red ink treatment were your intended murder victims? You know, until they realised you were human garbage?"

Dan rolls his eyes, snatches the book from her hands before she can check it out any more. He tosses it down on the sofa, lets it slip beneath a cushion.

"Actually, no. Those were the ones I considered longterm candidates."

Longterm?

She finds that extremely hard to believe. And just overall fucking ridiculous.

In what world would Dan Egan ever have considered settling down and actually getting serious with a woman? It's a laughable thought, really.

The buzzer goes off then, and Dan is hurrying to the door to let the delivery guy in. An opportunity Amy does not miss, picking the little navy blue book back up, scanning through the pages until she reaches pages dating years back.

There's someone called Amanda at the top of the page, and she apparently only lasted a few days. Below her is Amy, and the two week mark. The two weeks she'd spent with Dan Egan, thinking he could be anything other than a fucking walking trash can.

Only the other girl got the black ink treatment, and Amy's name is written in red.

Shit.

She'd be almost flattered if it weren't for the score he'd given her. Eight out of ten.

"I take it you found your page?"

"Why am I an eight?"

"It's not that you're an eight. You're a solid nine and half now, a definite ten back then."

"Did you actually... rank my sex skills?"

"Possibly." He's placing cartons of Chinese food on the coffee table, brushing documents and a pocket-size thesaurus to the side. "You could've done worse, Ames."

"Oh." Her throat has gone dry (that fucker!), and she almost feels sick at the thought of him actually taking the time to score her. "Well, I'm glad my fucking you are above average, I guess."

"Technically, you were a six, but then you did that thing-"

"I know what thing I did- I do."

He's smirking, and she's half tempted to pour that cartoon of wonton soup over his head, down his precious clothes.

"Did you..." She begins to flick through the pages again until he pulls it from her hands, and holds it behind his back. Fine, asshole. "Did you update it?"

A few months ago. When you knocked me up.

"Eat, and then I'll let you read the whole thing."

"I'm not a turkey, Dan. I don't need stuffing." As soon as she words fly from her mouth, she realises her mistake, "Don't."

He only chuckles, moves past her, shins to her knees, to sit down on the couch beside her. She tightens her frame, haunches shoulders as he stuffs the book down the side of the cushion. Fuck.

There's a cartoon in her lap then, and she wonders how he knew just what she wanted.

Maybe she doesn't have to wonder, though. Maybe she should realise that, by now, he just knows her.

They eat in silence, save for the news playing on the television that they only half pay attention to because it's mostly about the latest economic fuckup and (honestly) it's nothing of real interest (pun intended), and the sound of Dan slurping the remnants of whatever the fuck he ordered.

Thirty minutes later, she curled into herself, legs pulled up, eyes drawn to the clock on his wall.

And then she realises that they never actually got around to having sex.

"You tired?" Dan is at the opposite end of the sofa, only he's reaching forward for the remote, clicking buttons until the television turns off. Then he's standing, offering her his hand, and she's never been so confused.

"Weren't you expecting something?"

"Much to my own surprise, I'm really worn out, so..." He shrugs, frowns, "Why, did you wanna?"

"Yes, Dan, I want you to false asleep while we're mid-fuck." Amy quips, rolls her eyes

"Well, I can drink some coffee or something if you really want-"

"Nope. No, I'm fine."

She really isn't. She really wants to be, but alas, her hormones aren't very sympathetic.

"Amy," he pauses, retrieves her hand from her lap and tugs, pulls her upward when she refuses to cooperate, other hand wrapping around her elbow, cradling, fingertips brushing along the short sleeve of his t-shirt.

"Take your shirt off."

"Right now?"

"Right now."

"Right here?"

"Yeah." Dan replies quickly, nods once, twice, "right here."

He's not a fucking beast, but he's a goddamn animal when he wants to be. And she recognises that this is mostly her own fault because her face was basically just screaming horny woman! and (unfortunately? fortunately?) he's not entirely ignorant to her needs.

"What if I say no?" Amy bounces up on her heels, tries to keep her focus on the collar of his t-shirt. It's clean, neat, and yet she's being pulled in by the scruff along his jaw.

Goddamn it. Her hormones aren't supposed to be betraying her already, aren't supposed to be making her crave someone, something to scratch an irritable itch.

"Then you can fuck yourself on my couch."

God, he's easy. Amy grins, chews at the insides of her cheeks, eyes downcast to his crotch. Sucker.

"As if you'd have any complaints."

"Not gonna lie, I definitely have more energy to watch you get yourself off than to do it myself." He tells her pointedly, much to her disappointment because she could really do with something- "But I'll do it."

"So it's a pity fuck?"

Dan pulls a face, as though she's speaking a foreign language he doesn't understand, "It's an 'it's my fault you want my dick' fuck."

"Charming." Her brows raise and lower, and Amy folds her arms over her chest when he lets go of her elbow, "So you don't want me to blow you?"

She kind of wants the whole package, kind of wants to seal the deal.

Warts and all. The whole shebang. The whole nine yards.

Because she kind of wants to, kind of really wants to.

Dan's face nears her own, alcohol-fuelled breath beside her ear but she can smell it, smell him, dancing along the skin of her neck, "No. We fuck, and you get to scratch that itch you like to pretend doesn't exist. Or, well, I get to scratch it."

How did he know-?

"And I know just how badly you need it scratching."

She hasn't noticed that he's been walking her backwards towards his bedroom - or rather, she's been pretending not to notice. "You think you know. God forbid someone doesn't want to have sex with you."

"God forbid." Dan echoes, takes a step back, much to her surprise, "I'm offering you a free dicking here, Ames."

