#both Charlie’s and Sam would probably be sat on the floor in a corner | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

feverinfeveroutfic · 3 years

Text

chapter fourteen: venus as a boy

“he's exploring the taste of her arousal so accurate he sets off the beauty in her he's venus, venus as a boy.” -”venus as a boy”, bjork

Sam locked the front door with one hand and Cliff lingered next to her. He had offered to hold her binder for her but she insisted that she could handle it: he adjusted the hat upon his head as well as his big black sunglasses. She slung a big heavy black canvas courier bag over her shoulder: she had loaded it full with her art supplies before she turned into bed the night before.

“Never seen that before,” he noted as they headed down the stairs in unison.

“What, this bag?” she asked him.

“Yeah. It looks new.”

“I got it before I moved here,” she explained. “I'm always in need of something for my artistry. I have to give this its moment in the sun at some point, too.”

Cliff reached the bottom of the stairs first and he awaited her as she followed suit right behind him.

“So art history first thing,” he remarked as he held the front door for her.

“First thing in the morning, baby,” she added as she adjusted her sunglasses before they stepped outside to the late summer early morning sun. It was a cool crisp day there in the Bronx, but one that didn't call for a sweater or anything to protect them from the bitter New York cold. However, Sam could feel it in her bones as they made their way over to the subway terminal.

Typical Monday morning in the heart of the Bronx: the train was chock full of passengers, but Cliff was willing to keep the space for them in the car closest to the front. He held onto the brim of his hat before he bowed inside behind her. She held onto the pole with her free hand and he held onto the rung over his head.

The train swayed underneath them, and such that Cliff almost lost his balance at one point. He caught himself on the pole at one point.

“If I fall asleep standing up, I want you to slap me across the face,” he said to her as he gave his soft hair a toss back with a flick of his head.

“I'm not gonna slap you,” she scoffed at the suggestion.

“But I want you to slap me, though.”

“Slap him, girlfriend,” a little old lady next to them chimed in, and they both laughed out at that.

It took them a full hour to reach the school; once they stepped inside of the front atrium, Sam took her schedule out of her jeans pocket for a check of the room number.

“This way, Cliff—” She gestured to their left, where they were met with a corridor with a smooth black and white checkered floor and a series of classrooms along the right side, right across from a long row of bay windows. If there was stained glass in lieu of the regular panes and if the ceiling rose up a bit higher, Sam imagined that wing of the school resembling to a church corridor.

He walked by her side down the corridor to her first class of the day. The heavy soles of his pointed toe boots pattered on the hard linoleum: even though a small crowd of people were in the hallway with them as well, she could hear his boots loud and clear, like a pair of Clydesdale hooves on the hard floor underneath them.

Her art history class stood at the far end, and she was taken aback by the door standing wide open to welcome her in for the first morning. She stood in the doorway with her binder pressed close to her chest: Cliff lingered behind her as they scanned the room before them.

Eight rows of long heavy wooden tables spread over the floor in front of them: most of them were empty, except for the one closest to the front of the room. A blonde girl wrapped in a Ramones shirt sat near the front: she kept her head bowed so her smooth golden blonde curls blanketed her face from view, even as Sam strode into the room and took a seat two away from her, right down in center so she could make eye contact with whoever taught the class.

“What do you think the teacher's gonna look like?” Cliff asked her in a low voice.

“No idea,” she confessed as she took a glimpse down at her schedule again. She didn't recognize the last name, but she did recognize him once he stepped into the room with a binder and some papers tucked under his arm.

“Oh, hi, Bill,” she said in a soft voice.

“Miss Shelley!” he declared with a twinkle in his eye. “I wasn't expecting to see you right now.”

“I wasn't expecting to see you, either.” He set his things down on the table right in front of her. He lifted his gaze to Cliff, who stood right behind her, complete with his long smooth hair over his shoulders and his wide brimmed hat upon the crown of his head.

“I like that hat,” Bill told him with a gesture around his own head.

“That's like his signature look,” Sam pointed out; she noticed, out of the corner of her eye, the blonde girl next to her lifting her attention from her book. Cliff stood out like a radio tower, even with no one else in there.

“I feel like a cowboy if I'm being perfectly frank,” Cliff declared.

“Cowboy on his horse to help out his lady,” the blonde girl interjected, and Sam laughed out loud at that.

“I don't have a horse, though,” Cliff replied with a shrug of his shoulders. Bill turned his attention to the papers before him.

“Belinda Grimes, right?” he asked her, and she nodded her head at him. Sam eyed her smooth soft looking skin and it made her think of a doll. Her eyes lit up with a soft bright blue and her smooth lips made her think of ripe apples. Her fingers crept over the cover of her book, and Sam spotted a silver ring on her right index finger and a turquoise one on her pinky. She also wore a pendant in the shape of a king cobra around her neck.

“Oh, hey, Marla,” Cliff spoke out of the blue. Sam looked past him and she recognized Marla's head of rich violet hair. Her face lit up at the sight of them right there.

“Hey, you two!” she greeted them; she turned her attention to Belinda two seats away from Sam. “And Bel!”

“You guys know each other?” Belinda gestured to Sam and Cliff as Marla stood before that middle seat and kept her hands upon the top of the chair.

“We know each other like you would a bunch of other friends,” she replied, and she gave her violet hair a flick back. Sam noticed the dark circles under her eyes even with her head pointed away from her.

“Sam, this is my friend Belinda,” Marla introduced her, “or Bel, as I like to call her. She lived down the street from me in Hell's Kitchen for a long time.”

“I like your shirt,” Sam told her.

“Thank you—they're probably my favorite band.” Belinda showed her a shy little smile and a soft warm blush crossed her face.

“Sam hung out with Stormtroopers of Death all summer long,” Marla told her. “You know, Charlie's little punky side project. She's even got some credits with them.”

“Wow, I'm jealous,” Belinda said as she tucked a curled lock of blonde hair behind her ear.

“It's been interesting,” Sam remarked, “hanging with Stormtroopers and also Anthrax. And this big guy right here.”

“Cliff, right?” Belinda asked him.

“Cliff from—” He held out a hand as if to lead her along.

“Hell's Kitchen,” Bill echoed Marla, and the four of them burst out laughing. “And by the way, Sam?”

She raised her eyebrows at him.

“I need to talk to you about your being from out of state at some point today.”

“Okay,” she followed along, even though it didn't really make any sense to her because she believed she had figured it out before school even started.

“She gets special treatment?” Cliff asked him with a smirk on his face. A couple more people walked into the room right behind him.

“Somewhat.”

Sam peered over her shoulder to the handful of people in the two rows behind them. Bill took a glimpse down at his wristwatch.

“We're almost about to start,” he informed them.

“Kind of a small class,” said Sam.

“It surprises me, too,” Bill added in a low voice; Marla took a seat next to her and gave her violet hair another toss back from the side of her neck.

“I'll catch you later, Sam,” Cliff whispered into her ear before he stepped back out to the hallway.

Even though that first day of class was only twenty minutes long in comparison to its hour length, Sam wondered what Bill wanted to talk to her about at some point. He handed out copies of their syllabus within time. A study of art from the early part of the Millennium and all the way through to the Middle East and Central America, and Sam would have to find a textbook for herself at some point that week.

“No Renaissance art?” Marla asked him at one point as he walked them through it.

“That's with the second level of history,” he explained, and Marla turned to Sam.

“I envy you,” she said in a hushed voice.

“Why not take it for the winter?” Sam suggested to her with a shrug of her shoulders.

“I'd have too full of a schedule for the winter,” Marla explained. “It's already pretty loaded at the moment.”

Sam tucked the orange sheet of paper into her binder: at some point, she would have to find some page protectors for all the important things such as that. He dismissed that small class, and thus she figured to get it out of the way. Sam stood up and leaned towards him.

“What did you want to talk to me about?” she asked him over Marla and Belinda talking to each other.

“Oh! Because you're from out of state, and well out of state to boot, there's a special scholarship for you. I'm thinking it can help you out at some point because—the more money you have, the merrier.”

“I see.” She paused and she rested her hands on her hips. “How do I get it?”

“You have to finish out your first year here at school,” he started, “and then—when you fill out the credits needed, come back to me and I'll walk you right through it. I just wanted to tell you because you're one of thirteen students I'm counseling right now who hails from California.”

“Oh, I see! I'll have to write that down when I get a chance. Thank you, Bill.”

She picked up her binder and let Marla and Belinda through first. The former turned her attention to Sam.

“What's your next class, drawing?”

“Yes! That big three hour beast of a class.”

“The two of us, too!” Belinda said as she adjusted the straps of her book bag.

“Belinda aided that class last summer,” Marla explained. “Apparently, it's in a brand new room, so she knows the way better than I do.”

Belinda led the two of them out to the corridor and towards the front door yet again: there was another corridor in front of them, and Sam made out the sight of stained glass windows that hung within those big bay windows. She and Marla stopped in place so they could look on at a round window suspended within their line of sight. It was about the size of a truck wheel and the royal blue glass shone in the morning sunlight, and Sam let her eyes wander along the shape of the trio of orange koi fish in between seaweed. The solders on the joints were a soft silver and as smooth as butter.

“That's freaking beautiful,” Marla blurted out.

“It's stunning,” Sam added; she pictured herself making a window for Anthrax's rehearsal space.

“Oh, yeah, glass class,” Belinda said as she doubled back to them. “One of the classes I aided over the summer. That was a lot of fun to oversee, lemme tell you guys. All those physical arts are a baggle of fun, come to think of it.” She pointed to a bright green one that hung two windows away from them. “I like this one.”

“Oh, yeah!” Sam agreed with her as she lay eyes on the emerald green glass that surrounded the side portrait of a woman. She eyed the lush leaves that surrounded her, as well as the flowers in her hair. She thought back to that side drawing she made of Joey to get into the school, and she pictured it being brought to life with stained glass. The side of his face brought out from an art journal to an elaborate stained glass window, suspended in the school hallway, felt like something straight out of a dream given there was a lot about it to learn in the future.

Belinda then guided them further down the hall until they reached the end of the windows and a lefthand corner. The hallway ended in a vast room down below the floor: if Sam didn't know better, she swore it was a laboratory, except the dozen metal tables down on the floor were arranged in a circle. They descended the stairs and she could make out the sight of all the shelves that lined the walls: shelves crammed full of boxes, all of which were filled with things that ranged from soldering irons and pliers to pieces of paper, packets of glitter, and seemingly brand new bottles of glue. Once they reached the base of the stairs, a blast of cool air greeted them and Sam shivered at the sensation given it wasn't that cold out that morning.

“This was my sanctuary for the summer,” Belinda told them as she led them towards the other side of the room, where a heavy wooden desk stood near the wall and an older woman wrapped in a light purple shawl leaned over a little wooden podium with a pencil in her hand. Sam eyed her short salt and pepper flyaway hair and she thought of that boy Alex and that tiny sliver over his forehead.

“This almost looks like a machine shop,” said Marla. “More that than an art room.”

“This was the machine shop for a long time,” the woman replied in a scratchy voice once they came within earshot. She lifted her gaze to the three girls as they took their seats in front of her. “Oh, hi, Belinda.”

“Hi, Miss Estes—I'm just not gonna leave this room,” she joked as she set her things down on the table before her.

“That's the physical arts,” she replied with a sly smirk. “It demands the hands and the body in a way that simply drawing can't do.”

“So is this straight up drawing?” Sam asked Miss Estes.

“Yes, it is. I also teach the stained glass kids and also ceramics. Marla knows a thing or two about ceramics.”

“It's so much fun,” Marla told Sam. “You should take it in the next couple of terms, or at some point. You'll love it, Sam. I promise.”

“Let's see—Marla Taylor and Belinda Grimes are both here—and what's your name?” Miss Estes pointed a pencil at her.

“Sam. Sam Shelley.”

“Samantha Shelley,” Miss Estes clarified as she scribbled something down.

“The Seashell,” Belinda said. “I couldn't resist that.”

“No, I like that,” Sam told her with a chuckle. “I'm kinda surprised no one ever took that opportunity and threw that out at me.”

“We get to draw a naked person starting next week,” Miss Estes told them.

“Oh, boy,” Marla quipped.

“Don't get too excited, Marla—it's going to be a woman.”

“Even better,” she joked, and Sam and Belinda laughed at that.

Within time, more people filled out the subterranean classroom and they were given yet another syllabus. She had the pencils and the erasers and everything she already needed, but one thing Sam didn't have was a large pad of paper to do that sort of lifelike drawing.

Lunch break followed by one more class, which she took without Marla and Belinda there next to her. She would have to go at the whole endeavor of academic writing solo, and she made a note to find that small textbook in question. It wasn't needed, but she knew she would have to get it to understand what was even happening during class time. By the middle of the afternoon, she returned back outside to the bright sunlight. At that point, the fatigue from driving the night before combined with a full day of school began to sink over her. All she wanted was to climb aboard the next subway and head on back up to the Bronx: she could worry about the textbooks and the pad of paper the next day on her time off.

But Cliff awaited her there at the front step.

“Hey,” she greeted him, taken aback by the sight of him.

“Hey,” he returned the favor: the sun shone down on the brim of his hat which in turn cast a shadow over his handsome face.

“Wasn't expecting to see you here,” she confessed as she made her way down the steps. She turned her head to find Marla at the far end of the sidewalk: she climbed into Charlie's car and they drove away without a moment's hesitation.

“When I was looking at your schedule last night, I saw the release times,” he said with a shrug. “I decided to hang out around this neighborhood and when the time came, I decided to come and join you back home.”

“Oh, I see. Hey, at least you're not some random guy from the street telling me that.”

“Exactly!”

“I gotta get a couple of textbooks plus a big drawing pad for my drawing class,” she told him as they began down the sidewalk to the subway side by side. “I have tomorrow off, though, so I'll do it then. I just wanna go back to my place and chill for a bit.”

“Sounds like a good idea,” he added, “you look tired.”

“All that driving last night, plus all that time on tour with Stormtroopers. I'm just gonna relish my down time, you know?”

“Oh, yeah. We always do. It's all fun and games until you're absolutely beat...” His voice trailed off, and Sam recognized the metal fence that surrounded the entrance to the terminal.

“While I was walking out of the school,” he started, but then he stopped right in his tracks. Sam turned her head towards him.

“While you were walking out of the school?”

“I'm thinking I'm going to be a model for your drawing class,” he confessed to her. “I decided to sign up for it.”

“You ought to!” she said. “It'd be a nice li'l change of pace for you while you're staying here for the time being.”

A woman on a bike rode past them and she waved at Sam, and it took her a moment to realize that was Belinda under the sparkling blue helmet.

“Oh, hey!” she called after her. “See you Wednesday!”

Belinda flashed her a thumbs up before she pedaled away from them.

“Who was that, mind me asking?” Cliff turned his attention to Sam.

“Belinda—longtime friend to Marla. Literally, another girl from Hell's Kitchen. She's like a lighter version of Zelda in that she's kinda tomboyish. She strikes me as being a little more girlish, though, you know, she's not so brutish.”

“All the 'ish' in that sentence,” Cliff cracked as they reached the steps.

Another hour ride home up to the Bronx and Sam was quick to collapse on the couch.

“It was a good day, though,” she pointed out as Cliff shut the front door behind him. “The three of us saw a bunch of these stained glass windows in the hall on the way to our drawing class. You should've seen these, Cliff—there was this round blue one with koi fish in it. Just the way the sun shone on it... it was unreal. And then Belinda showed us this big beautiful green one. It's such a big lush world.”

He was silent and she lifted her head to see where he had gone to. She rolled her head over the cushion and let her eyes wander to the vase of yellow tulips before her.

“Cliff?” she called out. Sam sat upright and swung her legs over the edge of the cushion. He had disappeared. She glanced behind her to the kitchen and there he was without his hat.

Cliff stripped off his shirt and exposed his smooth chest at first. He let the sleeves fall down his arms towards his hands.

“What're you doing?” she demanded with a chuckle.

“Practicing for a pose in front of your class.” Sam then burst out laughing, and she rounded the corner just in time for him to drop his pants to the linoleum.

“I just realized something,” she said.

“What's that?”

“You—You're going to pose right in front of me,” she sputtered.

“Right in front of you, really?” he laughed at that.

“Yeah, I'm sitting close to the middle of the room,” she explained, “well, we're all sitting in the middle of the room, so no matter where we sit, you're gonna be right in front of me when it happens.”

“Want me to shake my hips while I'm doing it, too?”

“If you want. I'm probably gonna get a faceful of ass for the first lifelike drawing so if and when you do that—you pose for us—it'll be up to you as to what you wanna do for that day. Or maybe Miss Estes will have another suggestion for the day, I dunno.”

He ran his fingers through his soft hair and she glanced over his long and lanky body. Nice sinewy long legs and shapely hips, slim in the waist and deep in the chest, and strong in the arms. Like a statue of Venus that stood before her.

For a split second, she imagined Joey doing the exact same thing for her.

He dropped his underwear and she raised her eyebrows at what she saw before her.

“Sit tight, I'm gonna get my journal,” she told him with a raise of her finger. “I'm just gonna get in the mood for that right now with you—like this already. Getting in the mood for a lifelike drawing of Cliff before it even happens.”

She headed out of the kitchen when a knock on the door caught her attention. She opened the door and recognized that helmet of lush dark hair about his head and that smile full of star's teeth.

“Oh, hi, Frankie!” she greeted him, and she lowered her gaze to the stack of papers in his left hand.

“I checked the mail yesterday,” he explained, “but since you weren't able to get home until late last night—and you also had school this morning—I haven't been able to give you this. It wound up in my mailbox by accident.” He handed her a red envelope, which made her think of the red envelope from Legacy the night before.

“Oh, I got something like this just last night when we got home,” she replied as she took the envelope for a look herself.

“I guess it's something else, though,” Frank answered with a shrug of his shoulders. Sam turned it over and opened the flap to find a series of photographs inside, plus a sheet of paper.

“Oh, yeah, this is something totally different,” she told him. “Thank you, Frankie.”

“My pleasure!” He lifted his gaze to the room behind her. “Hey, Cliff—” And he began laughing. Sam turned around to find him reaching for the vase of tulips. Cliff held it before his thighs to protect himself from view.

“It's not what it looks like,” he told Frank.

“Sure about that?” he joked.

“Positive,” Sam assured him as she shut the door. She turned back to him. “What're you doing?”

“I was just gonna ask you if you had any clean towels or a bathrobe,” he answered, nonplussed despite his holding a vase of yellow tulips before him.

“I have towels,” she told him as she set the red envelope down on the coffee table. “Just—sit tight, and I'll get it for you. I promise.”

She headed into the bathroom for a clean dark red towel for him, and she returned to find him looking at a something about the size of a postage stamp. He showed it to her and she recognized the face inside.

“That boy, Alex?” she asked him.

“Yeah, you can see his stripe in there,” Cliff explained with a tap of his finger. “I remember types of pictures like this from a few years ago—it's actually a place holder photo for a new fan club. But look at this boy, though. Look at this handsome little devil.”

Sam traded him the photograph for the towel and he put it around his waist before he headed into the safety of the kitchen.

Meanwhile, she took a glimpse down at the envelope and then she held the photo closer to her chest for a moment. Handsome little devil indeed. Those deep eyes stared back at her, as if he coaxed her closer to her. That little pearl of white against a head of black.

But she would have to delve through it at a later point. She had a man to draw for herself.

#chapter 14 #fanfic #fanfiction #metallica fanfic #cliff burton #fever in fever out #fever in fever out fanfic #ocs #oc tag #deadly nightshade #book two #artistry #art school #also on ao3 #writing #text

5 notes · View notes

anathewierdo · 4 years

Text

Call of the Ocean Chapter 8: Danger Danger and a Heartbreaker

Pairing: CEO!Mechanic!Dean Winchester x Mermaid!Reader

Word count: 5829

Chapter summary: Dean’s made up his mind, he’s starting a new life in Texas. All he has to do is survive his Pops’ party and he’ll be on his way, but of course, nothing’s that simple.

Series summary: CEO of Winchester Auto Dean Winchester has had enough of the office life. With his father keeping him from what he wants to do, which is work on the plant floor, Dean decides to leave for a quiet life. In Matagorda, Texas, he finds something he never thought he would, a chance encounter with a mythical creature.

Call of the Ocean Masterlist

A/N: This series is a collaboration with @flamencodiva . Also, text dividers were made by @talesmaniac89 check out her SPN resources and fics! They’re awesome!

Next chapter will be posted this saturday, september 12th :D

On the day before the party, Dean made it his mission to avoid his Father and Lisa. He had told Andrea to hold his calls, only letting Sam or his Mother through. Mick had come to see him, they both looked over the contract that Lucifer industries had drawn up.

“I see what you’ve been sayin, Dean,” Mick sighed as he rubbed his eyes.

By now both men had shed their jackets and rolled up their sleeves. Leaning against the desk they went over the contract line by line. Having to stop every now and then for a few brain breaks.

“I don’t get it,” Dean scratched at his stubbled jaw. “It’s so simple yet complex at the same time. They are asking for the first party, that’s us? I think…” Dean scratched at his head. “The first party agrees to accommodate the second parties technology, henceforth known as the archangel engine, to use in their products providing it works first class.” Dean looked up at Mick, who seemed as puzzled as he felt. “Only the heir and CEO should take full responsibility for said affairs and the first party agrees to the second parties observations of parties materials while agreeing to use any and all parts while the second party will take precedence over material affairs and… yeah, I’m dizzy.” Dean sighed.

After a few minutes of silence, Dean growled.

“I’m not signing it and neither are you. It basically says that a Winchester heir needs to sign. That much I can guess from the second clause.” Dean pointed to the clause in the contract.

“I wonder if I could have a few contacts back in London give it a once over,” Mick sighed as he ran a hand across his face. “I’m sure there is someone there who can figure out the wording.”

“Thanks, Mick.” Dean sat in his chair and leaned back. “The last thing I need before I leave after the party back to Matagorda is for this company to be in the hands of Nick Pellegrino.”

“I know, Sir,” Mick coughed when Dean glared at him, “Sorry… Dean. You’re going to have to give me a few to get used to that, mate.”

Dean couldn’t help but chuckle, “Yeah, but don’t be a stranger. You need me just call or stop by Texas.”

The two men looked at the clock before grabbing their things. Dean let Mick go out first as he decided to tie up some loose ends. The meeting between himself, Mick, and Samuel went very well. Sam had been there to make sure everything was legally binding. His father was left out of the decision. He only hoped that the birthday party tomorrow would be drama free. He just had to find a way to avoid Lisa at all costs. If anything, he could always try and call a friend to help him out, maybe Charlie?

He shook the thought out of his head as a knock came to the door. Rolling down his sleeves, he smiled when his mother poked her head in.

“You busy?” She smiled.

“Never too busy for you, Ma,” Dean walked over to her and kissed her cheek. He double checked the halls making sure his Father and Lisa were nowhere in sight.

“Well,” She sat on one of the chairs in front of his desk. “Your Father tells me you have a date for your Grandfather’s birthday? When were you going to tell me you were seeing someone?”

“I’m not,” Dean growled. “Dad is trying to set me up with the VP of Lucifer Industries. I am not seeing that woman nor am I taking her to Pop’s birthday bash.”

“Your Father is starting to irritate me,” Mary sighed. “He means well Dean. Please, for the sake of peace, just take this girl to your grandfather’s birthday. What harm could it do?”

“You can’t be serious? Mom, I told that woman I was not taking her to the party. There is nothing you and Dad can do to make me take her.” Dean crossed his arms.

“Dean Winchester!” Mary growled. “Your father commited you to take this woman to your Grandfather’s birthday. As wrong as it is, she is a VP at a competing company that could very well be our downfall. You will smile, dress up in your best clothes and take her to that party!” His mother demanded.

“But, Mom…”

“Don’t!” She hissed. “Dean, the last thing we need is for this woman to find any excuse to give our company a bad name. I know what Nick is capable of, I knew his father. Trust me when I say that we should just take this in stride. Your father likes to think that I have no idea about the business.”

Dean rubbed his eyes, “fine,” he relented before giving her a soft glare. “But that is where it ends. I do not want her anywhere near me or Matagorda.”

“I will try but I can’t make any promises when it comes to your father.” She gave him a sad smile. “Things will work out, Dean. I know Cassie hurt you, If I ever see her again my hand will meet her face.”

Dean had to smirk at his mother’s comment, “Thanks, Mom.” he fixed himself up before grabbing his briefcase, placing the contract inside. “Let’s be thankful I never considered giving her Grandma Deana’s ring.” He cleared his throat, “I’m going to head to Sam’s. I’ll see you at the party tomorrow.”

“Alright, hun,” Mary kissed his cheek before leaving his office.

He waited until the door was once again closed, before running to it and checking quickly that his father and Lisa were still nowhere near. Seeing no signs of them, he gave a little sigh of relief before closing and locking the door.

He ran a hand through his hair, then ran both hands through his face in frustration.

“Son of a bitch.” He growled.

As much as he loved his Pops, he really wished he had never come back to Kansas.

Walking back to his desk, Dean thought about his mother’s warning. As much as he hated to admit it, she was right.

It hadn’t occurred to him before, but now, it was clear as day with his mother’s words: if Lisa was VP to Lucifer’s company, it was for a reason. With the reputation that they had, Dean already knew that Lisa had to be sketchy. If he screwed up, Lisa could probably find a way to make him pay for it.

He’d been cornered all along, and Lisa had just been waiting for him to see it.

Suddenly, he felt dizzy, nearly falling into his chair. He was screwed. He was going to his grandfather’s party with that woman, whether he liked it or not. Reaching over to the phone on his desk, he clicked the button that connected him to Andrea’s line.

“Andrea,” he began. “Give Miss Braeden a call. Tell her that I’ll be waiting for her at the entrance of the party tomorrow.”

Andrea spoke after a beat of astonished silence. “Are you sure, Sir?”

“No,” he admitted. “Not at all… But please do this for me, Andrea. This will be the last order I’ll be giving you as your boss here at Winchester.”

The line was quiet for a few seconds and for a moment, Dean was certain Andrea would put up more of a fight. She had seen, after all, how much the idea of Lisa Braeden disturbed him.

“Alright, Sir. I’ll let her know.”

“Thank you, Andrea.”

Taking his finger off the button, the line went dead, and the call ended.

Looking around his office, Dean’s eyes landed on the mess that had formed on his desk and coffee table, with copies and pages of that damn Lucifer Industries contract scattered across them. Huffing in anger, Dean stood up and went to gather them up.

Damn fucking contract, he thought as he gathered the last of the pages.

The sound of a notification on his phone pulled him out of his thoughts once again. Grabbing it, Dean looked at the screen, showing the notification of a text message from an unknown number.

Knew you were going to say yes sooner or later, handsome ;)

No. Fucking. Way.

How did you get this number?

Took one of your business cards on your desk. Figured it would come in handy later

This fucking woman…

I trust that Andrea let you know where to find me tomorrow at the party?

I’ll be there by 7pm.

He put down his phone before she could answer. And even when his phone dinged again with another text, he didn’t bother to check what it would say. He didn’t want to know if she had just replied with another ‘ok’ or something else.

