#but its like FINE. its almost my weekend. Tomorrow is my friday and hopefully my weekend will be GOOD | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fanficrocks · 4 months

Text

Touch my heart

For @chrumblr-whumblr: May whump challenge #17 - Touch starved

Fandom: Lewis (ITV)

Length: ~3k words

Also posted to AO3

DI Robbie Lewis was clearing his desk on the evening of Good Friday in no great mood and with few plans for the weekend. Part of him was happy for his sergeant DS James Hathaway, a practising Catholic who would hopefully appreciate being able to attend the Easter service at church without worrying about a callout. For himself, Easter meant very little since his kids had grown too old for the egg hunt; and religion in general meant nothing at all since his wife’s tragic death some seven years ago. Indeed, the prospect of a full weekend off-rota held little appeal.

Just then, James returned to the office with the ballistics report they had been waiting for, the final nail in the coffin for the case they had cleared two days ago. As he added it to the file for CPS and brought the whole across to his boss, Robbie gave in to impulse.

“So, what are your plans for the weekend? Aside from church on Easter morning?”

“The band I play in - we have a gig in Reading tomorrow night for the local diocese. A bit different from what we normally play, so we are meeting for lunch and spending the afternoon rehearsing.”

“And Sunday, after church?”

“Nothing definite. Why?”

“Do you fancy takeaway at mine? There is a fine single malt calling our names, and you can break in the new sofa bed. Come a bit early if you like and we can watch more than one DVD from that boxset you brought last time.”

Despite the seemingly casual invitation, Robbie found himself holding his breath. It had been well over a month since James had joined him for a meal at his, and even their after-work pints had taken on a different flavour… almost as though he was showing up out of habit or duty, and not because he wanted to. Which was a puzzle, because they had settled into a nice pattern over the past couple of years - ever since the Phoenix case had rattled their equilibrium so badly.

Even worse in Robbie’s opinion, James seemed to have been distancing himself at work too. Not in a way that would be obvious to anyone else - their usual repartee in quip and counterquip continued unabated, and not even such sharp observers as Dr. Laura Hobson or DCS Innocent had noticed anything. But he had - the difference was subtle but definite, and he found himself missing all the causal touches that punctuated their days… a hand on the back to indicate who should go through a doorway first, a friendly bump of the shoulder when walking down a narrow pavement, or a touch on the forearm to quietly draw attention to a clue. James and he had never had much sense of personal space around each other except when seriously at odds; and despite the tensions during the Crevecoeur case during the winter, he thought they had hit their stride once again. If anything, James had grown closer and more trusting since then - particularly once Robbie had made it clear that he was not going to push for any explanations regarding James’ childhood when his father was employed on that estate. Or so it had seemed, until the changes of the last weeks.

To his surprise and relief, James looked happy - nay, delighted - at the invitation. His face broke into an all-too-rare sincere smile which seemed blinding in its intensity as he rushed to accept, with the stipulation that he would bring dessert. As they turned to walk in step down to the car park, Robbie felt something right itself despite the couple of feet of distance James continued to maintain between them. And found himself looking forward to the weekend after all.

~~~~~~~~~~

By Sunday afternoon, Robbie was basking in a pleasant sense of achievement - all the chores he had postponed for weeks as they had hit a string of complex cases were finally done, and he had taken advantage of the good weather to get a start on the little back garden that came with his flat. And he now had a pleasant evening to look forward to with his best mate. On the thought, he decided to text James to check what time he would be coming over, since they had not really decided what “early” meant. Text sent and cuppa in hand, he went back into the garden to continue planning what he would get to the next time he had a free day or two, and to wonder whether James might be game to join him.

Almost an hour later, there was no answer to his text, nor when he tried calling James. Robbie left messages on both his mobile and his home phone, and willed himself to wait a further half hour - maybe the lad was showering. But once his self-imposed interval had elapsed with no response from James, he could not wait any longer. Grabbing his car keys, he drove over to James’ flat, barely keeping within the posted speed limit on the thankfully empty roads. Once there, it was the work of a moment to check that James’ car was in its accustomed spot before letting himself in using the spare key he had been given a couple of years ago now.

Stepping into James’ apartment, Robbie was brought up short by the unaccustomed clutter visible from the hall. Not that he had been here all that often, but after four years of sharing an office with James, he knew that the other man was always neat and systematic in everything he did. And he would never have left his beloved Gibson lying on the floor in the hallway!

Increasingly worried about what he would find, Robbie walked further into the flat, calling out to James as he went. The silence that met him was distinctly unnerving, particularly as he knew that James should be at home. Until he entered the bedroom to find a fully clothed lanky frame collapsed on the bed, sweating and shivering simultaneously, while evidently too exhausted to have removed even his belt and shoes.

With a startled exclamation, Robbie made his way to the bedside. It did not take long to realise what was wrong - James had obviously come down with the flu that had been making the rounds of the nick for the past couple of weeks, and between fever and incipient dehydration, was in no shape to respond to the phone or indeed even to Robbie’s voice. And knowing him as Robbie did, it was likely the daft sod had been feeling poorly for a few days and ignoring it. Deciding that the recriminations could wait until James was better, he set to work getting the younger man comfortably into bed before attempting to get some fluids and paracetamol into him.

As he struggled with an utterly uncoordinated and floppy six-foot-three-inch sergeant, Robbie remembered just why nurses have to be so strong. By the time he got James changed into his pyjamas (old track bottoms and a threadbare T-shirt that surely could not have survived from his Cambridge days?) and manoeuvred him properly into bed, it was evident that this was just the start of a long evening and night. The lad’s temperature seemed to be steadily climbing, and while not yet obviously uncooperative, he was not exactly easy to coax into doing the needful - not making any sense when he talked, but nonetheless managing to convey his displeasure in increasingly inventive mumbles. Fortunately, James still seemed to recognise his touch and responded well enough to that, even if he seemed to be trying to burrow into Robbie for comfort.

~~~~~~~~~~

Two hours later, Robbie realised he would have to call Innocent and request a sick day (or several) for James. While in no immediate danger or need of further medical attention, the lad was obviously unwell and would need time to recover. But the trickier thing would be to convince Innocent to give Robbie the next day off too… given how James was just now, there seemed to be no other option. He could barely go to the kitchen to fetch him something to drink, or to the bathroom to refresh the wet flannel to cool his brow, without triggering intense anxiety on James’ part. Indeed, he only seemed to calm down and rest if Robbie was holding his hand or stroking his hair… as though that touch was the only thing anchoring him.

Not wanting to disturb James, who seemed to have finally dropped off into a doze, Robbie decided to text Innocent and hope for the best. His guardian angels must have been working overtime, for she responded almost immediately and, albeit grudgingly, granted him a day off with the proviso that he be available should an emergency arise. With a sigh of relief, Robbie put away his phone and turned back to his awkward sod, gently freeing his left hand from the deathgrip James had on it in favour of replacing the wet flannel with his right. To his surprise, James brought his own hand up in a more coordinated movement than any he had essayed so far and pressed it over Robbie’s, as if to tighten the contact before relaxing back into sleep.

It was an hour before James woke up, seemingly more compos mentis this time, and uncomplainingly cooperative when Robbie encouraged him to drink some orange juice. After helping him to the bathroom and changing the damp sheets in the interim, Robbie got him resettled in bed with a fresh cold flannel and water within easy reach.

“Lad, will you be alright on your own for a little while? You don’t have much in the fridge by way of fluids, so I will make a quick visit to the shops.”

“Of course, Sir. And thank you! I don’t know how… you really didn’t need to… ”

“Give over, man! You are not just my sergeant, you are my mate. Now, seeing it is Easter Sunday, your local shop might be closed, so don’t get worried if I have to drive to the nearest supermarket and it takes a bit longer.”

Prophetic words, as it turned out. Not only were the small local shops closed, so was the nearest supermarket. By the time Robbie located one that was open and stocked up on the items he thought they would need, it was well over an hour since he had left James. He sent a brief text to explain, then hurried back as quickly as he could given the suddenly heavy traffic due to people returning from their Easter weekend trips.

Putting away the supplies he had bought, Robbie entered James’ bedroom carrying a tray bearing a bowl of hot chicken soup, some fresh bread, and further supplies of juice and paracetamol to see his sergeant trying to get out of bed and swaying in the process. Quickly putting the tray down on the dresser, he reached out to James, grasping his shoulders to steady him… only for James to turn into his body and cling desperately. Although wracked by fever and weakness, he was gripping Robbie as though for dear life. And no power on earth could stop him then from slipping his arms comfortingly around that shaking form.

“It’s alright, lad. I am here. What’s wrong?”

“You came back! You didn’t leave me!”

“Of course I came back, lad. I only went to get some supplies. Why did you think I wouldn’t?”

“Nobody does. All go away, never come back.”

“I am here, James. I won’t go away like that.”

“You did. When I lied to you. About Will and Feardocha and the others.”

“But I came back. I always do. As you know, lad.”

Somehow, that seemed to get through to James, who allowed himself to be settled back against the piled pillows and accepted the soup Robbie was offering. He did not seem to know what to do with it, though, and simply sat there with a troubled stare as the soup cooled. With a sigh, Robbie sat down at the edge of the bed and lightly cuffed him on the arm.

“The soup won’t drink itself, you know. Come on now, a few spoonfuls won’t hurt you. And the bread will settle your tummy - let you alternate ibuprofen with the paracetamol to break the fever sooner.”

“What about you?”

“I will have mine after you finish.”

“You won’t go away?”

“No, daft lad. I won’t go away. I will bring my dinner here and sit in the armchair to have it if the smell of food won’t bother you.”

Satisfied, James settled back and proceeded to eat. The soup and bread felt just right, as did Robbie’s solid presence by his side. A few minutes later, as he mopped up the last of the soup and accepted the tablets Robbie offered, he felt sufficiently restored to feel for the glasses on his bedside table and perch them on his nose before reaching for the book lying open there. A soft chuckle from Robbie made him look up then.

“What?”

“Only you would pick up a book with such small print when scarcely able to hold your head upright.”

“It’s just that I don’t want to fall asleep again right away. Not until I make sure you have eaten too.”

“That so? Why don’t we chat a bit then? So long as it won’t hurt your throat.”

“My throat is surprisingly clear, though I can’t say the same about my head. What do you want to talk about?”

“Nothing particular. You choose. Just no more flipping elves.”

That set James off laughing, though he had to stop soon enough as his exhausted body could handle only so much. Taking the laughter as a good sign, Robbie bore away the used tray and came back in with his sandwich and beer to settle down in the armchair after pulling it close enough for James to reach him if he so wanted. To his surprise, James took his hand unselfconsciously and initiated the conversation this time.

“I was really looking forward to our takeaway and DVD night, you know.”

“Glad to hear it. How about we do it once you are recovered?”

“You mean that?”

“Not in the habit of saying things I don’t mean! And I miss relaxing with you at the end of a case, or even just because. You do know that you are welcome any time, don’t you?”

James turned an interesting shade of pink at this, and nodded as a shy - almost incredulous - smile played around his lips. Robbie returned to his sandwich, wondering what new complications the daft lad’s overactive brain was cooking up now, and how he might need to handle them.

“I just wanted to say, Sir, I really appreciate it. The acceptance and friendship you extend to me… I have never… just, thank you.”

“As I said, James, I consider you a friend. My best mate, really. So you have nothing to thank me for. You would do as much if the situation was reversed.”

“Hmmm. Still, I have never had anyone to do this for me. It… takes a bit of getting used to.”

Robbie found himself swallowing around a sudden lump in his throat at this admission. Taking a moment to compose himself, for James would shut down immediately if his reaction had even the faintest whiff of pity, he looked up and met his friend’s eyes openly, allowing his understanding to colour his gaze.

“Sometimes, we get lucky with our families. Other times, it takes longer and we have to find our clan.”

“Was that why you moved so far from home?”

“No - I was one of the lucky ones. We were almost frighteningly poor when I was growing up, but there was plenty of love to go around. It was the miners strikes in ‘84 that drove me south… wasn’t easy being a copper when many among my family and mates were working in the mines. The tensions ran too high just then, so it made sense to move here closer to Val’s folks.”

“I didn’t realise. That must have been hard.”

“Aye, especially at first. But it got easier with time, like almost everything does. Now, how about a cuppa before you get some sleep? I saw you have some non-caf herbal teas. Ginger-lemon sound OK?.”

At James’ nod, he went into the kitchen to put the kettle on and clear away the detritus of dinner, such as it was, while waiting for the tea to steep. Re-entering the bedroom a few minutes later, he found James trying valiantly to keep his eyelids open and not slide down into a fully recumbent position. Realising the younger man’s struggle, Robbie sat down beside him and slipped a supportive arm beneath his shoulders while holding his other hand ready to steady the cup in case of need. James relaxed against his side as he slowly sipped the tea as though the simple act of raising and lowering the cup required all his concentration.

Tea drunk, he sank back against his pillows, still pressed against Robbie’s side as though loath to give up the contact. Once James was deeply asleep, Robbie settled him comfortably then rose to retreat to the armchair, only for a long-fingered hand to clutch his own tightly.

“Don’t go away.”

“I am not, lad. I will be right here - in the armchair.”

“No. Too far. Don’t go.”

“Alright. I am right here - you hold on to my hand.”

That seemed to do the trick as James drifted off again. Robbie sat there gently stroking the hand he was holding and hoping that would soothe the nervous twitches and jerks… it was as though James could not fully relax even in his sleep, and he wondered what else was in store until the fever broke properly.

Some indeterminate amount of time later, he looked up into James’ wide-open eyes. Their gaze was unfocused and for a moment, he was concerned that the lad was delirious, when he spoke in a dreamy tone.

“You are still here.”

“Course I am. Promised you, didn’t I?”

“And you always keep your promises.”

“I do. Or at least, I try my best to.”

“Something I need to learn from you. But I am doing better at it - I gave up touching you as my Lenten sacrifice, and I did not break that vow.”

“Why lad? Does it bother you when I touch you? You should have said… I guess I have been used to having someone around, and transferred that to you as we became friends.”

“Bother me? No, it is exactly the opposite.”

As James dropped back into sleep, a number of things suddenly made sense to Robbie. Lent - and in the spirit of sacrificing something important to him, James had determined to give up the casual touches the two of them so frequently shared. So that was the reason for the distance he had sensed between them over the past weeks. While it was a relief to know that he had not done anything to precipitate the distance, Robbie knew that when the right time came, he would need to talk to James about being sensible in his sacrifices. Life had taught him that being too alone could eat into a man’s soul, that we are not made to exist without human touch. That there is no shame in needing a caring presence and a warm hand to grasp.

But those were matters for another day when James was recovered and hopefully willing to talk to him. For now, it was enough that his presence and his touch were helping James, and that the lad trusted him enough to let him in thus far. What he truly wanted from their friendship - that was something to discuss later. But one thing Robbie was determined on… whatever it was, he would be there for James to the best of his ability and with his whole heart.

#itv lewis #robbie lewis #james hathaway #fanfic #fan fiction #ao3 #ao3fic

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cloudybarnes · 3 years

Text

the reveal

Pairing: peter parker x bestfriend!reader

Summary: after years of being friends, y/n wants to tell peter just how she feels. the night she decides to tell him, she walks in on him in his spider-man suit and suddenly second guesses if it’s the right time

Word Count: 2.7k+

Warnings: one curse word

A/N: added in some platonic interactions with ned and y/n cause why not :)

Masterlist

✰ ✰ ✰

“I think I just failed our math test.” You huffed as you dropped your lunch tray onto the table.

Peter and Ned left an open spot between them for you to squeeze into.

“Honestly, I don’t see how you could have failed this test, (Y/N).” Peter chuckled.

“Yeah,” Ned agreed, “if you think you failed this test, then I don’t even want to know what I got.”

That made you laugh. “Okay, maybe not failed, but definitely not my best. I feel like I know what we’re learning, but it’s hard to do on paper, you know?”

Peter nodded his head.

“Whatever,” you chuckled, “let’s talk about something else. What are we doing after school?”

Peter whipped his head to you, “we had after school plans?”

“Well not exactly, but it’s Friday so I thought we could do something fun.”

Ned agreed, “Yeah, plus we haven’t all hung out in a while.”

Peter sighed, “Guys, I have that Stark thing tonight remember? I can’t just abandon my internship.”

You pout and poke Peter’s arm, “but all you ever do now is go to your internship. It’s like Ned and I don’t even see you anymore, Pete.”

“She’s right. You were so busy last weekend, (Y/N) and I had to go to the opening of her sister’s dance recital all by ourselves.”

“I mean, I understand why he didn’t want to go to that one. It was a nightmare.” You chuckled.

Peter sighed, “Listen, I’m really sorry I’ve missed a lot. I’ll make it up to you guys, I promise.”

“So... tonight?” You asked hopefully. “I swear, we will make it worth the time of the all mighty Peter Parker.” You teased as you bumped your shoulder with Peter’s.

He nervously chuckled, “Y-yeah! Okay, um, yeah, tonight.”

You giggled, noticing a new warmth to his cheeks. “So, what time do you get done?”

“Get done?” He repeated.

“You know, your internship.” Ned reminded him.

Peter gasped, “Oh, right! Right, my internship. Um, actually it might be late, are you sure you want to do it tonight?”

You shrugged, “It’s the weekend, I’m sure my parents won’t mind. Please Peter, we haven’t hung out in forever! The internship is eating up your social life!” You chuckled.

Ned gasped, “oh my god, we should totally have a sleepover at Peter’s tonight! I can bring some comics and movies for us.”

You cheered, “Yes! That would be so fun!” You noticed Peter looked a little awkward from the conversation. “Unless, you just don’t want to hang out, which is totally okay! Ned and I could always ju-”

“No!” Peter yelled.

He looked around the cafeteria, embarrassed. He cleared his throat. “I-I mean, no, I do want to hang out with you guys tonight. I think I should be getting back around ten, so you guys can come to my place.”

Ned gasped, “Peter, you work that late and you’re not even getting paid?”

He chuckled nervously, “well, yeah. I just really like working for Mr. Stark, so I don’t mind it.” Peter wiggled around awkwardly, almost like he didn’t know what to do with himself.

Peter’s hand rested on his leg, and you placed yours on top of his. He looked up at you, eyes wide and lips slightly parted.

You gave his hand a squeeze. “Peter, you’re my best friend. I can see how you’re acting right now. If you don’t want to hang out tonight, that’s totally understandable. We get how important this is to you, and we wouldn’t want to get in the way of your opportunity.”

Peter’s face softened into one with a smile. He squeezed your hand back, “thanks (Y/N), that means a lot. I do want to hang out with you guys, though. We’re going to have a sleepover at my place tonight, and it’ll be fun. I promise.”

Peter cleared his throat, and stood up. “I’ll be right back, I’m just going to use the bathroom real quick.”

Once Peter left, Ned started to chuckle.

You turned to him and smiled, “what’s so funny?”

“What’s funny is how obvious it is that you have a thing for Peter.”

You giggled, “come on Ned, no I don’t.”

Ned shook his head and grinned at you, “I know you do; I just know these things. The way the two of you look at each other is like you’re in some rom com.”

You groan, “okay fine, I do like Peter. And I’m only telling you this because your my best friend, not because I want you to tell him!”

Ned scoffed, “please, of course I’m not going to tell Peter. You should be the one to do it.”

You smiled and lightly pushed his shoulder with your own. “Thanks, Ned. Also, don’t make anything awkward now that you know, okay? Peter will definitely know something is up.”

Ned made an ‘x’ over his chest. “Cross my heart!”

You look away from Ned just in time to see Peter walking back into the cafeteria. He takes his seat next to you and gives you a smile.

“Oh Peter!” Ned said, “I forgot that I have plans tonight already. My mom wanted me to try out this new yoga video with her. She thinks it’ll be a nice way to relax and release tension.”

“Oh, that’s okay.” Peter nodded, “we can always hang out some other time.”

“Oh!” Ned gasped, “Well, (Y/N)’s still free tonight. The two of you can have that sleepover still. I’ll lend you my comics.”

“Yeah! That-that sounds cool.” Peter looked at you and smiled, “I’m down if you are.”

You grinned, “Totally! I’ll never turn down the chance to hang out with you.”

Peter blushed at that.

You smiled at Ned, “Sorry you can’t come! We’ll miss you tonight.” You winked.

Ned chuckled a little, “It’s okay, there’s always next time.”

The bell that signaled lunch was over rang. The three of you stood up.

“Okay, well I’ll talk to you guys later!” You smiled. “See you tonight, Peter.”

He shyly smiled, “yeah, see you tonight.”

✰ ✰ ✰

“I think I’m going to do it tonight.”

School had finished without any excitement other than yours for tonight. You had already eaten dinner, and as the time drew closer to ten, you grew anxious.

You were dramatically sprawled out on your bed, with your phone on FaceTime with Ned.

His eyes got wide, “Oh. My. God. You’re crazy.”

You quickly sat up, worried now. “Is that actually crazy? Cause I don’t have to; I mean, it might make things weird.”

Ned chuckled. “No, I meant like, crazy as in you’re a bad-ass. I think tonight is the perfect opportunity to tell Peter you like him; and I’m not just saying that because I gave up spending time with you guys so this could happen.”

You rolled your eyes and stood up, walking over to your closet. “I think I’m just going to wear some sweatpants and a comfy top since it’s supposed to be a sleepover. Or do you think I should wear something nicer since I’m going to be telling him I like him?”

Ned shakes his head. “Definitely the sweatpants. If he doesn’t like you in your comfy look, he doesn’t deserve you in your dazzling look.”

You giggled, “you’re right, thanks Ned.”

“I’m here to help. Let me know how things go between you two. I think things will work out like you want.”

You smiled, “I’ll call you tomorrow! Bye, Ned.”

“See ya.”

You hung up the phone, and put your comfortable clothes on. Your bag was already packed with your overnight gear all ready to go.

You picked it up, and slung the bag over your shoulder.

“Mom, dad! I’m headed out to Peter’s now, love you!”

You parents said their goodbye’s, and you were on your way to Peter’s.

The trip was very short; Peter and you lived only a short distance from one another.

Once you were at his front door, you knocked and were greeted by his Aunt May.

“(Y/N)! Oh my gosh, it’s been too long since you’ve been over!” She grinned, pulling you into a tight hug.

Since you and Peter were always so close, May thought of you as a daughter.

“Hi May! It’s great to see you again. Is Peter back from his internship yet? I know I’m a few minutes early.”

She ushered you inside and shut the door. “No, I don’t think Peter’s back yet. I just got out of the shower so he may have snuck in while I was in there. You can wait in his room if you’d like, Peter won’t mind.”

You smiled, “Okay, thank you May.”

You started to walk down the hall into Peter’s room before May stopped you.”Oh, and (Y/N)?”

You turned around, “yeah?”

May softly smiled at you, “don’t be nervous, dear. I’m sure things will work out.”

You lightly laughed, “how did you know?”

She just shrugged with a playful smile.

You grinned, “I’ll try my best, May. Wish me luck!”

You turned back, and headed for Peter’s room.

In your mind, you were trying to plan out exactly what you were going to say to him, and when. You were thinking about waiting a little bit before dumping all of your emotions onto him. Or you’d do it as soon as you saw him just to get it off your chest once and for all.