"Wow, I'm so hot for you right now." She deadpans, "Can I not trade you for a free car or something?"

"No," Dan only smirks, tongue in his cheek, and he's staring at something over her shoulder, "You can ride me though."

That fucker.

Walked right into that one.

"You've got exactly five seconds to decide." He's heading for the kitchen, for the coffee pot to switch it on, and Amy lets out a lengthy sigh that sounds more like a drawn out moan.

"Fine."

She's following after him then, watching as he pours half-boiled black coffee into a mug.

He stirs it with a clean spoon from off of the drainer, tosses the teaspoon in the sink and downs the drink swiftly, eyes closed.

Dan downs it like a shot, like an espresso, then he's placing the mug down on the side, tilting his head from side to side until his neck cracks, his muscles worn. "Okay." He bounces up on his dick (once), smacks his hands together (twice), and then his eyes fly wide open.

"What the fuck was in that coffee, crack?"

"It was probably eighty percent granules, twenty percent water, to be honest." He shrugs, moves back over to her side with such an ease. "Shirt, off." He points to her (his) t-shirt and then flings his hand over his shoulder, thumb extended. "Now."

"You could help."

"Jesus fuckin' Christ, you're not that far along." Dan groans, not missing a beat before his hands are at the bottom of the shirt, pulling it up to expose her breasts. "Shit. I forgot they were gonna grow."

"I'm not that far along." Amy glares up at him, skimming her hands over his own to drag the t-shirt over her head, the action loosening her long ponytail. "And you won't be touching this body when I start showing... Unless you want your hands chopping off."

"Another threat to add to the ever-expanding list." Dan pulls at the zipper of her jeans then, pops open the button. "I love it when you talk dirty."

His jeans slip down his legs then, and he's reaching for her shorts before she can even look down, fingers hooking over the waistband. He smoothes them around to her ass, barely even touches her flesh before the shorts are skimming down her legs, and he waits for her to kick them off before proceeding.

It was easier where she'd been wearing that polka-dot dress with the buttons. So much easier.

"I'm not gonna dirty-talk you."

"Shit, is that what you did with the human beanstalk?" He'd find it amusing if it wasn't for the look of sheer frustration on her face right now. Well, it's still quite amusing. "Geez, relax. I don't need you to coax me into it."

When he's slipped his shirt - the one he'd been wearing - over his head, Amy doesn't waste a minute before she's placing a hand on his chest and pushing him backwards.

"I knew you were horny, but at least give my dick a second to wake up." She scratches him - whether it's intentional or not, he has no way of knowing because her face gives nothing away.

"Your dick is always awake; that's your problem." Amy says, blowing a fallen strand of blonde hair from her face just as his backside hits the edge of the sink. She stands in front of him then, looking down at his crotch as though his cock is just going to twitch and come alive.

"You gotta give me something here, Ames."

"I'm not blowing you."

"Wasn't suggesting that." He smirks anyway, and then curls a hand around her waist before she can stop him, before she can question him. His palm runs from the curve of her waist to her hip, and he squeezes, urges, and she knows what be wants.

Amy scowls, goes to swat his hands away, except he's stronger and she doesn't even really try in the first place, "No." She'd be lying if she said she didn't want to. She really wants to, she really needs something.

"Just do it." Dan orders her, shoving her back this time, only lifting his hand from her hip when she hits the countertop. "It'll only take a second. I only need a peek."

"Oh, for fuck-" she cuts herself off with a shake of the head, ennui clear as day on her face.

Reaching behind her, Amy bends her arms and places her palms flat against the top of the sturdy unit, but her biceps do nothing to help her, so she has to wait for Dan to lift her up - he does it so easily, that motherfucker! - and drop her backside down on the counter, as though she's weightless, only one small person.

He's still touching her though, and she'd push him away if it wasn't for the fact that she wanted him to just keep touching her.

"I thought you said you didn't need coaxing into this." Amy states smugly, brows raised when Dan slips his briefs down his legs to his knees.

"I don't need talking into fucking you, I meant." He corrects her, squints like a cocky bastard. "What I do need is for you to cooperate. You're not exactly making this fun, Amy."

"Like that matters." She sighs, "You'd fuck anything that moved." Amy mumbles, drops her hands down onto his shoulders when he nears her, digs her nails into the top of his back when he grabs her buttocks and pulls her over the edge of the counter.

"You're not anything."

"Is that supposed to make me wet?"

"No," he smiles like the fucking Cheshire cat, and he winks, and she's so fucking tempted to kick him in the skull when he starts pulling her panties down, tossing them aside as they slip from her ankles. "Looks like you did that all by yourself."

Amy glares over at him from bent elbows, her arms already weakening, "It's the hormones."

"Sure it is."

That prick. Fuck him.

Gladly.

"Is your dick hard yet or are you just gonna keep salivating like a perv?"

Dan moves his right hand to her side, damn near crushes her ribs. His eyes are cast down though, and he's grinning, "Seems to me like you're enjoying this more than I am."

His left hand rests on her thigh then, fingertips dancing along the inside, "Yeah, I'm really loving being spread open on your kitchen counter like a fucking hooker you're about to slice in two. Hurry the fuck up."

"There's that dirty talk."

He grabs his dick, perches over her with a pause, runs the tip along her folds slowly, excruciatingly, his left thumb circling her clit, taunting her sensitive skin.

"Jesus, fuck."

"What?"

Amy lifts her butt cheeks, feels her body clench tighter on itself when he drags her closer, lets his cock slip past her entrance, rougher than she'd like, gentler than she'd expected.

"Fuckin' hell, you're wetter than a pornstar after a gangbang."