The more distance he puts between himself and Lisa, the better. With one last huff, Dean grabbed his messenger bag with the contract inside and slung it over his shoulder. Walking out of his office, he noticed that Andrea had already gone for the night. He smiled when he saw her desk was neatly packed. He could tell she had taken her things, ready for the move to Texas. Walking to the elevator he rubbed his eyes, he needed a drink. He couldn’t wait to get back to Sam’s and pour himself a glass of whiskey.

It didn’t take him long before he reached the Impala, switching the radio on to his favorite band. The loud guitar music filled his ears and his shoulders seemed to relax. He had to talk to Sam about what their Mother told him. The sooner he had things squared away for Matagorda, the better. Reaching Sam and Jess’s house, Dean grabbed his things and made his way inside, using the key Sam had given him.

Walking inside, Dean could smell the familiar aroma of fresh cooked lasagna. His mouth watered from the thought of eating it. Removing his bag from his shoulder, he placed it on the couch before shrugging off his jacket and undoing his tie.

“Smells good, Jess!” he called towards the kitchen as he kissed her cheek. “I take it you had a good day?”

“So far,” Jess sighed. “Sam is in the study. He got a phone call and he’s handling some work stuff.”

Dean looked at his watch, “Now? But he’s home. He should be spending it here with you.”

“The whole contract with Lucifer thing has him pretty nervous.” Jess sighed. “All he’s done is read through that damned contract over and over again the last two days. I wouldn’t be surprised if he knew it word for word by now.”

Dean sighed as he reached for a crystal tumbler and the bottle of whiskey, “I’ll go drag him out for you.” He placed a hand on her shoulder and offered her a smile. “Did you bake pie?”

“It’s your last night here. Figured we could have it as your parting gift.” She smiled sadly.

“That’s all I ask,” Dean chuckled. “I’m going to go drag bitch out of his hole. And you two are welcome in my home in Matagorda anytime you know.”

“Thanks, De.” She put a hand on his shoulder, giving him that look that let Dean know she was being serious. “Now go get your brother. I’m hungry.”

“Yes Ma’am,” Dean made his way towards Sam’s office and burst through the door. “Ok, Bitch. You need to stop working and go be with your smoking fiancée before she changes her mind about marrying you.”

“I’m almost done.” Sam waved him off. “I’ll be down in a minute.”

“No,” Dean walked over and took the contract away from him. “Now. Mick is going to have a friend in Britain look it over, so stop right now and let’s go eat. Besides,” Dean ran a hand across his face. “I’m escorting Lisa Braeden to the party tomorrow.” he coughed before heading to the door.

“What?!” He heard his younger brother exclaim. Before he could make it to the kitchen, Sam took ahold of his arm, and turned him around to see his bewildered face. “Tell me that was just some trick to get me out of my office, dude.”

“Well…” Dean shrugged. “Mom said something about how it would look bad if I stood her up and it could bite the company in the ass. Then she mentioned Dad and how it wasn’t fair, but mostly about her feeling that Lucifer Industries might be up to something.” Dean sighed. “Dad really screwed me over.”

“Yeah, no argument there.”

“Sam, let’s just eat and enjoy my last night here. Jess made lasagna and pie,” Dean looked at his brother. “We can talk about the Matagorda shop. I have some papers to show you about ownership of an abandoned garage.”

“None of you will do anything else until you’ve eaten dinner and I’ve talked with both of you.” Jess interrupted. “I’ve barely talked to my fiancé and future brother-in-law the past two days.”

“Sorry Jess,” Dean nodded. “You’re right. We should talk about something else.”

“Thank you.” she sighed in relief.

Sam walked over to her and gave her a chaste kiss, mumbling an apology and a sweet ‘I love you’ Dean almost didn’t hear. Jess smiled warmly, whispering the words back to Sam. Dean couldn’t help but feel a bit jealous of Sam and Jess’s relationship. He cursed the day he ever met Cassie and wondered if he would ever find someone who made him as happy as Jess made Sam.

If it happens, it happens, he reminded himself, trying to shrug off his jealousy.

Dinner was pleasant, and Jess’s lasagna was just as delicious as always, but she made him promise that he would be the one cooking when they visit him in Matagorda.

“What kind of theme do you think Pop’s went for this year?” Dean smiled as he bit into the pecan pie Jess baked.

“Masquerade, I think.” Jess took another bite of her own piece of pie. “Which reminds me, I need to go help your Mom and Balthazar tomorrow to make sure everything is ready on time.”

“Balthazar is planning this?” Dean looked between Sam and Jess. “Then it is going to be one hell of a party! Wonder if I should extend my stay one more night before I drive back to Matagorda?” Dean finished off his slice of pie and reached for another piece.

“You know you can always crash here,” Sam smiled at his brother. “But I would hold off on all the partying if you are escorting Lisa Braeden to the Party.”

“Sam’s right.” Jess agreed. “And if you’re leaving after the party, then no drinks for you.”

“I know, I know,” Dean sighed. “But at least a few glasses of whiskey.” Dean smiled. “If I don't people will ask questions.”

“You’re going to drive twelve hours, Dean,” she insisted. “You’re not going to drink anything. Screw the others. If you get yourself killed on your way to Matagorda, I will personally destroy whatever reputation you have left.”

“Jess,” Dean chuckled. “I can drink two glasses tops and water the rest of the night. I promise, just two glasses of whiskey and I will be fine.”

“Fine.” Jess huffed. Looking him straight in the eye. “Two glasses. That’s all.”

“I promise, Jessica.” He met her stare. “Two glasses. That’s all.”

“Thank you,” she sighed.

“I think I’m going to head outside and chill by your pool. It’s just as relaxing as listening to the waves back at the beach house.” Dean grabbed his dirty plate and placed it in the sink for Jessica.

Grabbing the bottle of Whiskey and his glass he made his way outside. He wished he was back in his new home. He was dreading being at the party tomorrow. But he had no way out of his situation.

He discarded the bottle and his glass of whisky. Staring at the water, he started taking off his shoes, socks, and the rest of his clothes until all that was left were his boxers.

He couldn’t outrun his problems, but he could swim and soak in the water.

Dean took a little head start, then ran to the edge of the pool and dove into the water cannonball style. His mind drifted back to his dreams, the beautiful woman that appeared in them, to the flash of purple he had caught in the water before he had had to head back to Kansas, and tried his best to let those thoughts drown out everything else. He never noticed Sam had decided to join him. A splash of water to his face brought him out of his thoughts.

“You okay there, Dean?” Sam smiled. “You look like you could fall asleep in here.”

“Yeah,” Dean sighed, “I’m fine.”

“Yeah, totally.” He agreed sarcastically. “That’s why we’re swimming in our undies.”

“Sorry about being here in my boxers,” Dean smiled. “It was a spur of the moment kind of dip. Besides,” He shrugged. “Could have been worse. I could have brought over a random girl and well…” he wiggled his eyebrows.

“Do not finish that sentence.” Sam threatened, splashing Dean’s face.

“Don’t splash me, bitch,” Dean splashed him back with a smile.

His brother’s hair ended up covering half of his face. When Sammy lifted it, Dean was met with a bitch face that was barely containing a smile.

“Do that again and you’re dead.”

Dean splashed him one more time, resulting in both brothers starting a splash war in the pool. Both of them laughed as they splashed at each other. It took Dean back to when he and Sam were both small and life was simple. Neither of them noticed the very annoyed but still amused blond who stood looking at them with her arms crossed across her chest.

“I swear you guys are the most childish men I have ever met,” she called out, making both brothers stop like a deer caught in the headlights.

“Um,” Sam gave her a bashful smile. “Hey, sweetie. We… um… want to join us? The water is really great right now?” Sam tried to give her his best flirtatious smile.

“No thank you, boys.” She smiled.

Sam and Dean shared a look, and shrugged at each other.

“Ok.” Sam conceded. “Could you help me please? I left my towel in that chair over there. Please, honey?”

Jessica rolled her eyes as she walked over to the patio chair and grabbed the towel while Sam and Dean climbed out. Handing Sam a towel she leaned up to kiss his lips.

Dean cleared his throat, "going to take a shower and get to bed. You yay have a good night."

Jess and Sam were in a heated kiss. Sam’s only response was a wave to his brother. Making his way inside, Dean took a quick shower before curling up in bed.

The next day, Dean woke up to his mother and Jess talking by the dining room table.

“Morning,” he grumbled as he made his way to where Jess kept the mugs.

“Morning, Dean,” his Mother walked over and gave him a kiss on his cheek. “What time will you be leaving for Matagorda?”

“After Pop’s party,” he grumbled. “I just hope Ms. Braeden isn’t expecting anything.”

"Dean…" Mary warned.

"I promise," he held up his hand, "I will be the perfect gentleman."

His mom nodded in approval.

“But if she decides to drag me to the coat closet…” he smirked into his coffee cup.

“You know better than that.” Mary rolled her eyes in frustration. “You may make mistakes sometimes but you wouldn’t do that… would you?”

“Hey, if she drags me,” Dean shrugged, “Who am I to turn her down? Besides, she means nothing. I don’t think anyone will ever mean anything to me in a romantic sense ever again.” Dean refilled his mug with more coffee. “Looks like only one son is going to have a happy ever after Ma. I’ll forever be a bachelor.”

“Jess, will you give us a minute?” Mary asked softly. He didn’t turn around to see it, but he heard the scrape of the chair against the floor and his sister-in-law’s footsteps as she left them alone.

Dean walked over to a nearby kitchen window and stared out towards the backyard. He desperately wanted to be back in his house by the sea. “You can stop worrying about me, Ma.” he sighed. “I’m a big boy, I can handle rejection and being made a fool of.”

“I know. I raised you, after all,” Mary nudged his shoulder in an attempt to cheer him up. When she couldn’t get a reaction out of her son, the little smile she had disappeared, and she took Dean’s chin in her hand so he would look at her. “I want you to be happy, Dean. However that looks like, whenever, wherever… I got you… Alright?”

“Ma,” Dean tried to pull away but Mary held on to his chin.

“No, Dean.” She insisted. “If you being happy means living in Matagorda, if it means going somewhere else or– or whatever you can think of, sweetheart… You deserve to be happy. Can’t you see? You’re working towards your happiness right now. You weren’t– you aren’t happy here. You found a place for yourself, you’re going to build a life for yourself… I don’t know what you think, but you’ve already taken a head start on your happiness, Dean. And I’m proud of you for it.”

Dean let his Mother’s words sink in, desperately trying to keep from crying. “I thought she was the one Ma.” he whispered. He hadn’t had a chance to talk to his parents about Cassie. He never really thought they would be on his side. But something about how his Mother wanted to kick Cassie’s ass made him need her reassurance. “I loved her, and she just…”

“Shhh, Dean, I know…” she cooed. “You don’t have to tell me. Broken hearts hurt like nothing else, don’t you think?”

“Yeah,” Dean whispered. “She won’t be there will she? I know her grandfather is good friends with Pop’s, but…”

“If she shows up…” Mary shook her thoughts away. “Just don’t do anything you might regret, ok?”

“I’ll try and stay away if she shows up.” Dean sighed. “I should let you and Jess go help out Pop’s. You’ll call me if you need anything?”

“Of course, hun.”

After his mother left and Dean had gotten a little time to pull himself together, he pulled out his phone and called the previous owner of the abandoned mechanic shop he would set up in to make sure the last details were sorted out.

“Mr. Singer?” Dean smiled when his call was answered. “Dean Winchester, how are you this morning?” Dean gave Sam a wave.

Sam had stumbled in, hair tousled and a large hickey decorated his neck.

“A little bit older than yesterday, I’m afraid.” was his response. “To what do I owe this surprise, Mr. Winchester?”

“I take it you want to know about the contract?” Dean hoped that the old man had not changed his mind about letting him own the garage on his salvage yard property. “I was able to have my lawyer draw it up and I’ll be heading back to Matagorda tonight. Are you available tomorrow? If not, I can bring it over whenever you are free.”

“Shit!” the old man exclaimed. “Sorry. Coffee mug’s a little bit too hot. Yeah. Yeah, how about you bring it over the day after tomorrow around midday and we can go over it?”

“That sounds perfect,” Dean smiled, giving Sam a thumbs up. Sam had made his way over to Dean wondering what was going on. “Is it alright if I bring over my associate who will be working on the cars with me? That way he knows what is going on and he can check out the garage we will be working in?”

“Sounds good to me.” Affirmed the man “I’ll be expecting you around 4.”

“Excellent! Thanks, Bobby.” Dean beamed. “I’ll see you the day after tomorrow. Whiskey or Scotch?”

“You should know that bribery will not get you anywhere with me… but bring whiskey.”

Dean let out a chuckle, “Not trying to bribe. Just making sure you can enjoy a good drink while we go over the details. I’ll see you then Bobby, talk to you later.”

“Yeah, right,” he heard the man chuckle. “See you on monday, Mr. Winchester.”

Dean hung up the phone and turned to his brother, “nice hickey you got there. Souvenir from Jess?” Dean wiggled his eyebrows. “Think she’ll be up to give me one?”

“Please stop.” Sam grumbled. “Who were you talking to?”

“Bobby Singer,” Dean smiled. “The garage I need for my startup is on his salvage yard.” Dean cracked his neck, “So, the contract I had you draw up is for him.”

“Great. So, are you actually gonna wear a mask to Pop’s party or are you gonna ‘rebel’ and stick it to Dad by wearing shorts there?”

“I’m going to wear the mask,” Dean sighed. “It would ruin Pop’s party if I tried to get Dad pissed. Besides, I promised mom I would,” -- he lifted his hands and made air quotes -- “behave.”

“Now that is something I have to see,” Sam smiled. “You always have a hard time ‘behaving’.”

Dean shook his head. “Shut up, you ass.”

“Hey, I’m just saying.”

“So you want me to take Lisa into the coat room?” Dean smirked as he made his way to the stairs.

“For the love of– Don’t. You’re an idiot, but you’re not that much of an idiot.”

“Okay, I’m going to go get ready,” Dean sighed. “But If she goes down, I mean… I can still have fun right?” Dean chuckled. “I’ll see you in a few, Sam.”

The few hours before they had to go to the party went by slowly, which made Dean even more wary of going. He stood in his room, nervously glancing at his watch. He could already feel the need to flee. He desperately wanted to get in his Impala and make the drive back.

Giving one last adjustment to his suit (just to be sure that everything was looking good), he took the mask that was lying on the mattress, and after a few tries, he finally got it to stay in place, perfectly tied around his head. With one final look in the mirror he decided that it would have to do. Making his way down the stairs he froze when he saw Jess standing in the living room waiting for Sam. Her crystal blue ball gown fit like a glove. Her blond hair in soft curls around her face.

“Wow,” Dean smiled. “If you weren’t getting ready to marry my brother, I would definitely want to marry you.” he teased.

“Well, thank you,” she teased back, “unfortunately, sooner or later I would end up getting ready to marry your brother.”

“Aww, But I’m such a stud muffin!” Dean let out a playful whine.

“What’s going on here?” Sam asked.

“Nothing,” Dean winked at Jess as a honk came from outside. “I take it Dad decided to rent a limo for the night?” Dean grumbled. “Can’t I just drive Baby? That way I can leave when I feel like it?”

“You do have enough on your plate as it is…” Jess agreed. “And, you driving Baby means more incentive on our you-not-drinking deal.”

“Hey,” Dean smiled, “I’m still drinking two glasses. Besides, I have Baby all packed and ready.”

“Ok then,” Sam nodded, “let’s get going. Last thing we need is anybody giving us looks for running late.”

“Right behind you guys.”

Dean smiled as he made his way to his Impala and started up the engine. He followed the limo as it made its way down familiar streets and roads. All the while, he made sure to blast his favorite rock songs. He had placed his mask next to him on the bench seat. The mask made it hard to see. He would put it back on once he parked Baby in a safe spot. He smiled when he found that the limo was slowing down nearing its destination.

“Well,” he took a deep, hopeful breath, “let’s do this.”

Grabbing the mask he placed it back on his face adjusting it so that it was comfortable. With one last look in the mirror he was satisfied with his look and made his way to the front entrance where not only were his parents waiting, but so was Lisa.

“Ms. Braeden,” he muttered.

“It’s a pleasure to see you again, Mr. Winchester,” she smiled cockily.

“Let’s get this over with,” he smoothed out his hair. “This is a quick appearance and then I’m gone.”

“Whatever you want to say to yourself, Dean.”

“Look,” Dean glared at her, “Ms. Braden, I am only taking you to this event because my father sees it fit to interfere in my life. But I want to make this clear,” he pulled her in close and growled. “I don’t want anything to do with you.”

“The way I see it, I have this evening to change your mind about me. And trust me, Dean, I will.”

Dean rolled his eyes as he reluctantly held out his arm for her to take. Escorting her inside, he made sure to say hello to various clients and friends.

“Dean,” Samuel made an appearance from the crowd. “There he is, the scoundrel!”

Dean smiled, “Hey, Pops!” Dean let go of Lisa and hugged his grandfather. “How’s it feel to have a masquerade party for an old man?”

“It was an interesting suggestion coming from a friend of mine. I’d say it turned out quite well. Besides, with your grandma looking absolutely beautiful tonight... If I get to see her like this, the theme will be the same every year.”

“Samuel,” his wife Deana blushed. “Who is your guest, Dean?” she turned to look at Lisa.

“I’m Lisa Braeden, Sir,” she shook his hand. “I am the VP of Lucifer Industries.”

Dean was almost certain Lisa hadn’t noticed, but his grandmother tensed and her eyes lost a little bit of friendliness for a second.

“Well,” she recovered quickly, “I hope you have a wonderful time tonight. The food is delicious, and I’m certain my grandchild here will give you the best company… but you have all night to be with him. Let me introduce you to some people, dear.”

Dean watched as his Grandmother escorted Lisa away from him and turned to give him a wink. He mouthed ‘Thank you’ to her as his Grandfather moved to stand next to him.

“What is she doing here?” Samuel asked Dean. “She was supposed to report back to Nick that we were still thinking about doing business with him.”

“Ask Dad, Pops,” Dean growled. “He thought it was a good Idea for her to be escorted by me. As if the whole ordeal with Cassie wasn’t enough.” Dean ordered his first glass of whiskey for the night.

Samuel nodded solemnly, “bad timing. Keep a close eye on her, ok?”

“Yeah,” Dean took a sip and hissed. “I’m headed to Matagorda tonight.” He turned to survey the room full of guests. “I promised Jess I would only have two of these. I need to make them last.”

“You will, at the very least, call me to let me know you’re ok, right? Maybe even let us visit you someday?”

“Pops,” Dean looked at his grandfather. “I have a place in Matagorda, you know you and Nana are always welcome any time.” Dean placed a hand on Samuels shoulder.

“Thank you, son,” Samuel nodded. “And tell me, how is it down there? Has someone caught your eye yet?”

“I think I might stick to being a bachelor for a while, Pops,” Dean offered him a smile while shaking his head. “I don’t think relationships are for me. Too much work.” He continued to hold up the wall he was building up after Cassie.

“You do have a point; relationships are too much work.” he agreed. “But that doesn’t mean they’re not for you. Don’t be too hard on yourself, kid.”

Dean hummed and took a long sip of his whiskey, “I think we can leave all the romance and relationship stuff to Sam.” he used the glass he was holding to point to where Sam and Jess were holding each other lovingly as they danced. “He has worked hard for this. He deserves happiness. I’ll take the cards I was dealt with.”

“Son,” Samuel stood in front of Dean, “It took me a long time to find your Nana. And trust me when I say, any woman who breaks your heart is a damn fool. But… the minute you find the girl that can truly capture yours,” Samuel glanced over at his wife who was busy distracting Lisa. “Will be the best day of your life.”

Dean smiled sadly and tried to laugh it off, “might be a cold day in hell before that happens Pop’s. Besides, being a bachelor isn’t so bad. The ladies do love me,” he wiggled his eyebrows making his Grandfather laugh.

“Well you are a Campbell,” Samuel smiled. “Now, go mingle and try to lose yourself in the crowd. I’ll see what Nana and I can do about Ms. Braeden.”

Dean raised his glass and walked away, making sure to stay hidden from Lisa. He looked around the ballroom and sighed. He really needed to find an excuse to leave. But he was sure that people would notice. Sometimes he wished that his family wasn’t as rich and powerful as they were. One more look around and he smiled when he noticed there was a balcony to head out to. He remembered the last time he was here, Cassie was with him. He had thought they were having a good time, and it was the night he had decided that he was going to propose. Until she tore his heart out and stomped on it. Finishing his drink he walked inside towards one of the nearby bar stands and ordered another glass, making it a double. He wasn’t lying to Jess, this was technically his second glass, it was just fuller.

He stopped and greeted Mick, who was there with his date, a Ms. Amelia Richardson. Then, there was Garth and his wife Bess, who seemed to be gushing about her pregnancy. Dean continued to make his round greeting people as he went, all the while looking out for Lisa. Before long he felt a hand on his shoulder. Turning around the smile he had plastered on faltered when he came face to face with the familiar brown eyes, curly hair, and dark skin.

“Cassie,” Dean breathed.

Any and all types of feedback is greatly appreciated :D

My asks are open in case you wanna send feedback, have questions or wanna be added to the tag list :)

My requests are also open, in case you want me to write something specific.

Call of the Ocean tag list: (if your username is in bold italics, that means tumblr didn’t let me tag you)

@67-chevy-baby @tmiships4life @cloudyskylines @chelsea072498 @carryon-doctor-lock @samanddeanwinchester67 @thatgirl1456 @satans-0-spawn @waywardrose13 @secretsthathauntus @parinarain @swagfancroissantpizza @roonyxx @roxytheimmortal @starryeyeseunbyul @rintheemolion @abeautifuldiaster124 @lovely-lynns-likes @ladyofmaidensandwine @starchildwild @peachyafshawn @idksupernatural @mimzy1994 @winchest09 @katehuntington @superfanficnatural @waywardbeanie @janicho88 @malfoysqueen14 @whatareyousearchingfordean @emoryhemsworth @jensengirl83 @atc74 @deanwanddamons @crashdevlin @hobby27 @notyourtypicalrose @babykalika2001 @deanmonandnegansbitch @kickingitwithkirk @sandlee44 @fandom-princess-forevermore @desertmoths @cookiechipdough @akshi8278 @theflamecrystal @tessellaneous @mrswhozeewhatsis @invisiblexnobodyximportant @supernatural-love14

Supernatural tag list:

@bi-danvers0

ceo!dean x reader mechanic!dean mechanic!dean winchester dean x you dean winchester x you dean winchester x mermaid!reader mermaid au mermaid!reader mermaid!au supernatural Supernatural Fan Fiction supernatural fanfiction spn fanfic spn fanfiction dean angst dean fluff supernatural au mechanic!dean x reader

47 notes · View notes

that-winged-rat · 4 years

Text

Platonic Soulmates

*not my gif*

Summary: After a demon hunt gone wrong, you are victim to a sick game which might just cost you your life.

Pairing: Charlie Bradbury x reader!platonic

Characters: Y/N Y/L/N, Charlie Bradbury, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester.

Warnings: Angst, language, mentions/descriptions of torture, mentions/descriptions of blood, thought of death.

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: Holy shit I literally wrote this whole fucking thing in one sitting. I legit just sat down and did not get distracted once, which is like a once in a blue moon thing so I hope it was worth it haha. Also I've been reading a bunch of whump tropes recently and this is the result. Anyhoo, feedback is always welcomed and encouraged. Enjoy :)

Your eyes shot open when the rattling of chains pulled you from your unconscious state. It took a good few minutes for your eyes to adjust to the darkness, and even when they did, you still couldn’t see much of your surroundings. But you didn’t need to see to know that you were on your knees and your hands were tied to the walls at either side of you. You tried to pull your hands close to your body but winced when something sharp dug into your wrist, blood dripped down your arm and splashed on the concrete ground.

“I was starting to think you weren’t going to wake up,” a voice called out from a corner in the room. You squinted your eyes, trying to see who it was, and could just about make out a figure, hunched over something on the floor. How you didn’t notice him before now, was beyond you. It wasn’t like he was trying to be quiet with whatever he was doing.

“Who are you?” You asked with a hoarse voice. He stopped what he was doing then, and turned to face you. He walked over to you and knelt down so he was eye-level with you.

“I’m the guy who’s gonna haunt your dreams, doll,” he said lowly.

“Doll? What is this, the 40′s?” You scoffed. He ignored your comment, got up and walked away. He walked to the other side of the room and flipped on the lights. Your eyes instinctively closed at the sudden brightness. When they opened, they immediately fell on what the man was standing over earlier.

“Charlie?” You asked, hoping that she would wake up. She was sitting up against the wall, her hands tied above her head with chain, which must have been what woke you up. She was sporting a couple of injuries on her face; a nasty looking bruise by her hairline, and a split lip. No doubt why she was out cold.

“Oh, she won’t be waking up anytime soon,” he said and walked back over to Charlie, tilting his head as he looked down upon her sleeping form as if he were admiring her.

“What did you do to her?” You demanded, your voice laced with venom and disgust. You pulled against your restraints again and looked over when it cut into you for the second time. You furrowed your brows when you saw you weren’t being held by chains like Charlie, but barbed wire, hence the pain.

He spun around with what you would call urgency. “Oh, no, no, no, she’ll–she’ll be fine. I just gave her an extra little konk on the head; she might be out a little longer than you,” he explained.

“What are you?” You asked as he turned back to Charlie. “Demon? Shifter? Demigod?”

He chuckled a bit. “No, I’m all human, baby.” You groaned at the nickname. “But... there is a demon who has a lot of beef with you.” He pulled out a knife from the back of his jeans and pointed it at you as he started pacing in front of you.

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, great,” you muttered. “And let me guess, he said he'd give you anything you could ever wish for?”

“Bingo.” He walked back over to you and crouched down again, this time slightly to the side of you. His arms were resting on his knees and his head turned to look at Charlie. “She looks so... delicate when she’s asleep,” he whispered with a chuckle. Although he wasn’t facing you, you could tell he was smirking as his eyes gazed over your best friend.

You leaned towards him, ignoring the metal spikes digging into your skin. “Fuck you,” you spat.

“Shhh.” The man put a finger up to his lips. “You wouldn’t want to wake her up, now would you? Not when she’s so peaceful.” A grin broke out on his face. A grin that filled your stomach with dread. You had seen it enough times to know that nothing good ever followed.

He took in a sharp intake of breath and you could practically see the lightbulb above his head. You warily watched his hands as he played with his knife, flipping it over in his palm. “I have a little game for us to play,” he whispered and brought the knife up to your cheek, caressing it with the cold metal without doing any damage. You pulled your head back, but he just followed.

“You wake her up–” he jerked his head back towards Charlie who was still unconscious– “and she’s dead.” You clenched your jaw and clamped your eyes shut when he put pressure on the knife and it sliced through your cheek with ease. “Actually...let me change that. You speak words, she gets a slice. You scream, and cupcake over there gets something more permanent.”

You closed your eyes and accepted your fate. Sure you had been kidnapped and tortured before, but you were allowed to express your pain through screams. Now, you weren’t only not allowed to scream, but Charlie’s life was on the line here. You slip up and that’s it for her.