As you pushed Peter’s bedroom door open, you saw something you never thought you’d witness. Peter was standing, back towards you in the Spider-Man suit.

When he heard his door creak open, Peter rapidly spun around. His eyes were wide, and his mouth agape. He looked scared and extremely caught off guard that you had just seen him in his outfit.

“Oh, my god.” Is all you could manage.

You stared at Peter with the widest eyes he’d ever seen. Your mouth gobbled open and shut like a fish out of water; you couldn’t find any words to say to him.

He rushed over and pulled you into his room, frantically shutting the door behind you.

“(Y/N)! I didn’t expect you to be here so early.” Peter’s heart was racing. “It’s not what it looks like, I promise.”

You lightly shook your head, “I think it’s exactly what it looks like.”

You walked around him in a circle like a vulture stalking its prey. “You’re Spider-Man, aren’t you?”

Peter’s mouth opened, then shut as soon as it did, trying to come up with a response to you. When he couldn’t think of anything, he sighed. “Yeah, I’m Spider-Man.”

You gasped. Peter honestly could have told you he was just playing dress up as Spider-Man and you would have believed him, but here he is admitting to being the superhero that had been around the city.

“That is so crazy, Peter!” You grinned. “Oh, my god, I’m friends with Spider-Man!”

Your face fell, “oh, my god, I’m friends with Spider-Man.” Oh, no. Why did Peter have to reveal himself as Spider-Man tonight of all nights!

You were freaking out, now. You didn’t want Peter to think you only liked him now that you knew he was Spider-Man! You wanted him to know you liked him for himself, as Peter.

“(Y/N)? Are you alright? I know this can be a lot to take in, but I need you to listen to me.” His eyes were desperate as he tried to talk to you.

You nodded your head and gave him your full attention. “Yeah, I’m okay. Sorry, this just caught me off guard is all.”

He nodded his head, and placed a hand on your shoulder. “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to tell anyone, especially not like this.”

“So I’m the only one that knows?”

“Well, Mr. Stark knows cause he’s the one that gave me this upgraded suit, but yeah. You’re the only other one.”

“Oh, man. This is crazy.”

“You can’t tell anyone, (Y/N), please. If people find out, things will change for me, and I like my life how it is. I didn’t want to tell anyone because the more people that know, the more people there are that could be in danger.”

You nodded your head, and smiled at him, “Don’t worry, Pete, your secret is safe with me.”

Peter let out a relieved sigh, “I knew I could trust you. Sorry you had to find out this way, though.”

Peter presses a button on his chest that released his suit, leaving him in only his boxers.

You face heated up as you scanned you eyes over his toned chest. “Oh my god.” You quickly spun around to not face him once you realized what you were doing.”

Peter’s cheeks were hot as well. “Sorry, I wasn’t thinking when I did that.”

You heard some shuffling around as Peter got changed.

“You can turn around now.”

You do, and see that Peter is in sweatpants and a sweatshirt with his suit hung up in his closet.

He sat on his bed, and motioned you to sit as well.

You do so, and play with your fingers a little bit, now uncertain if it’s a good time to tell him how you feel.

“Hey,” Peter said as he grabbed you hand, stopping your nervous fiddling, “talk to me. I don’t know what’s going on in your head, and it’s freaking me out a little.” He nervously chuckled.

You gently smiled and started to mess with his fingers. “I think it’s really cool what you’re doing for the city. I think you’re really brave for all of this.”

Peter smiled at you, “yeah?”

“Yeah. I’m just worried that you could get hurt from this. You know I care about you, right?” You nervously added.

Peter nodded his head with a smile, “I know you care. I promise, I’m being careful out there, don’t worry.”

You lightly smiled, and looked down at your interlocked fingers.

“So, Ned told me something earlier.”

Your head quickly perked up at that. “Oh, did he?”

Peter rubbed the back of his neck, “yeah, he told me to make sure you tell me the thing you were going to tell me.” He sounded confused. “I don’t really know what he means by that, but he wanted me to make sure you don’t chicken out of it.”

You sighed. “Well, I was going to tell you something, but I don’t know if it’s the right time because of your whole... reveal.”

“Oh, well I’ll still care about what you have to say. Just because you know I’m Spider-Man, doesn’t mean I’m not still Peter.”

You looked up at him and smiled. “Yeah, you’re still Peter.”

He chuckled, and you took in a breath, trying to calm yourself down.

“Well, I’ve been wanting to tell you this for a while now, and I didn’t really know when a good time would be since you’re always at your internship or we’re hanging out with Ned as well. Not that I don’t like hanging out with Ned! I do, it’s just-”

Peter cut off your rambling by grabbing your face and pressing his lips to yours. You were stunned, to say the least. Peter’s lips were soft and gentle against yours. He made no move to escalate things; it was like all he wanted to do was feel your lips against his.

You finally kissed him back, and brought one of your hands to the side of his face. You rubbed your thumb along his cheek as you kissed, loving the feeling of being so close to him.

When you couldn’t take anymore, you pulled back and took a breath of air.

Looking at Peter like this was something you had only dreamed of. His lips were red and puffy from your kiss, and his eyes gleamed with excitement. You could only imagine how you looked.

“Was that what you were trying to tell me?” He cheekily remarked.

You giggled, “that was exactly what I was trying to tell you.”

“Good,” he grinned, “because I really like you, (Y/N), I have for a while now.”

You let out a chuckle, “it’s a good thing I’ve liked you for some time as well.”

Peter bit his lip to try to stop himself from smiling so much. He grabbed your hand and laced your fingers together.

“So, does that mean you’d want to go out with me sometime?” Peter asked, hopefully.

You pretended to think for a minute, then giggled. “Yeah, I’d love to go out with you sometime, but right now I just want to spend our night together like we planned.”

You leaned in closer to Peter, gently pulling him in by the collar of his shirt.

“I like the sound of that.” Peter gently said, right before you placed your lips on his.

You have so much to tell Ned tomorrow.

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jawabear · 4 years

Text

Hypothetical (Javier Pena X Reader)

Not My GIF

A/N: So, firstly I want to start by saying thanks for 200 followers?!?!?!? like that is awesome!! Secondly, this was a request that I had a lot of fun writing! and I actually really like it, I hope you do too. Also, for the Spanish parts I used google translate because I don’t speak the language so it maybe wont be entirely accurate. Sorry for any mistakes. Stay safe :)

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: fem!reader, none really, Soft!Javi, drinking, Pedro Pascal comes with his own warning

Summary: There’s this one girl who he really likes, hypothetically what would happen if he asked her out?

Javier let out a deep sigh as he pulled up outside his favourite bar. It was a small and quiet place so it was perfect for him, someone who spends all day surrounded by people who couldn’t careless about him or anything else really. But the main reason he went there was because of the barmaid that was always working on his drinking time. If anyone could make him feel better about his shit life, it was her.

His entrance into the bar was the same as it had been since the first time he ever went there. The bar was quiet, a few regulars scattered about the place, a quiet but almost obvious song playing in the background. And (Y/N), the barmaid, was making and servings drinks between wiping down the bar, making light but idle chat with the ones she served and the ones who sat at the bar.

If we go by the story that barmaids are there to listen to problems, (Y/N) certainly is the perfect barmaid. She was always a welcome listener if anyone ever had an issue. She was nice to talk to. She was a friend to all, but she could be firm when she needed to. That was evident to Javi when one guy started getting a little too flirty and a little to handsy towards her, she firmly put him in his place that shocked everyone, and Javi hadn’t ever seen that guy again.

Javi sat in his regular seat, (Y/N) was talking to someone else. Oscar, his name was, if Javier remembered correctly. A writer, not a journalist, a writer. Apparently he was writing a fictional book, something to do with mysteries and detectives, most likely a children’s book but who was Javi to judge? If it worked out for him, go for it. It wasn’t like Javier was any better off, hating every second of his infuriating life, but in a strange way he knew he wouldn’t change it. Yet.

(Y/N) seemed to clock Javi’s presence and skilfully managed to shorten the conversation without making it seem like she was trying to get away from Oscar. She didn’t even need to ask Javier what he wanted, she had known him long enough to know what drink he was in the mood for, and right now he was in the mood for whiskey on ice.

She gently placed the glass in front of him with a smile before leaning on the bar in front of him “tough day?” She asked quietly.

He nodded and took a large swig on his freshly poured drink “it always is (Y/N)” he told her flatly.

“You should take a day off” she said pushing herself off the bar and preparing drinks for other who had just walked in. She had a great memory and knew exactly what drink to make each person, this didn’t make Javi seem as special to her as he would like, but she did seem to spend more time talking to him then anyone else in the bar. “You’ll work yourself to death”

“If only” he laughed dryly “anything to get out of this...constant loop of failure” he took his drink in his hand and gently swirled the amber liquid.

“Javier, in all seriousness, I really do think you should have at least one day off. It’s not healthy working as much as you do, especially in the job that you do” she served a few others, giving them polite smiles as she continued talking to Javi.

“It’s because of what I do that I don’t think I’ll be able to get a day off” he said. She let out a defeated sigh and came back to stand in front of him again.

“I still think you should try” she said

“And do what, on my hypothetical day off?”

“Well, you could hypothetically relax. Take some time for yourself. Or...we could...hypothetically maybe go out..or something” her gaze had shifted to the cloth she used to wipe down the bar which suddenly seemed like the most interesting thing in the world.

“You mean like a hypothetical date?” He asked takin a smug sip of his now empty drink.

She took the glass from him and began to refill it “unless you don’t want to...in which case that’s fine...”

“And... what if I did want too?” He asked as she set his refilled glass in front of him. “What would you say?”

“Then I’d say ask for a day off, and that I work 6-10pm Monday through Friday and 5-11:30pm on weekends” she smiled sheepishly as she went about cleaning a glass before filling it for another customer.

“I think,” he began, rather proudly, “If I’m taking a day off, hypothetically of course, then you should take a day off too”

“I only work nights Javi” she chuckled.

“That may be” he hummed, swirling the amber liquid in his glass “but those nights must be long. Especially when you have people like me giving you sob stories”

“I don’t mind it” she said quietly as she lent on the bar. He instinctively moved forward looking at her with fondness in his eyes which she returned. “It’s good company”

“Yeah?” He said just as quietly, a softness in his voice that was new to her. It was as if in that moment all his worries had slipped away and he was just a normal guy with a normal girl.

“Yeah” she agreed softly.

“Tomorrow? Here, at six?” He offered quickly.

“It’s a date” she smiled.

Tomorrow, there, at six couldn’t come quick enough for him. He had somehow managed to grab a day off which didn’t do him any favours. He should’ve been relaxing but he was far too excited to relax. He felt young. Like a lovesick teenager asking his crush out or something. But in some respects, that what he was. He certainly liked her, no one made his day quite like she did. He was giddy at the thought of actually going in a date with her.

Luckily for him, the day seemed to fly past and soon it was coming up on six. Javi pulled up to the bar and made his way inside. She wasn’t behind the bar. Instead it was a young blonde girl who he had never seen before. But he wasn’t too bothered about that. His girl was sat at the bar swirling her drink in her glass before taking a sip of it.

He couldn’t help but smile. Butterflies swirled in his stomach. He felt amazing. He was quick to compose himself and casually walked over to the bar taking up the seat beside her. She didn’t clock him at first, only turning to look at him when he spoke.

“So, do you come here often?” He asked in a smooth voice, hiding his giddiness well.

She turned her head and looked at him. Her eyes softened as soon as they met his and she smiled softly at him as she placed her drink back down. “Considering I work here,” she said “yes. What about you? Are you a frequent visitor or are you just passing by?” She asked resting her elbow in the bar and her chin on her open palm as she looked at him with the same fondness as the day before.

“Frequent. But with company like this, can you blame me?”

“Certainly not” she smiled.

He gave her a quick scan up and down, a soft smile finding its way to his face, “you look positively stunning tonight”

(Y/N) let out a nervous laugh and turned her gaze away from him briefly “thank you Javi. You don’t look too bad yourself” she said looking back at him “clearly a day off has refreshed you”

“I have to admit, I haven’t done much relaxing”

“Oh? What have you been doing instead?”

Being far too excited about this date is what he wanted to say. “Just stuff” he said “my job had made it so I find it pretty much impossible to sit down for a while”

“That’s a real shame. I think I relaxed too much” she laughed “I didn’t get out of bed until 1. I was still in my pyjamas an hour ago”

He laughed at her words. He ordered a drink and they moved to a free table near the back of the bar where they sat, drank, spoke and laughed for the remainder of the night. Right up until closing time. Maybe he didn’t spend his day relaxing, but that night with her made him feel more relaxed then he ever had in his life.

But nothing good lasts forever. And they both soon found themselves outside her apartment. “Well, this is me” she said gesturing awkwardly to the door.

“I really enjoyed tonight” they both said at the same time making them both laugh.

“I really did” Javi continued, “and I should thank you. If it weren’t for you, I probably would be working myself to death. But it was nice to have a day off. A real one”

“You don’t need to thank me. You deserve a break. You work so hard and do so much for the people in this country and quite possibly the world. That’s a heavy burden to bear. But you bear it because it’s the right thing to do. Even if you have to shake the wrong hands to get there”

“I wish I shared your confidence” he said “sometimes I think we’re no worse then they are...”

She stepped forwards and placed a soft kiss on his cheek “you’re nothing like they are. You’re a good person Javi. A good person, with a kind heart. And I’m always here for you should you need me”

For a moment they stood in silence looking at each other before Javi made the move, taking her face between his hands and pressing his lips to hers. She brought her hands to rest on his waist lightly as she sunk into his kiss which she had long desired. It was so much better then she could’ve ever imagined. It was so gentle and loving, but yet a passion in it that made her stomach flip every which way possible.

He slowly pulled away from her, resting his forehead against hers. She smiled as they swapped their hand positions, his hands falling to her waist whilst her hands rose to rest on his cheeks. “I feel like that was long overdue” he said. She laughed softly and hummed with a nod.

“Yes. But hopefully we can make up for lost time” she said.

“Oh, for sure” he said before kiss her again, this time a little more deeply, a little more passionately. But it was just as thing were really staring to get going that the clicking of a door was heard, ignored at first but then a voice came which was less ignorable.

“(Y/N)? ¿Eres tú, querida?” (Is that you, dear?) A aged female voice came from two doors down. (Y/N)’s landlord. A nice lady, a very sweet lady. A lot nicer then most landlords in the world. (Y/N) and Javi pulled away from each other and (Y/N) looked over to the older lady, Mrs Ortega. She was wearing a light pink dressing gown, slippers and a night cap over her grey hair. Round glasses on her nose but she still had to squint to see the figures clearly.

“sí, señora Ortega. Lo siento, no quise despertarte” (Yes, Mrs Ortega. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you) (Y/N) apologised quietly, wondering if she would end up waking any other who were in the floor.

“Veo que tienes una amiga contigo” (I see you have a friend) she said with a hint of a smirk as she looked between (Y/N) and Javi who were still very close to each other.

“buenas noches señora” (good evening, ma’am) Javi said politely with a slight nod.

“Los dejo a los dos. Buenas noches querido” (I’ll leave you both to it. Good night, dear) she turned with a slight wave and waddled back into her apartment.

“buenas noches” (good night) (Y/N) called back quietly before the door was shut. She turned back to Javi who was looking lovingly at her, his nose now pressed against hers.

“tu español es sexy” (your Spanish is sexy) Javi said in a deep voice. “I never knew it was that good”

“I’m glad you think it’s good” she smiled. She paused for a moment and looked down, thinking over her next words. “Would-Would you like to come in?” She asked in a small voice, scared of rejection from him.

“Yes” He said simply. She smiled and turned to unlock her door “I have a late start tomorrow, so we should be fine”

“What do you think we would get up to to make you late anyway?” She asked as she opened her door and turned back to face him.

“Something hypothetical” he said before wrapping his arms around her and kissing her again as they fell into her apartment.

09/12/20

#javier peña #javier peña x reader #javier peña fanfic #narcos #fluff #Pedro Pascal #fanfic

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connordavidscamera · 4 years

Text

You Make It Hard to Miss You | Connor Brashier

A/n: here is part 2 of Saying Goodbye, so sorry for the wait. Also, I cried writing this so oops.

Summary: You and Connor are trying to navigate this whole long distance thing, but it’s not seeming much like long distance.

Warnings: angst mostly (I cried while writing it, so like, I lowkey hope you do too or I’m not doing something right)

Word count: 3.2k

***

The first two weeks are the hardest. He’s been so busy with classes, getting accustomed to campus life and everything there that he hasn’t really had time to talk. And while the first week was supposed to be syllabus week, he already had homework. So our texts were minimal, our talks were short, and our FaceTime calls consisted mostly of him trying to do homework while I worked on editing photos with little to no conversation going on until I eventually just fell asleep.

It was… hell, to say the least. And nights were the worst because part of me is still expecting him to show up at my window like he did literally almost every night before. So that’s probably what makes this the hardest. I knew from the beginning that him leaving was going to be hard. I knew it was gonna put a strain on us. We went from seeing each other every day at school, and practically spending every moment of our weekends together, for two years – well, almost. Our two year anniversary is at the end of next month. But that’s not the point. The point is he’s moving on with his life, as he should because he needs to focus on school and working toward his career. And I’m so tremendously proud of what he’s doing and where he’s going. I am.

It just… Well, it still hurts though.

My thumb hovers over the call button. I know I shouldn’t call him. It’s late and he’s probably sleeping, or he’s busy with his work. I shouldn’t do it, but I do. The phone rings twice before he answers.

“Hey, kid!” He sounds chipper, much happier than I’ve heard him in a few weeks. But I guess to be fair I haven’t heard much from him at all the past few weeks either.

I clear my throat, swallowing the lump growing my throat from just hearing him. “H-hey.” I take the bear he gave me before he left and cradle it against my chest. It’s starting to lose a little of its scent. But that’s definitely because I’ve been cuddling and crying into it for the past two weeks.

I pray he doesn’t catch my hesitance, but he’s Connor, of course he notices.

“Hey, what’s wrong, baby? Is everything okay?”

I take in a breath, “No, yeah. Everything’s fine. I just,” I shrug. “I just wanted to check on you. Haven’t heard from you in a couple days, so I was just getting a little worried. But you’re alive,” I force a chuckle. “You sound good. Are you doing good?”

“I’m okay.” He pauses for a while. “I miss you, kid.”

I stutter on a breath, “I miss you, too, Brash.”

If he hears my struggle to breathe, he doesn’t mention it and I’m grateful. “Are you getting ready for bed right now? It’s late, don’t you have the first pep rally tomorrow? You’re charging your camera batteries? You know the ones in the camera closet are never charged.”

I don’t know how he manages to get me to crack a smile, but I do. “Yeah, I’m charging my batteries.”

“Good.” He says, and for the first time, I can hear the rustling on the other side of the phone. He sounds like he’s walking.

“Hey, I didn’t call at a bad time, did I? You sound like you’re outside. Are you with friends right now? I’m sorry. I’ll call you back some other time.”

He just chuckles. “No. Don’t hang up. You’re not interrupting anything. Hey, random question.”

“Okay?” I furrow my brows.

He grunts and the rustling gets louder on his side. “Is your window unlocked?”

I turn my head toward the window and nod before remembering that he can’t see me. “Um, sorry. Yeah, it is. Why?”

“Well because I’m climbing your tree and I wanted to make sure I wasn’t locked out.”

“You’re what? Connor!”

“Give me a minute, kid, it’s hard to talk and climb at the same time. Just open your window for me, okay?”

“Connor-“

“I love you,” he says before hanging up. I rush to my window to open it and then grab one of my extra blankets to push under the door to keep our voices from carrying down the hall. I’m turning around just as he’s climbing in my window. He sits on the window pane while he slips his shoes off, so not to track mud on my floor. Not that I’d even care at this point because he’s here in my room after weeks of not being here. When his shoes are off, he stands and looks up at me with a bright smile on his face. “Hi,” he says softly.

I bite the inside of my cheek before basically tackling him. My arms wrap tightly around his neck as his wrap around my waist, his head burying in my neck. We sway from side to side while I cry silently into his chest. He sighs, kissing my shoulder. “There’s my girl. Missed holding you.”

That only makes me clutch him tighter. “Don’t let go,” I beg.

He chuckles and I feel the vibration from his chest against my cheek. It’s magic and I never want to lose this moment. “Wasn’t planning on it,” he says. “But I wanna lay down with you, so you either have to walk yourself backward with me or wrap your legs around me so I can walk us.”

I smile and start walking back until my legs hit the mattress and we’re falling clumsily onto my bed. I stifle my laughter into his shirt and we shift awkwardly until I’m laying on my back and my legs spread open to accommodate for him. He smiles and looks up at my, moving my hair off my neck.

“Hi,” I say quietly, looking into those beautiful blue-green eyes that I’ve missed so much.

“Hey,” he mumbles back. “You look pretty.”

I blush and move my hand from the back of his neck, where I’ve been playing with his hair to cover his eyes. “Shut up.”

He takes my hand and moves it to his lips where he presses kiss after kiss to my skin. “I’ve missed looking at you.”

“Bub,” I’d pout. “I’ve missed you too.” We don’t speak for a while, he just rests his head on my chest and rubs his thumb over my barely exposed hip, while I continue to play with his hair. “Your hair’s grown a little,” I muse.

“Mhm, haven’t had a chance to get it cut yet.” He mumbles into my shirt.

“I like it.”

“Yeah?”

I nod, “Yeah. More to play with.”

I feel his smirk before I see it as he looks up at me again. “Or to tug on while we make out.”

My cheeks heat at his statement. “Mhm… maybe. Haven’t tested that out yet though.”

He nods. “Maybe we could?” He asks hopefully. And how could I deny him when I haven’t felt his lips on mine in weeks.

“Yeah,” I nod. “I think we should.”

He doesn’t waste a second more before his lips are covering mine in a way that makes me feel so much love. I couldn’t explain it to you, the feeling I get in the pit of my stomach when he kisses me, or touches me, or hell, even just looks at me. There’s something about the way he holds me close to him that makes me feel seen. And even now, after two years together and weeks apart, he’s still making me feel seen.

It’s not butterflies that I feel with him. No, it’s much more than that. So much more. I hum into the kiss and on instinct reach for his hair. He grins when I tug on it a little harder than usual. After minutes of breathless kisses, he pulls back, forehead on mine. “Well I think I’ll let my hair grow out a little more.”

“Yeah,” I breathe, chasing his lips. “Let’s do that.” I swallow more air and then we’re kissing again, harder now, needier. I wrap my leg around his before flipping us over so that I’m on top of him now. His hands are on my ass, kneading and groping like he’s trying to get me closer to him but can’t. But when I get that feeling in my stomach that things are going too far for my comfort, I hum and start to pull away. He knows the sign, so he lets up, chasing my lips for three more kisses before laying back against my pillows.

“You okay?” He asks, rubbing his hand up and down the outside of my thigh in an attempt to calm my racing heart.

“I’m good.” I clear my throat and sit back, still straddling his waist. “I don’t want to ruin the moment,” I say quietly, playing with my fingers. “But can I ask you a question?”

“You can always ask me a question.”

I sigh, “How can you be here right now? Don’t you have class tomorrow morning?”

He shrugs. “it’s just econ. I’ll make it up.”

“Connor.”