"Shut up." Amy lets her arms slip, and she rests her head back against the 'top, eyes closing as her body moves in sync with his own.

Her breasts bounce, time up perfectly with his every thrust, and there's a heaviness in her chest she isn't sure she likes. There's one hand on her thigh, and one on her hip, and she's her face is flushed crimson by now.

He goes faster, gets rougher with every other move, and she can't help herself but reach out for him, grabbing his neck, tense, and tracing the top of his spine with the pads of her fingertips.

Dan is sharp, Dan is lean, Dan is guarded, and Amy knows she is the only one who can leave a mark, scar, ruin his perfectly crafted character, persona.

She could destroy him if she really wanted to.

He's messing with her, playing with her, and touching her and she doesn't like it. She kind of loves it, and almost definitely hates herself for it.

She'd utter his name, say something (anything) if it weren't for the hand on her throat, smoothed over her body from her hip to her breast to her neck. He doesn't grab her, just lets his palm hover around the base of her throat.

She can feel him though, feel his warmth every time he thrusts forward and she shifts backward. She can feel him when his dick buries itself inside her and she tightens around him as though he's her lifeline, as though he's her saviour.

He's nothing of the sort though, and she knows it. But that just makes everything worse.

"Close?" He's pulled her up by the neck, hand circled around her to thread his fingers through her hair, through loose strands of hair, "Amy?"

He's breathless, and she's not sure she's ever heard him so quiet. Any quieter and he'd be whispering.

And if he did that, whispered something soft in her ear as she came around him, surrendered another piece of herself to him, handed herself over willingly to his touch, she may never come back from the brink of destruction.

He could destroy her, and she knows it.

"Harder... please." Because she's close (oh, so close), and grasping, tugging at his tussled hair is only pushing her over the edge, and his hands on her face are only encouraging her, egging her on.

He pushes harder into her, drops his face down to her collarbone, lips lingering over but not kissing her skin, "Like this?" He grunts.

She sobs a reply that Dan barely catches, her voice hitched, and she can feel his lashes against the hot skin of her neck, feel the roughness of his jaw scratch at her chest. His hands cradle her face, her cheekbones, and it's only his hips that meet her own, only his hips that work her body.

Her legs wrap around his backside, heels digging in, ankles near crossing, and she can't help but moan aloud when he pushes, pounds, pulls her with him over the finish line.

The muscles of her neck tense, and she copies him then, lowering her head to his neck, tilts her face to rub against his flesh when he tugs and twists her hair, forcing her into him. It's softer than she'd like but rougher than she'd expected, and she likes it, loves it.

He's warm but cool, chilly where sweat drips down the side of his neck, and she notices the glistening of her own chest as her darkened eyes cast down, watching him slip in and out of her body a few times more.

"Jesus."

Amy nods once, twice, leans into him when he presses cold lips to her ear no matter how much she tries not to.

Her body takes over, and she runs a hand over his shoulder to his arm when he finishes, grunts something unclear into her neck. It tickles - the noise, the scruff - and she holds her breath as he pulls his face away from her body.

"I could get used to that."

That wasn't what she was expecting him to say.

"Yeah." Amy voices, almost mute, licking her lips after a second. "Maybe."

Maybe his plan wasn't so bad, after all. Maybe they could make this work, somehow. Maybe it could work.

"Amy?" He's looking at her, with furrowed brows, with that smile she despises. But he's not pulling away, and he's not pulling out, and she has to catch her breath before she meet his eye.

Because he looks spent, and charming, and almost like a lost puppy, but she knows better.

She knows who he is, knows he's gonna say something witty any minute now and ruin this.

"I have an appointment tomorrow."

Dan stills, and his right hand slips out of her hair, lowers to rest on the counter beside her naked thigh, "Do you want me to come with you?"

"You don't have to."

"Yeah, I do." She thinks he wants to smile, wants to try and convey some kind of look of sincerity - because he looks pained and his lips are drawn thin, curving upward. "I said I was in."

The left corner of her mouth curls up at that, and Amy smirks, shifts her gaze from his eyes to his crotch, "That, you are."

And then she laughs - giggles, even - and Dan can't help an amused grin from brightening his face, brown eyes clear.

He kisses her then, lips to her jawline, eyes on her mouth, "Move in with me."

"Are you asking or ordering?"

"Which do you prefer?"

"Asking."

"I'm not asking." She feels his fingers on the low of her back, tapping and dancing along the tops of her buttocks, "You're gonna move in with me, or you're gonna marry me. Make your mind up, Brookheimer."

"Can we just fuck on the semi-regular?"

"We could fuck a whole lot more if we lived in the same fuckin' apartment."

He reasons, skims his hand over the top of her thigh to her lap, pushes her legs apart with the ball of his hand, slips his dick from between her legs and replaces it with his fingers, "And I could do this a whole lot more if you let me."

"You can't screw anyone else." She informs her, bends forward when he leans back, folds into him when he moves away, taunting her. "You can't even flirt with anyone else."

"You're asking for a lot there, Ames."

"You either do this properly," she pauses to hiccup, gasp when he slips a finger, two, past her folds, applies pressures to her centre, "or you don't do it at all."

"I'm in."

"Is that a yes?"

"I'll find us an apartment in the morning, honey."

He lowers himself then, moves from her chest to her lap, nudging her legs apart with his elbows, the roughness of his light beard scraping her inner thighs.

She'd smack him if he wasn't so close, if she wasn't so close, "Thank you, baby." She knows he groans because the vibrations hit against her skin and his breath warms her soft flesh with a sting. "Dan."

"Amy," He trails off on the 'm', looks up at her from between her legs, face just as devilishly handsome as ever, just as charmingly demonic as always.