You sighed, knowing that only one of you was going to make it out alive. And you were going to do everything in your power to make sure that person was Charlie. She has so much more to live for; friends, passions, hobbies. All you had was Charlie.

The torture continued for days; punching, slicing, kicking, slapping, hell, sometimes even whipping. You were actually proud that you hadn’t screamed yet; not that you didn’t want to. The insides of your lips had been destroyed by how hard you had been biting down on them in successful attempts to silence yourself.

Throughout your stay, Charlie had stirred awake a couple of times. But each time, the man would come through and knock her out again before she could reach full consciousness. You figured he probably had a camera somewhere in the room, where the sick fucker could watch your every move.

You were in pain 24/7. You could feel yourself slipping from the land of the living. If you weren’t going to die from the injuries, it would be blood loss; there was a steady flow of blood dripping from your wrists because of your captors choice of restraint, and of course, the other wounds that covered your body.

You were going to die here.

---

Dean stepped out of the Impala and stared up at the building that towered before him. A few seconds later, Sam joined his brother, stopping next to Dean with a duffel bag, slung over his shoulder. They went over the plan they had both agreed on and marched inside, guns at the ready.

They scoured the building, looking for their nerdy friend, eventually coming across a room with a wall of monitors, showing surveillance footage from all over the old factory. If the whole building was rigged up, the son of a bitch that did this, was probably long gone. They observed each screen before finding what they were looking for.

After a few minutes of looking, the brothers found Charlie, tied up in a corner, her face littered with bruises. Sam was the first one to run to her, then Dean a few seconds later, neither noticing you, strung up in the middle of the room.

“Charlie?” Sam called out, shaking her shoulders gently. Dean pulled out his lock-picking kit and worked on the chains. “C’mon, you gotta wake up. Charlie.” He shook her again, this time getting a response. She groaned and rolled her head to the side, gradually coming to her senses before opening her eyes. Dean muttered a celebratory ‘yes’ when he managed to get her hands free.

She groaned again, rubbing her wrists before her hands went to her forehead to feel her wounds. A few tears made their way down her face.

“Hey, hey, you’re okay. You’re alright,” Dean assured her, helping her to her feet. She froze when she looked past the brothers, her eyes catching your mutilated form. Upon noticing her distress, Dean turned around, having the same reaction as Charlie. “Holy crap.”

He passed Charlie over to Sam before running to you. His eyes and hands hovered over you, not sure where to start or what to do. Charlie convinced Sam that she was okay and begged him to go check on you.

“Sam, help me get her down,” Dean urged. The two brothers took out a knife and cut the barbed wire, causing you to instantly fall to the ground and cry out in pain.

“Dean... we need to get her to a hospital. Like now.” Sam looked over your wounds, putting pressure on the major ones to stop the bleeding. Charlie pulled herself up off the ground, using the wall for assistance. She stumbled over to you, gasping when she saw the state you were in.

Sam and Dean were careful as they tried to lift you up off of the ground; both of them acting as crutches under your arms. They got you a couple of inches up before you cried out in pain.

“Stop,” you choked out. They delicately placed you back down on the ground. Charlie ran to your side and fell to her knees, grabbing your face in her hands. You winced at the contact but she didn’t pull back.

“Hey, it’s just me,” she said, a reassuring smile on her face, keeping up a strong façade for you. “Listen, I know this is going to hurt like a bitch but we need to get you help–we need to get you to a hospital.”

Charlie was safe. That’s all that mattered to you. You wouldn’t mind dying right there, because you knew that she would be safe. But if you did die, she wouldn’t be okay. Safe, sure. But not okay.

You nodded and scrunched up your face, bracing yourself for the coming pain. And it did come. The second Sam scooped you up, it washed over your entire being. You gritted your teeth and groaned in pain for the first time in nearly a week.

There was a shooting pain constantly travelling up both of your knees, presumably from the position you were held in, throbbing even more whenever Sam took a long stride. Not to mention the searing pain surrounding each and every one of your injuries.

Dean helped his brother lower you into the backseat when they reached the black muscle car. Charlie climbed into the back next to you, and the brothers into their designated seats in the front.

The half-an-hour drive to the hospital consisted of you slipping in and out of consciousness and Charlie reassuring you that everything was going to be okay and begging you to keep your eyes open. It got kind of annoying after the first five minutes, but she was just being there for you, she was being the good friend she’s always been.

You passed out again, just before Dean pulled into the hospital.

---

“Charlie, what exactly happened?” Sam asked when they were sat in the waiting room an hour later. Once they had brought you in, you had been taken into surgery to fix you as best as they could.

“I don’t–I don’t know,” she said, shaking her head. “She called for my help on a demon hunt. We, uh, we tracked it down to the warehouse you found us in and then... lights out.”

“When did this happen?”

“Uh, we went to the warehouse on the 9th, so, six days ago,” Charlie said. Just then, a doctor walked down the hallway, stopping before the three of them.

They confirmed that they were the people who were with you and listened to the doctor as she went over your injuries; broken ribs, dislocated knees, lacerations, internal bleeding, blood loss, a slight concussion, and a bunch of other shit.

“When can we see her?” Charlie asked.

“She’s just getting settled into a room upstairs so sometime within the next half hour,” the doctor said with a polite smile. “I’ll let you know when you can see her.”

Sam nodded. “Thank you.” The doctor smiled again and left. Sam, Dean and Charlie sat back in their seats.

“This reminds me of my parents,” Charlie started, prompting Sam and Dean to look up at her. “You know, the waiting, the awkward doctor smile, the fancy words. Except this time, I actually know what some of the words mean.”

Dean threw an arm over Charlie’s shoulder and gently coaxed her into a hug. “She’ll be okay, Charlie. I’ve never met her before, but from what I’ve heard from her best friend, she’s strong and stubborn. She’s gonna pull through.”

She looked up at him and smiled before leaning back into his hold.

---

“Y/N/N, what actually happened?” Charlie asked a while after you woke up, deciding to give you time before you relived whatever you went through. “I mean, I get knocked out and wake up six days later and you’re half dead.”

You cleared your throat. “Um, yeah, so you probably remember going into the warehouse, right?” You looked up and Charlie nodded. “He, uh, got me too. I woke up in that room; on my knees, and my hands were tied to the walls with barbed wire. He said...” you trailed off, wondering if you should tell Charlie what actually happened. You knew that she would blame herself, and you didn’t want that.

“He said what?” Charlie pushed.

“He said... that there was a demon that wanted to see me suffer,” you lied. “He was just a man. A man who was too greedy for his own good.”

Charlie narrowed her eyes and tilted her head to look at you. “Friends shouldn’t lie to each other.” You opened your mouth to speak but Charlie beat you to it. “You have a tell.” She shrugged.

You dropped your head in defeat. “He said that if I spoke, he’d cut you and if I screamed...”

“...He’d kill me,” Charlie completed when you, yet again trailed off. You nodded your head slowly as you numbly stared at the bottom of your bed. Your gaze was brought up to hers as she grabbed your hand. “You are frickin’ amazing, you know that?”

“What?”

“I mean it. Most people wouldn’t go through all of that pain just so their friend would be okay. And for six days!”

“Because we’re not just friends, Charlie... we’re platonic soulmates,” you said. The two of you laughing before your laugh turned into a pained grunt.

When the two of you met a few years back, you clicked instantly. It was like something you only see in movies. Within the first day of knowing each other, you already had a bunch of inside jokes. One of them being that the two of you got along so well because you were platonic soulmates.

“How could I forget? Platonic soulmates,” she repeated, a wide and genuine smile reaching her eyes.

You gladly returned the smile. “You are frickin’ amazing too, nerd,” you smiled. She playfully shoved you, being careful of your injuries.

Sure you were in agonising pain, but now you knew that Charlie was safe and okay. And you would take sore and happy over dead and... well, dead, any day. You had your platonic soulmate and you knew that she would be there every step of the way on your who-know-how-long road to recovery.

38 notes · View notes

liliaeth · 3 years

Text

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!) See if there are any patterns. Choose your favourite opening line. Then tag 10 of your favourite authors!

Well the one pattern I can see is that I have way too many wips, damn my flighty muse

I’m tagging anyone willing to do this one

1. The Weapons of our warfare are not of the flesh (Nicolò di Genova/Yusuf al Kaysani, The Old Guard

Yusuf wasn’t even sure what he was doing, taking the invader with him. He should have left the man behind after the Franks took the city, but when he’d seen the look on the Christian’s face, that thousand mile stare in the other’s eyes, he’d been unable to do so. There had been a plea in the way he knelt there, not even reaching for a weapon, though he and Yusuf had killed each other dozens of times by now. Almost as if he wanted Yusuf to kill him. That might have been why he stayed his blade at first, that notion that he couldn’t give the other what he wanted, not after what the Franks had done. But then he’d seen the man’s eyes and he hadn’t been able to stop himself from feeling pity for him.

2. The Body Remembers (Scott McCall/Theo Raeken, Teen Wolf

He had flinched.

3. We come from Warriors (gen fic, with some Nicky/Joe , The Old Guard)

Solomon hesitated as he reached the door. He didn't want to go in. Not now, not when Mom would have prettied up the room, trying to achieve holiday cheer, desperate to pretend things were normal, that there wasn't another empty chair at the table. He was about ready to just turn around, to take his gifts back to the car and leave, go to a bar, and drink soda after soda, until he got on too much of a high and had to head out in his car, driving till the carbohydrate high was out of his system.

4.Artefacts of history (Nicky/Joe, Andy/Quynh, Nile, The Old Guard)

His first thought was ‘another one’.

5. Sinking Down (Gen, Andy and Booker, The Old Guard)

Booker wasn’t even sure why he was in this damn room, with these people, none of whom had a clue who he was, or what he’d done. They all had their issues of course, and he wasn’t stupid enough to assume that anything he went through was worse than what they went through.

6. Tomatoes, lettuce and a burger (Gen, Dean and Sam Winchester, Supernatural)

Dean wasn’t sure what it was that made it feel like his heart was torn to pieces. Sam was sitting right there, mere inches away from him. Reading, writing, Dean wasn’t sure what his brother was doing as Dean himself was cooking.

7. A Soldier goes marching on (gen, Nile Freeman, and Jay, The Old Guard)

Jay stared at he empty bunk. Dizzy wouldn’t even look at her. Jay would have screamed at her, but she knew it wasn’t fair, since her anger was aimed as much at herself as it was at Dizzy. And neither would do any good.

8. New Wolf in the Old Guard (Teen Wolf/The Old Guard crossover, Scott centric)

Scott woke up gasping for air. It was the third time this week that he had the dream of drowning. The other dreams were weird, and scary, but he’d have any of them over the ones where he drowned.

9. Good Little Milker (Dean Winchester, Supernatural a/b/o au)

Dean was still sulking. Sam could see it in the poor Omega cow's eyes, the way he glared at the both of them, when he thought Sam or Dad weren't looking. Oh sure, he was playing nice after the rough spanking Dad had given him. Dad had had no choice after Dean's initial tantrum when John had mentioned what was going to happen. It hadn't really been a surprise to anyone but Dean himself, when Sam's younger brother had presented as an Omega. Even during the first signs of his first heat, the boy had still been hoping to present at least as a beta if not an Alpha. But both Sam and John had known better. Dean was a brat, but he'd always been at his happiest when Dad or Sam told him what to do.

10. Clean (JDM/Jensen Ackles, spn rps, non-con)

Jeff couldn't believe his luck. The notion that this perfect piece of slave flesh had never once been fucked was probably the biggest waste of a slave's body he'd ever seen in his life.

11. Light in the Basement (Jensen Ackles/Jared Padalecki, spn rps, non-con)

Jensen wasn't even sure what had happened as he slowly woke up face down on a dusty floor. He stared up at the room he was in. It was dark, stuffy, like there was something in his throat making it hard to breathe. There was a pervading smell of shit and mold hanging around the place, like he was in a badly cleaned toilet in one of the factories he'd been working at over the past few months. He crawled up into the dark

12. The Treaty (Jensen Ackles/Jared Padalecki, spn rps, a/b/o, dub-con)

Peace. After ten years of war, it was long awaited, and even from the throne room, Jared could hear the celebrations spreading across the capitol city. Jared wished he could join the people, spend time with his loved ones and hold his mother, but all he could think of was his father's face as he'd died in Jared's arms.

13. the Wolf who Ran with Hunters (gen Teen Wolf/Supernatural, Scott-centric)

Scott shivered as he woke up. He didn’t want to open his eyes, because once he did, he’d have to accept that he was all alone in some crappy motel room. Outside the window, he could see the dusty town in Oklahoma which he didn’t even know the name of.

14. Covered in Bandaids (Scott McCall/Isaac Lahey, Teen Wolf)

Isaac wasn’t quite sure what he was doing at the field. He shouldn’t even care about lacrosse any more. He was strong now, and lacrosse had been something he’d done because his father wanted him to be more like Camden.

15. Breaking Point (Scott McCall/Theo Raeken, Teen Wolf)

The place was cold. Even with the increased body heat of a werewolf Scott shivered in the corner of the cell. He wished he’d been wearing more than a tank top and his jeans when the cops had burst into his room. They hadn’t told him what he was being arrested for, or what they wanted, which as far as he knew, was not the norm.

16. Kindness for the Devil (Lucifer Morningstar/Scott McCall, Lucifer/Teen Wolf)

It was a night like any other. Things were a bit too quiet over at Lux, but then it was early, and it seemed to make Linda happy, making her more likely to stay instead of having her take Charlie and leaving.

17.Can’t Always hold him back (Stiles Stilinski/Derek Hale, Teen Wolf)

Scott looked down at Stiles, carefully listening to his friend’s heartbeat, pushing out the distraction of outside noise. Nurses and visitors talking in the hall outside, the beeping of the machine monitoring Stiles. He desperately tried to follow the pattern. It scared him, how hard his friend’s heart was working just to keep going, how difficult Stiles’ breathing went even with the oxygen mask covering his mouth and nose. Scott had finally managed to get the sheriff to go downstairs to have something to eat, maybe even take a shower if Mom could slip him into the staff showers. They all knew that their stay here could end up being a marathon that might last days more than it already had.

18. Beloved (Btvs/Angel, co written with @spikesheart)

Sitting at one end of a fully laden table, Buffy looked at the appetizers piled on the finest bone china sitting atop platinum charger plates, studied her matching platinum silverware, and wrangled with the finely woven silver linen napkin in her lap – patently avoiding her lover’s gaze as he sat at the other end. Only the best of everything life had to offer was laid out before her. A wide variety of catered pasta, meat and vegetable dishes filled every square inch of space in between them, yet nothing caught her fancy.

19. Parent Wolf (Teen Wolf, the parents)

She woke up in an endless white room, found her head leaning against the bark of an old tree trunk, staring up and noticing several other men and women waking up alongside her.

20. Missed Shot (gen, teen wolf, Scott-centric)

Scott stared up at the men coming closer and at the man who had just shot him with an arrow. Derek Hale, the creepy guy who’d lured him here in the first place, tried to grab him and pull him loose, but seconds later he was down on the ground as well with arrows in his leg and back. Scott stared around in fear, pulling at the arrow, too scared to think of breaking it free.

#Teen Wolf #the old guard #supernatural #supernatural rps #fanfic meme

3 notes · View notes

massivehistorycowseagle · 3 years

Text

Here's the short story I promised. It's called The attack on the outsiders. Hope you enjoy. I have left the ending a bit open so let me know if you want a another one of these in the comments below. Thankyou, Enjoy!

The attack on the outsiders:

Chapter 1: The beginning

Charlie stared at Sophia. Sophia stared back. Charlie despised Sophia. Sophia disliked what Charlie had become. Sophia knew she shouldn't care anymore but she couldn't help herself. She felt lost without him by her side. She felt swept away and uncared for when their friendship fell apart. She missed him but she knew happiness had found her again. Sophia remembered laughing with Charlie. She now had other friends to do this with. Sophia wanted to walk over there and confront Charlie. She didn't have the confidence to though. She knew the new Charlie. He wasn't someone you wanted to approach unless you wanted trouble. Her dream friendship had been broken. Charlie finally stopped pinning her down with his iron cold stare. Sophia finally looked away and back to her friends.

Sophia didn't miss everything about the past. She didn't miss the toxicity of popularity. She found her happiness and what she needed in her new group of friends. Sophia looked at her new friends. She didn't fear dying of embarrassment in school. She may be now one of the lowest links in the food chain at school but the happiest and probably the least scared of silly mistakes. She loved spending time with the people she saw. Emily, her new best friend had never once let her down in the past 8 months of knowing each other.

Chapter 2: Sophia

Sophia knew it wasn't wrong to feel how she felt. She did question it though after her experience with Charlie and the rest of her old group. Her newer friends made her more confident that she was right. Emily, Ryan, Regan and Brooke all supported her. There was a special connection between all of them. Sophia felt it, some more than others and in different ways but she couldn't deny that they were all her friends.

Sophia missed her old group. There was no doubt about that. She knew where she felt happier though. She missed the old Charlie. She missed Oliver, she was almost certain that he would've supported her. She didn't know why but she just felt that. Sabine and Sam are just awesome. Or at least were. Rae. Well she seemed sweet but was she the person to turn them all against her. Rae had only just joined the group when Sophia came out as lesbian....

Oh well. Hopefully not.

Chapter 3: Outsiders

The silence from Sophia hadn't gone unnoticed by her group. Her silence was finally broken by Emily.

"Sophia? Is everything okay?"

"Oh. I'm sorry. Yes. Just lost in my thoughts."

Emily knew this wasn't exactly true but she didn't want to enhance the pain she knew her friend was going through.

Just then a group of girls walked past giggling. Sophia and the rest of her friends heard for the umphteen time today.

"There's the outsiders." laughed the girl in pink. Her name was Becky; she was most commonly known as Bex. She has an important role and storyline but that's for another time.

Once the girls had gone past Ryan piped up "What do you think about this outsiders name, people seem to give us?"

"Well if they can't accept differences that's their problem. I just try to ignore them." Regan said firmly.

"Yeah I agree. They want to hurt us and break us. They never will as long as we have each other." Brooke added on.

"Our differences make us who we are." Sophia assured Ryan.

"I'm glad not to be a sheep." Emily joined into the conversation.

Then the bell rang to signify the end of lunch.

Chapter 4: Help!

The five of them parted and headed off to their lessons with cheery goodbyes.

Sophia felt better after her friends had talked about that elephant in the room and helping to empower each other.

Unbeknown to Sophia, Charlie and his group were approaching behind her. Sophia was about to turn the last corridor towards her classroom when Charlie and his mob surrounded her. Charlie was directly infront of Sophia.

"Let me go Charlie! Leave me alone!" shouted Sophia. Sophia then tried to escape from her old friends but she was well and truly surrounded. Unfortunately her shouts hadn't been heard by anyone.

"Listen to me." Charlie said menacingly "Afterschool I'm going to have sex with you. You'll lose your virginity with a lad whilst your lesbian. You'll never live it down. If you struggle; Oliver you tell her."

"We'll beat you to shreds." Oliver responded.

"You dare tell anyone and both will happen; you'll lose your dignity and virginity." Sabine chipped in.

Charlie and his mob had planned this out nicely. They hoped the last comment would scare Sophia but they couldn't be sure.

Sophia was a bit scared.

'That's what the iron eyes were about at lunchtime.' She thought.

"Now go." Samuel commanded.

"See you later Princess." Charlie called after her.

That really freaked Sophia out. That used to be what he called her as a friend. Now it was like some pornographic turn on for him.

Sophia knew that she had two lessons before afterschool. What was she going to do?

Time was ticking by and Sophia continued to lose concentration in her lesson. She felt sick and the ever increasing doom of the situation.

The bell finally went for the end of the first of Sophia's lessons; a blessing and a curse.

Sophia walked into her second lesson, she was obviously trembling. She was sweating. Emily sat next to Sophia in History, which happened to be their last lesson of the day.

"Hey. What's up?" Emily whispered.

Sophia just shook her head.

"Sophia, please tell me." Emily emplored quietly.

"Charlie. Charlie...." Sophia trailed off.

Emily knew Charlie was a weak spot for Sophia so trod round this subject very carefully.

"What about him love?" Emily quizzed Sophia.

"He's going to rape me, afterschool." Sophia cried quietly.

"Not if I can help it." Emily said taken about.

Emily knew she shouldn't use her phone in lesson but this was an emergency. She texted Ryan, Regan and Brooke and let them know what the situation was.

Would they see the message before the end of the day?

Chapter 5: Friends unite

The school bell rang signifying the end of the day. Emily grabbed hold of Sophia's hand. Sophia felt comforted by this action. Emily and Sophia walked out of school, still hand in hand.

Suddenly Charlie and his mob surrounded them.

"Let us go or we will fight all of you!!!" came Emily's war-like cry.

"Yeah." came Sophia's response less confidently.

"Go." Charlie said confidently whilst he tilted his head.

Rae grabbed Emily and held her back whilst the rest of the mob surrounded Sophia.

Sophia thought she was in for it and even worse whilst her friend Emily was forced to watch. Emily wondered if anyone had actually got her message.

Suddenly the reinforcements came in. There was Ryan and Regan. Emily was relieved. Sophia was scared. Where was Brooke? Suddenly Brooke came around the corner. A sigh of relief came from Sophia.

Ryan grabbed hold of Rae's hair and pulled. As Rae's grip loosened on Emily, Emily managed to elbow her in the face. Emily was now free. A fight had broken out.

Regan hit Sam. His nose started to bleed scarlet red blood. Brooke being at a lower level in her wheelchair managed to trip Sabine as she ran to join the fight.

Charlie was left approaching Sophia. Sophia kneed her old friend where the sun doesn't shine. He momentarily screamed and fell to the floor clutching where he just got kneed. He got up as suddenly as he had got down.

Sophia and her group were winning.

Oliver threw a punch missing absolutely anyone but he didn't want to fight or seem like he wasn't trying.

Charlie ran away from Sophia and pushed Regan to the floor before she could hit the stunned Sam. Regan was out cold. Sabine got up from the floor, she pulled Ryan off Rae and pushed him into a tree, making him very woozy and out of it. Oliver threw another fake punch. Sam tipped Brooke's wheelchair with quite some force. Sophia screamed.

Charlie and his gang had one more to take down before he could get his hands on Sophia. Rae landed a punch on Emily leaving her clean out cold.

Chapter 6: At a loss

Charlie approached Sophia. He and his gang had won. Victory felt even sweeter. Sophia was alone and done for she knew it. The thing she didn't know was that she wasn't the only one crying nearby.

Charlie started to lift Sophia's skirt. Sophia cringed at this. Then Charlie for a moment stopped, let go, started laughing and enjoying himself then slowly, sensually started to undo his trousers.

Then there was a russle from the bushes. But before anyone could concentrate on that Ryan found some extra strength from somewhere, fulled by anger.

Chapter 7: Ryan

Ryan, sweat and blood covered ran inbetween Sophia and Charlie. He pushed Charlie away a bit to force space between Charlie and Sophia. Charlie was almost knocked off balance. This was why Ryan was Sophia's go to guy.

Charlie stunned took a moment before being ready to stike Ryan back down.

Oliver saw this. He knew what was about to happen. To happen to his Ryan. Not his yet but he so wanted Ryan to be his. He hated fighting at the best of times but he couldn't stand by and watch his crush get hit.

Oliver in that split second ran inbetween Ryan and Charlie.

He grabbed Charlie's fist screaming "No! No! Stop this now!" Ryan, Sophia, Charlie and the rest of the mob were all taken aback by this.

Chapter 8: Getaway

"Get out of my way Oliver!" commanded Charlie.

"No Charlie!" Oliver cried

"What?! Are you trying to protect these freaks?" Charlie screamed.

Tears started streaming down Oliver's face as Charlie barked at him. Oliver's hand stayed firm though.

The rest of Charlie's mob surrounded Oliver.

Everyone from Sophia's group was back up now except Brooke who was still tipped over in her wheelchair. Ryan quietly went and put it back onto its wheels and the five of them quietly snook off and got away from the situation whilst the rest were distracted. Ryan felt sorry to leave Oliver but the girls convinced him that he deserved it as punishment for what he had done before. The way he'd treated them in the past 8 months.

The mob didn't notice this. But then there was a russle from the bush and soneone was coming out from there. The mob fled except Oliver. Oliver was still crying profusely.

Oliver jumped as someone put a caring arm around him. He looked up terrified to see Bex.

#short story #lgbtq #love #friendship #enemies #school #the outsiders

3 notes · View notes

sugxrmotta · 4 years

Text

Duet Dalliances || Ryder/Sugar

TAGGING: Sugar Motta and Ryder Lynn WHEN: 9th December WHERE: Ryder’s room GENERAL NOTES: Sugar and Ryder hang out and discuss karaoke options before getting distracted. WARNINGS: None

Sugar checked herself out in the mirror once last time as she got ready to leave for the evening. She had spent time doing her hair and make-up, spending hours to make it look like she'd spent minutes on it. After all, she didn't want to look like she'd tried too hard, whilst trying hard in the process. She quickly ran her fingers over the creases in her dress before deciding she needed to leave if she was going to make it on time. Sugar pulled some boots on, choosing the cutest practical pair she had since she was making her way across the resort and that involved a lot of snow. She shrugged on her coat and checked she had everything before heading out of the chalet. She made her way through the snow to the hotel, stomping the snow off her boots as she reached the door. Sugar smiled at the doorman as he pulled the door open for her before looking around the lobby for Ryder as she stepped inside.

Ryder was feeling a bit nervous about hanging out with Sugar that evening. He had even rushed back to his room after work to shower even though he took one earlier that morning and, if he was being honest, he didn’t do too much around the resort. Still he wanted to make sure he looked presentable and not like some handyman, so he made sure to lose the hoodie and t-shirt and put on a nice flannel button down and clean pair of jeans. Ryder’s eyes were on door of the lobby, waiting for Sugar to meet him. He got there a few minutes early because he figured better him waiting for her than the other way around. Never make a lady wait, he was raised. He spotted her instantly, and waved from across the room despite the amount of people in the way. Walking over with a huge smile on his face, he called out over the noise of the lobby. “Hey, Sugar. Ready to see my humble abode aka my room?” He asked, lowering his voice as he greeted her.

Sugar was glad that Ryder was already waiting for her, she didn't exactly want to be sat in the lobby waiting. It wasn't like she spent much time in the hotel at all, the Mottas had their own chalet after all, so it would have been a little suspicious for her to start now. "Hey." Sugar grinned as Ryder approached, letting her eyes run over his outfit. He looked like he'd tried, which she appreciated. Plus the flannel was definitely working for him. "Yes I am." She nodded at his question. They'd been flirting with each other for a while, at least she had been, and it finally felt like she might be about to get somewhere. "Lead the way."