“Oh, come on, y/n. I missed you.”

“Well I missed you too, but-“

“I really missed you. And I couldn’t wait any longer to see you.”

“Not even a day? You could have come for the game, stayed the weekend.”

“Well I still can,” he says. “I mean, I ‘ll have to drive back tomorrow to get my laptop and some clothes, but I can do that while you’re at school and be back in time to pick you up. How does that sound?” He grins, taking my hand in his.

“Like a dream.”

“A good one, I hope. We don’t do bad dreams here.”

I can’t fight the smile that lights up my face. “A good one,” I concur. “But bub, that’s a lot of driving. And a lot of money on gas. You need to be there.”

“No,” he shakes his head. “Right now? Right now I need to be cuddling my girlfriend because I miss her and it’s been two weeks since I’ve seen her pretty face and tasted her soft lips and held her in my arms. Right now I need to be with you. It does my heart good being with you.”

I lean forward and kiss his lips once more. “Yeah, mine too.”

---

The coming back and forth persists for three weeks. Except now he’s coming back home three to four times a week, and I don’t mean just like a Monday, Wednesday, Friday thing. I mean he’s coming Monday night, driving back early to make his nine am Tuesday and driving back that night, then driving home even earlier for his eight am on Wednesday. He’s not giving himself breaks and it’s making me worry. About him, about his grades. Because that’s four total hours that he’s driving a day, then he has two or three classes during the day. When is he having time to study and do his work?

Which is what I bring up to him when he steps into my room again. “Are you doing your work?”

“Well hello to you, too, kid,” he chuckles.

“Connor. Are you getting your work done? Because this coming back and forth everyday is not good for you. You’re spending a lot of money on gas, you’re missing out on sleep. I’m worried about you.”

“Hey,” he sits on my bed next to me and takes my hands. “I’m okay. I’m getting my work done. I’m turning it in. And don’t worry about how much I’m spending on gas, I’m not worried about it.”

“And your sleeping? But you’re waking up at five or six in the morning so you can make it to your morning classes and you’re not getting here until ten, eleven o’clock. Sometimes we won’t fall asleep until midnight or one. You’re not getting enough sleep.”

“I’m getting plenty. Stop worrying, baby. I’m okay. I promise. I wouldn’t be doing this if I thought it was messing with my work? Okay?”

I sigh, “Okay. But you’ll tell me if it is, right? Because I promise I’ll be okay if you can’t come over.”

“I won’t.” he says and kisses my knuckles. “But I’ll tell you. Now, since you mentioned your worries of my sleep schedule, you think we can lay down?”

“Yeah,” I’d nod, leaning over to place my book on my nightstand. “We can.”

But for the next few days I can’t shake this feeling that he isn’t doing as good as he’s leading on. He doesn’t think I’ve noticed, but he’s leaving later and later each time, so if he’s going to class, I know he’s got to be getting there late. And I know that he’s at least missed his econ and psych classes three times now.

So that’s why we have to have this discussion tonight. Because I know he’s about ten minutes out and we can’t keep doing this to ourselves. So I wait, cross legged on my bed, with my bear (that he recently sprayed again, leaving me a bottle of his cologne that he knows I love so much) in my lap. I’m playing with the fur on the ears when he slips in my window with a soft thud of his shoes against the floor.

“Why the long face?” he asks, with an amused grin on his face.

“We need to talk, Connor.”

He frowns, “I don’t like the sound of that.”

“Please? Just sit down?”

“Okay?” He moves across the floor and sits in front of me, his body facing the window, but his head turned to look at me. “Is everything okay?”

I sigh because this is harder than I thought it would be. “You have to stop coming over?”

“Wh-what? Why? What did I – what did I do?”

“You’ve missed classes, Connor. And you keep getting here earlier and leaving here later. I just – you can’t keep missing class because you’re driving here and back almost every day. It’s not fair to you.”

“Okay… first of all, I’m gonna need you to stop calling me ‘Connor.’ Hearing my name like that, from you makes me nervous. And second,” he shrugs. “I’ve been looking for a way to tell you I kinda hate econ, anyway.”

I shake my head, and roll my eyes. “This isn’t funny. This is real, okay? You are there, at college, two hours away. That’s where you need to be. Not here. Your life is not here anymore, it’s there. Your future, your career, it all starts there. You can’t come back every other night.”

“My life is here. Sitting right in front of me. My life is telling me to stop coming to see her and I don’t understand why because I’m doing fine with my classes. My grades are fine. I’m keeping up.”

“Connor, you’re making it hard to miss you. You’re making it hard to get used to us being in different zip codes. You’re making it hard for me. Because I was just starting to get used to you being gone and then you showed up and now I’m used to you being here again and it’s not fair because you’re not here. You’re there.”

“Well maybe I don’t want to be,” he argues. “Maybe I want to be here. With you.”

“No,” I shake my head again. “This can’t keep happening. It’s too hard. I love you. I love you more than anything else in this world. You know I do. Which is why I need you to stop showing up three, four times a week.”

“That doesn’t make any sense. You love me. I love you too, and I miss seeing you every day and falling asleep next you. I come back because I need to see you. Because hearing you say you’re okay over the phone isn’t enough for me. I need to see it with my own two eyes. I miss you, kid. I don’t know what else to say.”

I close my eyes and swallow the lump in my throat. “But by showing up like this… you’re making it hard for me to miss you.”

“Why is that a bad thing?”

“Because I’m gonna get used to this again and it’s gonna hurt even more when you really can’t just show up because I didn’t learn how to cope with missing you. I’ve become so dependent on you, Connor, and I told myself I would never do that.”

He nods and looks down at his hands. “So what does this mean then? I just, stop coming to see you all together?”

“Or at least during the week,” I shrug. “I don’t know. I don’t know if this is gonna make this easier or harder. We’ve never had to go through this. We’re learning. I just think that what we’re doing right now is not what’s best for us.”

He sniffles, “Fine.”

“Don’t be mad. Bub, please don’t be mad.”

“I’m not. I’m not mad. I just, wish we weren’t going through this.”

I lean forward and press my forehead against his shoulder. “Me too. I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t. It’s my fault.”

“No, what – it’s not.”

“I was the one that kept putting off the conversation of what we were gonna do when I left. I kept saying we didn’t have to talk about it because nothing was gonna change. I’m still Connor, you’re still y/n. I’m bub, you’re kid. I just,” he sighs. “I wasn’t ready to let go.”

“Let go?” I look up at him. “Are we letting go?” I ask with tears in my eyes. “I don’t want to let go. No, bub. Bo.”

He shakes his head, taking my face in his hands. “Not letting go. Not ever letting you go. I mean letting go of our normal. I didn’t want to entertain the idea of a new normal. But now I know that not talking about it just worsened this, I guess.”

I choke on a sob, “Why does this feel like you’re trying to say goodbye right now?”

“Hey,” he wraps his arms around me and pulls me to his chest. “I’m not saying goodbye. I’m not. You will hear those words come out of my mouth. I refuse. We’ll work on it. You said we’re learning. So we’ll learn and we’ll get better and we’ll be even stronger, okay?”

I nod, sniffling. “You know I’m not pushing you away, right?”

He sighs and kisses my forehead. “I know. I know, kid.” After a few minutes of this, he speaks up again. “Come on. Let’s get some sleep.”

I swallow in more air and agree, “Okay.”

So we lay down, him as the big spoon, and me the little spoon. “I love you,” he whispers into my hair.

My lip trembles and I stutter on my breath. “I love you.”

---

I don’t know what wakes me at five, but I know it’s not Connor like it usually is. I turn to my side, reaching for him on instinct, my eyes still closed. But I come up empty and panic sets in. “Connor,” I say, sitting up, searching my room with sleep filled eyes. But he’s nowhere in sight, his phone isn’t on the nightstand, his shoes aren’t on the floor near the window. He’s not here.

I whimper and lay down, snatching up my bear because it’s the closest thing I have. And I cry silently into his fur because I know Connor said it wasn’t goodbye, but it sure as hell felt like it was.

***

I hope you enjoyed! Please like, reblog, and leave feedback!!

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#connor brashier #connor brashier x reader #connor brashier x y/n #connor brashier imagines #connor brashier imagine #connor brashier blurb #shawn mendes #shawn mendes fanfiction

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mldrgrl · 4 years

Note

I've been re-reading your old works for the Revival like Recocering Nicely and Flannel Pajamas,....I miss them being an old married couple doing domestic stuffs so much, can you write something like that again?

Friday Night by: mldrgrl Rating: PG Note: Set during season 10, erasing any season 11 from the table

Fridays are full of anticipation nowadays. At first, when they were just starting to get back on track, more often than not he was going home alone. But, now, he can’t remember the last time Friday rolled around and she didn’t have her weekend bag with her. There’s nothing he looks forward to more than a Friday night.

They take one car out to the house, usually his, leaving the other in the parking garage at work until Monday. The ride is long, but comfortable. Scully rests her hand on his arm across the seat and they talk about mundane things that aren’t about work. Mulder wants to cut the grass if there isn’t any frost in the morning. He loaded the crock pot with the stuff for that stew Scully likes this morning. Hopefully he remembered to turn it on before he left. That new thing Scully found online to weatherproof the windows came in. He needs to put in the order for the wood for the stove to be delivered soon.

“An hour and change,” Mulder says, stopping the car in front of their gate. “New record.”

“You really need to think about installing the remote.”

“I like the exercise.” He leans close to her as he unbuckles his seatbelt and gives her a peck on the cheek. She cups his chin with a backwards hand for a moment and then unbuckles her own belt.

Scully takes over in the driver’s seat as Mulder handles the gate. She drives down the dirt road slowly, avoiding the dips and bumps up to the front. She’s got her overnight bag from the trunk and Mulder’s dry cleaning that they stopped to pick up weighing her down by the time he’s made it to the car. He takes the dry cleaning from her and places a hand to the small of her back as they ascend the porch steps.

“My nose is telling me I didn’t forget to turn the crock pot on,” he says, opening the door for her.

“Gonna change first. Looks like we’re in for a beautiful sunset. Want to eat outside?”

“Sure.”

He puts the dry cleaning away while she puts on a pair of sweats and a long-sleeved shirt. He turns on the radio. It’s still on the classical channel Scully last had it on and he leaves it be, coming into what sounds like The Planets Suite. He thinks he recognizes Jupiter. He thinks about setting up the telescope.

While Scully dishes out the stew, he changes into jeans and a light sweater. Noticing a bit of a chill, he brings one of the blankets from the couch with him after he grabs the bowl left for him on the counter to join her. She tucks it around her and they eat to the strains of Holst in the background as twilight begins its takeover.

They head back inside when it turns grey and too chilly. Scully separates the leftover stew into two containers, one to store for leftovers for the weekend and the other to freeze for later. She washes the dishes and Mulder dries.

“Did you bring the paper in?” he asks.

“In my bag,” she answers.

“We need under 36 minutes to beat last week.”

“36 minutes and 14 seconds.”

“Across or down?”

“Down.”

They huddle close on the couch and Mulder opens the newspaper to the crossword. He folds it appropriately while Scully starts the timer on her phone. Mulder starts with the clues running across and Scully starts with the clues running down. They have a goal of beating each week’s previous time.

“Oh, they’re being cheeky,” Mulder says. “They’ve got the question marks in here.”

“You like the cheeky ones.”

“When they’re clever.”

After ten minutes, they switch directions.

“Life source?” Scully asks. “Is that the cheeky one?”

“You get the answer?”

“M-I-blank-blank-blank-N-blank-R-A-”

“Milton Bradley,” he answers, before she finishes.

“Clever or not?” she asks, filling in the blanks.

“They’ve done better. Hey, you’re supposed to fill-in all the Latin clues.”

“Mulder, do you know how many 3-letter Latin 101 words there are?”

“How many end in O?”

“Too many.”

“I think it starts with an E.”

“Ego.”

“I should’ve known that.”

“I’ll say.”

He bumps her shoulder with his and she chuckles. They switch for a second time a few minutes later and then they’re racing against the clock. He puts down his pen when there’s nothing but a corner left.

“You always leave the Tolkein monsters clue blank,” Scully huffs.

“I didn’t have 5 down yet, it still could be orcs or ents.”

“Ents. 5 down is Etsy.”

“What the hell is an etsy?”

“Online craft store. You know it, it’s where I got those bath bombs you liked.”

“The eucalyptus ones? You should get more of those.”

“I’ll see if they still have them. Time!”

“33 and 51 seconds. High five g-woman!” He grabs her hand when she slaps his and laces their fingers together. “Seriously, though, you need to go to the etsy store and get more of those bath bombs.”

“Remind me tomorrow.”

“Movie?”

“I’m thinking a shower and then bed.” She moves to stand, but he pulls her down to his lap. She chuckles and drapes her arms around his neck.

“Scully, do you remember back in the day when we used to pull all-nighters like it was nothing and now we’re lucky if we make it past nine?”

“Seems we used up all our reserve energy when we were young.”

“Younger, don’t go calling us old.”

“You brought it up first.” She gives him a brief kiss on the lips and then he lets her go.

While she showers, he takes the newspaper to the recycle bin and sets up the coffee maker for the morning. He checks the locks on the front door and the back door and pulls the shades in the living room and kitchen. He pulls his sweater off as he heads upstairs and tosses it on the bed before he goes into the bathroom. Scully has finished her shower and sits on the closed toilet in a towel, massaging lotion into her legs. The room is humid from the shower and the mirror is fogged over.

“I set the coffee for 7,” he says, pulling his toothbrush and toothpaste from the medicine cabinet. “Too early?”

“It’s fine.” She makes a noise and he turns. She has her hands held out to him and he puts the toothbrush and toothpaste on the side of the sink and gives her his hands so she can massage the extra lotion into his hands and arms.

“Is this new? It smells like oranges.”

“Yeah, some vitamin C thing a salesperson at the mall talked me into.”

“You hate the mall.” He pastes his toothbrush and starts brushing his teeth.

“I do, but sometimes the Labor Day sales are too hard to resist. 2 for 1 bras at Victoria’s Secret, I had to go.”

“What, now?” Mulder turns towards her and pulls the toothbrush out of his mouth. Foam coats his lips. She laughs lightly and shakes her head.

“Kidding,” she says. “But, good to know you’re still interested in my lingerie.”

“I might be old, but I’m not dead.”

Scully smiles and stands on tiptoes to kiss the corner of Mulder’s mouth. She pats his chest lightly and then rubs a bit of toothpaste residue from her bottom lip. He turns to finish brushing his teeth, wiping fog away from the mirror to watch her move comfortably around the room and get ready for bed. He waits until she’s dropped the towel and slipped her t-shirt on to spit and rinse.

She tosses his shirt at his head when he steps into the bedroom. He grins and hangs it up and then they turn the bed down together. He sheds his jeans and then opens the window just a crack to let some fresh air in.

“Almost time to pull out the flannel sheets,” she says, as he gets into bed.

“I’ll keep you warm,” he answers, wrapping an arm around her under the covers and sliding her into his chest. She laughs and wiggles out of his hold as he tickles the back of her neck and shoulder with his lips.

Briefly, Scully turns her head back and after several soft kisses, she pulls away to turn over and shut off the lamp. Mulder rolls onto his back and she settles on her side after punching the pillow flat a few times. Five minutes pass and then she sighs.

“Are you still awake?” she asks.

“Mmhm,” he answers.

She turns over to face him and he turns his head towards her. “I’ve been thinking about something,” she says. “Something I think we need to talk about.”

“Okay.” He turns over as well and folds his arm under his head.

“The lease on my place is up at the end of October. I don’t think I’m going to renew.”

“Oh? So, what are you thinking?”

“The commute out here is not ideal. Especially with winter coming. I was wondering if you might want to find a place in the city. Or closer to the city. Together.”

“Get rid of the house?”

“No, never. This is...this is our home.”

He nods in agreement. He’s always thought of it as their home, whether she’s been in it or not.

“I was thinking just a place we can be at during the week,” she continues. “And we’ll still come out here on the weekends.”

He mulls it over. As much as he wants to be with her and wants to return to the life they once shared, he has some reservations.

“Mulder?” she asks. “You’re never this quiet. What are you thinking?”

“You know I want this more than anything,” he answers. “But, what if this is only working because you got the space you wanted? And we’ve never done the living and working together thing before. It would be new. What if we recommit and then it becomes too much?”

She contemplates the ceiling for some time and he reaches out to stroke her hair and cup her cheek.

“I thought, at the time, that leaving was the right thing to do,” she says. “I know that I accused you of being a weight that was pulling me down into your depression and despair, but in hindsight, it was the other way around.”

“I never felt that way.”

“I know, but I did. I thought returning to medicine would be satisfying. I thought it was the key to happiness. Something normal. Instead it just made me sad. And then I thought leaving was the only way to fix it, but I was wrong. Really, what I missed was us. Being with you, working with you, just you and me. I don’t feel whole without you.”

“Hey now, that’s my line,” he whispers, running his thumb over her cheek.

“It’s true.”

“So, we’re doing this? Full time?”

“I’m ready for it if you are.”

“Bring it on, honey.”

She chuckles and they slide closer to rest their heads together. Their legs tangle and arms move to hold on to each other. He’s filled with a new sense of anticipation. He won’t ever have to wonder anymore if she’ll be coming with him Friday nights.

The End

#i wrote this #xf fanfic #msr #housetrained #old married couple #Anonymous

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rjhpandapaws · 4 years

Text

A Cup of Something Better

Ch 10: Down to the Wire

This was it, the week that had been two years in the making, his last finals week as a gen ed student. Assuming he passed all his tests, he would be able to take the nurses exam the following Friday. If he passed that he be enrolled into the nursing program for the fall semester. Five tests over three days, not the worst test load that he'd dealt with. The fact that they were between five and eleven at night was a pain in the ass.

He'd asked for the week off from the cafe so he could have more time to study. Some of the time he spent studying was also spent at the cafe, he preferred the idle chatter over the silence of his apartment.

Connor was spending the morning at the cafe again, going over calculus today. He had an Iced Americano that was helping to keep him concentrated. He'd had a few late nights that he was beginning to feel the effects of. His first set of tests was tonight, calculus and art history. Tomorrow was biology and mythology. The day after being his sociology final. Hank thankfully didn't have a final for his class so Connor had a chance to recuperate before his nurses exam.

He finished the problem he was working on and sat back rubbing at his face to try and wake up more. He needed to focus. He took another drink of his coffee and looked around the cafe, it was almost empty. As one would expect at ten in the morning on a Monday. He finished his coffee and figured he could use the break to order another drink. Hopefully he'd be more awake afterward.

He headed for the counter and ordered his usual before heading back to the table. Refueled and somewhat ready to go again, he sat back down and got back to work.

Connor woke up sometime later to North knocking on the table. He looked up to find that it wasn’t North, but Hank, though the red haired she-devil was behind the counter laughing.

“So, uh, North asked me to bring you this.” Hank said after a moment, setting the bigger of the two cups on the table, “she also said that knocking on the table would wake you up.”

“Thanks.” Connor took the cup and yawned, “you can sit down if you want. I’m just studying.”

Hank chuckled as he took a seat, “planning on learning through osmosis? I was lead to believe you had to be awake in order to study properly.”

Connor rolled his eyes as he took a drink from what turned out to be a large cup filled with just espresso shots, “I’ll do whatever works at this point.” He covered a yawn and leaned forward, “how do you like having the week off? Getting any writing done?”

Hank laughed as Connor got back to work on his calculus, “I’ve gotten a couple of chapters into my manuscript and started a couple of short stories.”

Connor took another drink from his cup, “you’re planning to release another collection then?” He yawned, “how is Sumo doing?”

When Connor looked up Hank was looking at him with a concerned expression. HIs brow was furrowed and his sky blue eyes were clouded over with worry. Connor knew that he looked rough but he was pretty sure he wasn’t bad enough to warrant that level of concern.

“Sumo is doing fine.” Hank leaned forward and rested his forearms on the table, “can you answer something for me Connor?”

“Hmm?” Connor sat up from where he had been slouching into his textbook again, “what’s up?”

“How many days has it been since you’ve gotten a full night’s rest?” Hank watched as he took another drink of his ‘coffee’.

“Today is Monday so...” He counted back on his fingers, muttering the days of the week under his breath, “Saturday, I think. Why?”

Hank sighed, and the sound was pure disappointment, something that if it hadn’t been directed at Connor would have impressed him, “Since you’re the one of us going into nursing, I feel like I shouldn’t have to tell you what’s wrong with that Connor. Do me a favor and get some rest. You can’t keep going like this.”

“I sleep two hours before classes. I’ve increased my calorie intake and added more caffeine into the mix as well.” He stumbled over his words as he yawned again, “five hour energy and espresso have been life savers for me.”

“Connor.” Hank groaned, “I was in college too, so I can’t argue with you, but try and get at least get four hours today alright?” He put a hand up when Connor opened his mouth to argue, “I know your nurses exam is important to you Con, but what happens if you burn out before then? You’ll have to wait a whole semester to take it again.”

In theory Connor knew him to be correct, but he had so many tests and he wanted to make sure that he was ready, “I just don’t want to fail Hank, if I can’t pass these then I won’t even be taking the nurses exam.”

Connor could feel tears pooling behind his eyes from the lack of sleep as well as the stress. The nickname made Connor give a watery smile as he rubbed at his face trying to collect himself.

“Hey now, don’t cry.” Hank reached out and squeezed his wrist reassuringly, “I’ve gotten to see you at work Con, you’ve got these tests in the bag. Go home, get some rest.”

Connor let out a wet laugh and wiped his eyes with his free hand. After another reassuring squeeze Hank let go of his wrist and Connor began packing up his things and putting them back in his bag not quite managing to bite back another yawn. He was starting to think no amount of coffee was gonna help this. With everything packed he sat back and rubbed at his face again hoping to wake up a little more.

“Alright.” Connor said before he drank more of his coffee, “time to go home and nap I guess. Sorry you had to wake me.”

Hank chuckled, “Its no problem. Do you need a ride? The weather looks like its going to take a turn for the worse.”

Connor looked out the windows and despite it being early afternoon apparently, the sky was almost black and the wind was howling through the streets, “thanks, but I’ll just get a cab.”

Hank nodded and stood. They walked out together and parted ways at the parking lot with a wave. Connor hailed a cab and checked his phone which had been vibrating consistently since Hank had stood up. There were several new messages in the coffee shop group chat, probably because he had been crying.

The Coffee Crew:

Northern_Lights: Aww, you two are so cute together

Northern_Lights: Why are you crying?

Northern_Lights: Is it his fault? I’ll kick his ass if I have to

Northern_Lights: Holding hands?

Northern_Lights: You’re good then?

Northern_Lights: Connor?

RunawayArkait: North, everything is fine.

SimonSays: Are you sure? We saw you cry

RunawayArkait: I haven’t been sleeping and the stress from finals got to me

RunawayArkait: Hank kind of gave me a pep talk is all

SimonSays: Aww his name is Hank, that’s fitting

Northern_Lights: That had better been all. Or I will fight him.

RunawayArkait: It’s fine North. I’m gonna get some sleep then get to class

Northern_Lights: Sleep well

SimonSays: You got this!