Fuck him.

[dcbicki]

“You’re Gonna See it Someday; It’s Affection Always” - Chapter 5

Fandom: Veep Characters: Dan Egan, Amy Brookheimer Pairing: Dan/Amy Rating: Explicit content In which Amy’s pregnant, and Dan already has a plan mapped out for them.

If she’s in this for the long haul then he will be, too. If she’s keeping this baby (his baby), then he’s keeping her close by.

If she’s ready for this, for change, for restless nights and shitty diapers at two o'clock in the fucking morning, then he’ll join her.

They fucked, and now they’re fucked.

Chapter 1: x | x Chapter 2: x | x Chapter 3: x | x Chapter 4: x | x

-

It’s the third place they’ve checked out so far, it’s been three weeks, and Amy just isn’t sold.

The estate agent wandered off a short while ago, leaving them to discover the rest of the apartment by themselves. It’s huge, and way more than they need or want.

“I mean, you could tear out the bathroom and just-”

“I’m not tearing anything out, Amy. You either want it like this or you don’t.”

“Well, I don’t want it like this.”

“Well, then, we won’t take it like this.” Dan is grinning down at her, hands deep in his pocket, following in her every footstep, “Jesus, are you gonna be this indecisive with an epidural?”

“No. I’m having it. And if it doesn’t work straight away, then I’ll be having another one.” She shuts the large cupboard door beside the main window, overlooking the city. “And I’ll be full up on painkillers anyway.”

“Guess I’ll be making sure you don’t OD in the fucking delivery room then.”

What?

“Oh, hang on.” Amy’s spun around then, holding up a hand to his face, stopping him dead in his tracks. “You actually think I’m gonna let you be in there with me?”

Her blue eyes are wide, mouth gaping as though it’s just that surprising.

“Well, who the fuck else is gonna be there with you?” Dan frowns, scowls almost, “You don’t have anyone else.”

She would gasp if she were that way inclined. “I have my mom. I have Seli-”

“Don’t fuckin’ say Selina.”

He shakes his head, wraps both hands over both of her shoulder, walks her forward until they finally make into the kitchen area. “Just ‘cause she’s treating you a little nicer than usual doesn’t mean she’s gonna be holding your hand or feeding you ice chips, Amy. Jesus, I can’t believe you were stupid enough to even consider her an option.”

“Oh, and you’re gonna feed me ice chips, are you?” She shrugs his hands off, pulls her bag closer with one hand as the other skims along the kitchen worktop, “You gonna hold my hand, Danny?”

“I mean, probably. Like, if you need it.” He lifts one shoulder, drops it just as quickly, and tilts his head to the side with a raise of his brows, “Then again, you’ll probably just spread your legs and push the little fucker out in one go.”

“Oh, fuck off. You think it’s gonna be easy delivering Satan’s offspring?” She runs a hand through her hair, and he feels the sudden desire to copy, to pull at her hair. “My mom will probably wanna be there, alright? You can just… wait here or something.”

Amy gestures around the apartment, walking over to the cabinets beside the window, inspecting them.

“What, you don’t want me there at all?” He feels a grin rising, makes sure it’s present when she turns to face him again, “What if I just stand at the foot of the bed, huh? I’ll just watch?” He teases, leans both elbows on the island in the middle of the kitchen.

“Dream the fuck on, Dan. They have porn sites for that kinda thing. And I’m sure if you call Jonah, he’ll let you borrow his subscription.”

“How are we finding the place?”

The estate agent is back in the room then, one hand clutching her cell, the other on the carved doorframe, “It’s nice, right?”

“It’s, uh, quiet.” Amy responds.

Quiet. Code for 'where’s the goddamn hustle and bustle?’.

Fucking Amy and her need for noise and people in motion. Fucking Amy and her restless fucking mind. Fucking Amy.

“Right, yes.” The older woman nods, smiles apologetically (kind of), “Well, I figured with a baby on the way, a little peace and quiet would be best-” She has her nose crinkled, looking like one of the Whos until Amy cuts her off.

“How do you know I’m keeping it?” She challenges her, and Dan can do nothing but roll his eyes.

Anybody assuming anything about her, about her choices, about her body, about her pregnancy? Anybody saying anything about her, about her choices, about her body, about her pregnancy?

Don’t fucking go there.

“I just assumed, a young couple-”

“Okay, first of all, we’re not a young couple. He’s going grey, for fuck’s sake.” She points a finger over at Dan, sighs, “Secondly, and not that it’s any of your goddamn business, we’re not a couple. Kind of never have been. Sadly never will be, won’t ever be, because he’s a fucking narcissist and I’m kind of a little bit too complicated for him to actually want to pay me any attention.”

“Amy-” He does that thing, where he glares down at her when she’s being rude, being a little too forward. And she hates it.

“But, yes, I am having this child, and we are gonna raise this child. But, no, I don’t want in some apartment complex for the hearing impaired. I enjoy my job, and I’m good at it, and I’ve kind of mastered the art of getting to sleep surrounded by noise and a ruckus and half-decent politicians screaming down my earhole every two minutes. I know that. I need that.”

“I-” The agent licks her lips, blinks twice, three times for good measure, “I’m not sure-”

“What she means to say, is that we would like somewhere a little less… out of it, and a little more civilised.” He winks, smiles, tries his best, and the woman can only nods in return, clap her book.

“Right.” She flicks through her binder, takes a couple moments to settle on a new listing. During which time, the blonde in the room has already shot Dan no less than four scowls. “I’ve got just the place.”

She starts heading out then, and Dan sighs.