“Great. It’s just down the hall over there,” Ryder motioned with his head before leading them through the lobby. “They keep me on the first floor so I’m close and handy.” The keycard to his room was already out and in hand when they reached the door. “This is me. Room 18,” he flashed her a quick grin before letting them both inside and closing the door behind them. Earlier in the week, Ryder had decorated a little for the holiday. Since he was going to be here for Christmas, he figured his room should look the part, so he strung up some lights and had a tiny Charlie Brown type Christmas tree sitting on the desk in the corner. “I went to Sam’s for a little inspiration in decorations. I don’t have as much room to work with as he does but I think this works though, yeah?”

Sugar followed him through the hallways until they came to a stop outside of a door with the number 18 on it. She returned his grin before following him into the room. It was small, at least by her standards. It was probably around the same size as her ensuite bathroom in the chalet, but if she squinted then it was kind of cute at the same time. She looked around, taking in the Christmas decorations. There wasn't a lot but it almost made it sweeter - although part of her wanted to go and grab him some of her spare decorations to make it a little less sad-looking. "Yeah it works." She nodded. "If you want some more though then I can hook you up." She added with a smile. "Do you have anywhere I can put this?" She asked, looking around for a coat rack as she began to take her snow-dusted coat off. It was warm in the room, and she certainly didn't need all of her outdoor gear on.

Ryder was watching her glance around his room, and he was having the realization that she was the first person he was having over and these rooms weren’t exactly built to host. Hopefully she wouldn’t judge him too much on the kind of quarters he was staying in and maybe next year, he’d ask for a bigger room. “Really? Okay but only if you help me put them up,” he grinned at her. Reaching in front of him, Ryder held out his hand for her coat. “Yeah, I can take that.” He opened his closet door and grabbed a hanger, placing her coat beside his. “If you want to take off your shoes, you can put them beside my snow boots. They’re right there. And I’ll take off mine off so you’re not alone.” With one hand on the wall to help prop him up, he pulled off his shoes and dropped them to the side. He looked over at Sugar finishing taking off her boots, and waited before heading towards his desk. “So not really a lot of places to sit, but are you okay with my bed? I can grab my laptop and we can look up songs we might wanna sing? Or I could sit here at the desk. Whatever works,” he offered not wanting to make her uncomfortable in any way.

"Yeah, I have some spare ones left over." Sugar smiled. The "I" was maybe a little generous, her dad had been the one to pay and they'd had a professional decorator put them up so she wasn't involved in the slightest, but Ryder didn't need to know that. "And I think I can manage that." She nodded at his condition. "Thanks." She smiled as he took her coat before she turned her focus to her shoes. She pulled them off and dropped them next to Ryder's boots. "The bed is fine." Sugar shrugged, making her way over. She sat on the edge of the bed before pulling herself backwards, leaving her sitting cross legged in the middle. "You can sit here too, I can't see your laptop from over there." Sugar added, patting the spot next to her. Her plans for tonight involved being close to Ryder, and him sitting across the room wasn't exactly part of that.

The idea of having plans already set for the future excited Ryder. That just meant he’d be getting more Sugar in his life and so far he had been enjoying the few times he spent with her. So when Sugar patted the bed beside her, he didn’t hesitate and quickly grabbed his laptop to join her. He had been hoping she was going to opt for him sitting on the bed with her. Once sitting legged next to her, he opened his laptop and placed it in front of them. “Did you bring any suggestions along with you? Something more modern?” He asked with a small smirk as he pulled up Youtube and searched for a song. “We won’t do this song but this is the one I was talking about the other day.” He click the trackpad on his laptop, and Islands in the Stream began playing through the speakers.

Sugar grinned as Ryder decided to join on her the bed, twirling some of her hair around her finger as she watched him open YouTube and start typing. "Yes I brought some suggestions." Sugar nodded. "And of course they're modern, I'm me. I don't do old things. I like things new and shiny." She joked. Sugar sat and listened to the start of his song, about to complain about how old and boring it was when she caught the lyrics, hearing lines about her doing something to him, and having something going on and suddenly the song didn't seem so bad. "It's better than I thought it would be." Sugar admitted, a small smirk pulling at her lips. "It can go on the maybe pile."

"After this, you can show me those suggestions.” Ryder glanced over and smiled at Sugar playing with her hair. He found the act kind of cute of her. As the song played, Ryder made sure to keep his eyes on Sugar. He softly swayed next to her and mouthed along with the chorus, enjoying the song and he was happy to hear she hadn’t thought it to be so bad. “See.” He was feeling a little pleased with himself for showing her a good song. “The maybe pile it is,” he nodded. “Alright, you’re up. What’s your first choice for us?” He asked, slightly pushing the laptop keyboard a more in her direction.

Sugar couldn't help but smile as she watched him mouth along with the words. It was cute and she couldn't seem to tear her eyes away. "So I had a few ideas." Sugar replied, taking the laptop from him. "We could go like the Shawn and Camila route with Señorita or I Know What You Did Last Summer. Or there's Halsey and Khalid if we wanted to do Eastside. Oh, what about Close by Nick Jonas and Tove Lo?" She rattled off her ideas. "Or if you wanted to go down the classic route, there's this one." Sugar grinned, typing Promiscuous Girl into the search bar. "Do you know this one, and more importantly, can you do the Timbaland part?" She asked. Her definition of classic definitely differed from everyone else's, and she was curious as to what his opinion was of her song ideas - if he'd even heard of them all.

While she ran through he list of songs, Ryder tried to think of each one and how familiar he was with it. Before he had the chance to comment on knowing 2 of the 4, Sugar pulled up the video of what she called a classic song. He couldn’t help but laugh a bit at her view of the classics. “I think I’ve heard this before,” he said, his eyes turning to the thumbnail of the video. From what he remembered of the words and the song, it was pretty steamy. He wondered what it’d be like to sing, or rap to her, about wanting her. It wouldn’t be as though what he was saying wasn’t true so he figured it was something he’d should be able to do. He swallowed, and looked at Sugar before giving her a small, not-so-confident nod. “Yeah, I think I could. A little practice with you and yeah I could. Do you know all of Nelly’s parts?” He questioned.

Sugar was waiting for his reaction, figuring that it would give her a pretty good indication of how the rest of their evening was going to go. If he looked horrified by the idea then she would know that she needed to back off and if he didn't, well she would move onto the next part. As he agreed to the song, she put that down as the latter. "Well we can have all the practice we need, but for what it's worth, I think we're going to be great." Sugar grinned, clicking play on the video. "Of course I do, it's a classic after all." She shrugged, handing the laptop back to Ryder as an advert played. "I figured I could do a dance too. Let me show you my parts - join in if you can, the lyrics should be on the screen." She said, scrambling off the bed just as the music started. The beat was catchy, and she did her best to keep her dancing sexy without bordering on cringey. All the comments about her singing from Santana had thrown her off though, and she stuck to lip syncing her way through the first Nelly parts. After all, she was trying to build the mood up, not kill it.

Ryder enjoyed Sugar’s confidence, and knew even if they didn’t practice much together that he’d practice on his own. When it came time to actually do the song, he’d want to pull it off without a hitch and impress her or, at least, he wanted to make the attempt to impress her. Taking the laptop from Sugar, Ryder raised an eyebrow at her mention of a dance. “Oh? Alright, I will,” he said, his eyes moving from the screen to Sugar getting off the bed. The song started, and Ryder’s gaze went back to the screen to read the lyrics. In the corner of his eye, he saw Sugar’s body moving along to the music and it became nearly impossible to look at the laptop. Eventually, he gave up on trying to pick up some of the song and put the laptop to the side. He brought out his feet from under him and slid himself to the edge of the bed to plant his feet on the floor. Ryder reached out and put a hand on Sugar's waist, hoping it wasn’t crossing any line by touching her, and stood up in front of her. He began dancing himself, but a little slower than she was in an effort to not make a fool of himself or turn things awkward. It seemed appropriate, though. “You’re a good dancer,” he whispered, looking down at her hips before bringing his eyes up to meet her’s.

Sugar noticed that Ryder's gaze had shifted from the laptop to her, and that only spurred her on. If there was one thing she knew how to do it, it was be sexy. Hell if he was having trouble keeping his eyes off her now then she could only imagine what he was going to be like when he saw her in her favourite lingerie set she'd picked especially to wear under her dress. She couldn't wait. She smiled coyly as she watched Ryder move towards the edge of the bed before his hands moved towards her waist and then he was on his feet. "Thanks, it's one of my many talents." Sugar murmured back, smiling back at him softly as their eyes met. There was a great line coming up and Sugar decided to use it for all it was worth. "Promiscuous boy, you already know that I'm all yours, what you waiting for?" She lip synced, taking one of Ryder's hands and holding it up to spin herself under. As she completed the twirl, she then used the hand to pull herself in closer to Ryder, their bodies closer than they had been a moment ago.

“You’re welcome. I can’t wait to find out what some of your other talents are.” Ryder watched her mouth the words, and gulped when she spun around in front of him. What was he waiting for? “I’m going to kiss you now, is that okay?” Usually, he would’ve just gone ahead and kissed someone rather than asking but Sugar made him nervous. He knew she was a guest of the hotel and while it was clear they were enjoying each other’s company, Ryder didn’t want to cross a line that she didn’t want crossed. Something told him, though, she wouldn’t have minded. Instead of waiting for her reply, he snaked his hand from her waist to the small of her back and leaned down to kiss her.

Sugar smirked at his talents comment, and she was ready to fire off a smutty comeback when she noticed the way Ryder was looking at her and figured there was no need, things were clearly about to get moving between them. The smirk turned into a genuine smile at his question, she was taken aback by just how sweet a gesture it was. Most guys just launched themselves at her, she had never had anyone stop and ask before. She was about to nod when she saw Ryder leaning in. Figuring her actions would give her answer for her, she leaned up to meet him halfway. She wrapped her arms around his neck as she kissed him back, closing the gap between them so her body was now flush against his. She kept the first few kisses light before tentatively getting bolder, each kiss getting longer and more daring than the one before it.

Ryder brought his hand up and rested it against Sugar’s cheek never letting his lips part with her’s. He took a small step, and slowly turned while guiding Sugar so eventually they switched positions, and he stood where she had previously. Based on the way she was kissing him back, he had no reservations about his next move. Ryder moved forward and held Sugar close to his body as he backed her towards the bed positioning it so they wouldn’t need to worry about falling onto the laptop. It was then his phone began ringing inside the pocket of his jeans. He opened his eyes for a second and reached down into his pocket to pressed the side button so he could silence it. He’d call whoever it was back later. “Sorry,” he mumbled against her mouth before bringing his arm back around her. He pushed her until the back of her knees hit the bed. Ryder opened his eyes and pulled back, breaking the kiss. He looked at Sugar and gave her a small smile, waiting for her to make the next move and fall back onto the bed.

Sugar happily let Ryder move her, enjoying the idea of him taking control. He was a good kisser, something she was grateful for. There would have been nothing worse than having all this build up only to be disappointed when they finally got to the good part. Sugar paused as Ryder's phone rang but was grateful when he chose to ignore it, more than ready to get back what they were doing. She returned his smile, hooking her fingers into his jean's belt loops so she could pull him down onto the bed with her. She slid backwards underneath him until her head reached the pillows. She leaned up to kiss him again, her fingers beginning to wander through his hair experimentally.

Ryder fell on top of Sugar, his hand reaching out to catch himself before completely crashing down on her. Moving with her, they reached the top of the bed where he was happy to find her mouth meeting his again. He breathed out at the feel of her fingers running through his hair - it had been one of his weaknesses and he loved when a girl played with his hair. Ryder placed a hand on her waist and bunched up her dress between his fingers to slide it up a bit. He then reached his hand down to her leg, pulling it up against him. Just as he was about to grind his hips against her, his phone rang again. He grunted out of frustration and let go of her leg so he could reach in his pocket for his phone. This time, he took it out and silenced it before lightly tossing it to the floor. “Where were we?” He smirked, closing the distance between them again and kissing her.

Sugar smiled against Ryder's lips as he reacted to her hands, making a mental note that he liked her playing with his hair. It was something that she hoped would come in useful at a later date, and this wasn't just going to be a one time thing. She felt Ryder's hand moving her dress and then her leg, and she was looking forward to seeing what he was going to do next when her thoughts were interrupted by his phone. She propped herself up on her elbows, watching as he silenced it before banishing it to the floor. "Someone's popular." She mumbled in response, but any following comments soon died on her lips as he kissed her once more. Bored of the interruptions, she decided to step it up a gear as she pulled Ryder even closer, adding her tongue to the mix as the kisses began to get dirtier.

Ryder didn’t know why his phone kept ringing, and he didn’t even bother checking to see who had been calling him. His attention had been solely on Sugar. Forget anything else. And when she deepened the kiss with her tongue, he knew ignoring the call was the right decision. Ryder returned his hand back to her leg and trailed his fingers up the outside of her thigh. He toyed with the hem of her panties then slipped his hand to her ass before pushing his hips into hers. Breaking away from her mouth, Ryder began peppering her cheek with kisses down to her neck. He pulled back and looked down at her, a small smile played on his lips. “Are you okay with me taking this off?” He asked, tugging softly at her dress. He wasn’t looking to get her naked, at least not yet, but the dress made it difficult for him to explore her body. Once it was off, it’d be a lot easier for his hands to wander like he wanted.

Sugar was thoroughly enjoying herself, it had been too long since she'd had sex and it seemed like her dry spell was finally coming to an end. She allowed herself to get lost in the kisses, each seemingly better than the last. A soft moan fell from her lips as she felt his hips push into hers, her own hips responding by rolling against his in search of friction. She opened her eyes briefly as Ryder pulled away before they fell closed again as he started kissing her neck and she tilted her head to the side to give him more room. "God yes." She breathed at his question. "As long as you take yours off too." She added, gently tugging at his shirt before dropping her hands to his waistband, running her hands teasingly over the fabric of his jeans, which seemed to be getting ever tighter.

Ryder hadn’t anticipated that Sugar and his time would lead to this, but boy was he glad it did. Every kiss and every touch had made him want her even more. “You got it.” He said, his gaze following her finger. Just the slight touch from that, constricted him even more. Their clothes needed to come off and quick. As if on queue, once Ryder took his shirt off and it hit the floor, there was a knock on his door. His head jolted towards the sound then he looked back down at Sugar. Just as he had done with his phone, Ryder was going to ignore the knock. Maybe they’d think he wasn’t in. "Ryder? Are you in there?” *Another knock. “We have an emergency! A Christmas emergency! We need the handyman.” Ryder groaned, and shook his head. Perhaps it wasn't going to be as easy as pretending someone wasn't there. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think I have to see what’s going on.”

Sugar watched Ryder take his shirt off, an appreciative smirk growing on her lips as she ran her eyes over his shirtless body. She had just reached for the zip on her dress when they were interrupted once again by a knock on the door. It seemed like no matter what, she couldn't catch a break. First there was the thing with Sam and now the universe had intervened once again. She looked towards the door and then back at Ryder before there was a second knock and someone was speaking. "Ugh, fine." She groaned, waving a hand towards the door as she collapsed backwards against the bed. "Tell them you'll fix whatever it is tomorrow." She added half heartedly.

“I’ll try,” Ryder said in hopes it would be that easy. Once standing, he adjusted his pants a bit in an attempt to make himself a little less uncomfortable given his situation. He walked over to the door, and opened it just enough so he was in view but not enough where for Sugar to be seen - he hoped. He found one of the girls from reception standing in the hall looking exasperated. “The Christmas tree lights are out and no one can figure out what’s wrong! We need you, RIGHT NOW.” Ryder titled his head back hearing about the Christmas emergency and rolled his eyes. “Okay, give me two minutes and I’ll be there.” Closing the door, he turned back to Sugar on his bed. It was going to take everything in him to put his shirt back on and go to work but he knew he didn’t have a choice. There wasn’t any way he could put this off until tomorrow, he knew that. The resort couldn’t be without a lit Christmas tree. “I gotta go.” He shook his head in disbelief as he reached down and picked his shirt up off the floor. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to but.. work,” he said as if the word work should explain it all.

Sugar honestly wanted to scream, it was taking everything in her not to just roll over and yell into his pillow. She knew already that he was going to leave and in all honesty, the moment had gone anyway. Whoever had been on the other side of the door had well and truly killed the vibe that they'd had going. "Work sucks." She pouted, watching Ryder for a second longer before sliding her way over to the edge of the bed. She wasn't going to sit around in his room by herself, maybe she'd go to the bar and see if Santana could ply her with alcohol to drown her misfortunes with. "I'm like their most VIP guest, surely they should care about customer satisfaction." She joked as she pulled her dress back down and got up to check her hair in the mirror, hoping it wasn't too messed up after their fooling around.

This was probably the worst way them to have to end their evening together. Now Ryder was going to have to go work, semi-hard, not thinking about anything but Sugar. “I care about customer satisfaction.” He stopped buttoning up his flannel midway to watch her check herself in the mirror. The dress she was wearing should’ve been off and on the floor along with his clothes. He had to shake his head of the thoughts, and he began buttoning his shirt again. “As the resort’s handyman, I can make sure to fix any problem you have.” It worried him that the interruptions might’ve screwed any future possibility Ryder had with Sugar and he definitely didn’t want that. Now more than ever, he wanted to make sure he’d be seeing her again. “Maybe in the future sometime soon?” He asked, hopeful.“I feel like we need to finish this.”

Sugar could see Ryder watching her in the reflection of the mirror, a small smirk playing on her lips. She wished she could stay and explore this thing between them further but some dumb Christmas tree lights had put an end to that plan. "Okay I'll make sure to remember that if I ever have a, uh, problem." She smiled. She smoothed her hair down one more time before retrieving her shoes from where they were by the door. "Maybe." She nodded at his proposal as she pulled the shoes on before finding her coat and shrugging it back on. She definitely wanted to see him again but she also wanted to be cool and aloof, and maybe be chased a little. Checking that she had everything she brought with her, she made her way over to Ryder. She reached up, wrapping a hand around his neck to pull him in for a kiss. She poured her frustration into it, letting it get a little dirty before pulling back. "Until next time." She shrugged before heading for the door, hoping it would be enough to keep him on the hook until they found a time to meet up again.

Ryder hoped Sugar would be having a problem soon because just their short encounter had him hooked. His eyes followed her as she got her shoes and put on her coat. He probably should have been doing the same since he had a Christmas tree problem to fix, but he was entranced. He was cursing work in his head because all he wanted to do was spend more time with her and she was really leaving him hanging with her ambiguous maybe. Ryder smiled, seeing her come his way. He kissed her back, wishing they could stay in his room a bit longer. "Yeah," he whispered, his eyes locked on her while she made her exit. His mind was already focusing on when and how he could make the next time happened.

#003

1 note · View note

carry-on-my-wayward-imagines · 5 years

Text

A Normal Day

Originally based on: “Imagine Dean breaking up with you for your safety but pretending it’s because he doesn’t love you anymore”

A/N: I’m trying to get back in the mood for writing one-shots so I decided to do this for therapeutic reasons, for lack of a better word. I’m not taking the blame though, this was completely inspired by doing a re-reading of reactions to “Untitled” and @thefreshprinceofmirkwood

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word count: 2,104

Warnings: any warnings outta “Untitled” are fair game in here. Some angst, some fluff. You know me ;)

Untitled (Part I), Part Two (Part II), 2,629,745 (Part III) Conclusion (Final Part)

----

“Kids aren’t that bad, Dean,” you chuckled. “You just got to know how to calm them down. Once you’ve figured out how to do that, it’s pretty nice to be around them.”

If Dean couldn’t see you blush as you kept your head pressed against his chest, he sure felt it. After four years of marriage, you were still shy to his compliments, and he loved it. He loved telling you how amazing you were, how brave and different and fearless you kept on being even after you left the hunting life. But he mostly loved the shy smiles that came with his compliments, so soft and genuine that he could swear his heart would stop for a moment. It was reassurance that he was keeping his promises. Dean sometimes felt as though he had failed so many people, even you, but that would never happen again. Especially after he vowed to do his best to keep you happy all those years ago.

“I’ll take your word for that, then,” he finally replied to your comment, the corners of his lips gently tugged up.

Even if you weren’t a substitute teacher, Dean had no doubts you would be great with any children you’d have together. It was a topic you didn’t bring about too much, so he didn’t either, but he was finally feeling ready. Your fifth anniversary would be in six months, maybe enough time to start trying and get some happy news around the date. His smile widened as he thought about starting the talk today. Maybe he’d take you out to a nice dinner.

“Are you still going out with Charlie tonight?”

“Yup.” Dean’s smile faltered, but then picked up again. Tomorrow night. There was plenty of time. “Are you sure you don’t want to go see the new Marvel movie with us, though? Sam and Miranda are still on their honeymoon, and I don’t want you all cooped up here by yourself, babe.”

“I can always call Cas,” Dean shrugged, kissing the top of your head. He would need sometime by himself to get some plans ready. “Breakfast?”

“Yes, please!”

Dean chuckled at your enthusiasm, seeing you light up. His cooking was the only thing that would ever bring you close to being a morning person, and he took pride at that. He began untangling himself from your embrace with a slow kiss to your lips, missing the other part of his puzzle piece even as he got out of the bed and threw a shirt on. Dean felt your eyes on him, gave you a crooked smile as he turned back to you, and then another kiss.

“I was thinking of banana pancakes,” Dean mumbled against your lips when you finally parted. Your smile gave him the approval he needed.

“Well, you’re the chef,” you said. Dean chuckled as you leaned forward and captured one last kiss from him. “You’re welcome to make whatever you want as long as I don’t do anything.”

“And you’re welcome to walk into the kitchen at any time as long as you’re still in only my shirt.”

He knew he was being cocky, but he couldn’t help throwing you a wink as you shooed him out of the bedroom. It was truly a sight that would never get old.

----

To anyone else, you might have seem excited about the movie, but Dean knew otherwise. He didn’t want to pry as he watched you nervously doing your makeup, or when you couldn’t stop tapping your foot against the floor as you ate pie together. You were going to be picking Charlie up, although you hadn’t seen her in months. Maybe it was that.

“Don’t forget your wallet,” Dean gave you a small grin, watching you almost head out of the door and straight past where it laid on the table. His smile was quickly replaced with a frown though, and he approached you cautiously. “You seem a little off today, sweetheart. Are you sure you can drive?”

You sighed, looking away from Dean.

“I’m okay to drive, babe,” you said quietly. “I’m just, well… I’m honestly a bit nervous since I haven’t hung out with Charlie in a while. I know it’s stupid, we’re both adults and dorks, but I also don’t want it to be awkward, you know? And Sam usually hangs out with us.”

“You’re going to be alright, darlin’,” Dean reassured you, happy that there wasn’t anything more drastic worrying you. “If you really want to, I could come with you.”

“Oh no, mister, that offer was in the morning when there were still tickets. You’d be crazy to get some now,” you half-joked, more confident.

“Alright, get going then! I held you up enough.”

Dean leaned in to give you the usual departing kiss, but was surprised when you pulled him in more passionately than normal. Perhaps he should give you motivational speeches more often. He could still feel the taste of the cherries on your tongue, so sweet and fresh that he was sure you took out another slice after brushing your teeth. His mind was filled with only the smoothness of your lips and the comfort of your hands around his neck. And the only thing to convince him that the kiss was fleeting instead of several days long was that the darkened sky outside had remained the same when you stepped back.

He had never seen you looking more happy.

“You know,” you said, closing off the space between you once more, but this time with a hug. “I think I made the right decision all those years ago. You’re the best husband ever. I love you, Dean.”

“I love you more, my cheesy warrior,” Dean smiled. “Now, drive safe and say hi to Charlie for me.”

Your car was soon a quiet rumble in the distance, growing ever so tiny as you drove away. Dean watched until you had disappeared, his heart feeling full, before he went into the house again and locked the door behind him. He had a couple calls to make, perhaps maybe try and make a special reservation at one of your favorite restaurants. He had to plan fast before businesses closed out for the night.

And soon, the long hand of the clock hung straight down, pointing at the plain six while the shorter one signaled the two identical pairs of ones. With a sigh, Dean grabbed the remote of the TV and turned the monitor off, the black screen faintly reflecting the movement of his body as he stood up. He wasn’t particularly tired, but he did have to work at the mechanic shop the next day, so he drained the leftover beer he hadn’t finished in the sink and turned off the living room’s lights.

After a quick check of the devil traps at the entrances of the house, he headed toward your shared bedroom. A yawn stretched Dean’s lips apart as he closed the door of the room, flicking on the lights with one hand and rubbing his eyes with the other. He slipped off the worn pair of jeans and threw them in one corner, making a mental note to remember that it was his turn to wash this week.

He was deciding between saving time and just throwing everything that needed to go to the dry cleaner’s in a bag right now, or choosing to do that when you finally got home from the midnight premier, when he finally saw it. Sitting on top of his pillow was a rectangle envelope, and, judging by the faded yellow color and the bent corners, Dean guessed it must have been at least a few years old.

Curiosity pulled him towards it, the corners of his lips curving up as he read the words written on the front of the envelope: “To my dearest Orion.”

Dean took the old item into his hands and sat on the edge of the bed, observing your handwriting for a moment and chuckling to himself as he noticed that it hadn’t changed a lot despite the passing of time. Then, sure that what was inside wouldn’t fail to amuse him, Dean opened the letter.

It surprised him to see that the date on the corner read from four and a half years ago, but he kept on reading.

Dear Dean,

Well, I guess we finally did it! Okay, maybe not from my point of view, but from yours. I also think I should explain what I’m talking about, since this must be really weird for you. Anyways, if I didn’t freak out (or you) then we’re probably married by now. I don’t know if you noticed it, but tonight (or at least for me) is the day before we’re getting (or hopefully got) married. It would be a lie if I said that I’m not scared as hell of messing up tomorrow, but really none of this is what I wanted to talk about.

Dean’s smile started to fade as he continued reading. It wasn’t long before his hands were shaking, tears welling up in his eyes as he read, completely blurring out the words. This was wrong. This had to be wrong. It wasn’t just his vision that felt blurry, but everything else too. His head was spinning, the ticking of the clock was too loud, and his heart hammered against his chest with a pain he hadn’t felt before. It was constricting him, stealing every last bit of oxygen he had.

I’m sorry that I can’t be with you anymore.

He didn’t finish reading the letter.

“Y/N, what have you done?” Dean whispered to himself as he fumbled to find his phone, hands still shaking. This couldn’t be happening. He quickly began to call, feeling like his heart was stabbed with every ring. “Answer, god-fucking-dammit!”

But you didn’t pick up.

Dean quickly threw his pair of jeans on again, slipping into an untied pair of boots and running down the hallway with the phone still pressed against his ear. His could feel the heat growing on his neck as desperation crawled like a swarm of insects up his back in into his chest. You couldn’t be gone.

“Cas! Castiel!” Dean screamed into the empty house letting the phone fall to his side as his knees gave out. No one came. He was alone. “Please! I need you! Y/N is in trouble!”

Moments passed with Dean still on the floor, shoulders sagged. The shock was too much. He had to do something, but what could he do? Where did you go? Why didn’t you tell him sooner?