Connor smiled at his phone as he paid and got out of the cab. He walked up to his apartment and set an alarm for a half hour before he needed to leave. He set his backpack by the door and went to change into pyjamas. Connor was still fighting off the embarrassment from having cried in front of Hank, if he needed to sleep anything off it was that. Hank probably found him to be weak and pathetic for having cried ever a few tests. Whatever chance, if he’d even had one, was gone.

He sighed and rubbed at his face again and climbed into bed, double checking that his alarm was on and also at full volume. He plugged his phone in and rolled over falling asleep almost instantly. When his alarm went off he hadn’t moved. The song blared to life yanking Connor violently back into consciousness. He groaned, sat up, and rubbed the sleep from his eyes He turned off the alarm and checked his phone. He had quite a few messages.

The Family Feud:

Sixty-Second-Set: You’ve got this Connor!

UnluckyNine: You’ll be a nurse in no time

RunawayArkait: Thank you

The Coffee Crew:

Northern_Lights: Good luck college boy!

SimonSays: Don’t worry alright? You’re a genius

What.Josh.Does: See you in calculus. Who ever scores the lowest buys drinks on Friday

RunawayArkait: Thanks guys. You’re on Josh.

Made-By_Markus messaged you!

Made-By_Markus: Good luck Connor!

RunawayArkait: Thank you Markus.

Connor dressed in his day clothes again and made a pot of coffee. Travel mug filled, he grabbed his bag and headed for the door. He pulled up his hood as he got to the parking lot since the storm picked up since his nap. He walked toward the road and caught a cab to head to the university. On the ride over he pulled out the notes he had taken for his calculus class and got in some last minute studying.

He arrived early and made his way to the Math and Science building. Josh was waiting at one of the hallway tables and waved Connor over. There were two paper Hand Brewed Hope cups on the table, when Connor took his seat Josh slid one over to him.

“Figured you could use the pick me up.” Connor took a drink of what turned out to be Chai Tea with cinnamon and nutmeg as Josh spoke, “I know finals week is rough on you.”

Connor gave a dry chuckle, “It’s just stressful, and even more than usual this time because of the nurses exam.” He sighed softly, “You had tow tests earlier today. How do you think you did?”

He was distracting himself, but thankfully Josh let him, “Good. I was more confident for my philosophy exam than I was for chemistry, but it is what it is. Once I finish this up I’ll get to move on to student teaching. Which I’m looking forward to.”

Connor smiled, Josh was excited to becoming a teacher. He was going to be missed at the cafe but he would have more fun as a teacher, “You’ll be great at it. Those kids are going to adore you.”

Josh beamed at him and Connor took another drink from his tea, “I’m gonna miss the cafe though.”

“We’re gonna miss you too.” Connor said kindly, “I’m sorry that I can’t join you guys this weekend but I’m going to be getting ready for my nurses exam.”

“It’s alright Connor. We know how much this means to you, so no one is holding it against you.” Josh responded with a gentle smile.

When it came time to, they grabbed their things and headed for class. Josh gave Connor’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze before he headed for his seat at the back of the class. Connor headed for his as well, letting out a shaky sigh. He had an ‘A’ in this class, he could handle one last test. Probably.

The two hour test block seemed to crawl by. He fell into routine, solving the problems as he went and then checking them over when he had finished. Then, just to be sure, he checked them again. With a half hour left in the test block he grabbed his things, turned in his completed exam, and made his way to building one to study for his art history final. Having found a bench to sit at and go over his notes, he sent a few messages.

The Family Feud:

RunawayArkait: Calculus is done, just Art History left

RunawayArkait: Just finished calculus

UnluckyNine: Good job! You’ve got this one in the bag too

Sixty-Second-Set: Look at you go!

SimonSays: Bet you nailed it

Northern_Lights: Nicely done, you beat Josh

RunawayArkait: Calculus is done

Made-By_Markus: Congratulations Connor!

Connor was smiling as he put his phone away as he put his phone away and began to study, wanting to be as prepared as possible for the final. He packed up when the door to the lecture hall opened. When the class had emptied he took his seat and got ready for his exam.

This two hour block went by a little. Though that was probably because he had the confidence of having finished one already. When he finished this one he could go home and sleep for a couple hours before he got back to studying. This final took him a little longer but he finished it with ten minutes to spare. If he napped in the cab he could spend even more time studying. He probably wouldn’t though, he hated sleeping in cars. He sent messages as he headed out.

The Family Feud:

RunawayArkait: Done for the night

UnluckyNine: Nice. Now you can get some rest

The Coffee Crew:

Sixty-Second-Set: You’ll be a nurse in no time

RunawayArkait: First day of finals is over

What.Josh.Does: Congrats! Meet me at building 27 and I’ll give you a ride home

SimonSays: Three more to go, you’ve got this

Northern_Lights: You’re doing great

@Made-By_Markus

RunawayArkait: Thanks. I’ll be there soon Josh

RunawayArkait: One night down, two to go

Made-By_Markus: Don’t forget to get some rest.

Tuesday morning found him back at the cafe, is biology textbook as well as the semester’s notes spread over the table. He’d been at this since about midnight; rotating between biology, mythology, sociology, and subjects that would be covered on the nurses exam. His travel mug still had some coffee in it so he hadn’t bought a drink yet and he also had a couple of five hour energy shots in his bag if needed them. He figured he would, because despite the extra sleep he had gotten yesterday, Connor could still feel exhaustion hanging off of him.

After a couple hours he switched from biology to mythology when his concentration started to wane. When that didn’t work he grabbed a five hour energy bottle and got in line to order. He tossed the bottle between his hands without looking at it, occasionally tossing it straight up only to catch it and start the cycle over again. He had put it back in his university sweatshirt pocket by the time it was his turn to order. He was ordering a drink that North had made up that wasn’t on the menu, so he said it out loud.

“I’ll take a large Due North, Simon.” Connor said around a yawn and Simon looked at him with concern.

“You do know that drink is basically just straight espresso with a couple pumps of chocolate syrup right?” Simon was typing the drink in anyway, “with how much coffee you drink in a day, I’m worried you might vibrate out of existence.”

“I’ll be fine Simon,” Connor said as he paid for his drink, “I just need a little extra help staying awake today is all.”

“If you’re sure Connor,” Simon said as he handed the cup off to Josh who looked at it with worry.

While he stood in the crowd to wait out his drink he got out his lucky quarter and began to toss it between his hands. He would stop and roll it over is knuckles, toss it straight up, catch it and then start over. On the third pass his drink was called, he pocketed the coin as he walked up to the counter. He thanked Josh and took his drink. When he got back to the table he took the lid off of the cup and added the energy shot, stirring it with the straw so it would mix in. He put the lid on and took a drink when he finished. If the sheer amount of caffeine didn’t keep him awake, the taste probably would.

Connor was surprised that he actually finished the monstrosity that North had created. He’d moved on from mythology to sociology, and despite all of the caffeine pumping through his body, he could still feel himself fading. He knew he couldn’t go up for another coffee so soon after pumping so much espresso into himself, Simon wouldn’t let him. So he would just have to tough it out. He leaned more into his notes, resting his arms on the table.

He woke up to talking, “North, why are you drawing on him?”

“Because, he fell asleep and he knows the rules.” Came North’s reply, and now that Connor was slightly more coherent, he could feel something moving against his face. He opened his eyes with a tired groan and whatever had been on his face was yanked away. North laughed, “Shit.”

“Morning Sunshine.” Hank said with an amused smile as Connor sat up, “how is your studying going? I can see you’re trying that learning by osmosis thing again.”

He gave Hank a tired smile as North laughed, “it seemed to work well enough yesterday.”

“Alright Point Dexter, go wash the dicks off your face. I’ll have another Due North for you when you get back out.” North said as she pulled Connor to his feet.

As Connor made his way to the bathroom to clean his face North retreated back behind the counter. He checked the mirror to find that, yes, North had actually drawn cartoon dicks of various sizes along the left side of his face and a detailed shooting star down the side of his neck, He wet a paper towel and started rubbing at his face, glad that they didn’t use permanent marker to write on the cups.

With all the marker washed off his face and neck Connor went back to the table to find Hank had settled in and gotten to work on his laptop. As promised there was another large Due North beside his sociology notes. He sat down and gave Hank a tired half smile.

“So why was North drawing on your face?” Hank asked as he looked up from his typing, “she said something about rules.”

“Yeah.” Connor laughed rubbing at the back of his neck, “the first time you fall asleep in public is a freebie, after that whoever catches you gets to draw on your face. Either she caught me, or Simon chickened out again.”

“So you fall asleep while out and about pretty often then?” Was Hank’s follow up as he watched Connor get out his biology textbook.

“Sometimes,” he said with a casual shrug, “usually during midterms or finals week when I spend most of my time studying.”

“Your nap yesterday was your freebie then?” Hank’s attention was returning to his work, as was Connor’s.

“Probably, or your timing saved me.” With that the conversation fell away to be replaced with the clicking of a keyboard and the occasional turning pf a page.

It was a few hours later when Hank stood, “I’m gonna go get another drink. Do you want anything?”

Connor looked up from his notes, “A Chai Tea please. Thank you Hank.”

“No problem kid.” He said as he headed for the counter.

Connor put his biology book away and got out what he needed for mythology. He had about two hours until he needed to leave for the university. Time to concentrate on his test subjects. He sat back and stretched, his back popped like a line of fire crackers since this was the first time he had moved in a few hours.

By the time Hank got back with the drinks, Connor was once again absorbed in his work and jumped when a paper cup came into his line of sight. Hank laughed as he sat down.

“Anyone ever tell you that you’ve got tunnel vision Con?” He remarked with a laugh, “I called your name three times before I gave up.”

There was that nickname again and the bubbling warmth that came with it. Connor was fighting not to grin like an idiot when he spoke, “A few times. Sorry though, I wasn’t trying to ignore you.”

Hank chuckled as he got back to work, “I get the same way when I work sometimes too. Don’t worry.”

“After tonight I’ll at least be getting my sleep schedule back,” Connor said as a way of making conversation, “I just have sociology tomorrow and then I can pace myself for the nurses exam.”

“North won’t be able to draw on your face anymore,” Hank laughed, “but honestly, I’m glad you’ll be catching up on your rest.”

“I’m honestly just looking forward to getting back to my normal work schedule.” Hank gaped at him.

“Connor, do you ever take time off?” He asked, worry lining his voice.

“Yeah. When I’m sick, for finals week, and whenever Silas has a performance that’s within travelling distance. Why?” Connor asked with a tilt of his head.

Hank shook his head, “Let me rephrase that. Do you ever take time off for yourself Connor?”

“Well no. But I don’t need to, I’m happy.”

Hank sighed and leaned forward resting his forearms on the table on either side of his laptop, “Connor are you working this weekend?”

“No. I have-”

“Great. You’re gonna meet me here at noon on Saturday. I’m going to bring you to my place and you’re gonna meet Sumo. One day, that’s all I’m asking.” Hank’s tone made it clear that he wasn’t going to be taking no as an answer.

“Alright.” Connor wouldn’t have turned down the offer anyway, not when it came to spending time to Hank.

With that taken care of, they both got back to work. Connor nearly jumped out of his skin when the alarm on his phone went off. From the looks of it, the sound had startled Hank as well. Connor turned it off quickly and began packing his things.

“Well, that’s my cue,” he said with an awkward laugh, “I’m gonna grab a drink for the road, Want me to get you anything?”

When he looked up, Hank was also getting his things together, “how about you get the drinks Saturday. I’ll join you in line though.”

Connor waited for Hank to finish getting his things together and then they joined the line. Now that he was standing, Connor stretched slightly to alleviate some of the stiffness in his back and let out a satisfied sigh when he finished.

“Do you have plans for the night Hank?” He asked, looking over his shoulder.

“Go home, order take out and pend time with my dog.” He replied, “What about you?”

“Take my finals. Then when I get home check to see if I passed the ones I took yesterday and either order victory or pity pizza.” He responded which got a laugh out of Hank.

“How about this. Since I’m so certain it will be victory pizza, I’ll pay for it.”

“But you don’t have my number,” Connor said turning to face Hank.

“You’ll have to give it to me then, won’t you.” He said with a wink and Connor died. Or maybe he was already dead. Adding that energy shot to the Due North probably killed him and this was just a hallucination.

Hank tapped Connor’s shoulder to get his attention and he took the offered phone. He put his number in and set his contact as Connor :). He handed the phone back and by the time he got to the counter he felt his phone vibrate with a message, he could guess who it was from. Josh gave him a suspicious smile.

“Don’t even start.” Connor muttered, cutting him off, “a medium black coffee please.”

Josh put one hand up in mock surrender and used the other to put in the drink order. Connor paid and headed for the end counter, fighting a smile the whole way.

He checked his phone for new messages, and sure enough there were two from a new number.

3132480705: Hello

3132480705: This is Hank :)

Connor: Hello Hank :)

He added the other to his contact list under Hank <3, because he had a crush and couldn’t help himself. He put his phone back in his sweatshirt pocket as Hank joined the group at the end counter.

“So what tests are you taking tonight,” Hank asked, crossing his arms over his chest in a relaxed manner.

“Biology and then mythology. Tomorrow is sociology.” Connor pulled his phone out to double check his calendar, then put it away again, “then assuming I’ve passed those I’m scheduled to take my nurses exam next Friday.”

“It’s good that you gave yourself a week to study,” he said as Connor went up for his drink, when he came back Connor was wearing a sheepish smile.

“I, uh, didn’t plan it like this. The first testing block was full when I applied.” He waved at Hank as he stepped away, “anyway I’ve got to go. I can, um, text you updates if you want.”

“Sure. Good luck Con.” Hank said as Connor left the cafe.

As soon as he got a cab he texted the group chat which had been suspiciously quiet the whole time he had been with Hank.

The Coffee Crew:

RunawayArkait: Hank gave me his number!

RunawayArkait: Also! I am meeting Sumo this weekend.

RunawayArkait: So, progress. I think?

What.Josh.Does: You have his number and you’re meeting his dog. Yet you’re still questioning if you made progress

Northern_Lights: Go get your man!

SimonSays: Be safe please

RunawayArkait: I mean, Saturday is more of a hostage situation

RunawayArkait: I don’t take enough time for myself apparently

Northern_Lights: Oh. So you’ll listen to him on that!

Northern_Lights: What does that make us?

RunawayArkait: Friends who I love dearly

What.Josh.Does: Well either way, congrats

SimonSays: Don’t forget to tell your brothers

RunawayArkait: Thanks

The Family Feud:

RunawayArkait: Guess what?

Sixty-Second-Set: Your finals were cancelled!

UnluckyNine: You passed your exams?

RunawayArkait: Close, but no

RunawayArkait: Hank gave me his number

UnluckyNine: Nice

Sixty-Second-Set: It’s about fucking time

Sixty-Second-Set: If I had to hear you shine about him one more time I was going to pose as you and get it myself

RunawayArkait: Silas!

UnluckyNine: Just be glad it didn’t come to that

Connor rolled his eyes as the cab pulled up to the university. It shouldn’t surprise him that Silas would threaten him with something that extreme, in Silas’s opinion the more dramatic the even the better. Connor was glad it hadn’t needed to come to that, he knew Silas had meant it. He paid for the cab and made his way to building 27 for the last time this week.

He made his way to the second floor and took a seat at one of the hall tables. He took out his biology notes to go over them again before it was time for the test. He had half an hour, he wouldn’t get through everything but it was better than nothing. Science was a bit like math in that following a predetermined procedure would lead to one of a few results.

The half hour passed quickly since he was preoccupied, when students began leaving the lecture hall he began packing up his things. Just like his two previous finals, he didn’t feel like he was ready. He knew his grades by themselves were good enough to get him into the program, but the tests also came with a passing margin and he didn’t want to rely on his grades alone.

HIs father had raised him and his brothers under the belief that it wouldn’t matter how hard they worked toward their goals since there would always be someone out there that could do it better. He had meant for it to encourage them to go to school and help with the business, but Connor had taken it to mean that he needed to be the one working the hardest to get where he wanted in life. Silas had done similarly albeit in a very different way, and Richard had worked to make himself as close to invisible as possible.

He was waiting outside the classroom for the last of the students to leave when his phone vibrated and pulled him from his thoughts. He pulled it out of his hoodie to put it on silent and saw a message from Hank. He had time, so he opened it.

Hank <3: You’ve got this kid

Connor: Thanks :)

Connor smiled and put his phone away. The room was finally empty and the professor allowed them to come in. He took his usual seat and took a moment to mentally prepare. He got drawn into the test into the test and what he needed of the two hour block flew by. He finished with fifteen minutes left after having gone over his answer just to be sure. He texted Hank first as he left the classroom.

Connor: One more then I’m done for the night

Hank <3: You’ll do great, don’t worry

Connor: :)

He waited until he was in building 1 to message everyone else. He sat in the second floor study area and took a break from his notes.

The Family Feud:

RunawayArkait: Just mythology left

UnluckyNine: That should be easy

Sixty-Second-Set: Hopefully there aren’t any essay questions.

The Coffee Crew:

RunawayArkait: Last test for the night is mythology

SimonSays: You’ll be able to get some decent sleep tonight

What.Josh.Does: Good Luck

Northern_Lights: God I hated that class

He spent the hour before his mythology final studying for it. Working his way through all of the lecture and reading notes he had taken during the semester. This particular professor didn’t believe in midterms so the final covered everything they had gone over during the semester. It annoyed Connor slightly, he would rather take two smaller tests than one massive one. They had been told that there would be at least ten questions from each era of mythology they had covered. it was a daunting undertaking and Connor didn’t think he was ready for it. Not that it mattered much, considering as he didn’t have a choice, but the sheer size of the test made his looming anxiety seem heavier. If he didn’t finish in time he would fail automatically and could kiss his shot at the nurses exam goodbye.

Connor did his best to shake those thoughts from his head as he go this things together. Maybe if he got there as the first exam was finishing he could get an early start. He grabbed his bag and made his way to the classroom waiting across the hall for the other exam to let out. He got his quarter out again to calm his nerves. He went through the same motions as the cafe. Rolling the coin over his knuckles before tossing it in the air and catching it. He did all of this without looking. On the fifth toss the door opened and Connor caught his coin putting it away. He waited for a gap in the students so he could enter the classroom. The professor wouldn’t let him start early, but he did gain extra time to study as he waited on his classmates. He hoped it would help him get through the test faster to have some of the information fresh in his mind.

When the exam was handed out Connor silently cursed Silas and came to understand why North had hated the class so much. More than half of the test was made up of short answer or essay questions. This was going to take forever. With a sigh that was just as much annoyed as it was anxious Connor started on the exam. He finished with a little over five minutes left in the test period. He was one of the last students in the room. He turned in the exam and left quickly, letting out a relieved sigh once he was back in the hall.

Connor: Done for the night and about to head home

Hank <3: How are you feeling?

Connor: Stressed and relieved

Connor: Happy that this is almost over

Hank <3: Take a break tonight. Alright?

Hank <3: Try and unwind

Connor: That sounds like a good plan

Connor: When I get home I’ll let you know if you owe me a pizza :p

Hank <3: Cheeky bastard

Connor: That shouldn’t be news to you

Hank <3: Its not ;)

Connor smiled at the conversation and opened discord as he got in the cab. He tapped his apartment address into the terminal before he messaged his brothers.

The Family Feud:

RunawayArkait: Silas you jinxed me

RunawayArkait: More than half the test was short answer or essay questions

Sixty-Second-Set: Oops. But you finished didn’t you?

UnluckyNine: Obviously. Congrats by the way

Sixty-Second-Set: Then everything is fine

RunawayArkait: Anyway, I’m gonna be offline for the night

Sixty-Second-Set: Enjoy talking with Hank

UnluckyNine: Don’t do anything Silas wouldn’t do

RunawayArkait: That leaves me a lot of options

RunawayArkait: Also I hate you both

The Coffee Crew:

RunawayArkait: Done for the night

RunawayArkait: We can compare test scores tomorrow Josh. I’m going to be offline tonight

SimonSays: Tell Hank hello

RunawayArkait: Why is everyone assuming that!

Northern_Lights: Are we wrong

RunawayArkait: Well no

What.Josh.Does: Alright. Tomorrow then. Have a good night Connor

RunawayArkait: Thanks

He opened Canvas in his phone’s web browser to check if the exams from yesterday had been graded. They had been and he had passed them both. He had gotten 100% on his calculus exam and a 95% on his art history exam. Both above the cut off. It was definitely going to be victory pizza. Then he was going to unwind with a glass of wine and a bubble bath. He’d use what was left of his night to catch up on his sleep.

The cab pulled up to his apartment complex, he paid and got out to head up to his unit. Once he was inside and had put his backpack away and sent Hank a screen shot of his test results.

Connor: So, victory pizza?

Hank <3: Victory pizza. You got any place you usually order from

Connor: Nope. You can pick

Connor: Medium with cheese and mushrooms please

Hank <3: I really should have known that your pizza order was going to be fucking weird

Hank <3: I need your complex name and your apartment number

Connor: Ridgewood Apartments building B5 apartment 205-B

Hank <3: Alright. It’ll be there in an hour

Connor: You’re the best

Hank <3: You only say that because I bought you pizza

Connor: And coffee ;)

Hank <3: You’re the worst

Connor: I try my best

He put his phone on full volume and walked into the kitchen and got out a stemless wine glass as well as the bottle of white wine Silas had bough him the last time he came over. He poured himself half a glass and put the bottle away. With the glass in hand he made his way back to the living room sat back on the couch and kicked his socked feet up onto the coffee table. He turned on the tv and turned it to the true crime channel, quickly getting absorbed in what was on. An hour or so later when there was a knock at his door Connor just about jumped out of his skin. He collected himself and answered the door. He took the pizza and tanked the delivery person before heading back to the living room. He opened the box and set it on the coffee table beside his wine glass. He took a picture and sent it to Hank.

Connor: The right way to celebrate finals (almost) being over

He received a picture in return. It was of Hank’s coffee table, there was a half full whiskey glass and Chinese take out. Sumo was sprawled out in the background.

Hank <3: You’ve got the right idea Con

Connor: Glad we can agree

He moved to the floor in the space between the couch and the coffee table so he could use it as a dining table. He had a couple slices of pizza and finished his first glass of wine before he put the left overs away. He poured another glass of wine and made his way to the bathroom. He started the bath added bubbles and let the water run as he went to his room to get pyjamas. He texted Hank again before he got into the bath.

Connor: Now for the best part of the night. Relaxing with a glass of wine.

Hank <3: I’m more of a whiskey guy myself, but that sounds like a good plan.

Connor let out a content sigh as he sank into the water and relaxed into the warmth. He played music from his phone and stayed in the water until it went cold. He rinsed off and got ready for bed and texted Hank as he plugged his phone in for the night.

Connor: Good night Hank

Hank <3: Sleep well Connor

Hank <3: We wouldn’t want North drawing on you again :)

Connor: No we would not

The next day he didn’t wake up until around noon, his body deciding to try and make up for all of his lost sleep in one go. He got up and got ready, taking what he would no longer need out of his backpack and heading for the cafe. Deciding to walk since it was nice out. While he was waiting to cross at a crosswalk he sent the screenshot of his test results to Josh.