“You know what?” He rests a hand on her arm when she approaches him, slamming the open cupboard door shut, “Why don’t you head into the office? I can handle this.”

“What, are you gonna fuck her into a discount?”

He can’t tell if she’s kidding or not.

“Nice to know how little you think of my taste in women but, no, I’m not.”

Yeah, your taste in women isn’t anything special, Dan. Sizeable tits, shaved vag and a pretty mouth.

“Look, I know what you’re after. Okay?” He shrugs, as though it’s nothing, as though he can get the job done in no time, “And I know you’d rather be at work, shouting at interns.”

Amy’s pushing her bag further up her arm then, drawing her coat tighter around her frame.

“I’m gonna give you the benefit of the doubt because for some insane reason I feel like you won’t fuck this up like you have ninety percent of the decisions you’ve made in your sorry life. Don’t fuck this up.”

She’s pulling her phone from her bag then, sending out for an Uber.

“Wait-” He grabs her elbow, “Balcony or no balcony?”

“For my bedroom? Obviously, yes.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

-

He sends her a dozen texts throughout the rest of the day.

Amy still fails to understand how he could so willingly spend his day looking at apartments when he could have been, you know, actually working.

'Wooden floors? - D.’

“Really?” She groans aloud as she types, through gritted teeth, mouth dry. She hasn’t had a sip to drink in over an hour, and she’s seriously fucking gagging for a sugary soda.

“Can you get me a water… and a candy bar?” There’s an intern walking past her desk just then, and she sends them running for the kitchen no sooner than she opens her mouths.

The guy is no more than twenty five, and he hands her a napkin and a blueberry muffin with her water.

Well, that’s a healthier alternative.

“Uh, thanks?”

“No problem.” He moves his hands behind his back, bounces up on his heels, “My sister was the exact way when she was pregnant with my niece.”

Amy’s brows knit then, and she takes a small sip of the drink, “Is that supposed to be a thing? Like, if it’s a girl then I’ll be craving sweet stuff or something?”

“I don’t know, maybe?” He shrugs, and she notes having never seen him before, “Could be a boy, though.”

“Or I’m carrying a fucking androgynous baby.” Amy mutters, letting her gaze shift down to her stomach for a moment.

Fourteen weeks, and fucking bored of this shit.

“Hey, Pee Wee Vermin, don’t you have somewhere to be?”

The intern looks like he’s damn near ready to shit himself, but he looks between them quickly before hurrying off.

Of course. Dan, you dick.

“I thought you were still following that realtor around like a lapdog?”

Dan plops down into the chair in front of her desk when the newbie intern has walked off, and he picks off a piece of her untouched snack. “Nah, I was fuckin’ with you. I found a place hours ago.”

“Then where the fuck have you been this whole time?”

She pulls a face when he shoves the muffin towards her, nods down at it as some kind of commands, but she complies nonetheless. “Selina isn’t paying your crazy money to just goof around all day.”

“I wasn’t goofing around, I was doing what she asked me to do. It just so happens that it doesn’t have to do directly with the PCC.”

Of course. He’d fucking Jonah-ed 'pre-campaign campaign’.

“You’ll be happy when I show you what I was up to.”

“What?” She squints, swallows a piece of blueberry muffin.

“What?”

“What?”

“What?” He’s smirking - that idiot - and she loathes him. “What, you think I’m just gonna tell you?”

“You said you were gonna stop being weird.”

“I did stop. This is me being normal, Ames.” He shrugs, stands up and plucks a folder from her desk. “Is she in her office?”

“Yeah,” she nods, “But she’s leaving soon. She promised Catherine they’d have dinner because she hasn’t been around much since Richard was born. And it’s already been pushed from six to nine, so…”

Dan chuckles, slaps a hand against the file twice, “Ah, Little Dick. That poor fucker never stood a chance.”

Amy rolls her eyes, folding her arms over her chest as she leans back in her seat, “What do you need to see her for anyway?” She eyes him suspiciously, watches as he nears the door to Selina’s office, raises a hand.

“None of your business.”

“Everything is my business.”

“Then I guess you’ll just have to wait and see.”

“You’re not charming, you know.”

“Oh, I’m fully aware.” He smirks, “Still works on you though.”

“It better fit.”

“It will. It’ll be fine.”

“Sure,” Selina gives in, “Sure. Just don’t go thinking this is anything but an arrangement.”

“I’m fully aware.” Dan nods, left brow raised pointedly, confidently, “Amy’s made it very clear.”

He’s a fuck, he’s a shit.

He’s her shit.

“Let me just explain it to you, in a way your jacked up pee brain might actually understand.”

Selina waves her hands around in circular motions, stops but two feet away from Dan’s face, cranes her neck to look up at him with clenched fists.

“You took Amy’s egg, and you dipped in your crumby little soldier, and, now, you’ve got yourself a breakfast that nobody ordered, because it wasn’t even on the menu in the motherfucking first place.”

She grits her teeth so hard they almost look like fangs, and she swears so fast that Dan barely even hears the word escape past her lips.

“I’m not gonna lie to you, Dan. She deserves a hell of a lot better than your pretentious ass.”

“Did she tell you to say that?” He’d laugh if it wasn’t so true.

She’s on the brink of slapping him, so instead Selina takes a step back and breathes through her nose, mouth sealed closed for just a moment.

“No, Dan. She didn’t tell me that. You think I’m that blind I don’t notice how fucking alone she is?” She stares at him then, “Shit, if anyone here deserves to have a somewhat decent life, it’s probably Amy. You know how her family is. All batshit crazy-in-love parents, crappy older sister who loathes her guts for no reason whatsoever. She grew up in the fucking suburbs, Dan, what do you want from her?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugs, because it’s true, because it isn’t.