Dean heard his heart pulsing in his ears as he grabbed the phone once again, barely feeling the sobs racking through his body as he continued dialing your number. The tenth missed call didn’t make a difference. He couldn’t stop himself. He had to hear your voice say this was all an elaborate prank, that you would be home soon, safely tucked into his arms. That your hands would rub his back when he woke up in the middle of the night, dreaming about the terrors that weren’t supposed to be in his life anymore. He would never let go of you after this again.

He never imagined that morning that this was how he would end the day, what was supposed to be a perfectly normal day.

And in the days that followed, when he finally got a hold of Castiel, and when Sam cut his honeymoon short for a flight and frantic drive down to your home, Dean wanted to imagine that that wasn’t how the day ended. That you would come back despite your letter, running through the door to tell him about your movie night with Charlie. Charlie, who was five states away.

Your car, which was 60 miles away from your house.

Your phone, which was in the backseat.

Your ring–sitting undisturbed on the hood of your car.

It was the ring that broke him. Your promise to always keep it on was broken, just like the promises of protecting you, his wife, had been completely cut through. No matter what your letter said, he would never bury you in the back of his head, even if the weight of the pain dragged around his ankles like metal chains. Even if he had to pretend to carry on eventually, put up a facade to everyone else that met him, and imagine that the day would be a normal day like that day was supposed to be. Even then, his heart would never forget.

He would always be your hunter.

———

Tags:

General

@itsbubbaog @xxmy-day-dreamxx @lamme0456 @deannotmoose @15wiishes

Dean Winchester

@akshi8278 @Justanotherdogperson @justanothersepticeyefan

87 notes · View notes

feverinfeveroutfic · 3 years

Text

chapter thirty one: sets of twins

October thirteenth had come about and Sam knew for a fact that Joey was having a blast overseas in Germany. She pictured him with a big cake courtesy of one of the large luxurious bakeries over there that specialized in making cakes, and she knew he was to head off to bed that evening with his belly full of it as well as the dinner he so well chose.

Meanwhile, the arrival of the orange and red leaves on all of the trees made her think of the last days in which she and Cliff were together, right around that time in fact. A year ago. A year ago she had lost Cliff to the northern darkness and he became the hunter in the shadows left behind the aurora borealis. The walks to and from school only made the memory of him far more potent: but it was Joey's birthday when the reality of it all settled over her. Metallica had ascended into a whole other world of their own, but Joey and Anthrax remained right by her, right within arms' reach, just like the colors that changed on all of the trees around her.

The red and orange like the feathers decorated upon Joey's headdress.

She pictured him out front there on the stage with a little party hat upon his head much like Alex's birthday party, or perhaps he would wear one of those inside of his Indian headdress during their performance of “Indians”. The only drawback she saw with it however was that his birthday took place right smack in the middle of the week. Add to this, Sam, Marla, and Belinda didn't have a three day weekend like they so assumed would happen with Columbus Day.

“Go to school anyways,” Joey told her over the phone on the Thursday night before that weekend. “Make all the great art you possibly can for Monday. We need that great art of yours—all the red feathers and the Iroquois lore. The world needs that great art of yours.”

He then cleared his throat and sang to her in the softest, most gentlest voice she had ever heard him sing. She lay in bed all the while as well, and so when he sang to her, it almost felt as though he was singing her to sleep. Indeed, she nestled down in bed and pulled the blankets up to her chin as she held the cordless phone up to her ear. She pictured him laying in bed as well, complete with a cup of Mexican hot chocolate next to him. She smiled when he crooned the words, “Oh, Samantha” in a near whisper.

“That was so sweet,” she told him afterwards.

“That's the song I sang for my audition into Anthrax,” he explained, “it's called 'Oh, Sherrie', by Steve Perry from Journey. I just changed it to Samantha to kinda give it to ya and whatnot.”

“Aw.”

He then cleared his throat. “So any word on that big ass monolithic ginormous project you've got coming up?” “Nothing yet,” she explained, “although I'm supposed to meet up with Bill next Friday afternoon and talk it over more. At least I hope to get to see him. He told me he's going to pop into one of my classes just to watch me, but he never told me when it's supposed to happen.”

“Well, damn.”

They fell into silence for a seconds and then she spoke again.

“You know, I think you can actually come with me out to California,” she pointed out, “like—you know, we don't have to do the long distance. I might have to ask him about it because the whole thing about it being about school and whatnot. I say this because that was the mistake Cliff and I made. He didn't want to leave the Bay Area and I didn't want to leave New York, either. He actually got kind of defensive about it at one point. I remember that was one of the last things he and I talked about before Metallica left for their tour and we never fully finished it, either.”

“Wow, that sounds like there was a rift between you two,” Joey noted.

“I wouldn't necessarily say that,” Sam confessed as she slipped one hand underneath her pillow, right under her head. “But it was definitely something we couldn't address further than that, though. Cliff was so home grown with the Bay Area that it almost feels like a betrayal to him that he was killed in Scandinavia, somewhere that wasn't his home.”

“And if I'm honest, I kinda am, too, but with upstate.” He then cleared his throat again. “Although—make no mistake, though, Sam. If we were a lot bigger than we are right now, like if Anthrax truly was about to become something huge, I would probably reconsider that.”

“So for you, it's not just feeling at home and at peace in upstate New York but it's a matter of money.”

“Right! Exactly. We are kinda earnin', but it's not really a lot, though. No idea why this is, either. But we're barely getting paid, though, even while being on tour. Anyways, I gotta mosey on outta here—rehearsal starts in like three minutes. Also before I forget. I should tell ya this: be on the lookout for postcards.”

“Postcards from you?”

“From me, from Frankie, from Charlie, from Danny, from the girls, all of us. We're gonna be sending ya stuff while we're over here in Europe. Also, another thing I should ask you—how's Scott doin'? Have you talked to him at all?”

“I haven't seen him, no,” Sam confessed. “Like weeks—not since you auditioned for the guitarist position. Although I'm thinking of going over to his place and at least checking in on him and his fiancée.”

“You ought to. On the flight over here, Frankie and I were talking and at one point, he goes, 'I wonder how Scott's been doing lately. We sure haven't heard from him in a long time.'”

Someone behind him interrupted him right then and there.

“What's that?” Joey called back and he held the phone away from his ear. The person said something.

“Okay,” he told them, and he brought the phone back. “Anyways, I gotta go. You sleep tight, alright?”

“Of course,” Sam said. “And you guys don't stay up too late.”

He chuckled at that. “Alright—good night, Sam I am. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

And they hung up at the same time. She lay there on the bed and gazed up at the ceiling above her, and she listened to the falling rain outside of her window.

But at some point, she drifted off to sleep without putting the cordless back. There was a dream in there at some point, but she had no idea as to what it exactly encapsulated, especially by the time she woke up and Marla was cooking something in the kitchen for the both of them.

Sam had hope that the Cherry Suicides would have their day on Halloween for their annual celebratory show. She had no idea as to where they were playing that night, either, but she hoped that they would have those sugar skulls with them again.

Indeed, on Columbus Day weekend, she sat down with her colored pencils and her journal. She thought of Joey and that big headdress of red and white feathers perched high on his head, as if it was a crown. The crown in lieu of a party hat, the crown for his ascension into his twenty seventh trip about the sun, and thus she drew his head and shoulders. Those thick luxurious curls down from his head in such flyaway fashion and that big cluster of feathers all the way down to the floor. That rich scarlet for the base and the orange and golden yellow for the power of the sun.

She thought about Belinda's wishes to take her into stained glass. Perhaps it could be something genuinely wonderful as she picked up the Prussian blue and burnt umber colored pencils for the shadows under Joey's eyes and all about his face.

She thought about the glass in question, in how it all seemed so much brighter and more colorful when in the sun. All the times of walking to and fro about that front hallway of the school, where the morning sun shone through the stained glass. If only there was a way to bring it all forth with mere colored pencils.

Indeed, she brought the burnt umber to an angle and she began shading in his skin, a tone ever so light about his face. By his nose and the point of his chin, she gave it another layer and spread it out. Followed by another and another, until there she had the darkest, fullest shade of that lush, earthy brown for his sun kissed skin. The blue, meanwhile, added a touch more depth, especially to the natural creases on his face, around his nose and the corners of his mouth and his dark lips.

If only there was a way in which she could show this drawing to Joey, and if only there was a way in which she could translate this very drawing over to the world of stained glass. She had faith in Belinda and her power of convincing, however the whole suggestion about bringing leather crafting to the school seemed to have fallen on deaf ears at that point: neither of them heard anything about it since Alex's birthday party.

It was right there that she had forgotten to ask Joey about the guitar strap she had given to him for his birthday, and how it was faring for him with the overseas crowds. She pictured him at the front of the stages, with the microphone before him and the guitar slung over his shoulder, high against his body as it should be with him. If there was anything he could have given Alex credit for, it had to be that. The whole thing between him and Alex almost no sense to her, even to that moment in time, it made no sense to her.

The day following Joey's birthday, a Wednesday afternoon and the only time Sam had any time to herself during that quarter given Marla's whole hectic schedule on her own as well as all that she had to do, she spotted a pair of cards in the mailbox downstairs, one light rosy pink and the other a butter yellow. The latter had with it a small lumpy envelope the size of a playing card.

She turned over the yellow card where she was met with a clear, crisp photograph of a castle in Germany. To be near a castle once again!

But then she turned it over again in order to read that messy scrawl in blue pen.

“Sam—

my wife and I are trusting you with this key to our apartment, seeing as we owe you the record player with Spreading.

I hope all is well back home right now! I wish you were here with us—if you loved England, you'll love Germany and Holland even more.

Love, Danny”

She turned her head back to the mailbox and she took out the envelope. Indeed, she felt something hard inside, and she knew that she had been given a chance to listen to the vinyl records she so wished to listen to, mainly Spreading the Disease and also Live at Eindhoven. She then turned to the pink postcard, which had a photograph of a cobblestone street somewhere in Amsterdam. But right in the midst of the cobblestones stood the Cherry Suicides, donned in black hats and red veils as if someone had taken the picture right before the show and one of them tacked it onto the card. She then turned it over to read.

“Sam—

do you remember that tape we asked you to make for us? Well, we got accepted into the new merger between Megaforce and the other label with it! A bootleg tape is now a live album thanks to your help. It's not our debut album, but it's something to start with with us. Because of it, we're happy to tell you that you're the first in line for this new record. The Cherry Suicides: from Rhode Island with love—live in Boston 1987, is the full title. Be on the lookout for it around Halloween, believe it or not.

Be on the lookout for a live album from Anthrax and Testament, too—although I'm sure you already know about the latter. I don't know if Eric told you this yet, but that album isn't even supposed to come out over there in States until next year, so consider yourself lucky, my lady! Anyways, there's all kinds of good stuff from all of us! Things are in fact beginning to look up, and the four of us in particular owe it all to you.

Morgan, Minerva, and Rosita all send their love, and as do I.

-Zelda”

She smiled at that and she held both cards to her chest, a pair of twin cards, from two people she held so close to her heart. She then made her way upstairs with those as well as that lumpy envelope that Dan had sent her, and she was eager to make her way over to his place all to listen to those vinyl records.

Again, a pair of twins, soon to be triplets with the Cherry Suicides' upcoming live album. How exciting! The girls finally found their way with a new record, and it happened to be that bootleg tape that Sam had made for them while they toured with Anthrax and Testament as well.

She almost stumbled her way into the apartment but she caught herself before Genie greeted her at the door. Once she set everything down on the couch, she reached down and pet her little black cat head. She squinted her eyes at the feeling and she treated Sam to a low purr, and she squatted down before her so she could better pet her.

If she was to leave for California with Bill, then she would have to leave Genie behind as well, and this cat always greeted her in particular whenever she came in through that door. She erected her tail but left a small hook at the top as she rubbed on her knees. She turned around and gazed up at her with those soft golden eyes and that purr from within her throat, and Sam continued to pet her head and her back before her knees began to ache from the squatting.

No sooner had she stood to her feet when the phone rang.

“Oh, goodness me,” she told Genie, and she bowed into the kitchen and fetched the phone on the wall. “Hello?”

“Hello, daughter of mine.” She recognized her mother's voice on the other end.

“Oh, hi, Mom! I got home from school just now. What's happening?”

“I have some good news and some bad news,” Esmé began.

“Good news first,” Sam told her.

“The good news is in this past summer, starting from May, I have taken up writing. I handed in a sample of a manuscript to a publishing house down in L.A and I'm waiting to hear back from them. Your mother just might become a published author soon.”

“Oh, my god, that's wonderful!” Sam waved her hand about before her face, and then she remembered. “Now what about the bad news?”

“The bad news is—your father and I might be splitting up,” she confessed in a low voice. Sam then brought that same hand to her mouth to keep herself from screaming, or puking. Esmé let out a low whistle but she never said anything after that. The silence was deafening all around them.

“Why?” Sam finally managed to choke out.

“He tells me that things are just not right anymore,” she explained, “and they haven't been, either. Even I will admit to that. and just so you know, I never mentioned the man whom I used to know to him once before. But the human intuition is incredible, though. He and I—we talked it over together just this morning—and ever since then I haven't been able to completely process it yet.” She sniffled and Sam held a hand to her chest.

“Oh my god,” she breathed out. To think that her parents had been together for so long at that point as well: it didn't even feel right to her.

“But just—let's keep it between you and me, though,” Esmé advised her. “Unless Marla is really genuinely curious about it. I just—I don't know how else to tell you about this, either, other than straight up over the phone. If you were closer to us, I may have told you sooner before and you may have witnessed it as well.”

“Well, Mom—if it's any comfort at all—I actually might be back out there next summer,” she sputtered.

“Really?” Esmé paused. “What for? What happened?”

“Yeah, my counselor told me that my senior project is taking place out there. Like he planned it ahead of time, out in California, and he told me it's supposed to start like next August. So my junior year will end and then he and I prepare on heading out that way. With this—with hearing this, the one and only pitfall I can think of and see out of that is I'll be away from my friends here.”

“And you've settled into New York City, too,” Esmé added, “you seem so at home there, more so than you do here on the West Coast. But at least your father and I will get to see you again. This is actually something I've disliked about you living so far away from home, if I'm honest. I miss having you around us—and I know Ruben does, too. We both miss you dearly.”

“The other thing about it is I dunno how long it'll be, either,” Sam continued.

“And you'll be far away from Joey, too,” said Esmé in a grim tone of voice.

“I'll be far from Joey, too,” she echoed her.

“But wait, how does he feel about going out West? Maybe he can join you and Bill while you're out here.”

“I dunno—he and I were actually talking about that the other night. It's kind of Cliff was so reluctant to move with me, but Joey's more concerned with money, though. And just like Cliff, he's born and raised here in New York—you know, the whole upstate area where he's from. It's such a homey area, like the direct opposite of New York City in my opinion. You know, New York City is where the world comes to play and figure things out. Upstate is where the world bypasses it because everyone else pitched a tent there. So—I don't really see it, to be completely honest with you, Mom.”

“And it's a grueling task, too,” Esmé added, “you know the struggle the three of us went through three years ago.”

“How could I forget,” Sam quipped. “I was so happy to finally just lay down in bed afterwards.”

“Your father and I were, too, when we were staying at the hotel. I mean, we love New York for sure, and I do especially—in fact—come to think of it, one of the things that's driving the two of us apart is my desire to be back East, closer to you.”

“Really?” Sam pressed her free hand to her hip. “Well, why didn't you say anything before?”

“Well, because your father undertook so much when we were moving you over there. When we got home, Ruben said, 'we're only going over to New York for Thanksgiving or Christmas. I mean no offense to Sam at all, but we seriously can't do this all the time.' He never said anything to you because he didn't know how you would react to it.”

And Sam also thought about the previous conversation they had had before, in which Ruben might not have been her father after all. Indeed, it would also explain as to why she hardly heard anything from him unless the holidays rolled about.

“My publisher is also based out of L.A., too,” Esmé continued. “To make a huge decision such as that, a big grueling move across the family such as that, to move three thousand miles away now would be so frivolous and ultimately fruitless, in my personal opinion.”

“And it just wouldn't make any sense on top of that, anyway,” Sam pointed.

“Right, with you possibly coming out come the summer time as well. It wouldn't be right to me to have you out here for something for school only to have to pick everything up and swap places with you.”

But the news of her parents separating left Sam yearning for something else, something different. She barely paid any attention to anything more that her mother talked about after that; instead she thought of her next drawing. By the time she and Esmé bode each other goodbye for now, she returned to the couch to fetch her things. The lovely feeling she had had before had disappeared with the realization of what happened.

Even though her mother told her not to speak with anyone about it, Marla needed to know about it, and Joey needed to know about it. Aurora had built a home of her own and she hadn't heard anything from her since Alex's birthday party when she made it about herself. Her own best friend and fellow California girl wasn't even around to know about this thing that could alter everything and the world in which Sam knew about from that point onward. Her own best friend and whom she believed was her confidant.

Marla was more trustworthy with the arrival of all of this.

And it was right there that the tears began to fall from her eyes. She sniffled and brushed one away from her right, and she opened her book bag for her journal once again. To the page that followed her birthday drawing to Joey. She tried to keep the tears at bay as she put the first strokes of graphite down on the heavy graphite. But they still streaked down her face as she gave the drawing some dark hair.

Herself as a young child.

She thought about going into her room with the journal, but she had no reason to do so when she had the couch all to herself. She wept for herself and for the fact that she was never returning to childhood. She was never returning to Cliff. Even though she had no siblings to count on, she did feel as though she missed something. There had to be something right next to her all the while, someone else right next to her. She looked over at Genie, who had curled up in her usual spot on the couch.

Her golden eyes closed of the part of the way but she stayed awake.

Careful not to startle her, Sam reached over and petted her head again. She pinched those eyes closed all the way, which in turn made more tears bleed out from Sam's eyes.

She thought about Alex, in how she met him when he was still a young boy in school. He was still a boy to her, but even from a moment's glance, she could tell that he had grown so much in these past three years. The past four years, from when Testament first began life from the suburbs of San Francisco.

Four years since they came to the fold as Legacy, and she was right there when they changed their name. And now she had gotten their very first live album: it awaited her in her bedroom as if it taunted her from the darkness.

A legacy in its own rite.

And she knew that she would be near them once again come the summer time. But she returned to the journal to make that drawing of herself as a little girl. Through her tears, she made more markings that collected into the shape of something new. She had no idea as to how he looked as a child himself, but she knew the little pearl of gray hadn't made its grand entrance yet. That thick jet black hair and those big deep eyes that seemed to swallow her whole, even from the grains of paper, even from the softness of childhood.

She thought about the hug he had given her at his birthday party. Soft like a young boy still.

And yet she couldn't bear the thought of leaving Joey behind. To leave him there in upstate New York to his own devices. But then again, he had that guitar with him, and he had all manner of friends still within range of him, and he had his band as well.

His band.

Scott burst into her mind then, as did Dan Lilker. They had started Anthrax themselves, and yet they both had departed from their places. By some dark magic, Anthrax had become Joey's band almost overnight. He was the heart and soul for sure, but he had come into the fold well after they had started and lifted off of the ground. It wasn't like Alex, who had come into the fold with Testament right after their start and then watched them go forth.

To think Joey had been inherited a whole band from Scott all because of something that he did and something that Scott had dismissed time and time again. Something about it made her squirm in her seat a bit.

Granted, Joey was her boyfriend, and she knew that no matter what happened with Anthrax or with him, that she had to stand behind him on it, something that she had picked up from being with Cliff. But nothing about his position in the band spoke to her about it being his band, however. A stranger in a strange land there when it pertained to him. She couldn't help but compare the whole experience with Testament, either, the other quintet that was still a quintet themselves.

Chuck stood on the stage with his microphone stand and played it like he would a guitar, but at least that was part of the whole deal with them. She hadn't seen him pick up a guitar from someone who was obviously the opposite of him and then go forth with it out of sheer spite. She could hope all she wanted with Joey, but he had to come to his senses about his interaction with Alex at some point in the future. It was only fair to him, and it was only fair to Joey himself.

But on the other hand, she recalled as to how miserable Joey was without a guitar at his helm. She wanted him to be away from the alcohol, away from the drugs. She wanted him to excel as the true genuine artist she knew he was meant to be, that he had tucked away all by the constraint of time itself. He had to continue on with the guitar, and he had to continue on with Anthrax, with them as a four piece rather than a massive quintet like Testament or even Death Angel.

But he also had to come back down to earth. The kindness was within him: she could feel it, and she did in fact feel it with him. To brush away the contradictions like she brushed away tears, and she could perhaps crack the code with him. To dilute his venom like she would with watercolor and paint with it upon her canvas for all the world to see, and so she could say that she had danced with Joey Belladonna and gave him art.

She brushed away more tears as she completed the remainder of the two children on the page before her, the drawing of herself and the drawing of Alex. Two twin children, even though they weren't even a little bit related to one another.

If only there was a way in which she could contact him and not through the fan club only. He had showed to her those fleeting moments, those little nuggets, those glimpses to what resided behind those deep eyes. But much like with Joey, therein resided something more that he wasn't showing her. There was more to Alex than she had given him credit for, and more than Joey had given him credit for.

She then raised her head from the journal and she glanced back at Genie, who had curled up into a tight bun on the top of the couch and went to sleep.

Marla wouldn't be home for at least another half an hour.

She peered out the door to the porch, at the buildings across the street and the sliver of harbor beyond that. So much to New York she hadn't seen yet, and so much she hadn't done yet, but she wanted to do it all right then and there. She could feel the clock ticking, the end of the day coming. The end was upon her, just like how Cliff said it would be when he set out for the last time into Sweden. Beyond the drapes, beyond the veil, beyond the darkness.

To live in the great unknown and only find herself in a single small pinprick of it, but something else called her back. Even though she had pitched the tent herself there in Hell's Kitchen with Marla, the past called her back. The past to make peace with the present and ultimately the future.

Maybe it was in fact time to head on back home after all, but then again she had so much at her every whim and desire. There was no way she could leave now, but she also had to leave. To go with Bill to California and to be there for her mother and her father both as they sorted things out between them, and to find out more of the secrets they had kept from her all these years. Maybe it was time to head on back home, to be closer to her parents.

To be closer to the other side of the scene.

To be closer to Cliff again.

2 notes · View notes

gaysparklepires · 5 years

Text

29. Defection

Read on AO3 - Links up top!

We sat there all night long, statues of horror and grief, and Alice never came back.

We were all at our limits—frenzied into absolute stillness. Carlisle had barely been able to move his lips to explain it all to Jacob. The retelling seemed to make it worse; even Emmett stood silent and still from then on.

It wasn’t until the sun slowly crept into the sky that I wondered for the first time what could possibly be taking Alice so long. I’d hoped to know actually know something before much longer. To have some answers. Some tiny, tiny portion of hope so that I could move again and no longer feel like ice.

My face felt permanently set into the fixed mask I had worn all night. I wasn’t sure I had the ability to smile anymore.

Jacob was breathing evenly in the corner, a mountain of fur on the floor, twitching anxiously in his sleep. Sam knew everything—the wolves were readying themselves for what was coming. Not that this preparation would do anything but get them killed with the rest of my family.

The sunlight broke through the back windows, sparkling on Edward’s skin. My eyes had not moved from his since Alice’s departure. We’d stared at each other all night, staring at what neither of us could handle losing: the other. I saw my reflection glow in his agonized eyes as the sun touched over my own skin.

His eyebrows moved an infinitesimal bit, then his lips.

“Alice,” he said.

The sound of his voice was like ice cracking as it melted. All of us fractured a little, softened a little. Moved again.

“She’s been gone a long time,” Royal murmured, surprised.

“Where could she be?” Emmett wondered, taking a step toward the door.

Esme wrapped her arms around herself. “We don’t want to disturb…”

“She’s never taken so long before,” Edward said. New worry splintered the mask his face had become. His features were alive again, his eyes suddenly wild with fresh fear, extra panic. “Carlisle, you don’t think—something preemptive? Would Alice have had time to see if they sent someone for her?”

Aro’s translucent-skinned face filled my head. Aro, who had seen into all the corners of Alice’s mind, who knew everything she was capable of—

Emmett cussed loud enough that Jacob lurched to his feet with a growl. In the yard, his growl was echoed by his pack. My family was already a blur of action.

“Stay here!” I hissed at Jacob as I sprinted through the door.

I had kept myself well fed since what had happened with Ivan and I was still stronger than the rest of them, and I used that strength to push myself forward. I overtook Esme in a few bounds, and Royal in just a few strides more. I raced through the thick forest until I was right behind Edward and Carlisle.

“Would they have been able to surprise her?” Carlisle asked, his voice as even as if he were standing motionless rather than running at full speed.

“I don’t see how,” Edward answered. “But Aro knows her better than anyone else. Better than I do.”

“Is this a trap?” Emmett called from behind us.

“Maybe,” Edward said. “There’s no scent but Alice and Jasper. Where were they going?”

Alice and Jasper’s trail was curling into a wide arc; it stretched first east of the house but headed north on the other side of the river, and then back west again after a few miles. We re-crossed the river, all six jumping within a second of each other. Edward ran in the lead, his concentration total.

“Did you catch that scent?” Esme called ahead a few moments after we’d leaped the river the second time. She was farthest back, on the far-left edge of our hunting party. She gestured to the southeast.

“Keep to the main trail—we’re almost to the Quileute border,” Edward called back. “Stay together. See if they turned north or south.”

I was not as familiar with the treaty line as the rest of them, but I could smell the hint of wolf in the breeze blowing from the east. Edward and Carlisle slowed a little out of habit, and I could see their heads sweep from side to side, waiting for the trail to turn.

Then the wolf smell was suddenly stronger, and Edward’s head snapped up. He came to a sudden stop. The rest of us froze, too.

“Sam?” Edward asked in a flat voice. “What is this?”

Sam came through the trees a few hundred yards away, walking quickly toward us in his human form, flanked by two big wolves—Paul and Jared. It took Sam a while to reach us; his human pace made me impatient. I didn’t want time to think about what was happening. I wanted to be in motion, to be doing something. I wanted to have my arms around Alice, to know beyond a doubt that she was safe.

I watched Edward’s face go absolutely white as he read what Sam was thinking. Sam ignored him, looking straight at Carlisle as he stopped walking and began to speak.

“Right after midnight, Alice and Jasper came to this place and asked permission to cross our land to the ocean. I granted them that and escorted them to the coast myself. They went immediately into the water and did not return. As we journeyed, Alice told me it was of utmost importance that I say nothing to Jacob about seeing her until I spoke to you. I was to wait here for you to come looking for her and then give you this note. She told me to obey her as if all our lives depended on it.”

Sam’s face was grim as he held out a folded sheet of paper, printed all over with small black text. It was a page out of a book; my sharp eyes read the printed words as Carlisle unfolded it to see the other side. The side facing me was the copyright page from The Merchant of Venice. A hint of my own scent blew off of it as Carlisle shook the paper flat. I realized it was a page torn from one of my books. I’d brought a few things from Charlie’s house to the cottage; a few sets of normal clothes, all the letters from my mother, and my favorite books. My tattered collection of Shakespeare paperbacks had been on the bookshelf in the cottage’s little living room yesterday morning...

“Alice has decided to leave us,” Carlisle whispered.

“What?” Royal’s voice was blank shock.

Carlisle turned the page around so that we all could read.