What.Josh.Does: Nice! I got a 97%

What.Josh.Does: I’ll cover your first drink as promised

RunawayArkait: You’re the best

What.Josh.Does: You’re only saying that because I’m buying you a coffee

RunawayArkait: See you soon

He tucked his phone away and crossed the street and continued on his way to the cafe, He put his bag at his usual table and went to stand in line. Connor hadn’t been in line long when Hank’s voice sounded from behind him.

“Late start today Con?” Hank asked, the nickname he had given Connor rolled off his tongue like they had known each other for years. The dopey grin it caused to curl over Connor’s lips made him glad that Hank was behind him, “you’re usually passed out at your table by now.”

“That’s only happened like twice this week,” Connor argued, it was weak but it was all he had.

“Connor, its Wednesday,” Hank continued, “two out of three days this week you’ve been asleep at the table. A two-thirds average isn’t that great when you’re on the third day.”

“I don’t think I’ll be doing that today considering as I didn’t wake up until like noon.”

“So you finally made up for your lost sleep.”

“Apparently.” Connor said as he stepped up to the counter, “a large Iced Americano please.”

Josh put the order in and Connor walked to the end counter to wait. He was tempted to pull out his coin but the cafe was pretty busy today and the sound tended to annoy people. So he settled for signing the alphabet in reverse. This would be his last test for the semester, he’d had plenty of time to prepare and yet his anxiety was still eating at him. He finished one cycle of the alphabet and started over.

“So what are you doing with your hand?” Hank asked, scaring the life out of Connor who had retreated into his own thoughts.

“Signing the alphabet backwards.” Connor replied once he had collected himself.

“Why?”

“I need something to keep my hands busy when I’m anxious and I don’t want to annoy anyone with my quarter.”

“Test anxiety? Is that why you’ve been studying so hard?’

“Yeah. I want to do everything in my power to make sure I pass my exams.” His drink was called and he went up to the counter to grab it. He pointed to the table where his bag was and when Hank nodded Connor made his way over.

Connor took his seat and got out his sociology textbook and notes. By the time he had gotten his stuff out Hank was taking his usual seat across the table. He got out his laptop and they both got to work. They passed the time in busy pleasant silence until Hank asked him a question.

“So what do you do with your quarter that annoys people?” Hank asked as he looked up from his work.

“This.” He said as he pulled out the coin rolling it over his knuckles then flicking it up in the air, catching it in his other hand and then showed it off with a ‘tada’ motion.

“That’s a pretty neat trick.” Hank said with a half smile, “but i can see why you wouldn’t want to d it in a crowded place.”

“It annoys some people so I try to avoid doing it if I can.” He said, returning his attention to his notes.

The conversation fell away after that. Hank was the first to leave today, Sumo had a doctors appointment. They said their goodbyes and Connor got back to work. A few hours later when he was on his way to the university he sent Hank a text.

Connor: Last one. Wish me luck

Hank <3: You’ve got this Con, luck or no luck

Hank <3: But good luck

Connor: Thanks Hank. You’re the best

Hank <3: I try to be

Connor was smiling at his phone like a love struck idiot and it took all of his strength not to send a heart back. He didn’t want to make Hank uncomfortable. They were only friends and most friends didn’t do that. He set his phone in his lap and used his hands to cover his blush and matching dopey grin. He knew he had it bad. Going back over the texts, some of them sounded like flirting. Connor took a deep breath trying to collect himself, he needed to focus on his final for the time being.

He was somewhat back to himself when he got to the university. Once this test was done he had four days of what amounted to free time. Thursday, Friday, and Sunday were days he was going to use to study for his nurses exam and Saturday he was going to meet Sumo. Monday it was back to work as usual and then that Friday he was taking his nurses exam. Then it was back to business as usual until the fall semester started, He got out and made his way to building 1 for the last time this semester.

He made his way to the classroom as the previous class left. There wouldn’t be any last minute studying this time. He took his phone out of his pocket to double check that it was on silent then put it away. When the last of the students filed out Connor entered the class and took his usual seat.

Once it started, the testing block seemed to fly by. He finished with half an hour left. Surprisingly this test was the one he felt the most confidence for. When he got in a cab, he messaged Hank first.

Connor: I’m done!

Connor: My finals are finished!

Hank <3: Congratulations! For the next two weeks you’re free

Connor: I’m going home and taking a fucking nap

Hank <3: It’s well earned

Hank <3: Sleep well Con

The Family Feud:

RunawayArkait: I’m done

UnluckyNine: Congratulations

Sixty-Second-Set: Time to celebrate

RunawayArkait: Time to take a nap

UnluckyNine: That works too

Sixty-Second-Set: Boring

The Coffee Crew:

RunawayArkait: I’m free

SimonSays: Nice

What.Josh.Does: Good for you

Northern_Lights: Party time!

RunawayArkait: Sorry to disappoint, but I’ll be taking a nap

Northern_Lights: That’s boring

Connor rolled his eyes as he closed discord going back to his conversation with Hank.

Connor: Apparently I’m boring for wanting to sleep off my finals

Hank <3: They’re your tests. You get to pick how you celebrate

Connor: Exactly. So I’m going to make up for lost sleep

Hank <3: Sounds like a good plan to me

Connor: Thanks

The cab arrived at his apartment and he paid and got out. Exhaustion weighed down on him as he made his way up to his unit. He’d reheat a couple slices of pizza for dinner and then head to bed. He fumbled with his keys for a moment before getting his door unlocked

Once he was inside he dropped his bag by the door and kicked his shoes off. In the morning the mess would probably bother him, but he was tired now so that was future Connor’s problem. He opened the fridge and grabbed two slices of pizza and put them on a paper towel then in the microwave. Tonight was a lazy night. He changed into pyjamas and came back into the kitchen when the microwave went off. For the sake of convenience he ate over the kitchen sink. He rushed through his nightly routine, Before he climbed into bed he pugged in his phone and messaged Hank one last time.

Connor: Good night Hank

Hank <3: Sleep well Connor

Thursday found him awake around eleven. Unlike yesterday there was no sleep hangover, for the first time in a long time he felt well rested. He spent the first part of the day cleaning his apartment and doing laundry. Giving his brain a break from the bookwork, which felt pretty nice.

Around three o’clock he made his way to the cafe. He stood in line and looked around. He found Hank at their usual table, he was absorbed in his work and had earbuds in. Since he had the time, he messaged him to see if he wanted anything.

Connor: I’m in line. Would you like anything

He scanned the menu deciding on a chai tea rather than coffee since he felt well rested for once. He looked down when his phone vibrated.

Hank <3: Fist of all, you scared the ever loving fuck outta

Hank <3: My usual with two shots please

Connor: Got it :)

Connor: And sorry. I just thought I’d ask since I was up here

When it was his turn he noticed one of the new trainees, Echo, he believed, working the register while North worked the bar. He smiled at the blue haired woman, “Could I get a medium Chai Tea with cinnamon and nutmeg as well as a Vanilla Latte with two shots of espresso.”

She seemed to struggle with the first drink and North came to her aid, staying to help with the second and writing on the cups to make things easier. Connor always spoke his orders to the new hires since knowing how to sign wasn’t a requirement and he didn’t want to assume they knew it. Shifts were designed so that at least one person who knew Sign Language was there. Once the drinks were up, he headed for the table.

He sat across from Hank in his usual seat and slid the cup across the table while Hank took out his earbuds, “so manuscript today or short stories?”

“Manuscript surprisingly enough.” Hank said before drinking from his latte and letting out a content hum, “what about you? What book are you rubbing your nose against today?”

“Today I’m going over the notes and study guide Markus gave me to make flashcards to go over on my breaks since I go back to work on Monday,” Connor said as he got out what he would need. Typed out notes, a hand written study guide, a stack of one thousand notecards, and a pencil pouch with that said ‘always look on the bright side’ on the front.

Hank gave an amused chuckle and shook his head, “I still think you should go over the definition of the word break Con.”

Connor drank from his chai tea to cover the involuntary grin that the nickname caused, “I’m taking an ‘actual’ day off on Saturday. Remember?”

Hank rolled his eyes but seemed to accept Connor’s flimsy argument. They lapsed into a companionable silence. Connor was working on his flashcards and Hank was working on his manuscript. Occasionally Connor would catch himself staring at Hank, but would look away before he got caught and forced himself get back to work. Until his luck ran out and Hank met his eyes cracking a smile that lead Connor to believe he hadn’t been nearly as stealthy as he had thought.

“See something you like Connor?” Hank joked, and it had to be a joke. Despite the way some of their messages read there was no way Hank would ever flirt with him. Connor turned into a tomato anyway.

“I was, um, I was just staring off into space...” he trailed off never having been all that great of a liar. He wanted the ground to open up and swallow them whole.

Hank didn’t look like he believed Connor but he didn’t comment on it. They went back to their easy silence until Hank had to leave.

“Sumo is getting groomed tomorrow, so I’m not gonna make it to the cafe,” Hank sounded almost upset that he was going to miss a day. Like he looked forward to these days too.

“That’s alright,” Connor said with a slight shrug, “we’ll see each other on Saturday.”

“See you Saturday then,” Hank responded with a half smile as he turned to leave.

Connor watched him go before getting back to his notecards. It took him a few hours and a couple cups of coffee to get them finished, and once he was done he headed home. He would probably stay home tomorrow too. Take a day to himself and mentally prepare for meeting Sumo and what that would bring.

He finished off the pizza and did the rest of his laundry. With his apartment mostly clean and his laundry done, Connor decided to call it a night. Once again messaging Hank before falling asleep.

Connor: Good night Hank

Hank <3: Night Connor

Hank <3: Don’t work too hard tomorrow

Connor: No promises, but I’ll try my best

He spent most of Friday morning fretting over what to wear. Eventually deciding on a black short sleeve button down that was patterned with gradient grey roses, black jeans and grey converse. It wasn’t a date, but looking nice couldn’t hurt anything. He hung the outfit on his closet door and paced into his living room debating on if it would be better to message his brothers or his friends. Richard hadn’t dated anyone before so seeking him out for romantic advise probably wouldn’t be the wisest. Silas preferred a friends with benefits arrangement over dating so he wouldn’t be any help. North would just make fun of him. That left Josh, Simon, and Markus. Simon and Markus were dating so that would probably be the best bet.

RunawayArkait has started a group chat with Made-By_Markus and SimonSays!

RunawayArkait: I need help

RunawayArkait: What does one do on a not-date visit to their crush’s house to meet their dog

SimonSays: Send their kind and supportive friends pictures of said dog. Obviously

SimonSays: Keep a level head, but pay enough attention to see if he is flirting back

RunawayArkait: Flirting back? That implies that I flirt with him. Which I don’t!

Made-By_Markus: But you do. I’ve heard all about it from Simon

RunawayArkait: Rude!

Made-By_Markus: As cliche as it sounds, just be yourself

SimonSays: Relax. Like you said, it’s not a date

RunawayArkait: Thanks I guess

Made-By_Markus: Anytime. Also Simon, I’m in the lobby

SimonSays: Alright. I’ll be down soon

RunawayArkait: And that’s my cue to leave. Enjoy your date!

Made-By_Markus: Thanks

Connor groaned at the lack of help. Figuring he was stressing too much over something that was decidedly not a date, he decided to spend the rest of his Friday curled up on the couch catching up on all of the true crime shows he had missed on his study binge.

He woke up at eight in the morning on Saturday. He took his time getting ready and once he was satisfied with his appearance he left for the cafe at around eleven-thirty. He decided to walk so he could work off some of the anxiety that was thrumming beneath his skin. He debated cancelling several times, but eventually decided that he deserved to meet a new dog after having worked so hard to pass all of his finals. If it so happened that he was reading too far into this, which was incredibly likely, he would have at least gotten to see a new dog. He would be able to add a Saint Bernard to his mug which he would have to edit and then reorder. He won either way.

Connor arrived to find Hank waiting outside the cafe with one of the biggest and most fluffy dogs he had ever seen. Sumo sat neatly beside Hank looking to be very well trained, which was probably pretty helpful considering the dog’s size. He took a picture of Sumo with is phone before greeting Hank.

“You’re here early.” Connor said in way of a greeting and Hank turned to him with a smile.

“So are you Con,” he said, lifting his free hand in a lazy wave, “but that’s more expected of you than me.”

Connor laughed, “Yeah.”

Hank changed the subject, “So I didn’t find a no pets sign but I just wanted to check if Sumo would be allowed inside.”

“Unfortunately no. We do have a service animal policy tough.” Connor kept himself from gesturing at the door with his free hand by reaching it out toward Sumo so the large dog could sniff at it, “I can go inside and get the drinks then meet you back out here, since I’m covering drinks today anyway. Your usual?”

“Sounds good to me,” Hank said with a thankful smile. “I’ll let you know if we head back to the car.”

“Thanks/” Connor said as he headed inside.

The line was thankfully short and it didn’t take long to place their order. An iced Americano for Connor and a Vanilla Latte with two shots of espresso for Hank. When he exited the cafe, both Hank and Sumo were at the bench.

“Ready?” Hank asked as he got up, Sumo obediently following suit.

“Yup.” He handed the latte off as they walked to the car and Sumo happily snuffled at his free hand as they went.

When they got to the car Connor opened the back door on the passenger side so Hank could get Sumo in. With that taken care of, Connor got in on the passenger side, only to have Sumo lean forward and lick a stripe up his face when he turned to look in the back seat. Hank laughed at the sight.

“Hello to you too Sumo.” Connor said, using his jacket sleeve to wipe the drool off of his face then reaching back to pet him, “its nice to meet you.”

“What kind of dog do you think you’re gonna get once you graduate?” Hank asked as he pulled out of the parking lot and began the drive to his house.

“Either an Australian Shepherd or a Golden Retriever,” Connor replied, “small enough to keep in an apartment but big enough to socially be considered a dog. I hope to be able to put them through search and rescue as well as service training.”

“Why am I not surprised you have all of this planned out.” Hank shook his head with a fond smile.

“I like being organized.”

“I can tell.”

Connor rolled his eyes, “What made you decide on a Saint Bernard?”

“I picked him up from a shelter a few years back.” He paused for a moment, seeming to consider his words, “my fiance and I had split and I didn’t want to be alone in the house. Took about a month to realize i was going to need a bigger yard and then we moved. Whoever had him first had already trained him which has made things a lot easier.” He looked in the rearview mirror at Sumo for a moment, “the big lug even knows a couple of hand signs.”

Hank had a fiance at one point, a few years back apparently. Connor wanted to ask about it, but the rapid change in topic made it clear that Hank didn’t want to, “Really? What commands does he know the signs for?”

“I’ll show you when we get to the house, how about that?” Hank suggested.

“I’m looking forward to it.”

As it turned out, Sumo knew the signs for sit, stay, laydown, and roll over. Connor spent the next few hours teaching him the sign commands for speak, play dead, shake hands, and high five. It didn’t go well, which was fine because hank seemed to get a kick out of it. Once he gave up and settled beside Hank on the couch they ordered take out and talked enjoying each other’s company. It was a few hours later, when they were getting ready to leave that Hank asked him a favor.

“So I kind of had an ulterior motive for asking you over today,” Hank started with a tentative smile. “There’s a writers’ conference next weekend, I was wondering if you would mind stopping by to check on Sumo while I’m away since he seems to like you.”

“Of course I wouldn’t mind,” Connor said as he headed for the door. “He’s well behaved and a sweetheart.”

“Thank you so much.” Hank sounded genuinely relieved. He opened the front door and called over his shoulder to Sumo, “I’ll be back soon. Be good while I take Connor home.”

“I’ll see you next weekend,” Connor called to the dog as he left.

The ride to Connor’s apartment was filled with idle chatter, broken up occasionally by Connor giving Hank directions. It was nice, and his anxiety over today seemed distant and unnecessary. Today had been easy and comfortable. They arrived at his complex about twenty minutes later and Connor wasn’t ready to be done yet.

“Uh, today was nice,” Connor said eloquently. He was pretty sure he couldn’t have been more awkward if he tried.

“Yeah, it was,” Hank said seeming just as nervous, “um, if you want to come by again just let me know I guess.”

“Yeah. Uh, thanks then.” Hank unlocked the door as Connor reached for the handle, “I’ll um, I’ll watch Sumo whenever you need me to.”

“Thanks Con,” he said as Connor opened the door and got out, “have a good night.”

“You too Hank.” Connor gave him a slight wave before he shut the car door and went inside the complex. He had been so awkward. Hank definitely know now and he was probably uncomfortable.

Connor let out a frustrated groan once he was in his apartment. He made himself a cup of tea to help wind down before bed. The best thing he could do would be to act like nothing had changed and maybe they could still be friends. He sighed and finished his tea and got ready for bed. He texted Hank as usual before calling it a night.

Connor: Thanks for today Hank. It was a lot of fun

Connor: Good night

Hank <3: I’m glad you enjoyed yourself. Sleep well Con

Connor smiled at his phone before setting it aside and falling asleep. As long as he could keep his feeling tucked away, things would be fine.

Sunday went by in a blur of studying and self pity. He answered messages as they came, trying to make it seem like things were normal. Like he hadn’t potentially fucked everything up. He was thankful he had today to wallow because come tomorrow he had to be a functioning human being. When he was getting ready for bed, he checked the messages from Hank like he hadn’t been avoiding him all day.

Hank <3: Are you coming to the cafe today?

Hank <3: Is everything alright?

Hank <3: Connor?

Connor: Sorry

Connor: My exhaustion from the week came back with a vengeance

Connor: I didn’t mean to worry you

Hank <3: It’s alright

Hank <3: I’m just glad to see that you’re okay

Connor: I’m going to call it a night

Hank <3: Sleep well

Connor: Thank you

Guilt clung to Connor as he drifted off making his sleep uneasy and restless. He didn’t mean to make Hank worry he just hadn’t known how to face him. When morning rolled around he was exhausted. He went through his morning routine on autopilot. He made coffee and poured it into his travel mug before walking to work. He was almost late, but made up for it by working part of the lunch rush. He didn’t see Hank before he clocked out for the day. He walked back home and took some time to himself before studying.

The rest of the week went similarly. His texts to Hank throughout the day and before bed became the parts of his routine he looked forward to the most. he had Friday off so he could take his nurses exam. Connor didn’t feel like he would be ready, but this was all the time he was going to get. He would deal with it come Friday.

He woke up early on Friday and spent his morning studying. He left for the university around two and messaged Hank first when he got in the cab.

Connor: On my way to the exam

Hank <3: Good luck

Hank <3: Let me know how it goes

Connor: Will do :)

The Family Feud:

RunawayArkait: Time for the exam

Sixty-Second-Set: You’ve got this

UnluckyNine; You’re more than ready

The Coffee Crew

RunawayArkait: Exam day

Northern_Lights: Bet you’ll be in the top half of the class

Echo-Over-The-Water: Good luck Connor!

SimonSays: You’ll do great

What.Josh.Does: Here comes the cafe’s second nursing student

Connor put his [hone on silent and spent the rest of the cab ride going over his notecards. Markus had given him a general idea of what the test would cover, though the specific questions were changed every testing period. The test was a mix of essay, short answer, and multiple choice questions. They would have three hours to finish. Connor wasn’t exactly confident that he would pass, but he was fairly certain he would finish before the testing period ended. The results would be posted on Monday and he would have time to register for the recommended classes and buy books after that. Not to mention a whole weekend with Sumo to help with his worry.

He took his time on the exam, and then more time to go back over and correct some of his answers. He turned in the exam with fifteen minutes left in the period. He ordered a cab and messaged Hank, knowing that the other was on a flight and he wouldn’t get a reply.

Connor: Finished my exam and I’m feeling pretty good about it

Connor: I’ll swing by in a couple hours to check on Sumo and send pictures

The Family Feud:

RunawayArkait: It’s done

UnluckyNine: Congrats

Sixty-Second-Set: Look at you go Mr. Nurse

The Coffee Crew:

RunawayArkait: Finished!

RunawayArkait: I’m gonna be gone for the weekend

SimonSays: Give Sumo lots of love for us!

Echo-Over-The-Water: Congratulations!

Northern_Lights: You did it

What.Josh.Does: Enjoy your weekend

When he got to his apartment he set his bag on the couch and set an alarm on his phone for three hours from now and laid down for a nap. When he woke up he would pack for his weekend with Sumo.

#A Cup of Something Better #dbh #d:bh #hank anderson #d:bh hank #dbh hank #connor rk800 #dbh connor #rk800 #d:bh connor #hank x connor #hankcon #hannor #dbh hannor #d:bh hank x connor

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writingtoforgetreality · 5 years

Text

I‘ll make you believe in yourself again (Derek Hale x Reader)

Summary: Your parents pressure you into having good grades, not caring about you or your friends. They simply want you to be successful. One night, after a pack meeting, things escalate between you & your parents & the first person you thought about running to was him., [Teen Wolf-Masterlist]

Words: 2,719

Warnings: verbal abusive parents, angst, fluff, sadness, soft Derek (Is this a warning? It is now.), cursing but that‘s bc it‘s me

If you like my work & wanna support me: a coffee would be highly appreciated ❤

To say school had been stressful lately would be an understatement. You had essays to write, tests to study for & homework to finish. Teachers were always content with you though since you were one of the only students who payed attention, studied hard & always gave 100%. Spending time with your friends was rare but ever since you had been involved with the pack, you had been quite busy with helping them. You were human but a smart one at that. The pack simply was not complete without you.

Seems peachy, am I right? So thinks everyone. You just did not spill your problems to your friends, thinking they had better things to take care of. Matter of fact, every time you were with the pack was like an escape from your reality. You were finally able to accomplish stuff that was appreciated by everybody. This is why, whenever you told your parents you would be studying with Scott & Stiles, you were actually at a pack meeting, school completely forgotten.

Here is the thing: your parents. Even though they were hardly ever at home, they managed to create a living hell for you. The pressure they put on you was almost unbearable yet you wanted to make them feel proud. To make them feel like their child was not a complete fuck-up. Your mom & dad often were on business trips, you did not even know what they were doing on such trips & you did not want to ask either. All you knew is that, when your parents were at home, they always found a reason to scream at you & call you names. They wanted their kid to be the most successful of everyone. They wanted their kid to write straight A‘s. For a long time you had managed to do exactly this. Then the pack came along & you started to focus more on their tasks. It was more important, you helped saving lives. Of course your parents did not know this & you never meant on telling them.

Friday. Your favorite day of the week. You got up, went to the bathroom, picked out a nice outfit & packed your stuff to head to school. Your parents would not come back until Sunday so you could hang out with your friends the entire weekend. Your third period was chemistry. You had the class with Scott & Stiles, your best friends. When you found out about Scott being a werewolf, you were not scared, as someone would think. You were amazed & wanted to find out more about it. He was the one who introduced you to Derek. The oh so emotionless Derek Hale. You thought he hated you at first. He gave you the impression that he was fed up with you, reminding you of your own parents. You became more quiet every time he was around. Yet it did not stop you from having a crush on him. Derek actually enjoyed your company but of course he tried to push his emotions down. He would not get close to someone again. Still, he noticed when you grew more distant, he always had an eye on you but would not let you know.

Anyway, chemistry. Last time you wrote a test but you had not studied as much. Chemistry was one of your favorite subjects so you had never studied that much. You still managed to get a C which made you proud. You knew your parents would not be back today so you planned on not telling them about your grade.