“Well, you’re gonna have to be a big boy and figure it the fuck out. I’m not having this shit fall apart, and the two of you be insufferable for the next couple years.”

Assuming you make it that far, ma'am.

“God fucking knows it took you years to finally bang it out. I don’t wanna have to sit through that again.”

“Bang what out?”

The inevitable.

“Don’t fucking play coy, Dan. You know just as well as I do that the two of you had some serious fucking tension going on back then.”

She rolls her eyes so far back, “Honestly, I’m surprised nobody found you fucking in a coat closet or something.”

Clearing her throat, Selina looks back over at him, absentmindedly picking up a box from off of her desk. It’s square, and yellow, and it has Gary’s doing written all over it.

“Welcome to adulthood, daddy.” She feigns an honest smile, shoves the box into his hands before he can refuse it. “Don’t you fucking open that in here though. Wait for Ame.”

She’s gathering her coat from her chair at that, pushing her arms through the sleeves, buttoning it up.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go have dinner with my own child because she thinks I’m a shitty mother and your baby momma basically told me to shut up and suck it up, and I’m in no position to argue with her when she’s all… hormonal.”

She slips past him before Dan can realise he hasn’t spoken for a solid minutes or so. And when she’s gone, he just breathes - calmly, nervously.

God, this is gonna fucking kill him.

“What is that?”

He’s back out of her office, gift in the crook of his arm. Dan glances down at the package, all wrapped and fancy and nice.

Amy’s watching him, eyes flicking back and forth between the box and his face. “Dan?”

“Oh. I don’t fuckin’ know. She said it was for you to open.” Dan shrugs, looks down at her finally, “You ready to go?”

“Yeah.”

Her jacket is thrown over her arm, and she’s turning off the lamp of her desk then, hair pushes behind her ears, face all tired and worn out and flushed.

“Are you gonna show me what you bought?”

“You really wanna see it now?” He pulls a face, “It’s pretty late. Don’t you wanna go home and sleep or whatever?”

“Stop being weird.” She breezes past him, heading toward the elevator.

One hand held up, Dan grins, “Not being weird, just saying.”

“Whatever.”

“How did you even manage to get the keys already?”

He scratches at the slight scruff of his jawline, passes her the box of noodles he’d been holding, “They just wanted it gone. The sooner, the better.”

“Oh, God, watch, I bet it’s the scene of a crime or something. 'Husband kills two sons, rapes wife, commits suicide’.”

“Fuckin’ dark.” He says, “Does it matter?”

“No.” Amy shrugs, folds her legs up beneath her, “As long as I can sleep in it and I’m not gonna catch any kind of disease from touching the walls or some shit.”

“And it’s kind of noisy.” He adds with a knowing smile, one brow raised proudly, “There’s a couple musicians two doors down. And an elderly woman upstairs who plays her midnight soap reruns just a little bit too loud.” Dan boasts.

“Amazing.”

“Told you I could handle it.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry. You’re a grown man who can successfully buy an apartment. Shame on me for doubting you.”

“You had a lot of demands, you know.”

“You expect me to believe you met every single one of my demands?” She air-quotes, stares over at him with a single noodle balancing on her chopsticks. “Please.”

“Fine, don’t believe me. You’ll find out soon enough.”

Amy rolls her eyes at that, scoops up some more food before she decides she’s had enough, placing her half-empty box down on the floor.

They got takeout on the way over, decided it was best to just settle down on the hardwood floors than it would be to scatter food all over the kitchen worktops already.

When she goes to stand up, he’s right there, kneeling with a hand on her elbow, and all she can do is glare at him (again).

“Dan.”

“I’m not being weird, alright? I’m just making sure you don’t hurt yourself, fuck.”

When she’s stood, and he’s let go of her arm, Amy lets out a deep sigh, eyes closing, “I’m not… You don’t have to do that kind of thing yet.” She informs him with a bat of her lashes, a crinkled nose.

“Fine.” He nods, “Fine. Just tell me.” He picks up his beer, pulls at his tie, “Tell me when I have to do anything.”

“Anything?”

“Within reason.”

“What’s not reasonable?” She’s pulling a water from the fridge, one of three they’d bought with dinner. She unscrews the cap, joins him once again, only she remains standing. “What is Dan Egan not willing to do?”

She sounds smug, and he kind of likes it when she gloats.

“I bet I could get him to do anything.”

“Sure giving yourself a lot of credit there, Ames.”

Amy huffs, moans out a little noise before she’s tapping him on the shoulder, rounding the island again.

“Hey.” She calls out to him, lifting up the yellow gift when he looks over at her. She moves it around, brings it with her when she comes to settle down - beside him, this time.

“It’s kind of heavy.”

“She probably bought you a gun to shoot me with. Wouldn’t fuckin’ put it past her.”

“Yeah, because she chose this herself.” She says, sarcastically.

He kind of wants to tell her that Selina cares, in some weird way. Maybe not enough to be there for her the way Amy hopes, maybe not that way. He kind of wants to tell her that he’s pretty sure Selina will have him murdered if he so much as touches Amy some way she does not like.

“Obviously this is Gary’s work.” She reasons, tugging at the bow, at the finely curled green ribbon surrounding the box. “Nobody else would put this much effort in.”

“True.” Dan agrees, putting his drink to the side with a slight clink, the sound of hard glass on a polished wood.

It’s comforting, homely.

When she’s pulled the gift wrap from around the box, she tosses it aside, eager to lift the lid.

“It’s a fucking-”

“Picture frame?”