Don’t look for us. There isn’t time to waste. Remember: Taras, Siobhan, Amun, Alistair, all the nomads you can find. We’ll seek out Peter and Charlotte on our way. We’re so sorry that we have to leave you this way, with no goodbyes or explanations. It’s the only way for us. We love you.

We stood frozen again, the silence total but for the sound of mine and the wolves’ heartbeats, our breathing. Their thoughts must have been loud, too. Edward was first to move again, speaking in response to what he heard in Sam’s head.

“Yes, things are that dangerous.”

“Enough that you would abandon your family?” Sam asked out loud, censure in his tone. It was clear that he had not read the note before giving it to Carlisle. He was upset now, looking as if he regretted listening to Alice.

Edward’s expression was stiff—to Sam it probably looked angry or arrogant, but I could see the shape of pain in the hard planes of his face.

“We don’t know what she saw,” Edward said. “Alice is neither unfeeling nor a coward. She just has more information than we do.”

“We would not—,” Sam began.

“You are bound differently than we are,” Edward snapped. “We each still have our free will.”

Sam’s chin jerked up, and his eyes looked suddenly flat black.

“Edward. Don’t.” My scolding voice sounded raw and rough.

“But you should heed the warning,” Edward went on. “This is not something you want to involve yourselves in. You can still avoid what Alice saw.”

“Don’t get your family slaughtered for pride,” Carlisle interjected quietly.

Sam looked at Carlisle with a softer expression. “As Edward pointed out, we don’t have the same kind of freedom that you have. It is our duty to stay together, to protect the tribe, and to protect each other.” His eyes flickered to Alice’s note, and his lips pressed into a thin line.

“You don’t know her,” Edward said.

“Do you?” Sam asked bluntly.

Carlisle put a hand on Edward’s shoulder. “We have much to do, son. Whatever Alice’s decision, we would be foolish not to follow her advice now. Let’s go home and get to work.”

Edward nodded, his face still rigid with pain. Behind me, I could hear Esme’s quiet, tearless sobs.

I didn’t know how to cry yet in this body; I couldn’t do anything but stare. There was no feeling yet. Everything seemed unreal, like I was dreaming again after all these months. Having a nightmare.

“Thank you, Sam,” Carlisle said.

“I’m sorry,” Sam answered. “We shouldn’t have let her through.”

“You did the right thing,” Carlisle told him. “Alice is free to do what she will. I wouldn’t deny her that liberty.”

I’d always thought of the Cullens as a whole, an indivisible unit. Suddenly, I remembered that it had not always been so. Carlisle had created Edward, Esme, Royal and Emmett; Edward had a hand in making me what I was. We were physically linked by blood and venom. I never thought of Alice and Jasper as separate—as adopted into the family. But in truth, Alice had adopted the Cullens. She had shown up with her unconnected past, bringing Jasper with his, and fit herself into the family that was already there. Both she and Jasper had known another life outside the Cullen family. Had she really chosen to lead another new life after she’d seen that life with the Cullens was over?

We were doomed, then, weren’t we? There was no hope at all. Not one ray, one flicker that might have convinced Alice she had a chance at our side.

The bright morning air seemed thicker suddenly, blacker, as if physically darkened by my despair.

“I’m not going down without a fight,” Emmett snarled low under his breath. “Alice told us what to do. Let’s get it done.”

The others nodded with determined expressions, and I realized that they were banking on whatever chance Alice had given us. That they were not going to give in to hopelessness and wait to die.

Yes, we all would fight. What else was there? And apparently we would involve others, because Alice had said so before she’d left us. How could we not follow Alice’s last warning? The wolves, too, would fight with us for their people, for their brothers.

We would fight, they would fight, and we all would die.

I didn’t feel the same resolve the others seemed to feel. Alice knew the odds. She was giving us the only chance she could see, but the chance was too slim for her to bet on it.

I already felt defeated as I turned my back on Sam’s critical face and followed Carlisle toward home.

We ran automatically now, not the same panicked hurry as before. As we neared the river, Esme’s head lifted.

“There was that other trail. It was fresh.”

She nodded forward, toward where she had called Edward’s attention on the way here. While we were racing to save Alice...

“It has to be from earlier in the day. It was just Alice, without Jasper,” Edward said lifelessly.

Esme’s face puckered, and she nodded.

I drifted to the right, falling a little behind. I was sure Edward was right, but at the same time... After all, how had Alice’s note ended up on a page from my book?

“Beau?” Edward asked in an emotionless voice as I hesitated.

“I want to follow the trail,” I told him, smelling the light scent of Alice that led away from her earlier flight path. I was new to this, but it smelled exactly the same to me, just minus the scent of Jasper.

Edward’s golden eyes were empty. “It probably just leads back to the house.”

“Then I’ll meet you there.”

At first I thought he would let me go alone, but then, as I moved a few steps away, his blank eyes flickered to life.

“I’ll come with you,” he said quietly. “We’ll meet you at home, Carlisle.”

Carlisle nodded, and the others left. I waited until they were out of sight, and then I looked at Edward questioningly.

“I couldn’t let you walk away from me,” he explained in a low voice. “It hurt just to imagine it.”

I understood without more explanation than that. I thought of being divided from him now and realized I would have felt the same pain, no matter how short the separation.

There was so little time left to be together.

I held my hand out to him, and he took it.

“Let’s hurry,” he said. “We should be with the others and explain what happened to Jacob.”

I nodded, and we were running again.

It was probably a silly thing, to waste the time away from everyone just for curiosity’s sake. But the note bothered me. Alice could have carved the note into a boulder or tree trunk if she lacked writing utensils. She could have stolen a pad of paper from any of the houses by the highway. Why my book? When did she get it?

Sure enough, the trail led back to the cottage by a circuitous route that stayed far clear of the Cullens’ house and the wolves in the nearby woods. Edward’s brows tightened in confusion as it became obvious where the trail led.

He tried to reason it out. “She left Jasper to wait for her and came here?”

We were almost to the cottage now, and I felt uneasy. I was glad to have Edward’s hand in mine, but I also felt as if I should be here alone. Tearing out the page and carrying it back to Jasper was such an odd thing for Alice to do. It felt like there was a message in her action—one I didn’t understand at all. But it was my book, so the message mustbe for me. If it were something she wanted Edward to know, wouldn’t she have pulled a page from one of his books...?

“Give me just a minute,” I said, pulling my hand free as we got to the door.

His forehead creased. “Beau?”

“Please? Thirty seconds.”

I didn’t wait for him to answer. I darted through the door, pulling it shut behind me. I went straight to the bookshelf. Alice’s scent was fresh—less than a day old. A fire that I had not set burned low but hot in the fireplace. I yanked The Merchant of Venice off the shelf and flipped it open to the title page.

There, next to the feathered edge left by the torn page, under the words The Merchant of Venice by William Shakespeare, was a note.

Destroy this.

Below that was a name and an address in Seattle.

When Edward came through the door after only thirteen seconds rather than thirty, I was watching the book burn.

“What’s going on, Beau?”

“She was here. She ripped a page out of my book to write her note on.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know why.”

“Why are you burning it?”

“I—I—” I frowned, letting all my frustration and pain show on my face. I did not know what Alice was trying to tell me, only that she’d gone to great lengths to keep it from anyone but me. The one person whose mind Edward could not read. So she must want to keep him in the dark, and it was probably for a good reason. “It seemed appropriate.”

“We don’t know what she’s doing,” he said quietly.

I stared into the flames. I was the only person in the world who could lie to Edward. Was that what Alice wanted from me? Her last request?

“When we were on the plane to Italy,” I whispered—this was not a lie, except perhaps in context—“on our way to rescue you... she lied to Jasper so that he wouldn’t come after us. She knew that if he faced the Volturi, he would die. She was willing to die herself rather than put him in danger. Willing for me to die, too. Willing for you to die.”

Edward didn’t answer.

“She has her priorities,” I said. It made my still heart ache to realize that my explanation did not feel like a lie in any way.

“I don’t believe it,” Edward said. He didn’t say it like he was arguing with me—he said it like he was arguing with himself. “Maybe it was just Jasper in danger. Her plan would work for the rest of us, but he’d be lost if he stayed. Maybe…”

“She could have told us that. Sent him away.”

“But would Jasper have gone? Maybe she’s lying to him again.”

“Maybe,” I pretended to agree.

“We should go home. There’s no time.” Edward took my hand, and we ran.

Alice’s note did not make me hopeful. If there were any way to avoid the coming slaughter, Alice would have stayed. I couldn’t see another possibility. So it was something else she was giving me. Not a way to escape. But what else would she think that I wanted? Maybe a way to salvage something? Was there anything I could still save?

Carlisle and the others had not been idle in our absence. We’d been separated from them for all of five minutes, and they were already prepared to leave. In the corner, Jacob was human again, his hands in his lap, watching us with wide eyes.

Royal had traded his silk dress shirt and slacks for a sturdy-looking pair of jeans, running shoes, and a button-down shirt made of the thick weave that backpackers used for long trips. Esme was dressed similarly. There was a map of the world on the coffee table, but they were done looking at it, just waiting for us.

The atmosphere was more positive now than before; it felt good to them to be in action. Their hopes were pinned on Alice’s instructions.

I looked at the map and wondered where we were headed first.

“We’re to stay here?” Edward asked, looking at Carlisle. He didn’t sound happy.

“Alice said that we need to gather witnesses. I can only assume to attest to our character in this situation so we have a prayer of pleading our case. We’re going to have to be very careful of how we present it,” Carlisle said. “We’ll send whomever we can find back here to you— Edward, you’ll be the best at fielding that particular minefield.”

Edward gave one sharp nod, still not happy. “There’s a lot of ground to cover.”

“We’re splitting up,” Emmett answered. “Roy and I are hunting for nomads.”

“You’ll have your hands full here,” Carlisle said. “Taras’s family will be here in the morning, and they have no idea why. First, you have to persuade them not to react the way Ivan did. Second, you’ve got to find out what Alice meant about Elena. Then, after all that, will they stay to witness for us? It will start again as the others come—if we can persuade anyone to come in the first place.” Carlisle sighed. “Your job may well be the hardest. We’ll be back to help as soon as we can.”

Carlisle put his hand on Edward’s shoulder for a second and then on mine. Esme hugged us both, and Emmett punched us both on the arm. Royal forced a hard smile for Edward and me and then gave Jacob a parting grimace.

“Good luck,” Edward told them.

“And to you,” Carlisle said. “We’ll all need it.”

I watched them leave, wishing I could feel whatever hope bolstered them, and wishing I could be alone with the computer for just a few seconds. I had to figure out who this J. Jenks person was and why Alice had gone to such lengths to give his name and address to only me.

Jacob shifted uneasily, before finally speaking. “Sounds like we’re a little outnumbered right now. I hope Carlisle’s friends come.” he murmured.

“Jacob…” Edward hesitated.

“What? Well, come on, spit it out,” Jacob said, his voice raw with tension. He was right at his breaking point, just like the rest of us.

“The vampires who are coming are not the same as we are,” Edward said. “Taras’s family is the only one besides ours with a reverence for human life, and even they don’t think much of werewolves. I think it might be safer—”

“I can take care of myself,” Jacob interrupted.

“I know you can.” Edward continued, “But we have to plead our case. We have to show them that Beau has been changed first, then we can discuss the treaty with them.”

“Some friends. They’d turn on you just because of who you hang out with now?”

“The Volturi have made their views on werewolves quite clear in the past. There may not be laws prohibiting friendships between vampires and werewolves, but there’s never been a need for them. I can’t imagine it would be encouraged by the Volturi by any means.”

“Edward…” It was still odd to hear Jacob use Edward’s name without bitterness.

“I know, Jake. I know you want to help, to protect us. We’ll play it by ear—see how they react to Beau and our story. We’ll have to bring you and your people into the situation at some point, but it has to be at the right moment. You, Seth, and Liam are free to use the cottage. As long as you keep a safe distance from the main house…”

“I can do that. Company in the morning, huh?”

“Yes. The closest of our friends. In this particular case, it’s probably better if we get things out in the open as soon as possible. You can stay here. Taras knows about you. He’s even met Seth.”

“Right.”

“You should tell Sam what’s going on. There might be strangers in the woods soon.”

“Good point. Though I owe him some silence after last night.”

“Listening to Alice is usually the right thing.”

Jacob’s teeth ground together, and I could see that he shared Sam’s feelings about what Alice and Jasper had done.

While they were talking, I wandered toward the back windows, trying to look distracted and anxious. Not a difficult thing to do. I leaned my head against the wall that curved away from the living room toward the dining room, right next to one of the computer desks. I ran my fingers against the keys while staring into the forest, trying to make it look like an absentminded thing. I was fairly certain vampires never did anything absentmindedly, but maybe half-vampires did. I didn’t think anyone was paying particular attention to me, but I didn’t turn to make sure. The monitor glowed to life. I stroked my fingers across the keys again. Then I drummed them very quietly on the wooden desktop, just to make it seem random. Another stroke across the keys.

I scanned the screen in my peripheral vision.

No J. Jenks, but there was a Jason Jenks. An art historian and dealer. I brushed the keyboard, trying to keep a rhythm, like the preoccupied stroking of a cat you’d all but forgotten on your lap. Jason Jenks had a fancy website for his gallery, but the address on the homepage was wrong. In Seattle, but in a different zip code. I noted the phone number and then stroked the keyboard in rhythm. This time I searched the address, but nothing at all came up, as if the address didn’t exist. I wanted to look at a map, but I decided I was pushing my luck. One more brush, to delete the history…

I continued staring out the window and brushed the wood a few times. I heard light footsteps crossing the floor to me, and I turned with what I hoped was the same expression as before.

Jacob reached out a hand and put it on my shoulder. “You doing okay, babe?”

“I don’t know,” I whispered.

“I’m sorry about Alice.”

“Me too,” I sighed. “But she’s Alice. She’s doing the right thing, like always.”

The right thing for Alice, anyway. I hated thinking of her that way, but how else could the situation be understood?

I suddenly felt a coolness run down my cheek. I lifted my fingers to my eyes. Tears were running down my face. They weren’t hot, but cold. Cold as I felt inside.

So this is what it felt like to cry now.

“Don’t cry, Beau.” Jacob wrapped his arms around my shoulders. “It’s going to be okay. You’re going to be fine. We’re all going to be fine.”

As he spoke, I could see the faces of everyone I loved flashing in front of my eyes in rapid succession. Everything I held dear; my whole world. I watched in despair as the faces were consumed by a flurry of blood-red cloaks.

But just like in the dimly remembered dreams of my human life, I felt a fire burning inside me; a need to protect. It wouldn’t be easy, but I would find a way. I would protect my family, and—for once—I would save them. I was more positive than ever that this is what Alice would give me. She would know. She would have left me a way.

#Breaking Dawn #Breaking Dawn Revamped #Breaking Dawn Rewrite #The Twilight Saga #The Twilight Saga Revamped #The Twilight Saga Rewrite #Edward Cullen #Beau Swan #Beau Cullen

6 notes · View notes

benevolentsam · 5 years

Text

Ode to Crappy Exes

Characters: Anna Milton/Ruby, Past Ruby/Lilith, Past Anna Milton/Mary Winchester, Kaia Nieves, Charlie Bradbury, Bela Talbot, Jody Mills Rating: Teen and Up Warnings/Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Prison, References to Drugs, Past Attempted Murder, Past Unhealthy Relationships, Fluff and Angst, Caring Ruby Summary: Ruby's ex-girlfriend is conspiring against her. That's the only reason why she ends up in Lebannon Minimum Security Prison. She knows how to handle herself in places like this, but what she doesn't know how to handle is the Ice Queen that she's roomed with. She vows to somehow melt Anna Milton's hard exterior. Written for @spnsafficchallenge // Also on Ao3

Ruby couldn't say she was happy to be entering Lebannon Minimum Security Prison. She'd been sold out by her ex. Maybe they'd ended on bad terms, but sending her to jail? It was low, even for Lilith.

She'd spent time in juvie as a kid, but it had been nothing like Lebannon. There were electrified fences all around the building, Ruby could hear them humming as the guard walked her forward. A girl with dark curly hair walked beside her, and she looked more nervous than Ruby felt. As they were shoved into the back of the van, Ruby placed a hand on her knee. The girl jumped, but she didn't shy away away from her. They huddled together as the guard locked them in.

"Don't look so nervous," a voice came from the cab. Another woman appeared from the driver's seat, not a guard but a prisoner. She looked too happy to be wearing a prison uniform. "It's not so bad when you get in there."

"I'm not nervous," the young girl beside Ruby lied. Ruby snorted loudly and she didn't even feel guilty. The girl glared at her.

"Look, I'm not saying I'm not nervous but hun..."

The girl couldn't have been any older than eighteen, but the way she pouted made her look like a child. Ruby almost felt sorry for her, but the kid had to have done something to end up in jail. Once they got through the gate, they were all the same. Ruby wasn't going to pretend any different. The girl moved away from Ruby, shuffling to the other side of the bench seat.

The guard opened the door and climbed into the cab, letting the redhead drive them off.

When they got to the prison, they were greeted by more guards. They had to go through the cough and drop routine, Ruby was kinda used to it but the young girl next to her was swallowing back tears. The shower, delousing powder, the medical, it was all humiliating as Hell. The guards probably did it on purpose, laughed about it to themselves later. In the end she was handed a bright orange jumpsuit and shoved into a holding cell.

The girl, Kaia she had learned, was put on the bunk under her. They were the only company each of them had, with the bunk across from them empty. In a few hours, or days, they'd be taken to their cells. Better than that, dinner was in an hour which would make up for the delousing.

"Hey, Kid, you looking forward to food?" Ruby asked. Kaia glared at her. She was nothing but skin and bone, her uniform swamping her.

"I'm not hungry," Kaia mumbled.

"Well, I guess more french fries for me then."

"You really think they're going to serve us french fries?" Kaia snorted. "They don't even give good food to school children, why would they bother feeding us properly." She was pacing around the room, wearing track in the floor. There wasn't much scenery in their little room, but she didn't seem content unless she managed to see all of it.

"You gotta calm yourself," Ruby said. Damn she wouldn't last if she was stressing herself so much. Ruby slipped from her bed on the top bunk so she was stood beside Kaia. The girl seemed hesitant, but leaned into Ruby. "What are you doing here kid?"

"Wrong place, wrong time."

If Ruby's heart didn't break she might not have been human. She knew what cops were like, pinning shit on people who didn't deserve it. Kaia was the poster girl for suspected criminal. She hugged Kaia tight, held her close like her own child.

"Don't worry, I'll look out for you," Ruby promised.

When it was time for dinner, they were escorted to the dining hall. The rest of the inmates were watching them with cat like reflexes, though the seemed curious more than anything. Kaia tugged at her sleeves. Ruby shot back a glare at them all for making Kaia feel uncomfortable, but none of them seemed so bothered. Especially not the perky red head that had driven them in that morning.

"You look a bit lost," she smiled. God she was way too perky. "You wanna sit with us?"

Ruby glanced at who us were, the most mismatched group of girls she'd ever seen. Still, they looked friendly enough and didn't mind Ruby and Kaia joining them. They took a seat at the table.

"I'm Charlie," the redhead grinned. The girl beside her rolled her eyes but still held Charlie's hand tight. "This is Bela, my bitch." Bela tilted her head, Ruby hadn't seen someone look so surprised and offended in her entire life. The pressure at her side increased as Kaia pressed herself closer to her. Charlie and Bela were having some sort of argument, not entirely serious but loud. The other women around the table ignored them both, so it had probably happened more than once.

The dining hall was emptier than Ruby expected. She thought the prison would be overflowing with how many people the cops tried to cram in them, but beside their own table there was one in the back corner that was full and a few other prisoners dotted about. There were so many free seats. Particularly around one woman, another red head but she kept her head down. Ruby couldn't help but stare - there was something about her.

"What you in for?" An older woman asked. Her hair was greying and there were wrinkles around her eyes, but she seemed nice enough. Motherly.

"My ex girlfriend called the cops on me for smuggling drugs," Ruby shrugged. "She didn't mention that it was her operation and I was only doing what she wanted me to, but whatever." She wasn't bitter about Lilith, not at all. Her fingers were twitching and she had to get up and do something.

She said nothing as she stood up and headed for the rec room. Not even Kaia followed her, although she could feel all their eyes on the back of her head.

Even eyes down red head glanced up as Ruby passed.

"Cortese, Nieves, get up."

There was a guy rattling the bars to their cell. He had an obnoxious look on his face, almost smiling as he watched the girls roll out of bed. The sky outside was still dark and the only light around was the fluorescent beam from the corridor. Ruby blinked at the guy, while Kaia hurried to get up.

"It's moving day, gather your things and go."

Neither of them had much to take with them, their commissaries hadn't come through yet so nothing was really theirs. They had the uniforms on their backs, a few spare clothes, nothing more. Ruby doubted Kaia would get anything anyway. It didn't look like the kid had any family. Ruby was lucky that her old friend Sam was enough of a sap to send her through some money. At least she'd have something.

They followed the obnoxious guard down the corridor and to the bunks. He stopped first halting Ruby, then Kaia. Her plimsolls squeaked on the floor as the guard pushed her down the line of beds. Most of the other girls were still asleep, but a few woke up when they heard Kaia.

"Welcome to the ghetto, Nieves," the guard grinned. Ruby started following her, but Smiley held her back. "Not you, Cortese, you're this way."

The fear in Kaia's eyes as Ruby was dragged away was that of a child left to a pack of wolves. There were silent tears rolling down her face and Ruby wanted to punch the guard. Someone needed to look out for that girl. Ruby was thankful when a women her own age with dark skin and wild hair took hold of Kaia's hand, held her close. Kaia sobbing onto the mystery woman's shoulder was the last thing Ruby saw before she was pulled down through another doorway.

The guard pointed to one of the rooms, well not quite a room but the walls were high enough. He was rough with her as he pushed her through the narrow entrance. Probably left a hand shaped bruise, and God wasn't it a while since she'd had one of them. It was just a shame she was a raging lesbian, maybe her and Smiley could have got along.

Ruby dumped her clothes on the free bed, sat down after them. The woman across from her was the loner red head from the canteen. Great.

"Stay on your side of the room."

"Don't you even want to know my name?" Ruby asked. The girl didn't even open her eyes, laid like she was sleeping - or dead. "Well, I'm Ruby. I don't suppose you'll be getting out any time soon?" Her eyes flew open, she had the most piercing stare.

"Not a chance, I'm in here for the long haul," she replied. "And around here, we use last names. Mine's Milton. Lose the cutesy attitude or someone will beat it out of you."

Wow, Ruby was not expecting that. Milton looked so angelic and peaceful, but her tongue cut like a knife. Like Ruby's used to, before she had to make everything into a joke. Milton had closed her eyes again, trying to sleep or maybe just shut Ruby out. Who even knew anymore? It was gonna be a lonely two years.

"What's the deal with the loner?"

Ruby had taken to eating with Charlie and her girlfriend every day. There was a couple of others who sat with them regularly; Jody, who everyone called Mama Bear, Meg, who was more sarcastic than even Ruby, and Jo, who was kinda quiet but Jody loved a lot. They were the most dysfunctional gang of people Ruby had ever met, but they were nicer than fucking Lilith so that was a plus.

And hey, Kaia was getting along great with her bunk buddy. Cassie Robinson had formally introduced herself and promised to look after Kaia like she had done with the others. Wrong place wrong time seemed to be the motto for the ghetto.

Then there was Milton, who hadn't so much as looked at Ruby the entire time they'd been sharing a room. She sat alone every meal, and God only knows where she went during rec time.

"Who, Anna?" Jody asked. She sent a cursory glance in Milton's direction. Anna Milton, Christ didn't she just sound so middle class. Almost as if she could feel them staring, Anna glanced up at them, her blue eyes still icy and cold. Jody didn't appear the slightest bit guilty. "No one knows really, she doesn't talk to any of us. I tried but, she doesn't really like my cooking so why would I try?"

Sometimes, Jody really did not give a fuck and Ruby admired her for it.

"She's in for killing a guy, that's all we know," Charlie chimed in. Well, Ruby could understand killing a guy. The amount of times she nearly killed Lilith's dick of a boss. Everyone called him Lucifer, and it wasn't hard to understand why.

"Babe, we don't know that," Bela stroked her arm. "I doubt she's in here for much - she's not really the violent type, is she?"

"Look at us, how many of us are actually the violent type?" Charlie asked. She was right, most of the people she'd met were in on drug charges. None of them had it in them to be violent, and Ruby cringed at the days when she used to be. The amount of people she'd hurt because Lilith had asked her to. She was a fucking idiot.

The table went quiet. Best way to bum out a bunch of prisoners? Just ask them about their crimes.

"There's something about her..." Ruby was still staring at Anna, couldn't help herself. No one paid attention, but she wasn't gonna give up easily. Ruby would make Anna talk to her, or Anna could fight her, rip her apart. She was just so fucking bored.

Ruby got up extra early, rushed down her breakfast so she could see where Anna went during her days. Unsurprisingly, they ended up in the library. Ruby didn't even know the prison had a library, not that she was complaining. Maybe she could get her GED while she was in there. That was all off topic though, for now she had to focus on Anna.

Ruby pulled out the chair opposite her, sat down and leaned on the table. Anna sighed.

"What do you want?"

"Why won't you talk to me," Ruby asked. Even from behind the book, she could feel Anna's eye roll. Ruby snatched the book, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, out of her dainty fingers. "Why won't you talk to any of us? We won't bite, you know."

"Yeah, but I might," Anna said. The pulled the book back but didn't open it up again, which Ruby saw as progress.

"Okay, so you killed a guy," Ruby shrugged. "Who'd blame you, men are awful. Doesn't mean you need to cut yourself off from the rest of society forever."

"I didn't kill a guy, I nearly killed a guy," Anna replied. That was unexpected. Ruby half thought Charlie had been lying about whatever rumours were flying about, but for her to straight up admit it was pretty hardcore. Anna must have take Ruby's stunned silence as a cue to continue. "I was young, and stupid, and there was this girl..."

Ruby had to laugh. There's always a girl.

"There was this girl, Mary. I knew her husband wasn't treating her right, she came into work with bruises and she'd laugh them off but her smile. There was nothing behind it. I'd watched her go from my cool, vibrant, best friend, to someone so quiet I could barely recognise her. And it was his doing, John's. So when she finally got the courage to leave him, and he started threatening her, I had to do something.

"As far as I know, he's out of hospital, out of prison, doing well with his life. And Mary went back to him. And I'm stuck in here, down my freedom, down the love of my life, and down one family for outing myself during the trial."

"Damn, that's some heavy shit." What could Ruby possibly say to comfort her? Anna glared at her, but it was a little warmer than usual.

"Okay, so now you have my tragic backstory, will you leave me alone?"

"You think that's tragic? Anna, you're a hero," Ruby frowned. "I don't care if Mary couldn't see it, or even if you can't, but you know how many people would risk their lives for someone? Not many, I'll tell you that. People are entirely selfish, be proud that you're not them."

Anna paused for a moment. It was like she couldn't meet Ruby's eye, like she was ashamed of who she was. Ruby's heart broke; Anna deserved better.