As your last period was over, you went to your locker, meeting up with Scott, Stiles, Isaac, Lydia & Allison. You would all meet at Derek‘s Loft in three hours so you got home, put your test on the kitchen table, meaning to put it away later, & made your way up to your room. Opening your drawer, you searched for comfy clothes & put them on. You decided on a big red jersey shirt & grey sweatpants. Pack meetings at Friday‘s always meant a movie night afterwards, your favorite.

You made your way to Derek, not caring to take your bike, you liked walking & the way to his loft was not that long. Arriving in front of his door, you wanted to knock but before you had the chance to do so, the door flung open, revealing a sternly looking Derek. He could sense you were here already & was a bit too eager to see you. You smiled shyly at him, focusing your eyes down at your feet. Derek shot you a smirk back but he knew you did not see it.

"Hi there.“ he said with his intimidating, deep voice that sent shivers down your spine.

„H- Hi, Derek.“ you replied, your voice shaking, making you cringe.

Derek stepped aside, motioning for you to come in. Surprisingly, you were the first one to arrive. Usually this did not happen, you were not as comfortable when you were alone with him so you always made sure that at least someone else was there already. You did not check the time though, way too excited for tonight.

"Can I bring you anything? (Y/N)?“ Derek asked, noticing you were not really paying attention.

"Um...actually, I‘m fine for now, thanks.“ you started blushing. The things this man could do to you.

"The others should be here soon. Make yourself as comfortable as possible, I know you don‘t like me that much. I don’t know if I scare you or anything but at least try to calm down a bit. I know your heart is beating faster than usual.“ Derek stated.

"Why would you think I‘m scared of you?“ you were taken aback by his statement. You thought he was the one who despised you.

"It‘s quite obvious, (Y/N)...You hardly ever talk to me, avoid my gaze & your heart doesn’t sound healthy at all when you’re around, like...ever.“ Derek said, his words somehow seeming hurt. Something you were not used to from him.

"I‘m sorry, I jus-" you actually were about to tell him why you behaved that way around him but before you had the chance to do so the door flung open, the others entering the loft. You shot a last look at Derek, eyes desperate to let him know & he knew something was up but now would not be the time.

You were all gathered around Derek‘s table, sheets spread across it. This was harder than you all thought it would be. After hours of what seemed like useless research you decided to wrap it up for today, settling up the movie night. Derek made popcorn & Stiles set up the movie. He chose Star Wars, of course he did. You were sitting at the end of the couch, this being your favorite place in Derek‘s loft. Before you could react, Derek places himself right next to you, offering you popcorn. You happily took some, starting to eat it. You could feel your heart picking up its pace & you knew Derek could feel it too. Anyway, you tried to ignore it & focused on the screen in front of you.

As the movie went on, you grew more & more tired. Your head leaning on Derek‘s shoulder. You did not really notice but he stirred, this being completely new to him. After a few minutes, he relaxed a bit more, draping his arm across your body. You snuggled closer into him, enjoying the closeness you two shared.

By the time the movie was over, you fell asleep on Derek‘s shoulder. The others already bid their goodbyes, silently making their way out of the loft, trying not to wake you. Then it was just you & him, alone. The moonlight let your face lit up in such a beautiful way. He admired your sleeping form, feeling happy you finally found your peace even though he was next to you. Your heartbeat was steady & peaceful. As much as he hated it, he had to wake you. You have to go back home, get some more sleep & meet up with the pack tomorrow.

"(Y/N)? Hey, (Y/N), wake up.“ Derek whispered.

You groaned, not wanting to leave your comfortable position.

"Come on, you have to head back home, we have to work some more tomorrow.“ Derek said lovely. Oh how much you admired this side of him. You felt safe within his arms, something you have not felt in a long, long time.

"What time is it?“ you opened your (Y/E) eyes & looked at him through your lashes. He could have kissed you right then & there but it would not have been the right time. He will get the chance someday...hopefully.

"11 pm, it‘s time you go to your bed.“ Derek answered, not wanting to let you go but knowing he had to. You started to get up, stretched & searched for your jacket. This was when you realized that you did not wear a jacket, just your jersey shirt. Derek already knew this so he handed you one of his jackets to throw over.

"Thanks.“

"No problem. Do you want me to bring you home?“ Derek asked concerned.

"Nah, I‘ll be fine, it‘s not far. Thanks though.“ you moved to his door. "See you tomorrow?"

"Yeah, see you.“ Derek watched you leave. He then smiled to himself. So you were not scared of him. Maybe you all were just too oblivious to realize. Maybe everything will turn out to be fine in the end.

Standing at your front door, you searched for your keys. When you found them, you opened the door, stepping inside. You were surprised when you saw a light inside. You could have sworn you had switched off the lights before leaving. Maybe you had forgot one. Stepping into your leaving room you let out a short scream. Your mom & dad were sitting on the couch, looking quite angry. Why were they back already? It was not Sunday?

"Oh so you did decide to show up?“ your dad mocked.

"I think we made it clear that you are not allowed to go out except when you‘re studying. By the way...what is THIS?!“ your mother raised her voice at the end. You flinched away, knowing what was about to happen. Your mom held your chemistry test in front of your face, a look of pure anger & disappointment on her face.

"I- I can explain. It was a surpr-"

"CUT IT!“ your dad chimed in. Again you flinched away, trying to step back until your back hit a wall. This will not end well.

"You really don’t get it, do you?“ your mom asked. "We want you to be better but all you do is fuck things up. You‘re such a useless little bitch. You know what? Whenever someone asks me if I have kids I tell them no because I would be ashamed to talk about your pathetic ass.“ with each word her voice became louder & louder. Tears were streaming down your face. You did not understand why your parents treated you that way but you started to believe their words.

"I wish I wouldn’t be your father. You‘re the worst kid one can have. I HATE YOU, WE HATE YOU!!“ your father screamed. By now you were seriously scared they were about to hit you. They never really laid a hand on you but they had never been this angry before.

"I‘m sorry, I‘ll try to be bett-"

"Leave.“ your dad said dangerously low.

"W- What?“ you could not believe what you just heard. They wanted to kick you out. Yeah, they were verbally abusive but they were your parents. Your parents who were supposed to love you.

"LEAVE YOU STUPID BITCH."

This was all it took for you to turn around & sprint out of your, well not anymore, house. You did not even care to take your belongings. To be honest, you had nothing that really kept you there in the first place. You should have been glad, you were finally free. Free of your parents. That did not stop your from crying.

Without knowing where your feet dragged you, you only stopped running when you saw a big familiar building. Your tears blurred your vision but you knew exactly where you were. Derek‘s loft. You contemplated if you really should head in. Why would Derek want to deal with you anyway? Your parents were right, you were a fuck up, useless, pathetic. But where else could you possibly go? It was only then when you realized that it had been raining. Your clothes were drenched & you started shaking because of the cold.

You did not care. You were standing in front of his door, deciding to finally knock. You knocked for about three times, slowly losing hope. Derek was probably asleep. Maybe it was better that way. When you started turning around you heard the door squeaking.

"(Y/N)? What are you doing here? Are you okay?“ Derek asked, concerning features crossing his face.

"I- I‘m-" you could not finish because your voice started to break. Derek took you in for a hug immediately. You held onto him like your life depended on it & cried into his chest.

"I‘ve got you, sweetie. I‘m here.“, (Y/N).“ Derek soothed you. Somehow his words made you cry even more but not in a bad way. You were so glad he was the one you were going to. How you ended up on his couch? You did not know. Eventually your tears stopped & you calmed down, exhausted by everything that had happened to you that night.

"I‘m sorry, Derek. I just...I didn’t know where to go.“

"Do you wanna tell me what happened?“

"Okay..." you breathed. "My parents, they have been obsessed with my grades for as long as I can remember. It all started out with them being disappointed but it got worse. They started calling me names, screaming at me whenever I didn’t get an A. Derek, they made my life a living hell. When I got back home, they were waiting for me, my chemistry test in my mom‘s hands. They started screaming, they scared me & then all of a sudden they told me to leave.“

Derek needed a few seconds to let your words sink in. Before he could speak up, you continued.

"I started to believe their words. Them calling me pathetic, useless...a disappointment. So when we first met & you acted quite cold towards me I thought you‘d think the same as my parents. I didn’t wanna bother you, that‘s why I kept quiet whenever you were around. Truth is, I‘ve been scared, Derek. I am so so scared.“ you confessed.

"Shhh, I‘m here. If I had known I would‘ve said something way sooner. I simply thought you hated me but as a matter of fact, I always had an eye on you & saw you slowly disappearing. (Y/N), you‘re not alone. You don’t need to be scared. You‘re safe with me.“ he pressed a kiss on your forehead.

"I don’t know what to do...I have nowhere to go. I have nothing, Derek."

"You have me, sweetheart. I‘m right here. You‘ll be staying with me, okay? We‘re gonna get through this together. I‘ll make you believe in yourself again, I promise." he said sincerely.

"The thing is...I can’t be saved. How will you make me believe in myself again?"

"Well, for starters, I believe in you.“ Derek looked into your (Y/E) eyes.

"Why though?" you asked?

Derek slowly leaned in, searching for any rejection. When he saw you did not move, he put his soft lips onto your own, moving in sync. When Derek could not make you believe with his words, he would try to make you believe with his actions. You scooted closer to him if that was possible at this point. After your kiss, you stayed close together, simply enjoying each other’s company.

"And I thought you hated me." you whispered.

"And I thought YOU hated me.“ Derek chuckled. Maybe he was right. Maybe everything was meant to turn out like this. For now, you felt safer than ever, in the arms of Derek. Derek, who would try everything to keep you happy. Forever.

Published 02/29/2020 by Cathy

410 notes · View notes

muselover1901 · 4 years

Note

Re: prompts. “Quarantine.” Alternatively, something based off urban legends. Thanks!

Well it took me forever, but hey, the world is crazy and I am just so proud of myself for finishing this Quarantine AU for you! It’s definitely WAY bigger than a drabble (at just over 2700 words) but I had a lot of fun writing it and it really pushed my abilities as a writer. Thank you for the ask! Enjoy :)

Edit: Now posted to AO3

Here With(out) You

“Are you getting close to finishing? It’s almost eight o’clock and we haven’t eaten dinner yet,” Zen says as he plops down beside Shirayuki—well, not exactly beside her, but just outside the orbit of her ever-present sticky notes, journal articles, and scratch-paper lesson plans. She acknowledges his presence with a noncommittal hum before continuing her vigorous typing on the laptop balanced on her knees. Even before the pandemic, it wasn’t totally unusual for Shirayuki to work late—she is a graduate student, after all—but lately she has been spending every waking hour on either her lab’s vaccine research or creating online lessons for her introductory biology students.

Zen’s work-life balance honestly hasn’t been much better, but since most of his work as the Mayor’s Chief of Staff involves writing reports and attending video call meetings, he can turn off his computer at the end of the day and walk away from work. Shirayuki, unfortunately, does not have the same luxury.

His stomach growls, upset at the lack of food this late in the evening. Zen reaches over, guiding a stray hair behind her ear before setting his palm against her shoulder to get her attention.

“I can make us something easy, if you want. You really should take a break to eat something.”

Shirayuki doesn’t respond. He squeezes her shoulder gently and dips his head to try to catch her gaze, but she reacts with naught but a firm pursing of her lips as she scrutinizes her screen even more. Zen gives her a small shake, as if to wake her.

“Hm?” She blinks up at him, broken from her trance, her voice sounding thin and tired. “Sorry, Zen, I really need to get this done tonight.”

She gestures vaguely to the smudged sticky-note to-do list by her laptop keyboard, the usual tasks of exercise, meal prep, and do something fun with Zen and friends crammed between terms he half-recognizes as different types of data analyses.

“We have our Friday meeting tomorrow and I need to have the preliminary results ready to present.”

“It’s fine,” he says, rubbing his hand up and down her arm and offering her a tender smile as she turns back to her spreadsheet. She is such a hard worker, and right now she’s both working to save lives and to educate the next generation of scientists. Now was not the time to be selfish—even though he misses spending time with her, they just have to push through. And if that means Zen has to cook meals by himself, without Shirayuki’s incredible culinary talent for support, then he will gladly put his limited skill to use.

“How about I make pancakes?” he suggests, “I think we still have some eggs that need to be used, so I could scramble them too—if you want?”

Without looking up, Shirayuki murmurs a dry, “Sounds great, thank you.”

Zen stands and makes his way to their kitchen, rolling up his sleeves as he goes. Even after three years of living together and countless Sundays spent chopping endless armies of vegetables as they prepped meals, there are few dishes he trusts himself to cook properly. It’s Mitsuhide and Kiki’s fault, really. When they were his roommates sophomore year, he tried his hand at a simple vegetable stew to feed Mitsuhide’s hockey team at their annual fall party. The final product honestly wasn’t half bad, but he forgot to peel the vegetables, which gave the soup a mild dirt-like aftertaste.

He honestly thought he would be able to laugh it off and learn from such a minor culinary mistake, but it turned out almost no one was willing to let him live it down—even Shirayuki couldn't resist the occasional jab when they cooked together. Indeed, one of the last times they enjoyed quality time together was during a massive day of meal prepping after their first pandemic shopping trip. Hours of chopping and grating and sautéing had driven them a little crazy, and Shirayuki had broken out in giggles while he diligently peeled his seventeenth potato.

It had taken some prodding, but eventually she managed to hold back her laughter enough to snicker, "It’s nice of you to actually peel them this time."

He’d responded with the most convincing glare he could muster before selecting a particularly long piece of peel from the pile on the counter, turning to her with a dangerous smirk, and depositing said peel on top of her head. This only served to bring back her laughter in full-force, the contagiousness of it gripping him and dragging him along until their whole house reverberated with the ridiculousness of it all.

Unlike vegetable soups, Zen had yet to mess up a batch of pancakes in his lifetime, a fact which he was quite proud of. That’s why he’d chosen to make them for Shirayuki the first morning after she stayed the night at his place. They’d groggily rolled out of bed, blushing furiously as they realized that their late-night study session for Advanced Composition had ended with both of them passed out on top of Zen’s covers with their laptops discarded by the foot of the bed. He’d insisted on making her breakfast before she left, partly because he felt bad about their awkward start to the day, but mostly because he’d been smitten with her for months and he just wanted to keep doing things with her.

Zen smiles at the memory as he gathers the ingredients and begins measuring out the flour. Even after all this time, he still treasures every moment together. And now, as they are stuck working from home for the foreseeable future, he misses her more than he did before they moved in together. Although they are around each other nearly all day, every day, they hardly interact outside of breakfast and a kiss goodnight. He sighs and forces his focus back to mixing the batter. Shirayuki is working hard and here he is being selfish again. He should be stronger.

Pushing down his loneliness, he flings himself into scrambling eggs and flipping pancakes with gusto. He quickly finishes the first set of pancakes, butters them, and stacks them neatly on Shirayuki’s plate next to her portion of eggs. For the final touch, he sprinkles a hint of powdered sugar across them and places a little dollop of fruit preserves on top. Hopefully these would look appetizing enough to entice her into taking a break from work to eat. With her plate in hand, Zen makes his way back to the living room and sets her meal on the coffee table.

“Food’s ready,” he announces. “Please don’t forget to eat.”

Shirayuki pauses, tired eyes flicking away from her screen to meet his and offering all the gratitude she can muster. “Thank you, Zen. I promise I will eat as soon as I finish this analysis.”

Zen offers a quick smile in return before heading back to the kitchen to make dinner for himself. He’d better check on her soon, just to make sure she doesn’t get sucked into her work despite her promise—although it is never intentional, her basic needs often fall by the wayside when she is hyper-focused like this.

Fifteen minutes later, Zen returns to the living room with his own stack of pancakes (chocolate chip) and scrambled eggs (sprinkled with his friend Obi’s homemade hot sauce, because the pain was always worth the flavor). And just as he feared, Shirayuki hasn’t touched her food.

“How’s it coming? Are you going to eat soon?” Zen settles into his spot on the couch next to her and cuts into his pancakes with his fork.

“Hm? Oh yes, I figured out why that regression was behaving unexpectedly, I had just flipped the variables.” She bites her lip. “I guess after I fixed that, I just moved on to the next thing.”

Zen reaches out to tenderly place a hand on her cheek and guide her eyes away from her screen and to his own. Her eyelids droop a little, and he notices a small crease between her eyebrows—she looks so tired. He drags his thumb across her cheekbone and her eyes flutter shut as she relaxes into his hand.

His heart skips a little at the intimacy of their position; after all, it had been weeks since they had really shared a moment like this, just comfortable in stillness with each other’s full attention. Eyes still closed, Shirayuki reaches up to hold his hand against her cheek and sighs as she turns her head to press her lips against his palm. With a gentle squeeze of his hand, she releases him and turns to exchange her laptop for her plate.

Although she continues working while they eat, Zen is relieved to see her diligently taking bites between bits of code. It doesn’t take long before she cleans her plate entirely. With a yawn, Zen stretches and rises from the couch before collecting their dishes and returning to the kitchen to clean up. The clock above the stove reads 10:08pm.

How did it get so late? He’d just have to head right to bed after this. Dozing off during his morning call with the Mayor was not how he wanted to start his day tomorrow.

After finishing the dishes and changing into his sleep shirt, he returns to the living room to let Shirayuki know he’s going to bed—apparently she still has a couple hours of work ahead of her, but she promised she’d come to bed as soon as she was done. With Shirayuki resigned to her work for the night, Zen heads to their bed and does his best to get comfortable. As the weight of the blanket settles over him, he melts into the mattress and takes the deepest, most relaxing breath he’s taken all day. Despite his body giving in to its need to rest, Zen’s mind still races with thoughts of the meeting tomorrow morning and of the latest case counts in the city. God, he can’t wait for the day when all of this chaos is over. He and Shirayuki could take a weekend off and hike Mount Koto just like they did senior year after finals. He sighs at the thought.

Visions of them packing their picnic supplies into his old backpack flash through his mind. He’s smiling as he makes Shirayuki’s sandwich with the mustard by the meat and the veggies under the cheese, just the way she likes it. The sunshine warms their faces as they walk along the trail, and Shirayuki is a vision in her button-up hiking shirt and sunhat, all glowing skin and bright smiles. He reaches their picnic spot first, so he spreads their blanket and sets out their food. Shirayuki’s still a ways behind, but she’ll be there with him soon, he tells himself. She will. He busies himself smoothing the blanket and making sure her sandwich is arranged just so with a nice serving of chips and a gleaming red apple.

He’s just about to polish her apple for a second time when he realizes he doesn’t hear the crunch of her footsteps on the trail anymore. Panicked, he shoots up from his seat and runs over to the trail to try to find her, to no avail. Maybe she went off-trail to relieve herself? No that can’t be it, she’s taking way too long, and she would have told him if she was going off trail, right? Oh god—what if she hurt herself and she’s stuck somewhere down the trail? Zen abandons the picnic and runs as fast as his legs can take him down the trail, until—

He hears the faint tapping of fingers on a keyboard. Looking across the trail, he sees the edge of a laptop screen poking out from behind a tree. As he approaches it, the sound gets louder and louder, until it feels almost deafening and Zen has to cover his ears to avoid the incessant din. He looks around the tree’s thick trunk and sees Shirayuki in front of the screen, her hair disheveled and eyes unblinking as she types away.

She’s absolutely overworking herself! Zen can’t let her keep doing this. He should have caught it before it got this bad, he should have pulled her away from work and made her take care of herself. Regardless, he refuses to let this go on any longer. He takes a deep breath, removes his hands from his ears, and reaches out to set his hand on her shoulder as he always does when he needs to get her attention. His hand goes right through her, as if she were a ghost.

He wakes to find her side of the bed empty.

Zen’s sleep shirt is clinging to his sweating chest and the sheets are tangled up in his legs. He kicks them off and rolls over with a groan. So much for getting a good nights’ sleep before the meeting tomorrow morning. He reaches for his bedside lamp, trying to feel the small switch in the dark. It takes him a minute, fingers clumsy and sleep-addled, but he finally finds it with a click and squints against the soft, yellow light. He yawns and drags his phone towards him by its charging cable and groans again when he sees the time. 2:37am.

With little desire to return to the stifling sheets, he decides it’s best to just get out of bed and have a glass of water before trying to sleep again. He shuffles out of the bedroom, and as the door clicks behind him, his tired mind peripherally registers that the living room light is still on. But with water being his body’s primary goal, he drowsily continues on to the kitchen and downs a full glass in three big gulps when he gets there. With his mind cleared from the coolness of the water, he realizes that even though the living room light is still on, Shirayuki’s persistent typing is absent.

When he reaches the living room, he finds Shirayuki on the couch, slumped to the side with her lips parted and a quiet snore escaping her with each exhale. Her laptop is open and teetering dangerously close to the edge of her lap, but the screen has long since shut itself off. There’s still a pencil behind her ear, too.

With as much gentleness as he can muster this late at night, Zen extracts her laptop and moves it over to her desk so it can charge overnight. He removes the pencil from behind her ear and brushes her hair away from her eyes.

“Shirayuki, come to bed.” Her eyes crack open ever so slightly, and she grumbles but does not stir. Zen sighs. Even in sleep—no, especially in sleep—she’s as stubborn as ever.

“I’m going to pick you up, okay?” She mumbles something unintelligible, but’s all the affirmation he needs. He pushes his arms underneath her knees and shoulders, steels himself, and scoops her up. At first, her head lolls to the side, but then she turns and nuzzles against his chest. He can’t help but smile down at her as he carries her back to the bedroom and slowly places her on top of the sheets.

“Shirayuki, you should change out of your clothes,” he says.

She stirs a bit before slurring, “Don’t wanna. Wanna sleep.”

“If you don’t change now, you’ll regret it in the morning. You know you will.”

At this, Shirayuki groans and pushes herself up off the mattress. She insists he help her take off her clothes, which makes him laugh and blush in equal measure.

It’s only after she is changed and settled under the sheets that he finally lets himself sink into their bed again, mind and body finally relaxed with the knowledge that she’s next to him and already half asleep. He turns off his bedside lamp with a click and lets the rhythm of her breathing lull him back to sleep. Just as the last remains of his consciousness are about to slip away, he feels the delicate press of fingers against his shoulder, the tickle of a whisper against his ear, and the softness of a kiss against his temple.

“Thank you, Zen. I love you.”

#musewrites #zenyuki #prompt #akagami no shirayukihime #fanfiction

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tuckerm88 · 4 years

Text

Mid-Millennium Inception : Chapter 1

Charlotte, NC USA October 2, 2019

“Mom…. Mawmaw…… I’ll be fine,” you say while unloading the car. Your eyes roll in the back of your head, the slightest annoyance hidden in your voice, while a caring smirk forms on your face.

You, a short slightly thick brunette, rolls her luggage into the airport. Wearing your favorite worn black low top converses, black Adidas track pants, oversized light purple hoodie and black baseball cap that says coffee. Right before parting ways, your mom starts to cry. Your grandmother, one of the strongest people you know, looks at you with glassy eyes but not a tear drops, at least not in front of you.

“Guys, why are you looking at me like that? Do you want me to stay here forever with you?” you laugh while you hug your mom first. “No and yes,” she chuckles, “I know, I’m just going to miss you.”

“I’m going to miss you too. Both of you. But I’ve put this off too long.”