Dan frowns, snatches the metal frame from her hands, “The fuck?”

“There’s no receipt so we can’t even exchange it, those fuckers.”

Amy groans, placing the box aside with a thud, stretching her legs out in front of her. “Couldn’t have been a fucking new coffee maker or something, no.” She stresses, clearly ticked off.

“It’s fine. We’ll,” Dan starts, shaking his head despite his vocal positivity, face expressionless (which is nothing new), “I don’t know, just thank her tomorrow or something.”

“You’re gonna have to do it. I can’t do that and keep a straight face.” She tells him, repeatedly pokes a finger at his chest until he grabs her wrist in his hand, soft, twists her palm upward.

He speaks through his teeth, “I’ll write her a fuckin’ note.” He quips, suggests as an alternative.

She shrugs, “She’ll have forgotten by tomorrow anyway.” Amy blinks, holds back a yawn. “Please tell me there’s at least a mattress here…”

“Well, there’s some fresh sheets.” He tilts his head over to a stack of unopened bedding on the windowsill. “Didn’t exactly have the energy to go fetch my mattress.”

“I’m not sleeping on top of some sheets.”

“Look, just, go wash or something. I’ll figure it out.”

She has no change of clothes, no toothbrush, and she’ll still have to go back to her apartment in the morning to shower properly. But, sure, she’ll get washed.

“What, are you gonna magically conjure up a fucking futon?’

"You underestimate me.”

Amy whines, standing up to head down the corridor, “I think I overestimate you sometimes.”

When she reemerges fifteen minutes later, she’s wearing her blouse and underwear, hair scraped back into a low ponytail, face rid of any makeup.

“Well, don’t you look quaint.” He sounds smug (because of course), and she’s tempted to strangle him with his tie.

“Just show me where the fuck I’m sleeping, or I swear I’ll head back to my apartment right now.”

It’s a dead threat, and Dan can only feign annoyance.

“Follow me.”

He leads her down the hallway into the biggest bedroom - she’s already studied the layout of the place (because of course) - and gestures toward a makeshift bed.

“You’re kidding me, right?”

It’s quite literally one sheet spread out on the floor, and one sheet crumbled up on top of it.

“You said you were gonna figure it out.”

“I did.” He informs her, pops open the final two buttons of his shirt and slips it from his arms.

What the fuck-

He folds it up and places it down at the head of the 'bed’, grins down at her as he unbuckles his belt.

Eyes closed, Amy sighs, wants to resist when he touches her elbows from behind, breathes down her neck.

“You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, believe me, I’m dead serious.” He sits himself down on the floor - because, let’s be honest, it’s the fucking floor and not a bed - waits for her to join him, arm extended.

“I’m calling an Uber.”

“Amy,” he starts, groans when she pulls her phone out of nowhere (how?), “I’ll be your pillow.”

“Yeah, I’m good?” She grimaces, stares down at him in disbelief. “Dan, I know you. Even you can’t be comfortable sleeping on the floor.”

“I’m trying.”

“I told you to stop trying.”

“You told me to stop acting weird and creepy and… whatever. But I am trying.”

Trying to do anything, something. Trying to do anything you ask.

'Make me a bed’, the girl asks. The boy sighs, but he concedes all the same, 'Okay.’

She has to give him some credit.

“Come on, it’s late.”

His hand is still held out, and she’s pretty sure she prefers the Dan who would rather hail a cab at three in the morning than the one who would chose to sleep on a hard floor because he’s trying to be… what, sweet? Nice?

“You can’t be a pillow. There’s nothing to you. You’re built like a fucking breadstick. All air, no filling.”

He laughs (slightly, a little), and tugs at her hand when she finally gives in, kneels down beside him.

Her phone is placed down beside his makeshift cushion, and she has to touch his face with her forearm to put it on silent.

“We’ve gotta be up in a couple hours anyway so it’s fine. We’ll just sleep it off tomorrow whenever Leon opens his fuckin’ mouth.”

“So, most of the day, then.” She jokes back, rests on her right side, moving her arm in front of her, uneasily placing her left hand on his abdomen.

“Jesus Christ, will you just get comfortable? I’m not gonna fuckin’ push you off of me or anything.”

“Yeah, because you’re such a cuddler.” She frowns, “It’s not like you’re emotionally detached or anything.”

She kicks him in the shin (intentionally or not, he isn’t sure), elbows him in the ribs twice.

“Amy, I swear to fucking God, if you don’t just lie down I’m gonna tie you down and sleep on top of you.”

“Have fun tying me down with no bedposts, dumbass.”

“Fuck you.” He scowls, shifts so his back is curved and he’s facing her more.

His eyes are closed though, and he doesn’t notice her awkward, pained smile when he slips his arm beneath her own and pulls her into his side, forcing her head onto his chest. “Just pretend I’m someone you like.”

“I don’t like anyone.”

“Then pretend I’m the person you hate the least.”

“Fine.”

“Good.”

“Yeah.”

“Night.”

“Whatever.”

She finally closes her eyes then, pretending he isn’t so close, pretending he isn’t letting her snuggle, pretending he isn’t acting like someone completely different.

“Your breath stinks, by the way.”

“Fuck you, Amy.”

The alarm on her phone wakes them up at exactly eight o'clock, and they waste no time in sorting through their shit until they look somewhat presentable.

Namely because they have little time before they have to be at the office, mainly because both of their phones are blowing up with texts and notifications and Google fucking alerts featuring both of their names.

Amy suspects someone finally figured out who knocked her up. Dan suspects it’s because of something incriminating Selina might’ve said and they’re the ones who’ve got to clear up the mess.