"So you're in here because of someone else?"

"Oh yeah, my ex-girlfriend ratted me out to the pigs," Ruby laughed. She was feeling less bitter about it by the day, but God she still wanted to strangle Lilith sometimes. "Told them I was smuggling drugs, didn't say I was doing it for her but you know - whatever's convenient."

There was a hand on her arm, a touch so light it could have been a ghost. She looked across and saw Anna's arm reached between them. Her nails were painted a pretty shade of pink, and all Ruby could think about was how short they were. Mind out of the gutter, Ruby. But the touch felt electric and Ruby couldn't think of much else beyond Anna.

"Here's to crappy ex-girlfriends, right?" Anna smiled. An honest to God smile on the ice queen.

"Here's hoping for better ones soon," Ruby added. Anna's grip on her arm tightened just a little bit, and Ruby hadn't felt hope like it in a long time.

Things were easier with Anna talking to her. Sure, they still spent meals and most of their rec time separately, but Anna was helping Ruby muddle through her GED. Once a week they'd meet in the library and they'd run through things Ruby thought she knew. Anna was kind about it though, never once making fun of her for getting things wrong.

The nights though, the nights were the best.

In there little room with half walls, they could be themselves in a way they couldn't share with anyone else. Ruby dropped her carefully constructed class clown persona, and Anna melted a little more with every night. They spoke in hushed whispers, but it didn't matter. They could speak in only gestures and it seemed the other would understand.

When Anna came to bed, her face a screwed up mess of tears, Ruby was ready to go on the warpath. But she was trying to change, so she hugged her friend and asked her what was wrong.

"It's Mary," Anna whispered. "She wants to come visit."

Ruby spiralled. There was no way that Mary wasn't coming to get back together with Anna. And Anna was probably still in love with her. So where did that put Ruby, and their half flirting, the longing touches between them. Bile rose in the back of her throat, but she swallowed it down. She had to be there for Anna, even if she got hurt in the process.

"Do you think she'll ask to get back together?" She asked tentatively.

"Fuck no, I think he knocked her up and I was the only one who ever cared about her," Anna said. "So of course she's gonna come to me. I don't even - I don't even know if I want to see her again."

"No one's forcing you to, and you don't owe her anything."

"I know."

There was a but, Ruby could sense it. She knew all of Anna's faces, and she looked so conflicted. If she could, she'd have told Anna to forget about her, ignore every plead and call because she deserved so much better. It wasn't that easy though, it never would be. If Lilith asked to see Ruby again, God only knew what she'd say.

But Anna said nothing more. She stayed on the floor, legs hugged to her chest, until the guards came for final roll call. The lights in their block flickered out. Ruby felt a hand reaching for her own.

"Can I -" Anna thought better of what she was going to say. "I can't be alone right now."

So Ruby slid across, let Anna climb into bed right next to her. She smelled of apples and earth. Ruby could picture the two apple picking in some Vermont orchard instead of stuck in a Kansas prison. They fit together in the single bed, legs locked around each other. It would have been peaceful, if Anna wasn't sobbing into Ruby's chest.

"So, are you guys like dating?"

Kaia was a cute kid, but she asked the wrong questions at the wrong time. There was nothing going on between her and Anna, not in the way Ruby wanted it to. Whatever they had though, it was something more than a friendship. since the whole Mary deal, Anna had kinda been walking around half dazed. It was freaking everyone out.

"Don't know."

"How can you not know? Just ask her?" Kaia questioned.

Ruby wanted to spit out it wasn't that simple, but in all fairness she was the one who went to a teenager for dating advice. As far as she knew, Kaia had had a pretty serious girlfriend before she was locked up. What serious meant to a kid, she didn't know.

Kaia had a point though. Maybe if she asked Anna what their deal was, she could finally get a girlfriend. Maybe get laid, who knew. She could also get punched straight in the boob if it turned out Anna didn't actually like her like that. God she sounded like a kid again. Maybe she was right to talk to Kaia.

"I'm scared if I ask her, this might have all just been a game to her, you know?" Ruby said. She looked out over the yard, where all the prisoners had been shoved out for rec time. No one seemed to be having much fun. "I don't know, some girls are just affectionate with their friends, right? So maybe that's all I am to her. I don't want to be."

"Ask her, it's better than not knowing surely."

Kid was three for three. Kaia gave her a look before disappearing, and a second later Anna's voice rang in her ear.

"What were you talking about?"

"Oh, I was just making sure she's fitting in okay," Ruby lied. She was completely fluent in the language of bullshit. "Cassie seems to have taken her in, which is good 'cause lord knows that kid needs some positive role models."

"You've been doing a pretty good job with her," Anna said. "You care about her a lot, it's really sweet. You know how you said I was unselfish? You are too. I know you don't act like it, but I also know that's a front. Be proud."

Ruby's heart burst open like a caged bird being let free. She wanted to feel like that forever, even if it meant asking the difficult questions.

"Are we dating?"

Anna blinked. In the few weeks they had been together, Anna's eyes had turned from an icy blue to a soft sea green. The light in them danced as Ruby waited for an answer. Silence had never felt so loud.

"Are we?"

Dumb useless lesbians. Ruby shook her head, almost wanted to laugh but she was one of the dumb useless lesbians involved in it all. While she still had Anna's attention, Ruby pulled her close and kissed her quick. They were in full sight of the yard, someone could see them so they couldn't spark flames like Ruby wanted. Anna's lips on hers were enough.

"I'm sick of crappy relationships, okay? I'm in for the long haul if you are," Ruby whispered, her face an inch away from Anna's.

"Told you that right from the beginning," Anna replied.

Lebannon Minimum Security Prison was a crappy place to call home, but Ruby's family? That was pretty okay. Maybe she had something to thank Lilith for after all.

#Spnsc #Annaby #Spn femslash #Spn ladies #Anna Milton #Ruby #Spn #Anna #ruby 2.0 #This came out waay longer than I expected #I am happy with it though #My stuff #My writing

21 notes · View notes

arya3601 · 6 years

Text

Loose Ends can go Nowhere

Castiel gets hurt on a hunt and Dean doesn't seem happy about it.

Read it on AO3!

Dean was upset.

Dean was upset pretty often, to be honest, but Cas had learned the differences. Sometimes “upset” was really just annoyance, caused by Sam’s hair in the bathroom drain again or Cas leaving the milk on the counter. Sometimes “upset” was for fun, fake huffs and the too-straight-to-be-natural lips Dean got when he wouldn’t let himself laugh at Kevin or Charlie’s bad jokes again. Cas had learned that “upset” was a scale, tipping one way or another with any small shift in the bunker that Dean couldn’t control.

But this wasn’t the usual gone-in-an-hour “upset”.

Dean was upset. And it was Castiel’s fault.

Castiel and his bleeding shoulder, the blood dripping down and tickling his arm all the way. The ghost had caught him by surprise and threw him against a wall, but that wasn’t anything new. That had happened to all of them, more often than any of them wanted to admit. But the huge decorative metal sunflower on the wall, well, that wasn’t something every house had.

He wasn’t sure how exactly it had happened, if one of the large petals had been bent previously or if he had hit it at just the right angle, but whatever it had been, it hadn’t gone well for him. Cas had thought he had just hit a mantle or something at first, and he clenched his jaw against the sound trying to escape. It was like feeling a hot punch to his shoulder, shock blunting the sharp pain of sliced flesh. It wasn’t until he felt the blood trickling down his arm that he realized he had been stabbed.

Stabbed by a fucking sunflower. Once Dean calmed down, Cas was never going to hear the end of this.

Dean and Sam had dealt with the ghost pretty quickly after that, Dean looking more panicked than usual. They had patched him up enough to drive back to the bunker, not too far away, and Dean told him he’d fix him up better when they got home.

With how upset Dean was, Cas wasn’t sure he wanted him to.

He trailed after them as they got out of the Impala, carefully avoiding the right sides of door frames and hallways. Charlie’s voice was echoing through the bunker, yelling from what sounded like the war room, probably something at Kevin about a game or show again.

Dean and Sam made eye contact and nodded, looking tired.

“Hey, I’ll see you guys in a bit, I’m going to shower and probably nap before braving that,” Sam waved his hand tiredly in the direction of the noise.

“Yeah, us too.” Dean replied, already splitting off to the right. “See you later.” He said shortly, barely raising his voice enough to be heard behind him.

Cas sighed, watching him go for a moment. Hopefully he wasn’t angry-upset. “We’ll see you later, Sam.” He nodded to him and followed Dean down the hall to their bedroom.

Their bedroom.

God that sounded nice. It hadn’t been theirs for too long, but Cas was already too in love with the idea to let himself think it was anything but permanent.

Even now, as Dean stomped his way into their room and turned to look at him with Greek fire in his eyes, Cas wanted this to be his forever. Sharing a room, sharing breaths, sharing moments stolen in the day, here and there.

Maybe not this, exactly, he could do without the flaring nostrils and the crossed arms, but he’d take every second he could get.

“Sit down.” Dean said, grabbing his first aid kit. “Coat off, shirt off.”

Cas sighed and slowly dropped his trenchcoat, the material sticking strangely to his bloody arm. He used his good arm to loosen his tie, pulling it just enough to slip over his head. He reached for his shirt buttons, but his hurt shoulder burned in protest, the makeshift gauze and tape pulling on the skin around it. He made a wounded sound, then grimaced at himself for it. He had been hurt far worse before, he should be able to handle this.

“Hold on,” Dean said, soft for the first time since they got to the bunker, stepping forward and slowly lowering Cas’ hands. He undid Cas’ shirt buttons one at a time, gently, as if he thought going too fast would worsen the injury. “How are you feeling?” He asked, still feather-soft, as he lowered Cas’ shirt off his shoulders and let it drop, leaving Cas in only his undershirt.

“I’ll live,” Cas replied quietly, with some kind of grim humor he only found when he was bleeding on someone’s carpet. It just usually wasn’t his own carpet. “I’m sorry.” He said softly, feeling like a child approaching a street cat. He might be a little afraid, and it might hiss and bite, but, man, did it look soft and tempting.

“What?” Dean seemed genuinely confused as he rested his hands on Cas’ hips, gently rubbing his thumbs on his hip bones. “Why are you sorry?”

Cas shrugged the one shoulder it didn’t hurt to move. He couldn’t look Dean in the face. He felt himself detach from the situation, emotionally withdrawing behind makeshift barricades. For how short of a time he’d been human, he’d figured out a lot about himself. He didn’t like cold feet. He loved hot showers. Chocolate was worth fighting over.

And he couldn’t stand anger.

He didn’t know why, and he hadn’t tried too hard to figure out the cause. Fighting sent him out of the room, in search of a calm corner to hide out it. Raised voices made him feel like a child, like the child he had never been, flinching and shrinking away from the anger.

Maybe it was just because it was usually Sam and Dean, people he loved like family.

Maybe he’d seen his own family torn apart too badly to be patchworked back together again and knew how that felt. Knew how it destroyed everyone involved.

Maybe he couldn’t have that happen again, just as he found a family after all this time.

He didn’t know why. But he couldn’t look Dean in the eyes.

“Hey,” Dean gently nudged his nose against Cas’ cheek. “Hey, Angel. I’m not mad at you.”

Cas narrowed his eyes at the gun on the wall behind Dean’s left ear.

Dean sighed quietly and nudged him again. “I’m really not. I mean, yeah, be more careful next time, you asshole, but it’s not your fault you’re hurt.”

“Okay,” Cas felt himself slowly coming back into the conversation, cautiously looking somewhere near Dean’s eyes. “But you are mad.” He flinched a little at himself for saying it, but he knew it was true. He’d rather get it out there than have it simmering underneath them until it boiled over and burned them both.

“Yeah,” Dean admitted. He stepped back and started peeling Cas’ undershirt up, prodding him to raise his arms. “I’m mad at myself.” He turned away, dropping the bloody shirt on the pile with the rest of the clothes. “Get on the bed.”

Cas slowly walked over and sat on the bed, feet flat on the floor and back straight and he sank into the memory foam. “Why are you mad at yourself?”

“Mmm,” Dean seemed to be searching for words, or actively running from them, as he walked around the bed. Castiel felt the mattress dip ever so slightly as Dean kneeled behind him, peeling off the tape from the temporary bandage. He hissed through his teeth, but said, “It’s not too bad. You’re gonna feel it for a while, that’s for sure, but you don’t need surgery or anything.”

“Dean,” Cas closed his eyes at the prodding, clenching his fists. “Why are you mad at yourself?”

Dean sighed again, and Cas felt the ice cube sting of disinfectant. “I’m a piece of shit, Cas.”

“What?” Cas screwed up his face, both at the sensation and the words. “No, you’re not. You’re a good man.”

“Nah,” Dean’s tone was almost casual, but too light, like a helium balloon waiting for his string to be cut. “I’m not.”

“You’re…” Cas felt himself grasp for words. Kind. Brave. Loving. Strong. Thoughtful. “You’re great.” Damn it. He would punch himself in the face if he thought it wouldn’t undo all the work Dean was putting into his shoulder right now.

“Well, I don’t feel very great.” Cas felt a pressure on the back of his good shoulder and Dean’s hair brushing against his skin. “You’re hurt, Cas.” He could feel Dean’s breath against his back, and suppressed a shiver. “I couldn’t stop it. I couldn’t protect you.”

“You can’t protect me all the time, Dean.”

“I can damn sure try, Angel.”

Cas sighed and closed his eyes, trying to think of how to convince Dean he shouldn’t be mad at himself. Any route would just lead back here, it seemed, like the innumerable dead ends of a labyrinth. So what should he say? What could he say?

He felt Dean lean back and start fiddling with the first aid kit again, probably getting ready to stitch him up. He hated stitches, they hurt for days. He never wanted to do anything except sit and let himself heal, trying to avoid the pulling pinch of moving them. It was like when Charlie got a cold, ordering them all around and complaining she couldn’t do anything because…

“You can’t argue with me.” Cas said, opening his eyes and looking at the TV in front of him.

“Uh, pretty sure I can, Cas?” Dean sounded confused.

“No you can’t. I’m sick.”

“You’re not sick, Cas, you’re injured.” Dean rustled around behind him again.

“Same thing, Dean.” Cas insisted stubbornly. “You have to let me win. Because I’m sick. Or injured, I suppose.”

Dean snorted, “Oh, is that how it works? Someone’s been spending too much time with Charlie.” Cas felt a hand on his arm, a support and a warning. “Gonna start stitching you up now.” Dean said quietly.

“Yes, that is how it works,” Cas gritted his teeth against the pain, still unwilling to lose the argument. “You can’t argue with me.”

“Okay, Angel.” Dean laughed, still carefully pulling thread. “I won’t argue.”

“Good.” Cas sighed as he felt the thread being cut, slumping slightly in relief. “You’re great. No arguments.”

Dean laughed again, standing and carrying all the supplies to the desk. “Fine. But only because you’re ‘sick’.” He leaned his hip against the desk, crossing his arms with a smile. “What now?”

Cas squinted at him.

Dean rolled his eyes a little, but he was still smiling. “You’re sick, Cas. You get to decide what we do now. That’s how it works.”

“Oh,” Cas stared at Dean for a second, momentarily thrown off track by how great his arms looked in this lighting. He blinked at his own thoughts, shaking his head. “I think I need sleep.” He looked up again, making eye contact. “Can you stay here with me?”

Dean laughed softly. He walked over to the bed, leaned down and cupped Castiel’s jaw, gently lifting it up, and placed a soft kiss on his lips. “That’s not how you ask, Feathers.” He said. Cas found himself unable to respond, too engrossed in watching the crinkles around Dean’s eyes and feeling Dean’s breath on his lips. “If you’re sick, you insist. You demand.” Dean kissed him again, thumb rubbing gently on Cas’ cheekbone. “You don’t ask nicely.”

“Then,” Cas mumbled, eyes falling closed. “Stay with me. Let’s nap together.” He drew away a little bit, wrinkling his nose. “But wash your hands first, they smell like alcohol and blood.”

Dean laughed again, stealing a final kiss before standing straight. “Alright, Cas, I’ll go wash my hands and then I’ll be back. Do you want anything while I’m at it, Mr. Patient?” He raised his eyebrows in joking question.

“No,” Cas started pulling back the covers as best he could with one hand, ready to sleep as soon as he could. “Just hurry back.”

Dean winked as he reached the door. “Always, Angel.”

#deancas #Destiel #supernatural #fanfiction #hurt/comfort #human!Cas #bunker fic #fluffy #fluffy fluff thats all i write #i love me some cotton candy #tooth rotting fluff #whelvenwings

47 notes · View notes

stusbunker · 6 years

Text

Questions: When?

A Supernatural Fan-fiction

Featuring: Sam Winchester x Female Reader

Setting: Starts in Season 8, Ends in Season 9

Chapter 2 of my Questions Series

A/N: Thanks for bearing with me on the backstories, now we’ll get to more meaty stuff. This is right as Y/N visits the Bunker for the first time. Basically Sam’s perspective this time. Some dialogue taken from the show. Also, this gif makes me want to cry. Thank you @spndaily for this gem!

Remember a comment or a reblog goes a LONG way. xoxo Stu

Warnings: Mentions of Amelia, lots of angst, Trials!Sam, Gadreel!Sam

Sam was grasping at straws, trying to stay upright from the toll of the trials. What he wanted to know above all else was; when all was said and done, would it be enough?

It had been a long time since Sam had felt like he had a place to sit back and relax with friends. Bobby had been family and his place was more of a library overflowing a bachelor pad than a place for entertaining. Having Y/N spend time with him and Dean at the Bunker felt good, after he got over the general uncertainty of seeing her again. Dean and he seemed to be back on track, after the first trial and settling into the Bunker, their year apart truly started to fade.

What hadn’t faded, was the feelings he had for Amelia. With Y/N around, another woman who he wouldn’t admit he was attracted to, the ache of leaving Amelia behind resurfaced. She was better off without him, the truth did little to help it from eating him from the inside out. Dean had finished giving Y/N the tour of the areas they had pilfered, knowing that there was still a lot of ground to cover.

“Some place you got here,” she seemed genuinely impressed, smiling easily at Sam as he was perched over a tower of open books. The Men of Letters’ library was immense and he felt compelled to keep reading and discovering. But Y/N tended to draw his eyes from the books a little too easily.

“I know, each day I find more things we didn’t know.” Sam exhaled.

“Looks like you’ll have your research itch scratched for a good long while,” Y/N stood with her hands in the back pockets of her jeans, one leg bent making her hips swell and her backside more noticeable.

Just then Dean appeared with beer for everyone, “What’d I tell you? Nerdgasming over the library.”

Y/N chuckled at Dean’s jab, but she softened at Sam’s bewilderment. “I think it’s smart, knowledge is power right?”

“Thank you.” Sam said, looking pointedly at Dean. Dean waved him off as he finally strode over with the beer for Sam.

“So, Garth has been pretty tight lipped about you guys. What gives?” Y/N slowly began to pry their situation with Kevin Tran and the Demon Tablet out of the brothers’ mouths. By the time she had wrapped her head around everything, it was time for a food run, Dean volunteered and neither Sam nor Y/N protested.

Twenty minutes later and Sam was oddly aware of Y/N’s perfume on the air. She sat across from him, scanning through the titles he had before him on one of the massive tables. “What?” Sam huffed, slightly amused at how she looked like she had gotten caught snooping.

“You would have made some lawyer, Winchester,” she shrugged, taking a long pull off her beer. Her lips pressed against the cold glass. “I can’t stand to read more than the job requires, and here you are completely content. Or as close as our kind gets to content.”

Sam’s jaw jutted out, shrugging he pondered, “Maybe I’m just curious. Besides, like you said, the more I know, the better prepared I am for whatever the next trial is.”

Her face shifted, her eyes flashing with understanding. She didn’t ask anymore questions, yet Sam cleared his throat trying to get back to the entry he had been reading about demon possession during the Salem Witch trials. A feeling tickled the back of his neck, like being caught shirtless on an autumn night. She had found a chink in his emotional armor, one he couldn’t even locate.

***

The trials had been his only tangible thought for weeks, his body slowly slipping away from him. Sam Winchester had done many things in his thirty years, but quitting wasn’t one of them. Every muscle protested as he stood to head back to the library. He felt the floor shift beneath his boots like wet sand, the walls spiraling like a fun house tube. Slowly he fought to remain upright and into the solid foundation of the wood framed chair.

The only thing that made it worse was Dean’s constant doubts, the subtle glances and the outright challenges, all chipping at and fueling his resolve in varying measure. With Benny gone and Kevin in the wind, the pressure he felt to keep on chugging along was all that made sense. Y/N had left after only a few days at the Bunker, claiming she got stir crazy and finding herself a case in Colorado. Sam didn’t know why he kept checking his phone. Dean was with Charlie and he was benched.

He went back to the shooting range; he hated being left behind. That old nagging sensation of being the burden and not old/big/capable enough resurfaced after so many years, did not quell the Winchester stubbornness. When all was cleaned up after the Djinn family, Sam felt guilty because he had screwed up. Yet, Dean hadn’t fought him, he had hugged him. Maybe what he saw in the dream was worse than Sam imagined, maybe Charlie was a good influence on his brother. Sam wasn’t certain of anything anymore.

***

A month later

“Easy, Y/N,” Sam turned to look for Dean’s support. Dean played it cool, refusing to cast his line into the building tide.

“Excuse me?! Look at you, you are clearly not right in the head,” he hadn’t seen her this angry before. It was infuriating to be belittled while trying to make a point. He bit back his spite and listened as she continued to rant. “Besides, since when has it ever been a good idea to keep a demon in your basement?!”

“Crowley may be a douche bag, but we’ve got him locked down. Unless you don’t trust me either?” Dean finally backed him up. Sam shrugged, trying not to let his anger get the best of him. She looked at his brother and then back at Sam, eyeing him suspiciously. He felt like he was being sized up and unconsciously straightened his back. He had a foot on her and she remained unimpressed.

“I cannot believe you two! You left the door open for these assholes and then decide to shack up while the world is stuck swallowing Angels. I show up to find a scared shitless honor student and now this.”

Kevin murmured from the corner, causing Dean and Sam to bark, “Shut up, Kevin!” in unison. She stared at the high ceiling of the map room and huffed. Sam knew she wasn’t going to back down from this, but, for now, it was for the best.

“Listen, you can stay and help us with the Angel problem or you can go about your business.” Dean was done arguing, he kept glancing at Sam like he was expecting him to pass out or be sick. Sam rolled his eyes and continued trying to persuade Y/N.

“Look, if we can get Crowley to give us the name of every demon he has topside. We can hunt them down. All of them.” Sam could sense her calming down, despite the glare he was getting.

“He will break, okay? And when he does, we’ll hold him down while the kid knives him. Then we all go out for ice cream and strippers.” Dean was really selling it now. Y/N cracked a smile and rolled her eyes at his brother’s cheek.

“Just stay away from him. Both of you.” Sam emphasized to both Y/N and Kevin.

“So now what?” Kevin asked, sensing the argument had dropped off. The hunters got to work, leaving the prophet to keep decoding. The bunker was oddly full and Sam felt better for the first time in a long time.

***

A month later

“So I know why you’re keeping little Kevin around, reads above his grade level and all. But why exactly is she still here, Moose?” Crowley was growing bored and enjoyed getting under Sam’s skin more than anything. “I mean, she’s probably a decent hunter, but rather abrasive isn’t she?”

Sam cocked his head and looked Crowley in his greedy dark eyes, “I’d love to see you say that to her face.”

“I might have, in not so many words. Why do you think I have been hollering all morning. She started waterboarding me.” Crowley croaked indignantly. Sam raised his eyebrows, looking at the small patch of water that drained from the center of the devil’s trap.

“Sure.” Sam turned to leave.

“She fancies you, you know. Somebody like her doesn’t stay in one place this long if there isn’t a reason. Should probably let her down easy, yeah? Guy like you tends to, uh, I don’t mean to be indelicate. But are your nethers cursed? Because---”

Sam realized he had frozen in place, listening to the drivel spew from the former King of Hell’s mouth. His chest tightened and he let out the breath he had been holding. He stepped through the first wall and sealed the demon behind him. Letting Crowley rot in his taunts.

***

After First Born

“All I know is Dean came in asking about putting ear muffs on the possessing angels. So Kevin and I got to work.” She explained, the loss of trust in her eyes hurt him deeply, but he swallowed and let her continue.

“As soon as the sigils were up, Kevin asked Dean what was really going on. We were in the library and there was shouting from the store room. I figured it was just Dean’s temper catching up with how long you were gone, but then you came out, cool as a cucumber.” Y/N flinched, shaking her head as if evening out a scale. “Well, the other you. I don’t even remember what he said before, before firebombing Kevin’s insides.”

Sam sniffled as she held herself, the images scorched inside her memory, causing her to close her eyes.

“I just can’t stay here after, that,” Y/N whispered. “Castiel is going after Metatron, which is great. But I can’t be here alone, not with you. Maybe if Dean gets back and you guys figure some of this out--”

“Could you trust me again?” Sam’s voice hitched, trying not to let the weakness from the failed spell seep into his words.

“I would need to trust both of you, again. After Dean did that to you, you of all people. How do I know I am safe with either of you?”

She finally looked at him, her eyes pained and fearful, two things he would fight to never see on her face ever again. He wanted to retch, to shake the sense into her. But his hands had killed Kevin and he wouldn’t lift them to her, not now. Not ever. She double checked her pack and that her phone was charged. He stared mindlessly at his computer screen as she climbed the metal staircase. He let it all out once the heavy door fell back into place high above him. If those Bunker walls could talk. Pain would be their first language.

Chapter 3: Why?

@dontshootmespence @madlu45 @because-imma-lady-assface @ericaprice2008

45 notes · View notes

postmodern-sleaze · 3 years

Text

Alex Chilton sings, deep in Kentucky where you’ll never find me. I didn’t want Charlie to find me. When I moved to California, though I plied Charlie with virtual postcards of my new life — the trembling palm trees, my tortoiseshell Ray-Bans that I had originally given to Sam, a coffee cup set on white marble — I made a point of not giving him my address. I don’t know if he even had my phone number. I valiantly defended him against my mother, who was fully invested in making uncharitable assessments of Charlie’s character and grim predictions about our future, like a cruel clairvoyant. I did genuinely appreciate that California was much closer to Texas; I felt that it would give Charlie some comfort. But already, consciously or not, I was setting myself up to leave without a trace. One day, like a dog on a missing poster, I would just no longer be there to greet him. At long last, I found myself too old to be irresolute about my decisions, and finally accepted the simple premise that I could have duties towards myself.