“I know, just be careful. Okay!! You’re my only baby,” You look at your grandmother now, instead of tears you see exasperation in her eyes towards her only daughter being dramatic.

After your last farewells, you head to your gate to wait for boarding…

. . . . . . . . . . .

Seoul, South Korea

Twenty two hours later and with the worst sinus headache ever, you’re finally off the plane. After collecting your luggage, you head to the exit to meet the driver. The airport isn’t that crowded today, thank god. As you come out, you see your name on a piece of cardboard and wave at the driver. “Hello” you both greet each other.

This is your first time out of the country. You know the language from self-studying, but that’s it. You know no one here….. AT ALL!! But that doesn’t scare you as much as never leaving your small town. Finally, after years of slaving and being patient, you are in Korea. There’s been some bumps in the road, but that never stopped you. You started to become interested in Korean food when you worked at a Japanese/Korean fusion restaurant. You found a company, in Korea, who’s willing to take you in and teach you.

You’re heading to Gangnam, to the restaurant and where you’ll be staying. Dropped off in front of Kim’s Village, an eight story tall apartment building, you meet an assiduous looking man. He looks to be in his forties. “Hello, Genevieve Ainsley, correct? I’m Mr. Lee,” he bows.

“Yes sir. Hello Mr. Lee, it’s nice to meet you. You can call me Eve though for short,” you smile.

“Of course. I’m here to help you get settled into your new place and answer any questions you may have and also make sure all paperwork gets handled correctly. So let me help you with your luggage and head up.” He grabs the two large suitcases, rolling them around and heads inside after pressing the code. As Eve walks in with her carry-on and back-pack, she looks around the start of a small corridor that leads through the other side of the building. There is the first floor of apartments, which is about 6 in total it seems, mailboxes and 2 sets of stairs, one on each side of the building.

Mr. Lee lifts the two suitcases up to take up the stairs. “Oh,.. Mr. Lee, wait! What floor are we going to? Give me one of those or at least let me help,” Eve pleads as she goes to grab one of the cases. But he’s already going up the stairs, carrying them like they weigh nothing and not full of clothes and small kitchenware.

“We are heading to the 8th floor. There is only one apartment available right now for you to be housed in,” he explains, no strain in his voice as he carries over a hundred pounds up the staircase. You stand there gawking for a second.

At the top, you’re huffing a little. You’re not fat per say, curvy with some small love handles, but you aren’t that fit either. Maybe I should start working out, you think to yourself, while Mr. Lee is standing there with not even a drop of sweat or alteration in his breathing. Damn he’s fitter than I thought he’d be. I need to figure out his routine.

There’s a door right in front of the stairway with the number 802 on it. With the way Mr. Lee is standing in front of it, Eve assumes it’s her new place. He starts to open the door, but gets a call and answers it first. “Yes Mr. Kim,” he answers. . Kim Kwanjoon, CEO of KJ Inc., owns multiple buildings and businesses in almost every industry, including the restaurant that you’ll be working at. They talk for a few minutes and hang up.

“Mrs. Ainsley,” he voices, while opening the door to the apartment, “there seems to be a problem at the restaurant. As you know the chef isn’t back until Monday, which is when you are supposed to start. But our sous chef called in just now. So we actually need you to come in tonight. We seem to be short staffed. Is that a problem for you?” He takes his shoes off at the entry.

“Of course not. I’ll try to help as much as I can,” slightly exasperated. Hopefully he didn’t hear that.

“I’ll let them know. I can’t stay now, because I need to go to the restaurant. Can you be there in the next 2 hours? The restaurant is only two blocks away from this apartment, so it’ll not take long to get there.”

“Yes sir, I can do that.” He brings your luggage into the living room and hands you a packet of information.

“I apologize I can’t go over this with you right now. I’ll come back tomorrow to explain more. The first page is things you will need today,” he opens it to show you quickly, “If you’ve any questions call me, my card with my number is at the top. Do you have a cell phone?”

“Yes, I got a temporary at the airport, until I receive my registration card.”

“I’m impressed. Most foreigners don’t think of those things when they come to work here,” looking at his watch. “Be there by 4pm, the front door and I’ll let you in.”

“Yes sir”

“Goodbye Mrs. Ainsley. I’ll see you a couple hours.”

“Goodbye Mr. Lee”

You stand in the living room, staring at the door for a few minutes. Dazed with what’s happening. OMG!?! I thought I’d have time to rest and unpack today and this weekend. My head is still killing me, I slept like 2 hours on the plane. What am I going to do? You look at your phone and see its 2:23 and then start to move. You roll your largest suitcase down the short hall to the bedroom at the end. No time to really look around, you get the things you need out and pop 2 pills for your headache. And then head back to the bathroom.

After a steaming hot 30 min shower, to hopefully get rid of your headache and get the 24 hours of plane grime off of you, you get ready for work. Black non-slip kitchen Vanes with white soles, light gray cargo chef jogger pants, black tank top with a dark purple chef jacket (Eve’s favorite) over top, hair parted on the right with tapered side bangs in a tight bun in the back. With minimal makeup applied, you double, triple check you have everything. Grab a light jacket and walk out the door at 3:30 with knife kit in hand.

You’re standing at the front already when Mr. Lee walks up. “Early. Great.” You bow to greet him. He takes you straight to the kitchen, since it's Friday afternoon. The décor of the restaurant is very upscale café style with a Korean architectural influence to it. There are three floors to it, the top floor being outside seating. With no time to really chat, he shows you around. The kitchen is very well organized and clean. With the dish pit to your right and the start of the server station to your left, the kitchen has a U shape to it, with in and out doors for the servers. If you keep walking straight from the IN door, you will have the dish pit along the right wall with the clean dishes at the end, then storage and the back exit. To the left is the space for servers to walk and grab food to go out the other side and the hot line. On the left wall, on the other side of the OUT door, is the cold station.

Everyone is getting ready for the busy Friday night. He takes you to the first station you will be working at, the hot station. Being familiar with grills and stove, he put you there first to observe and help. “Hello, I’m Youngjae,” a new face gushed.

“I’m Eve. It’s nice to meet you,” you reply. He goes over the station with you and some of the dishes. After a while, orders start to come. You watch for a little, but then Youngjae starts to get overwhelmed. Your instincts kick in, just by watching him you’ve picked most of the dishes. You start to help him out.

When it comes to cooking and creating dishes, you could say you’re otherworldly. It’s like magic comes out of your hands. You picked up on cooking quickly in school and in the industry. You remember everything that you’ve learned, like the back of your hand. But you still don’t consider yourself that great. You’ve had limited chances to explore different foods, so you don’t consider your skills impeccable.

Youngjae is impressed though, “Wow, Eve. You catch on quick. How long have you been cooking?”

“I’ve been cooking for about 10 years.”

“Seriously. You are only a cook. Shouldn’t you be a chef?”

“I was a sous chef back home but I want to be a master chef. So I need to learn different cuisines and I wanted to travel, so here I am,” you beam shyly towards him.

“You must have started young. You look younger than me.” He laughs.

And there it is, your first insecurity. You don’t look it, but you’re 30 years old. Everyone usually thinks you’re anywhere between 22 and 26. But you keep your mouth shut. You started late on your dream, not realizing it until you were already in college for 3 years. You had to start over pretty much and go to culinary school for another 3 years. During all that, you worked 2 jobs and also helped support your family. While in college your dad became a drunk and quit his job, killing himself slowly. You knew why, but also couldn’t accept why he was doing this. Especially since he taught you to be stronger than that. Why couldn’t he? Finely he did die. You were sad, of course. You were a daddy’s girl until he changed. But you were also relieved. Because you felt it was holding you back. You couldn’t leave your mom and mawmaw to deal with him. So after a few years, you finally stabilized the financial situation with your mom and yourself, almost going into extreme debt because of your dad (and yourself trying to cope with all of it – online shopping).

Now here you are. Living the dream you never gave up on. Pushing the little insecurity down, you and Youngjae keep talking when able. Finding out he’s like third in command, the Lead Line Cook. He is 26, blonde hair, blue eyes with the help of contacts and a head taller than you, with a lanky build. While talking to one of the dishwashers comes along to put clean dishes away and take dirty ones to the pit. He comes up to talk to Youngjae.

“Hey man, what’s up? Who’s the new girl?” The dark chestnut haired boy says. He looks young with his dark brown doe eyes with flakes of gold, bright with curiosity. With his bunny smile, his cheeks bunched up and out to make cute crinkles at the sides of his eyes. He looks even younger and innocent now.

“Oh!!! Hello, I’m Genevieve, but you can call me Eve.”

“Cool, I’m Jungkook.”

They go through normal pleasantries. Jungkook is 22 and wants to work in the restaurant industry. He is starting as a dishwasher and working his way up.

The night finally ends and cleaning is almost over. You and Jungkook have become fast friends in just one day. All the boys in the kitchen have come to like you. They even ask if you want to come out for drinks that night. You would love to, but you are just too exhausted. They understand and say maybe next time.

Everyone grabs their things and heads out the door. You start walking towards your new apartment. The guys head the same direction and talk with you on the way. Jungkook waits a little to make sure you get into the building before following the rest.

You get inside, shower and finally relax in the bed. You thought this was going to be a bad day, but actually turned out decent.

. . . . . . . . . . .

On top of Building 63, with the lit city underneath. He stands on the edge looking out at the beautiful place that has grown so much.

“Hello, Hyung. I was wondering when you would show up.” Taemin spouts.

“When did you finally get back?” Kia asks.

“I just returned today. I figured it was time to come back and stay this time.”

“Father will be happy to hear that.”

“I’m sure he will.” Taemin says with indifference in his voice.

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justgeorgeharrisonfic · 4 years

Text

An Adventure In Ireland

AN ADVENTURE IN IRELAND

Thursday 26th March 1964

“Hello?”

“Pattie.”

“George!” Her voice was a squeak. She knew this once she’d spoken but there was nothing she could do about it. “Hello!”

“Pattie, we’re going away.”

Pattie’s heart sank. “Oh,” she said, forlorn. “When are you going?”

“What? No, I mean we’re going away. Us.”

“Wha…? Who? What? When…?” What on earth…?

“Pattie!” George’s voice was firm, as though he wanted to take control over all the spluttering. “We, you and me, are going away, to Ireland, for an Easter break.”

“Oh, are we? That’s nice. When?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” It was another squeak, but this time she felt it was justified. “What…? But…”

“Pattie!!” This time it was almost a shout. “Brian has booked us into a castle, in Ireland, for Easter.”

“But tomorrow? That’s… tomorrow.” God but that was a stupid thing to say. But he seemed to know what she was getting at, thank goodness.

“Yeah, but that’s when Easter is. We can’t move it. Not even Brian can do that.”

“No I know, but…”

“But what? Don’t you want to go?”

“Of course I do! It’s just… soon.”

“Yeah. Like, tomorrow.”

George surprised her sometimes. Like when a dry sarcasm broke through the sweet young persona. Like, just then. “Well yes! I do want to go. We’re going to… a castle?” Images of cold stone steps and dungeons; Pattie frowned. But of course he couldn’t see that.

“It’s called that. It’s a posh hotel really. President Kennedy stayed there.”

“Oh.” The cold stone and dungeons disappeared. “It sounds lovely. And he’s booked a holiday, just for us!”

“Well…” Had a note of diffidence crept into his voice?

“What?” She paused, and then remembered, their first date. “Oh don’t tell me he’s coming too!”

“No!” George broke in quickly. ”No. He isn’t.”

Pattie didn’t like the emphasis on the work ‘he’. “So, is there someone else coming too?”

The briefest of pauses; but not so brief that Pattie didn’t have time to start to feel anxious. “Ah, yeah,” said George. “We’re going with John and Cynthia.”

There fell a silence.

“Pattie? Is that…? Ah… that’ll be alright, won’t it? I mean…”

“Yes.” This wasn’t a squeak, more like a husk, but at least she had found her voice. “Of course, that’s fine…”

“But?”

Another pause. “John’s…”

“I know what he is,” George broke in. “But he likes you.”

“How do you know?”

“He said so.”

“Oh? When?”

“Lots of times.” Pattie didn’t want to think too closely about that last bit. “So that’s fine, isn’t it.” But Pattie’s mind was still snagged up on doubts, which she found it hard to articulate. “Pattie! What is it? Don’t you want to go?”

“Yes! I do!” And she did; then the doubts crystallised and she blurted out before she could change her mind, “Will Cynthia like me?”

“Cynthia?” George sounded completely astonished. “Why the hell shouldn’t she?”

“I don’t know. I just… she’s just…”

“Pattie, she’s really nice, it’s be fine! They both like you. I like you. And I love you. Will you come?”

Somehow the airing of her nebulous fears made her feel better. She laughed, a genuine laugh. “Yes. Of course I will. Ah, George?”

“What?” There was no doubt; the words ‘what now?’ hovered unspoken over the phone line. Pattie hastened to reassure him.

“I just wondered – why have you only just told me?”

“He’s only just told us.” Obviously, rang another unspoken word. Pattie reflected, not for the first time, that there was a lot to get used to in going out with a Beatle.

“Oh, right. Well… what do I do? When are we going?” And then, “What do I pack??”

“I don’t know.” George was dismissive that that last question. “He’s got a car coming for you tomorrow at 10.00”

“And will it take me to you?” Pattie asked hopefully.

“No.”

“No? So where…?”

“I’ll be in the car!”

“Oh George!” She wished he didn’t do things like that. “When…?

“Pattie, I’ve got to go, we’re on again. I’ll see you tomorrow morning. Love you!”

He was gone. Pattie stared uselessly at the phone receiver in her hand, and then replaced it carefully. Her mind was already buzzing; packing, clothes, Cynthia, clothes, John, aaarrrgh! She turned and headed into her bedroom and pulled the suitcase down from the wardrobe. This was crazy. But, she was reflecting yet again in the space of a few minutes, there was a lot to get used to in being with a Beatle.

The weekend would only start to show her just how much.

Friday 27th March 1964, morning.

Pattie scampered after George as he picked up her case and walked with it to the rear of the car. “God, what’ve you got in here?” he muttered as he opened the boot and hefted her case in next to his. Pattie watched; couldn’t help noticing his much smaller case next to hers.

“You haven’t brought much, have you,” she said, a little anxiously. George straightened and turned to her with a grin.

“I don’t need much, do I, for three nights.”

“Well…”

“I decided to leave my make-up at home, and five pairs of shoes. I’ve only brought…”

Pattie hit him playfully on the arm to bring a halt to the derisory comments. “Well, I don’t know, do I. I don’t know what you’re supposed to bring, or what the others are bringing…”

George guided her round to the car door and opened it for her and gestured for her to get in. “I don’t think there’s anything you’re ‘supposed’ to bring,” he said, climbing in after her.

“You know what I mean,” she said, and then looked into his face. “Actually, you probably don’t,” she concluded, and he shook his head in agreement.

“Nope,” he answered cheerfully, and then reached out to circle her shoulders with his arm and draw her close to him. She snuggled against him as the car set off and joined the traffic. She was becoming aware of a low level of anxiety starting to tighten in her stomach, and it was increasing as the car gathered speed and headed towards their next stop. She said nothing, but something of her worry must have communicated itself to George, who twisted his head to look down at her. “You okay?” he said.

“I’m fine.”

That certainly didn’t work, as her voice sounded unconvincing even to her own ears. George straightened up so that he could move away from her slightly and look at her more directly.

“You’re fine.”

She looked up at him, and blinked.

“You do want to go?”

“Oh yes!” That was a bit better, having the advantage of being true. However, even though the two had only been together for about two weeks he knew her well enough to pick up when something was amiss. George thought some more, and then recalled their phone conversation the evening before. He tightened his arm around her again.

“Which one are you more worried about?” He tilted his head slightly as he looked carefully into her eyes. “John or Cyn?”

Pattie looked down at her lap. “I know I’m being silly…” she began, but George stopped her with a shake of his head.

“It’ll be fine,” he said, and gave her a light kiss on the mouth. “They’ll be fine. You’ll be fine.”

“Oh, you mean it’ll be fine!” Pattie smiled, and he hugged her again.

“You’ll see. Oh, we’re there.” And her anxiety roared back into place. She concentrated on quelling her nerves as the driver got out and went over to the door to ring up to the flat. He waited at the door; George lit a cigarette after offering one to Pattie, and she took it thankfully. Her hands weren’t shaking at all…

“Cyn, you get in the back. Bloody hell, how much have you got in here?”

“Well, you never know what you’ll need,” said Cynthia Lennon as she opened the other door and slid into the seat next to Pattie. Pattie turned to George with a smirk of triumph. His only answer was to take another drag of his cigarette and roll his eyes.

“It’s Brigitte Bardot!” John shouted as he got into the front seat.

“Shut up John.” George sounded weary; Pattie deduced, correctly, that this was a favourite joke of John’s, one George hadn’t got round to telling her about. “Cyn,” he said over Pattie’s head, “This is Pattie.”

“I guessed.” The smile she gave Pattie was so warm and friendly that the new girl instantly began to feel better. George’ arm was still around her, safely, reassuringly. John was still nattering nonsense from the front seat, and reached back over his head to offer a cigarette to his patient wife.

The car moved off, and headed west towards Heathrow airport.

…

“Where are we going?” Pattie was puzzled. They weren’t, as she’d expected, dropped off at the front at the main entrance. Instead the smart black car glided along small side roads within the huge Heathrow complex, past storage containers and parked cars and things you didn’t usually see at the airport. “What’s…?”

“We’re going to our plane,” George explained briefly.

“You’ve got a plane??”

“No!” He turned to her with a smile. “We’ve booked one.”

“There it is,” said Cynthia, and Pattie looked out and saw what looked like a toy plane, standing on its own with a man standing next to it.

“That??”

“That,” said John.

The car drove nearer and then pulled up alongside. The man, whoever he was, raised an arm in some sort of greeting as their driver flipped the boot lid and got out of the car to get the luggage. Pattie, seated in the middle of the back seat, had to wait until someone else moved, and she was surprised that it was Cynthia who slithered out first. George sat, motionless, apparently staring at the plane where the door had now opened and steps had rolled down. “George?”

George turned to her and nodded acknowledgement, and then, very slowly, opened his door and stepped out of and away from the car. Pattie followed him out and stood where she was. She saw him lick his lips.

“He’s the worst,” said a voice at her ear, and she turned to see Cynthia standing next to her. “But John’s not far behind.”

Pattie frowned at her, as she raised her hand to hold back her hair which was being tossed and blown by the wind. “What do you mean?” She hoped she didn’t sound too stupid, but she really had no idea what Cynthia was referring to.

“They’re terrified of flying,” said Cynthia simply. “And, in that thing…” She gestured towards the toy plane before she too had to smooth her own hair back from her face. She smiled at Pattie. “Oh dear!”

Pattie looked over at George, who chose that moment to look back at her, and Pattie couldn’t help but notice that his face was pale. It was almost grey. She looked across at John, who looked more subdued than she’d ever seen him. Then she turned back to Cynthia. She found herself grinning broadly. “Oh dear!” she agreed.

“Shall we get in?” Cynthia hoisted her bag over her shoulder and started to walk towards the toy plane. Pattie began to follow, but then thought better of it and decided to go and collect George first, who was still rooted to the spot. She turned back to Cynthia and hissed, “Does it go?”

“Course it does,” Cynthia declared. “They’re Beatles. They’re important.” With this, Pattie reflected, utterly extraordinary remark, she strolled across the blustery tarmac towards the waiting plane. Pattie crossed to George and looped her arm through his.

“Come on then. Let’s get in.”

He took a deep breath and swallowed hard.

“It’ll be alright, really.”

George clearly felt too nervous to even try to reply, and he simply let himself be led by the arm towards the toy plane. Even Pattie allowed herself a moment’s apprehension, as she took in the cramped interior and six not very comfortable seats, but the pilot looked and sounded much more grown up and reassuring than she’d have expected for a toy plane and she decided that she would look on it as an adventure. “Where do you want to sit?” she asked George brightly. He looked at her mournfully. “Window?”

He shuddered and shook his head and so Pattie took the window seat nearest her and George slid in next to her. She looked around at the others and was amused to see that Cynthia had similarly taken charge and deposited John in one of the other seats.

Pattie thought it was hilarious.

She didn’t think that it was all quite so funny once the plane was airborne. She’d been fine whilst they taxied to take off. And she had tried to ignore George’s hands gripping the arm rests so tightly that his knuckles were white, as though he thought that this would help get the plane safely into the air. But, once up and flying, the pressure in her ears built and built and became so painful that she was seriously worried she was going to go deaf for the rest of her life. It was a miserable flight and when the plane touched down at Shannon Airport she sank forward with her head in her hands almost gasping with relief.

“That was good, wasn’t it.”

She looked up at George. His colour had returned. His eyes had softened from the flinty terror of take-off and there was a slight smile hovering on his lips. She burst out laughing, in emotional and physical relief, and leaned over to plant a kiss on his mouth. “Wonderful,” she said, and squeezed his hand.

Friday 27th March 1964, early afternoon.

The car swept through the gates and along the curving immaculately maintained drive towards the castle. It was a castle, it really was, although it managed not to look forbidding or scary. The car moved gracefully towards the main door and came to a halt, and a besuited man and several uniformed flunkies rushed down the steps and approached the car.

“Doesn’t look like I’ll have to carry your case again,” remarked John. “Thank Christ for that.”

“Wimp,” Cynthia retorted as she slid sideways along the rear seat and climbed out of the car.

Within moments all the cases were out of the car, and two Beatles and their women stood looking up at the imposing frontage of Dromoland Castle.

“Welcome to Dromoland,” oozed the man in the posh suit. “Please come in – a few formalities to check in and I’ll have the pleasure of showing you to your suite.”

George and John cut glances; Pattie noticed, and wondered what was going on there. It often seemed to happen, that there would be glances or words between Beatles and she realised that she hadn’t a clue what they were saying or thinking. Something she’d have to get to understand…

They were moving in. George and John walked in step, together, George clutching Pattie’s hand and Cynthia walking behind them. They passed through the doors and into an echoing and deliberately impressive entrance hall and across to the reception desk. Forms were completed, staff grovelled and the group were finally guided across the unnecessary acres of space in the reception hall to the lifts and then up to their suite.

“Gosh”

“Oooh”

“Yeah.”

“This is us.” John speedily identified the double room and headed straight in, followed by Cynthia. Pattie peered into one of the single rooms and George did the same with the other.

“Which one?”

“I don’t care. You pick.”

So Pattie made the choice between two very similar rooms and George followed her in. “It’s lovely!” she said, and meant it. After only two weeks in Beatle circles she was still wide-eyed, unused to extreme luxury. “But why did Brian book two…”

“He said he had to. You know.”

She shrugged at him. “I suppose so.”

“Sir?” came a deferentially couched question. The porter wanted to know which case belonged in which room. George pointed to Pattie’s and gestured with his head towards the room they, or rather she, had selected.

“Ta,” he said as the case was placed in the middle of the room. He’d already grabbed his own and put it down next to hers. He nodded at the porter to indicate that his use there was concluded, and the immaculately uniformed flunky backed out of the bedroom.

“D’ya know when lunch is?” John called from the other room, and the flunky was able to oblige.

“Lunch will be served in the blue dining room at one o’clock, sir,” he uttered.