When they arrive at work, having showered and changed and fucking washed at her place, their suspicions are put to rest. And, as usual, Amy was right.

“We believe,” Kent sighs, rounding the large bureau with a heavy breath, “it might’ve been one of the interns.”

“What?”

Ben shakes his head quickly, holds up his fresh coffee, “Some moron with half a brain cell sold the story to some low rent online paper. Didn’t even get a grand though, fucking amateur.”

“An intern? Like, one of our interns?”

“Yes, Amy! Who the fuck else’s intern could’ve caught wind of this?” Selina exclaims, quite clearly pissed.

“Ma'am, I screen them all myself. With Mike.”

Shoulders raised, neck stiff. Great.

Her mouth is drawn wide, her eyes huge, “I don’t understand how one of them could’ve-”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe because you and Dan were at your desk yesterday talking about your fucking apartment. Maybe that’s how people know you guys now own property.”

Oh. Oh, fuck.

“That fucking muffin-man.”

“The what?”

“There was this one- He brought me a snack.”

“A snack, Amy?” Selina squints, eyes the blonde like an eagle, “My golden fucking ticket leaked because you wanted a fucking snack?”

“To be fair, ma'am, it was going to get out either way. I’ll just make a statement,” he looks over at Amy, nods once to himself, “and we’ll announce it publicly-”

“Uh, no, you fucking won’t.” The brunettes shakes her head as though it’s obvious, as though what he’s saying is utter fucking nonsense.

“Leon will announce this. You two are gonna stay indoors. I’m not having people knock on my door because your stupid faces couldn’t shut the fuck up for one more day.”

The announcement had been imminent, seen as Amy was just safely past her twelfth week (much to Selina’s pleasure),

With all due respect, it’s none of your fucking business, Amy wants to shout so badly. Stay the fuck out of my business.

She won’t though, doesn’t yet have the gall to go one-on-one with Selina Meyer once again.

“Leon?”

“I’m already working on it.” He’s on his laptop, legs crossed so professionally, glasses pushed up, face is deep concentration.

“See?” Selina points, “He’s on top of things.” She inhales a deep breath, throws her head back, “Dan, you’re gonna give him a quote. That’s it. I don’t wanna hear one fucking squeak from you until I say so.”

It’s none of your fucking business.

“Shouldn’t I be saying or… doing something? This does concerns me, after all.” Amy adds, reluctantly.

“Ame,” Selina walks to her, rests a hand on her shoulder, “You fucked Dan. Living with that fact should be enough to deal with.”

“Right.” She swallows, draws her lips together, feels her throat tighten, “Do we know his name? The leaker?”

Gary places an iPad in her hands then, and she only frowns after him at the softness of his touch because his fingers lingered on her hands for a little longer than she cared for, “Thanks.”

'Broken Brookheimer No More: Turns Out a Paternity Test Wasn’t Needed After All’

The main article goes on to mention how they used to date (which Amy wants to laugh at, because that was not dating), how they worked together for years (on and off, on different schemes), how the long distance thing last year must have finally made them realise the true extent of their feelings for one another.

It’s complete bullshit. But something catches Amy’s attention.

“No, but you can sure as shit bet we’re gonna shoot him down if he ever steps foot in here again.” Selina points out with a hand on her hip, giving Kent a look. “Tell her.”

“The Twitter page for the paper is running a poll.” He hands her a piece of paper, “These are the results from twenty minutes ago.”

'Should she have aborted? 48% yes. 27% no. 25% don’t care.’

“Well, this is comforting.”

Fucking bullshit.

“It’s twisted, I’ll admit. But this does mean you’re gonna have to play along.” Kent seems to squint with one eye, taking back the poll paper with one slow hand, “We need to win over these pro-choicers.”

“We are pro-choice.”

“Yes, but we’re also pro-Selina.” Kent points out, and Selina nods eagerly, pointing an index finger up at her own face.

Un-fucking-believable.

“The, uh-” Amy begins, scratches her brow, phone still clutched tightly in the palm of her hand, “I think I know who sent him.”

“If it was that fucking bamboo shoot-”

“It wasn’t that bamboo shoot,” she corrects her, “It was Jonah.” There’s a vendetta behind that article.

“Makes sense, because I just got a text,”

Dan is at her side then, right on cue, phone in hand. He’s staring down at the screen, clearly in a trance, jaw clenched, “that said 'Congratulations, Daddy. Let me know what to get you guys as a wedding gift. I’m thinking matching pyjamas? Laugh my ass off. Just kidding. PS: How was the muffin? Probably not as good as Amy’s, right? Laugh my ass off. No, seriously, you’re screwed’ .”

Dan groans when he’s finished reading, and he looks down at Amy with tired eyes before glancing back to Selina, “I can’t believe I got that guy elected.”

“We are going to obliterate that fucking beanpole.” Selina speaks clearly. She clicks her tongue, watches Amy carefully, “Ame?”

“Uh huh?”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

Dealt with worse. For you.

“Okay.” She shoots Dan a look, waves a hand, “I guess we’re a go, people. Get this baby moving, get it kicking. We need some foetal fucking action going on around here.”

“Right.”

“And what are we gonna do about Jonah?”

“You and Dan are gonna take him out to lunch. And you’re gonna wear that ring he got you yesterday.”

“What ring?”

Shit.

“You didn’t fucking tell her?” Selina asks, “Well, I’m not your goddamn mother. Sort yourself out, Dan!”

“What ring?”

Were they actually being serious when they had that discussion the other day?

“I don’t have it on me.”

“Well, go and fucking fetch it then.”

“Amy?” He nods to the door, gestures for her to follow him.

Fuck.

They’re in this now.