I visited Texas three times in total. By the third time, I was already sleeping with someone new. I didn’t love this person, but the bare fact he wasn’t Charlie was enough to impart a grim triumph that boosted my self-regard. Arturo was more like a steaming bath designed for women to dive tragically into, yet not deep enough to actually drown in. I met him at a friend’s birthday party in San Francisco. It is no exaggeration that, after clocking him in the corner of the bar, I sensed that I should probably avoid him at all costs. But he waited for me meaningfully by the bannister as I wended my way upstairs, and I was taken back to something Andrei had said exactly four years before: Sure, you have a boyfriend, but leave him for me. Both men were endowed with the same brash confidence, but while Andrei had wild emotional impulses, Arturo was unconcerned with matters of love. Maybe he had given up on them entirely, and I was unsure as to whether he had suffered a past wound or been the one to inflict it. Away from the crowd, he leaned in close and spoke huskily in my ear about going to Los Angeles, where he had a good cocaine hookup. It didn’t matter that there was really only one thing on his mind — after all, weren’t we in agreement?

Arturo was ten years older, which excited me at the time. He looked like a walking composite of all the men I had ever wanted to fuck, including Charlie, with the strikingly dark hair and eyes. I sensed something hollow about him, but it was the kind of emptiness I needed to uncover for myself. In a bid to impress me, he’d claimed that he was German, and that he had grown up in Valencia, when he was actually Ecuadorian. His father was allegedly a semi-famous footballer. The next time we met, he picked me up in a BMW station wagon, presumably the one he used to drive his wife and son. With his hand on my thigh, we sipped cocktails in a Thai karaoke bar. It radiated psychedelic blue and purple, thrumming with the plaintive voices of other customers whose faces we never saw. In the back of his car, agitated into a frenzy, I undid his belt and trousers and climbed astride him. We maintained eye contact as I gripped his neck between my ice-cold hands. Afterwards, he dropped me off for tapas on a rooftop with my colleagues, as if my legs weren’t wobbly and I had not just broken my fidelity to Charlie. Charlie would never know it, but his worst fear had come true.

My subsequent encounters with Arturo were in a hotel, and his apartment. The hotel was much easier. I wanted Arturo, but I didn’t want to know more about him than I had to. It did not feel right for us to lie side-by-side on the floor, playing his record collection and thumbing through his Weimar memorabilia, or to hear him brushing his teeth fastidiously in the next room. I preferred it when we sat in silence in our Uber, already drunk on red wine, and saturated with anticipation of what was about to transpire between us. I checked in at reception with my British identification card, as if it were part of a clever ruse. The modest room was on the second floor, and if you opened the window, you could hear the roar from the train tracks nearby. The sun had just begun to set, and Arturo methodically drew all the curtains before he lifted my dress and kissed a forceful trail down my stomach, although he never did like to kiss on the mouth. He wore a memorably smoky cologne that lingered on my clothes, and for that moment, it was my goal to possess him completely.

Arturo told me that he was besieged with night terrors. He sometimes felt a clammy hand reaching out to clutch his shoulder and march him on his way to death, which he simulated on me without warning. A person with less empathy and reserve would have yelled out in fright, but I felt sorry for him. We listened to Julio Jaramillo in bed with me curled up tight against his spine. I was thoroughly moved by Jaramillo’s pensive delivery, but Arturo informed me matter-of-factly that he was no longer able to cry, not even if he tried. Later on, in the shower together, he dutifully shampooed my hair, which was cut like a boy’s, and remarked with amazement that it was shorter than his own. I still feel his hot skin against mine, the warm water coursing over our shoulders and trickling down to our toes in tepid rivulets. The dusty train tracks and jam-packed highways and jagged mountains and concrete sprawl wrapping around us, the stillness and pollution of the air we breathed, how the smoke from our cigarette faded into the night. We clung to each other as strangers who would depart in separate taxis, ultimately feeling nothing at all, even if I had once traced every surface on his body.

When I left for Texas — the very last time I saw Charlie — I temporarily deleted Arturo from my phonebook. He had been warned not to contact me, and I knew he would not care enough to disregard my wishes. Up to that point, his messages were infrequent, irregular, and the clear products of acute intoxication. He liked to mutter about marrying me or taking me on his business trips to Seattle or screwing without a condom. I took none of this seriously, of course, but I could never be too careful if Charlie were involved.

0 notes

thequeensbastardenglish · 6 years

Text

Ballast

Chapter 2

Pairing: ChloeXNadine

Rating: M

This chapter is a wee bit darker than the previous one. Our heroes do something not very heroic... CW: mention of torture but no actual violent descriptions.

If there are any warnings you feel I should put on this fic heading forward then please just shout.

Read it on A03

Nadine was distracting in the best possible way.

This was something that Chloe had known the first time she had laid eyes on her. The few pictures of her that she had seen did not do her justice; and the description of her that Sam had offered… Well, it had made her sound eight foot tall with arms like tree trunks and legs powered by pistons. His description made her sound like the Terminator, a ruthless killing machine that no mere mortal man could hope to stop. So it had been a surprise to find that Nadine was actually shorter than Chloe. It had been a surprise – a very pleasant and welcome one – to feel such a hit of attraction, a jab to the solar plexus that had left Chloe momentarily winded. It had been a long time since anyone had made Chloe feel like that. And because of what Sam had told her Chloe had been prepared to hate Nadine - she’d been on the wrong side of far too many mercenaries in her career to ever have any love for them- so it had been a shock to find that she genuinely liked the woman. And even more of a shock was how quickly she found herself liking and trusting her. Chloe didn’t even trust the Drake brothers and they were the most trust worthy thieves in the business.

Nadine’s arms might not be thick as tree trunks but they were distracting all the same. Every single physical aspect of her was distracting, from her thick honed muscles, the broadness of her shoulders, the line of her neck and the scar along her collarbone, and even the bounce of her curls - all very distracting.

She was especially distracting now, all sweaty from her work out, a towel draped around her shoulders, and sucking on a bottle of some sports drink, her throat working and her lips… <em>god her lips!</em> Chloe appreciated that Nadine needed to do her work out but did she have to do it when Chloe was trying to <em>think</em>?

Books on the civil war were spread out across the floor, as well as copies of documents from the era, all supplied by Charlie who had turned up bright and early that morning, coffee in hand and a grin on his face.

Chloe looked away from Nadine and tried to concentrate on the passage she was reading about military manoeuvres in the battle of Edgehill. It didn’t look like Elliston had fought at Edgehill, or at least they could find no official record of him being there.

“I’m starting to think this guy didn’t fight in any battles,” Chloe muttered.

“Least we know he actually existed,” Charlie said. They had found his name on an old census record and from that they had found when he enlisted in the military. After that the trail went dead.

“He’s not among the dead from any battles. So he survived the war.” Charlie set aside a bit of paper, frowning.

“He’s not listed as fighting in any battles.”

“Doesn’t mean he wasn’t here,” Nadine said. She rubbed the side of her jaw with the end of her towel.

“You know anything about the civil war?” Charlie looked up at Nadine. He was sat on the floor with Chloe pouring over books and his own notes. He’d been chewing on his pen, ink now stained the corner of her mouth.

“The battles. I studied military history.”

Charlie’s face lit up. “What can you tell us then?”

“That it was a badly fought war.” She put the now empty bottle down on the counter and leaned back, crossing her arms. Chloe tried not to stare at her forearms, at the way the muscles tensed and hardened, she tried not to think about how they felt around her body, or how they would feel in a different way than hauling her back from a cliff edge. She bit her lip. If Nadine didn’t taker her gloriously sweaty self from the room then Chloe was going to need a cold shower. “Lot of revisionist history went on afterwards. Neither side could afford the war; neither side had a competent commander.”

“What about Cromwell?” Chloe asked. She forced her eyes away from the thick cords of muscles of Nadine’s arms to look up to her face.

Nadine snorted. “He only got so many victories because the Royalists had even worse commanders than he did. I’ll give him this: he could organise an army, but his favoured tactic was just to hit hard and fast. He relied too much on his cavalry. Against anyone other than Prince Rupert he would have lost and lost badly.”

Charlie made an impressed grunt. “She should be down here with me instead of you.” he nudged Chloe with his elbow.

“Sod off, this isn’t my area of history.”

“Your man Elliston would have been pressed into service. That’s probably why there’s no record of him serving beyond his enlisting.” Nadine shrugged.

“Cromwell was the first to create a modern professional army,” Charlie said, and Nadine snorted again.

“Plenty of countries had professional armies,” she said.

“The Romans the Greeks.” Chloe ticked them off her fingers.

“I said modern,” Charlie sounded defensive.

“Assyrians, the Ottomans,” Nadine continued. “But an English white boy does it and we have to pretend like he invented the wheel.”

“That’s my cue to shut up.” Charlie picked up one of his notebooks and started pouring over the contents.

Nadine grinned at Chloe in victory. She turned on her heel and Chloe’s eyes trailed after her as she marched off towards the bathroom.

“You’re not very subtle,” Charlie said quietly.

“I’ll have you know that I am the queen of subtle.”

“Right, luv.” Charlie grinned.

“So subtle that it’s my middle name.” Chloe grabbed a book at random and buried her head in it.

“You’re blushing.”

“I don’t blush.”

“Which is a bit better than the sight of you drooling.”

Chloe turned to face him. “I don’t drool either.”

Charlie guffawed into his hand. “Sure. I believe you. What if I call Ms Ross back into the room, eh? Maybe she could, I dunno, like, stretch for you.” He mimicked a slow stretch, his arms slowly rising above his head. “Maybe her tank top pulls up a bit. Maybe your eyes pop out their sockets.”

“Maybe you shut the hell up?”

That set him off laughing harder. “I can’t believe nothing’s happened between you two.”

“Why would it?”

“Because it’s you. Since when were you ever a prude about these things? You getting frigid in your old age?”

Sighing, Chloe dropped the book she was pretending to read on the ground. “We’re business partners. I’d have thought that of all the people in my life you would understand why mixing business and pleasure is a bad idea.” She pushed herself to her feet and made her way to the kitchen.

“Chlo, c’mon,” Charlie called after her. “I was just messing with you.”

Once she was out of sight of Charlie she pressed the back of her hand to her cheek. She didn’t feel hot. She probably hadn’t been blushing but… But she hated that Charlie was reading her so easily. So much of her shtick was about manipulation. She had built up a reputation among her community of being hard to read; of having people second guess her motives and never truly knowing what cards she was playing. Nadine threw that all out the window. Chloe couldn’t afford to be this transparent around her.

But it was Charlie and he knew her that bit too well. Maybe it was only obvious to him? Sam hadn’t said anything, and he definitely wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to wind her up.

She opened the fridge and grabbed the jug of water and poured herself a glass. She gulped down the water and poured herself another glass, and then moved back through to the living room where Charlie was again chewing on his pen. She set the glass down on the coffee table and dropped back down to the ground next to him. He looked up at her. There was even more ink on his face.

“Charlie, you got a little something…” she pointed around her own face indicating the areas he had ink on his own.

“Wha..?” He rubbed his cheek with the back of his hand smudging the ink. “I get it?”

Chloe laughed. “No. Here, stay still. I’m going to do to you what my granny used to do to me.”

“You gonna hock on a hanky and rub me with spit?”

She took hold of his jaw and angled his head, licked the tip of her thumb and began gently rubbing the ink away. “Not quite that gross.”

Charlie smiled softly. Too softly. He smiled like he used to when they were actually a thing and it looked like it might get serious. Before he had broken his leg, and she had tried to settle to look after him, before they’d driven each other crazy and nearly to the brink of hatred. She had a special little ache in her heart for Charlie that was nestled right alongside with Nate. Two very good reasons why mixing business and pleasure was a bad idea. People got hurt.

Her movements slowed.

People got killed.

Harry had been killed. She hadn’t felt for Harry the way she had for Nate or Charlie but she still carried that weight of responsibility. She’d had a hand in his death. He had been greedy and reckless, his ambition outweighing his skill, but he had cared for her. He had tried to protect her in his own way. And now he was dead.

Charlie took hold of her hand, pulling it away from his face. He was smiling still, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

Nadine cleared her throat loudly from the doorway. Chloe jumped, breaking apart from Charlie like they’d both been electrocuted.

“Am I interrupting? “Nadine asked. She was smiling but it was anything but sweet.

“Jesus!” Charlie put his hand to his heart and rolled over onto his back. “Me ticker!”

“No, Charlie just managed to get more pen on himself than on the page.” Chloe shuffled away from him. Distance, she needed distance from him and from Nadine and the awful predatory toothy grin she was directing at Charlie.

“Sure.” Nadine sounded less than convinced. She was freshly showered and dressed in jeans and a hoodie, loose and comfortable, casual in a way that Chloe knew very few ever got to see her. She crossed the room and dropped down on the couch. “How’s the research going?”

Chloe rubbed the back of her neck. “Crap. I don’t understand why Cseszneky is interested in this guy.”

“I got some contacts at Cambridge I can ask. See if they know anything.” Charlie stood up and flexed his leg, the one he had broken all those years ago. He moved away from Nadine, careful not to turn his back on her. He picked up his rucksack and started gathering his things.

“We’re drawing a blank here so sounds good to me.” Chloe leaned back on her hands. Nadine was still looking at Charlie like she might rip his throat out with her teeth. Perfect. Lovely. Nothing about this work project was going to be awkward at all.

Nadine crossed her arms, her head tilted like she was about to launch into a tirade but the flat door burst open and Sam jumped in.

“Heeeeey!” he yelled. He had an unlit cigarette perched on his lips, a cheap plastic carrier bag in one hand and a door mat in the other. “I got the doormat back!”

“Our doormat is red,” Chloe said, eyeing the bright pink fluffy monstrosity he was waving about like a victory flag.

“Oh.” He looked at the mat, shrugged and tossed it back over his shoulder, kicking the door closed behind him. “In better news I have a lead.”

“What?” they all said over the top of one another.

Sam sauntered across the flat towards the couch and flopped down. He plucked his cigarette from his lip and tucked it behind his ear. “That’s right. I have a lead and I know what our next step should be.” He fished around in his carrier bag and pulled out a can of Monster!. “While you nerds were doing the book stuff I was doing useful work.” He opened the can and slurped at it.

“Well, what is it?” Nadine demanded. She turned her glare from Charlie to Sam. Charlie sagged in relief.

“I got in touch with Sully and explained our situation and he put me in touch with some other people. People who know Tamas and Viktória Cseszneky.”

“Who?” Charlie said, bewildered.

“His children?” Chloe guessed.

“Oh yeah! And they are just as batshit as their old man.” Sam looked so pleased with himself. “Now, I got a bit of information but I think we’re going to have to buy the rest. See, it looks like Tamas and Vikki are not thrilled by their dear old pop’s game. They’re amateur treasure hunter’s themselves. More the kind that throw money around and get other’s to do the dirty work, but it’s still something of a passion of theirs.” He paused to drink more.

“And?” Chloe prompted.

“And they’re playing this little game too.” He lifted his can to them. “Ta da!”

Chloe and Nadine exchanged a look.

“That’s it?” Nadine said. “That’s all you’ve got?”

“Mate, I thought you had a lead on Elliston,” Charlie said.

“Well, I kind of do.” Sam rubbed that back of his head. “See, Tamas and Vikki are out somewhere in Europe doing whatever it is rich Europeans do, but one of their retainers is here in London on business.”

“On treasure hunting business?” Chloe could feel the grin spreading across her face.

“Bingo!” Sam saluted her with his can.

“So we find this retainer and shake the information we need out of him.” Nadine rubbed her jaw thoughtfully.

“Well, we could bribe him.”

“With what?” Charlie asked. “Don’t know about you but I’m skint.”

Sam looked hopefully at Chloe.

“Not a chance. We’ll just talk to this retainer and get the information out of him the old fashioned way.”

“So charm or violence,” Nadine said, grinning.

“Exactly.”

The scarf around Nadine’s neck was itchy and she resisted the urge to tug at it. It was a far cry from the tactical gear she used to wear. What she wore now had been bought cheap from a camping store, and they were going to dispose of it all once they were done. She wore a black fleece, zipped up to her chin, and canvas pants that did nothing to warm her. The back of the rental van was cold; all the better to better to make Jorge Feigel feel uncomfortable. This was a kidnapping after all.

“You alright back there, china?” Chloe called through the half open slat. She sat in the driver’s seat, wrapped up like Nadine; her hat pulled low and a scarf covering the lower half of her face.

“Ja. Just don’t see why I’m left here.”

“Ouch. I’m not good enough company for you?”

Nadine kicked at the plastic sheeting that covered the inside of the van. “Not what I meant. I’m trained. Drake and Cutter aren’t.”

“You’re also very distinctive,” Chloe said. She said it like she loved that Nadine was distinctive and Nadine felt her cheeks heat up. If she’d been the one picking up Feigel then she wouldn’t have to be spending time with Chloe flirting with her and distracting her. She could just concentrate on the job at hand like the professional she was. But then she wouldn’t be able to marvel at Chloe’s ability to make “distinctive” sound like “attractive”. They’d been over this and Nadine had agreed, but waiting around made her feel antsy, especially when she didn’t trust the team she was waiting on. “Two burly white guys could be anyone,” Chloe continued.

“An American accent will stick out.”

“All Sam has to do is keep his trap shut.”

Nadine snorted. “Like that’s going to happen. He talks nearly as much as you do.” Chloe could hold entire conversations with cliff faces. Nadine still wasn’t sure if she found it endearing or annoying.

“We could play I-Spy to pass the time.”

“No thanks.” Nadine checked over the interior of the van again for something to do. The company they had rented it from specialised in vans for criminal activities. The plates could be swapped, the paint job changed, they even put false markers on the outside of the van so that if anyone did see it and they could give a description then the exterior could easily be altered. The inside of this one was lined in plastic sheets; to prevent any stains and all easy to remove. There was a chair secured in the centre of the van, bolted to the floor. Nadine had Ziplock ties with her to secure Feigel once Cutter and Drake brought him back.

There was a knock on the back door of the van. Nadine waited. Three more knocks followed in rapid succession and then another two. They were back. She pulled her scarf up over her lower face.

“Time to rock and roll,” Chloe said, and she closed the slat and started the engine.

Nadine went to the back door and opened it. Drake and Cutter stood there with a short pudgy man with a black hood over his head.

“In yer go!” Sam said cheerfully in a dreadful cockney accent.

Nadine reached down and grabbed Feigel by his shirt and hauled him into the van. She didn’t speak. Chloe was right; she was too distinctive in looks and with her accent. Let Feigel think that everyone in the van was a white man. She dragged Feigel over to the chair and dropped him into it. Quickly, she secured his arms to the rests with zipties and then his legs. Charlie slammed the van door closed and then they were away.

Feigel was breathing heavily, the fabric of the bag over his head pulling in and pushing out with every terrified breath. It was a stark reminder that this business could be as bad as her mercenary work.

There probably wouldn’t be blood spilt. And no torture. They had all agreed that torture was out of the question. Thieves they might have been, capable of killing in self defence and being utterly ruthless when needed, but they weren’t murderers. But they needed Feigel to believe that he was about to die a very messy painful death.

Charlie stood in front before Feigel and crossed his arms. He cut an imposing figure with his thick chest and broad shoulders. He was built like a rugby player and the sight of him would probably be enough to make Feigel piss himself. Nadine stood behind Feigel, close enough that he would be able to sense her presence. Sam moved in front of him and ripped off the hood. Feigel looked from left to right, blinking in the dim light. Her tried to look back over his shoulder but Nadine forced his head forward so he wouldn’t see her. He had duct tape across his mouth to stop him from screaming. He was going bald; the top of his head shiny with sweat and the thin greying hair that circled his crown was soaked with it. She almost felt sorry for him.

“You right there, mate?” Sam said, still using his awful cockney accent. He gently slapped Feigel’s cheek a couple of times. “Hope you don’t get travel sick. Not that it matters. As you can see we’re well prepared for any messes you will be makin’.” Sam spread his arms showing Feigel the plastic sheets lining the van. Feigel started whimpering and pulling against his bonds. “Nah, don’t go doing that. You’ll only ‘urt yoursel’. And as you can see I got me a friend or two here who’re lookin’ forward to doin’ that themselves.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder towards Charlie. “Wouldn’t want to deprive ‘em of the pleasure, would yer?”

Charlie was scary enough standing there in the low gloom of the van’s lighting, but Nadine dropped her hands to Feigel’s shoulders and gave them a squeeze anyway, reminding him that he was there. He screamed. It was muffled behind the tape but he was screaming as loud as he could, pulling tight against his bonds. They might not need to push this any further. The way he was reacting to just the threat of violence he might just spill straight away.

“Shh, shh.” Sam tapped Feigel’s face again. It was chilling just how good he was at this. He so often acted the fool that it was easy to forget that he could be genuinely scary. The way he was now was a reminder that he used to be tight with Rafe and of the years he had spent in prison, and that he had cut down swathes of her men in cold blood. Both of the Drake brothers were lethal but this was proof that Sam was the darker of the two.

The van swayed as Chloe took a corner. They’d agreed on a route so Nadine was prepared for every twist and turn. She watched as Sam worked his dark magic, telling Feigel exactly what they wanted from him and hinting to what they would do if Feigel didn’t deliver.

Feigel was a blubbering mess by the time Sam reached up and pulled the tape away from his mouth.

“Here’s yer chance, mate,” Sam said all reasonable like. “It don’t have to get messy. You give us what we want and you can pop off on yer merry way.” His accent was getting worse. “You don’t want to be helpful, well…” He trailed off. Charlie unfolded his arms and shucked his shoulders, and that set Feigel off sobbing again.

“I don’t… I don’t…” Feigel was hyperventilating. “I can’t…”

“Words I don’t want to hear, matey-mate.” Sam stepped aside so that Charlie could step forward. Slowly, making a show of it, Charlie reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a pair of pliers.

“No! No!” Feigel shrieked. “Please!”

How far were they going to push this? Nadine looked up to Sam. His eyes were cold, not like anything she had ever seen from him.

Charlie tapped the pliers thoughtfully against Feigel’s hand and then over to the other one, like he was trying to decide which finger to break first. She really hadn’t expected Charlie to be so good at this.

“Okay! Okay! They have a lead!” Feigel pulled against his bonds, trying to twist away from Charlie and the pliers. “They have to win this competition. They - they- Tamas - he-.”

“Slow down mate,” Sam said. “Start at the beginning. Tamas and Viktória have to win this competition, eh? Why are they even competing?”

“Because they’re going to be cut off. They’ve wasted too much money on fruitless ventures. Mr Cseszneky is unhappy with them. He wants them to prove their worth. If they fail, if someone else finds the treasure first, then he’ll name his youngest son as his sole heir. Please, please don’t hurt me!”

Nadine rolled her eyes. They were getting caught up in a rich man’s idiot games with his children.

“You said they had a lead.” Sam cocked his head to the side. “Tell me more on that.”

��Letters. They have letters written by Elliston to his family.”

That was more like it. With letters they might be able to trace Elliston’s movement during and after the war. Nadine felt the first twinge of excitement for this project.

“Where would we find these letters?”

“I can’t… please…” Feigel’s head dropped and he started crying again. “They’ll kill me.”

They all paused at that. Nadine looked up at Sam waiting to see what he would do. With the money they had at their disposal it was no surprise that Tamas and Viktória might kill their insubordinates. She’d found through the years that the richer the client the less they cared for human life.

“Mate, we’re gonna kill you now if you don’t tell us what we want to know.” the tone of his voice sent chills down Nadine’s spine. “But we’ll give you a running chance to get away from them.”

Feigel’s shoulders slumped. He sobbed for a bit, snivelling. Nadine didn;t need to see his face to know that it would be covered in snot and drool. “They have a villa in the south of France. At Provence. They keep all their research there.”

Sam nodded. “I’m gonna cut one of your hands loose. I want you to write down the address for me. No funny business.” Sam pulled out a knife and cut the tie for Feigel’s right hand. He handed him a pen and a piece of paper. Feigel was nearly shaking too badly to hold the pen but he managed to scrawl down the information they needed. “Nicely done,” Sam congratulated him.

“Please… Let me go.”

Sam clumsily patted Feigel on the top of his bald head. “You did good, mate.”

Charlie stepped forward with the duct tape. He tore a strip off and pressed it firmly over Feigel’s mouth and next the hood went back over. They freed Feigel from the chair and stood him up on shaking legs, Charlie holding one side of him and Nadine the other. Sam pulled from his pocket the thank you card they had prepared for Feigel and tucked it into the waistband of his pants. The card contained some money, enough to help him make his escape. The van slowed to a stop outside of the hotel that Feigel was staying at. Sam opened the side door and they pushed Feigel out. He fell to the ground in front of several startled people who had to step around him. They slammed the door shut and sped away.

“Jesus!” Charlie pulled his hat and scarf away, revealing his face. He ran a trembling hand over his head. “That was messed up. That was so effin’ messed up!”

Sam pulled his face coverings off and sat down heavily in the chair. He pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and took one out. “Anyone mind if I smoke?”

“Nah, go for it.”

Nadine moved over to the front of the van and rapped her knuckles against the slat. It opened immediately.

“All good back there?” Chloe asked.

Nadine pulled her scarf down. “Ja. We got what we needed. There was no violence.”

“That felt violent enough.” Charlie slipped down the side of the van, sitting on the floor. He was pale, his eyes too wide.

“You need to get some sugar in you,” Nadine said. He looked like he might be going into shock. She and Sam might be used to doing this kind of this but Charlie clearly wasn’t. “I think we could all do with getting some food.”

“Let’s get the van dumped and we’ll get right on that,” Chloe said. “How’re you feeling, Sam?”

“We got what we wanted,” Sam replied. He looked over the scrap of paper with the address on it. He had dropped the accent but now he sounded detached. None of them had enjoyed doing that.

Chloe talked incessantly until they reached the drop off point for the van where they all piled out. One of the Post brother’s was waiting for them. Nadine only knew them by their surname and they all looked the same to her. They ran the rental business; vans and cars for whatever you needed them for no questions asked.

“Frazer!” Post was a tall man with a belly that strained against his belt. He held his arms wide and pulled Chloe into a bear hug. “You brought it back in one piece this time.”

“When have I ever totalled one of your vans?” She stepped back from him smiling. She handed him a thick envelope that contained the money for the van. The Post’s were expensive but worth it for the service they offered. He took the envelope and tucked it into his coat pocket.

“I’m sure I can think of a couple of times.” He moved past them and opened the driver door, climbing in. “Until next time.”

“Right!” Chloe clapped her hands together. “Let’s get us some food and then go over our next move.”

“Vive la France!” Sam crowed happily.

Nadine sidled up next to Chloe. “You okay?”

“I’m great.” Chloe slipped her arm through Nadine’s. “I’ll be better after we get some food.”

Nadine looked back over her shoulder to check on Charlie. He was following behind them, his head down and his hands in his pockets. Sam was in front puffing away happily on his cigarette.

Nadine pushed down the rising sick feeling, her stomach churning. She had never liked torture and while they hadn’t physically harmed Feigel this had felt a little too close to the darker more evil side of her previous occupation. That she had started anew and wouldn’t need to deploy those kind of skills again. Naive. Stupid. From what Feigel had said she had her first indication that the Cseszneky siblings were dangerous. Before they went to France she needed to secure weapons for them. She wasn’t going to be caught off guard.

+U�c�

#Ballast #Chlodine #Chloe Frazer #Nadine Ross #fanfic #this would have been up sooner but I got another dog #and he's a distracting little git #he's cute as fuck #but christ is he clingy and demanding

6 notes · View notes