“Good thing it’s the blue one, eh?”

The flunky looked puzzled, and George rolled his eyes. “Thanks! Bye!” George smiled and nodded at the confused porter and managed without being too rude to gesture towards the main doors of the suite. The man left, probably in some relief. George looked at his watch. “See you in half an hour then,” he called out to his fellow guests.

“Okay.” It was Cynthia who confirmed, and George retreated into his own room and shut the door. He quickly crossed the room to Pattie, who had opened the wardrobe door. He moved close behind her, wrapped his arms around her waist and squeezed.

“George!!”

His only answer was to plant a kiss on the back of her neck.

“George, I need to unpack!” She turned around to face him, smiling, and kissed him quickly on the mouth before wriggling away. “My stuff will be creased to smithereens.”

He pecked her quickly on the lips and moved away. “Okay.” He picked up his own bag and hoisted it onto the bed and unzipped it, and began to hunt among the clothes. He paused. He hunted again. He stood. “Shit,” he said, quietly. Pattie turned around with a hanger in her hand.

“What’s wrong?”

George was frowning .He looked up at her and shook his head. “I’ve forgotten my washbag.”

Pattie too frowned, and came over to where he was standing looking rather uselessly into his own case. “You couldn’t have done.”

“I have. Fuck.”

Pattie found a smile creeping across her face. “No toothbrush?”

“No anything.” He looked up at her. “And it’s not funny!”

The smile had become a fairly broad grin. “Well,” she ventured, “maybe that’s why you could bring such a small case? Maybe it’s not just all my make-up and five pairs of shoes…”

“Ha ha,” he interrupted the gloating and she managed to subdue the grin somewhat. “I’ll need to ask at the desk.”

“For a toothbrush? George!!” He was exacting his revenge for her justifiable triumph with a sudden attack of tickling, and the two struggled and yelped and fell on to the bed.

Pattie’s clothes did not get unpacked before lunch.

Friday 27th March 1964, late afternoon.

Lunch was an extended, relaxed and happy affair. Wine flowed, and the injection into the previously close knit and familiar group of a new face was effected smoothly and seamlessly. Pattie’s nerves gradually evaporated with each course and with each generously poured glass, and the stress of the unpleasant journey lifted. And, John was funny. Pattie had not anticipated this. Not caustic funny, not risqué funny, not scary funny, but just funny. The Lennon persona seemed to soften with each imperiously summoned bottle; Pattie observed this with relief and the other two with astonishment. As Pattie leaned back in her chair howling with laughter at John’s account a recent escape from a theatre George cut glances with Cynthia at the same time as reaching for Pattie’s hand under the table and squeezing.

John didn’t even call her Brigitte Bardot. Not during this lunch anyway.

After lunch they wandered in a mildly intoxicated haze through the Blue Room’s broad French windows and down towards the lake. They explored, played, hunted, sat and chatted. Cynthia bemoaned the fact that she’d left her black comfy shoes behind, Pattie poked George meaningfully, George affected indifference. John asked Pattie whether this place was like her family home where she grew up, Pattie told him not to be an idiot, but then walked with him along the lakeside for a while and told him something of her home in Kenya and he listened with genuine interest and asked if she’d been sad to leave it and she said yes. The evening was approaching, the temperature was dropping and they decided it was time to turn around and go back to the castle. The four strolled back across the neatly kept lawns and, rather than cut back into the blue Blue Room, they skirted around the huge building and went back in through the main reception doors. There they were met by chief flunky, who approached them with the unmistakable air of someone who was going to issue bad news.

“They’re chucking us out,” muttered John.

“I didn’t tell them about you,” said George, equally sotto voce.

“No, it was me. I couldn’t help meself.” John then smiled his beaming most deliberately artificial smile and closed the gap between himself and the hotel manager. Pattie was so fascinated to witness the mercurial speed of the change that she didn’t focus on what was said; but a minute later found herself jolted out of her happy post lunch haze by the strength of the two Beatles’ reactions to the manager’s news.

“Oh fuck no!”

“Fuckin’ ‘ell!”

“John,” Cynthia remonstrated mildly at her husband’s public obscenities. She left George’s unchecked. It was none of her business what George said…

“What’s happened?” Pattie queried in alarm. George turned to her, his face a picture of combined disappointment and anger.

“They’ve found us!”

“Who have??”

“Press!” He spat the word as though it was another obscenity, which at that moment, only hours into their rare and precious private time, it was. “They’re here.”

Pattie looked around as though expecting to see a ring of men with cameras surrounding them. “Where?”

“Some Daily Mirror fuckers have booked in,” said John. “That’s it. It’s blown.”

“Not necessarily,” Cynthia ventured but John was having none of her attempt to lighten the blow.

“They’ll be all around us at dinner…”

“Well, we don’t have to go to dinner.” Cynthia forestalled his interruption and continued with her idea. “We can have it in our suite. Plenty of room. We can have a picnic! They can’t get in there.”

There then fell a pause as the two men digested this idea. It was crystal clear to Pattie that theirs were the opinions which would count; she didn’t consciously formulate the thought, she simply knew. Pattie, Cynthia and the vastly intrigued hotel manager waited to hear the verdict.

Again, George and John glanced at each other. Clearly, that glance had signified assent, though Pattie had no idea how. John turned to the manager. “Will you fix that?”

The manager almost bowed, such was the level of his spirit of cooperation. “Certainly sir. Ah… would you like to take this evening’s menu with you, and you can phone down your orders.”

George and John beamed. Cynthia looked relieved. George reached out and took Pattie’s hand and, when the menu and wine list had been duly presented, the four surged up to their suite, as excited at the idea of a huge picnic as any children on their holidays.

Which in a way they were.

Friday 27th March 1964, evening.

A blanket was spread on the carpet. A double size blanket from John and Cynthia’s room. In the centre of the blanket was an ice bucket in which chilled a bottle of white wine, and two bottles of red stood nearby. Two more bottles of white stood in the bath in cold water. All around the bottles were dishes of food, all the courses together, as the group had decided that they didn’t want people knocking at the doors all the time to take courses away and bring new ones. The order to bring the entire three courses all at once apparently required repeating to the chief flunky on the phone, who seemed to be a little slow in understanding, but the message was got across in the end and the meal was served as required. It was quite exciting really; the dish of beef bourguignon was next to the sticky toffee pudding and the vegetables were right across the blanket next to the cheese board. You never knew what you were going to come across. The temptation to mix was irresistible. With enough wine it worked very well.

The four were having a delightful time.

Pattie sat cross legged, her plate held underneath her chin so as to avoid custard spills, and George crouched next to her working his way through some tender meat and gravy. The difficulties involved in eating such a meal neatly only added to the hilarity from the word games they were all playing together; they had just finished one where you had to think of a word within a category within ten seconds or you were out, and they were just beginning the one where you had to think of a word that had nothing to do with the word someone had just said. Cynthia proved extremely quick at challenging and finding associations between words, and John managed to make everything obscene but in the context of a private and drunken picnic it didn’t matter to anyone. Pattie was wiping a dribble of custard from her chin as she waited her turn to come round again, John was leaning forward on hands and knees to grab the dish of peas, George was arguing that fireplace had nothing to do with cylinder and…

CRASH.

Something, something that sounded very large, had crashed against one of the windows of their suite, just across the room from where they sprawled with their picnic.

Pattie shrieked in terror; Cynthia’s hands were clamped over her mouth. Both John and George were on their feet, reflexively ready, fists clenched, John already halfway towards the window. George raced ahead of him and wrenched the floor-length curtain aside. There, on the ledge outside, was a man, who looked very cold and very frightened and very alarmed. He stared in, wide eyed.

“Who the fuck…?” was all George could manage.

John continued the question, at closer quarters. He had run to the window and now flung it open. “Who the fuck are you?” he yelled.

If the man had looked frightened before, faced now with a furious and alarmed Lennon in full spate he progressed into full rabbit-in-headlights freeze. “I… I… I…”

“Come on!!”

The frozen invader rallied somewhat, enough to be able to utter more than one word. “I’m sorry… I didn’t…” He paused, and swallowed. “I nearly fell off.”

“I don’t give a fuck what you nearly did – who are you?”

“And could we close the window? It’s getting really cold.” This calm request was from Cynthia; John turned back to her, looked again at the man and made a decision.

“Who are you? And come in so we can close the window.”

The man nodded, and carefully clambered over the window ledge and dropped down onto the floor. “I’m so sorry…”

“Listen mate,” George’s calm voice joined in as John closed the window behind the intruder. “If you don’t just tell us who you are, and right now, I’ll kill you.”

The intruder’s head whirled round to face George, who, its owner felt, looked every bit as intimidating as John. He swallowed again. “I’m Nigel Bradbury. I’m with the Daily Mirror.”

“A fucking journalist.” John’s voice dripped disgust.

“But what are you doing at the window?” asked Cynthia.

“We’re two floors up,” Pattie pointed out, probably unnecessarily as the unhappy journalist was still shaking with fright. Eight eyes fixed upon the man, and a full explanation was clearly called for.

“I’m sorry…” George took a menacing step towards the man, who hastily continued. “I’d heard that George had a new girlfriend. I wanted to be the first one to see her.”

He paused, and swallowed with nerves. John gestured with mock gallantry with one arm towards Pattie, who had by this time put down her custard and stood up. “And here she is!” Pattie raised one hand and wiggled her fingers in greeting. “Do go on,” said John to the journalist, in a tone which managed to sound both faux polite and very threatening at the same time.

“So I went around every window to see if I could see her. And you.”

“From the outside?” George’s aggression had morphed into incredulity. Bradbury turned to him.

“Yes. I started at the ground floor and worked up. All the floors have ledges.” There fell a silence, which Bradbury filled with further explanation. “When I got to yours I missed my footing. I nearly fell off but I grabbed the handle and saved myself but crashed into your window. But luckily, it was yours.”

Another silence. And then, “Luckily,” George commented dryly.

John was staring at the man. An unmistakable gleam was replacing the flint of anger; he was beginning to grin. “You’re fucking crazy.”

Bradbury looked at him. “I know,” he replied, ruefully.

“Are you alright?” Cynthia enquired, and he nodded his head.

“Just scared out of my life. I thought I was a goner.”

John was still thinking; cogs were turning, and then he spoke. “Well, yer’d better have a drink then, hadn’t yer.”

It would have taken a full column’s length in Bradbury’s newspaper to properly describe and sum up the changing emotions that crossed the journalist’s face at that moment. Incomprehension at first, relief, joy, suspicion (was it a trap?); and at the end, something bordering on elation. He nodded. “Oh, yes please,” he said, fervently.

“Would you like to sit down?” Pattie indicated a space on the carpet. He sat himself down, wordlessly.

“What would you like?” asked George. “We’ve got scotch, or scotch.”

“Scotch would be lovely, thank you.” Overwhelming astonishment had not made him forget his manners. George poured him a drink and brought it over.

“I figured since you nearly fell to your death you’d want it neat.”

Bradbury nodded and smiled, absurdly grateful. They all noticed that when he reached out for the glass his hand was shaking slightly. “Thank you. Very much.” He glanced around at the group, who watched him with interest, and then raised his glass to his lips.

The drink went down in one. George wordlessly held out his hand for the glass and refilled it. This one disappeared more slowly. Nigel Bradbury sat on the carpet, with the Beatles, and their women, and looked around the group and smiled. “I really am sorry,” he said, and this time George allowed the apology.

“What were you going to do? Before you nearly fell off?”

“When I found you?” John nodded. “I was just going to try and take photos.”

There fell another pause. “That isn’t very nice though, is it.”

Bradbury drained his glass, and met John’s gaze head on. “No,” he said. “I know. It’s horrible. And intrusive.” He looked down into the empty glass and then back at John. “I’m surprised you didn’t just push me back out of the window.”

“Thought about it.”

“Yes.”

“Still could.”

“But not quite so easily?”

“There’s two of us.”

“Four,” Pattie joined in, and George looked at her in surprise.

“I don’t know how you all stand it,” said Bradbury.

“We don’t have much choice.” George’s voice was acid.

“But this was a choice. And you’re being so kind.” Bradbury raised the empty glass in salute. “Thank you. Very much.”

George refilled the glass again. Pattie smiled at the visitor. “Would you like something to eat?”

“All that scotch,” put in Cynthia, wisely.

Bradbury, sitting cross legged on the floor next to two of the most famous men in the world, covered his face with his hand for a moment in a moment of overwhelming gratitude to whatever gods were looking over him at that moment. It could have all gone so horribly wrong…

“We’ve got sticky toffee pudding,” Pattie continued placidly, and Bradbury reflected from the depths of his slightly drunken stupefaction that she just might be the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. No wonder George Harrison…

“Or just cheese and biscuits.”

He laughed weakly. “Cheese and biscuits would be really good.”

“And then you’d better toddle off to your other snoopy friends,” said John. Bradbury nodded as he cut a piece of cheese from the board that had been passed to him by Cynthia Lennon –was this really happening to him?? – “But,” John was continuing, “if you say anything about where we are…”

“I won’t!” Bradbury replied fervently, his mouth full of cheese and cracker. “I promise.” He nodded, emphatically. He looked across at George, who regarded him from below thick dark eyebrows. George, surprisingly, smiled warmly and the smile lit his face.

“You’re a fucking idiot,” he remarked, kindly.

As Bradbury, a little later, shook hands with each one of the party and left the room via the more orthodox route of the door, he decided that never had a truer word been spoken.

Saturday 27th March 1964, morning.

Pattie woke, disorientated for a while, gradually absorbing the facts of her presence in an Irish castle, remembering bit by bit the events of the day before. She saw that the sun was trying to shine in through the thick floor length curtains, so she wondered what time it was. Her watch was on the night table, but the night table was on the other side of the bed and George was in the way, still fast asleep with his left arm slung across her waist and his hair across his face.

She turned towards him and looked at him for a while; this for her was always a pleasurable way to spend her time, but she did want to know the time and she did really want to start her day on her holiday. She twisted around a little more towards him and reached over him to grab her watch.

“Hmmmph. Wha…”

The watch said 10.15; an intelligible message compared to George’s utterance. Pattie was very aware that, for Beatles, activity before noon was unheard of, but now that she was properly awake she wanted to get going and do something, anything, to take advantage of the lovely place they were staying in. She wriggled away and nearer to the edge of the bed, and George’s arm slid off her. She swung her legs off the bed and sat.

“Whatchadoin?” The voice managed to sound peevish as well as tired. She ignored the peevishness.

“I just want to see out, see what the weather’s doing, have a look at the view. You can stay there.”

“I’m going to.” Still peevish but more awake now, George ran his fingers back through his hair and then rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand. He looked almost conscious. Pattie got to her feet and padded across the carpet to the window. She reached up to grasp the edge of the curtain. At the last minute, a pretty alarming scenario flashed through the still sleep-deadened mind of the Beatle and he called out his warning. “Pattie, put something on…!!”

Too slow. Too late. Pattie had whisked the tall curtains aside. She stood in the window, naked as the day she was born, to be greeted by a roar of questions and shouts and directives from what seemed like every journalist in the whole world and the accumulated sound of what seemed like a thousand cameras clicking at once.

Sometimes ones reaction to shock is to freeze. It is fortunate that this was not Pattie’s reaction at that moment. Within a nanosecond of the start of the noise she had whirled around and crouched herself into a ball below the level of the window, hunched, trembling, blue eyes larger than ever before as she looked back at George in complete horror.

He knew that it wasn’t kind. He actually did sympathise. Nevertheless, he couldn’t help it – the expression on her face was truly the funniest thing he could remember seeing and he laughed so much that his stomach hurt.

…

Pattie was sitting curled up on the sofa in the main suite with a cup of coffee clasped between her hands. Cynthia was sitting next to her, attempting, quite successfully, to project sympathy to the traumatised girl. George and John were pacing around the room, George at a safe distance from Pattie. John was making a commendable effort to keep the twitches of amusement from his face. When George and Pattie had first told their friends what had happened John had let out a raucous hoot of laughter, and Cynthia had hit him. Cynthia had then given Pattie a hug and Pattie had wept for a moment or two. George phoned down for tea and coffee and “breakfast stuff” as he put it. The hotel must have been accustomed to unspecific food orders, as a delicious spread soon appeared. They ate, they drank, and now George and John paced, as they considered their current dilemma. Now and then George looked across the large room at Pattie, but thus far she was still maintaining a frosty carapace. It wasn’t that she was staying chilly in order to punish him, she was in fact still very upset and knew that it would take a while to get over it. Meanwhile, she and Cynthia were doing what Pattie realised was what Beatle women do; they were leaving it to their menfolk to decide what to do.

“It’s over anyway,” said John. George nodded. “No point trying to have a holiday now.” George shook his head. “But how do we get out of this?”

George sighed heavily. “We’re going to have to phone Brian.”

“Oh God.”

“I know, but he’ll have to get the office to book the plane back and all that.”

“How the fuck did it get out?”

“Same as it always does.”

“And how’s that?” Pattie spoke up for the first time; George tried to quell a leap of optimism in his heart.

“Fairies,” said John.

“What?”

“We don’t know,” translated Cynthia. “We never know. It just does.”

“You’d better call Brian,” said George.

“Why me? You do it.”

“He’s scared of you. We’ll get it done quicker with you.”

John sadly acknowledged the truth of this, and picked up the phone and spoke to the receptionist. “We need an outside line.”

John hunched himself down on the small padded chair next to the phone table. George, deprived of his pacing partner, turned reluctantly towards the sofa on which sat the two women. Dark eyes were large and pleading. “Pattie,” he said in a small voice, “I’m really sorry. I really am.”

“I know you are,” she said, voice just as small. Cynthia found it politic to get up and pour herself another cup of tea, and George came and took her place on the sofa. “It was horrible,” she said, unnecessarily.

“The people or me?”

“Both.”

George chewed at his lower lip, and then turned to her and held out his arms. Pattie slid sideways across the sofa and wriggled into his embrace, and George enfolded her tightly. Cynthia found another chair and sat down with her tea.

John replaced the phone. “He can’t send the car until late, around five. The plane will be at Shannon for us.”

“What can we do until then?” asked Pattie from deep within George’s arms.

“Bugger all,” was John’s terse reply.

“Now they’re here we won’t really be able to go out.” Cynthia once again translated her husband’s laconic reply. “They’d follow us everywhere.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. He looked over at George and Pattie. “She’s forgiven you then.”

“Fuck off,” replied George mildly.

“So what do we do?” Pattie was aware that all her questions sounded grossly naïve and possibly irritating, but she found it almost impossible to comprehend that they were at the mercy of a huge crowd of uninvited journalists. It just wasn’t fair!

John planted himself in the centre of the room and addressed the others. “Brian said we have to give them something.”

“Blood?” came George’s sardonic enquiry as he nuzzled at Pattie’s hair.

“Some kind of photo shoot.”

“Oh shit!”

John nodded lugubriously.

“A fucking press conference.” But George saw that John was clearly mulling over an idea. ”What?”

“There were some suits of armour down in the reception.”

“Oh yeah,” said George. “Let’s all dress up in suits of armour and go and stand outside in front of them and clank.”

“No!” John was grinning. “There were swords! We can have a sword fight!”

There was a pause as the other three took in this suggestion. And then -

“Yeah, that’s fab!”

“Are they real?”

“Will you kill each other?” The latter two questions were from Pattie and Cynthia respectively; as they expected, they were completely ignored.

“Let’s go and get the swords!” George jumped to his feet.

“Brian will want you in suits.”

“Eh?” John paused in his rush to the door and turned back to his wife.

“You know he will. You always have to be in suits for anything public. And this is.” She paused. “Even if you do end up killing each other.” Cynthia did not sound amused.

George and John looked at each other briefly, and then disappeared back into their rooms to get changed, before running down the stairs excitedly to tell the chief flunky that they wanted his swords.

Saturday 27th March 1964, late morning.

Pattie and Cynthia were stretched out on respective sofas in their suite. A television was on but they weren’t watching it. They were spending the time chatting, an ostensibly casual natter which for Pattie was invaluable as it added more and more detail about the life of a Beatle girl, “If that’s what you want,” Cynthia had added. It sounded ominous.

“Yes, I do.” Pattie had felt alarmed and defensive in equal measure.

Cynthia was reassuring. She wasn’t challenging the other girl, or trying to test her out. “But this will be a lot of it.”

“What will?”

“This,” explained Cynthia, waving an arm in the general direction of the room. “Sitting around in posh places waiting.”

“Pattie nodded. She was beginning to see. “So, this is usual?”

“Oh yes. Wherever you are, whatever you’re doing, the press or the fans, or both, will find out and you’ll be surrounded.” She paused to take another drag at her cigarette. “You just have to accept that it’s going to happen.”

“But you were surprised they found us here.”

“Yes. But I shouldn’t have been!”

Pattie lit a cigarette of her own, and the two lapsed into a comfortable silence. As boring as it might have been for Cynthia, for Pattie this was a heaven-sent opportunity to find out more about the life she was joining and about the people in it. She’d forgotten, for example, that she’d been nervous of meeting Cyn, who couldn’t have been nicer, especially after the trauma of literally exposing herself to the world’s press and George’s ensuing hysterics. She was realising more and more that there was a great deal to learn about being George Harrison’s girlfriend, little of which had anything to do with George himself and even less of which George could help her with or even tell her about. He was in the middle of it, he was living it, and as such he couldn’t possibly know what it was like for a newcomer to join in on the periphery of the whirlwind.

When Pattie had wandered too near the window, Cynthia called to her to step back. “They’ll see you.” Cynthia had described her trip to America when the Beatles had performed on the Ed Sullivan show; if it hadn’t been for this morning’s mishap, Pattie might have thought that she was exaggerating. The truth was beginning to dawn.

“It’s a different world,” she said.

Cynthia nodded.

John and George had been emphatic that neither girl would accompany their menfolk to see the swordfight. George in particular had been positively fierce in his insistence that Pattie remain hidden away. “They’ll get you,” he’d said. “You don’t want it.” So they had clattered off excitedly with their weapons and Pattie and Cynthia had hunkered down in their comfortable prison and waited.

The door to the suite burst open. John and George burst in, grinning, excited; very messy. Clearly swordfighting was a highly physical business. They were, surprisingly, followed by the head flunky himself, who walked in with his usual restrained and dignified demeanour, and both girls found themselves automatically taking their feet off the furniture and sitting more upright. Cynthia confessed later that her first thought was, “Oh no, what’s he done now?” However, flunky was not there to return two miscreants to their minders. “He’s had an idea!” proclaimed John, plonking himself on the sofa next to his wife. Cynthia blinked, puzzled.

“What about?”

“How to get you out!”

Pattie frowned. “What do you mean? We can…”

“No,” broke in George, also sitting down. “They’ll go mad when they see you.” He was looking directly at Pattie, who was even more puzzled and looked across at Cyn. George hastened to explain. “They know about Cyn. They’ve seen her. You’re the new story, they want to get at you.”

“Listen!” John demanded. “This is good. He’s the manager, by the way.”

“Oh,” said Pattie, and smiled politely. “I’m sorry, I don’t know your name…”

“Er… Nolan, Miss… ah… Boyd.” Pattie inclined her head graciously. John was visibly impatient with the pleasantries.

“Tell them your idea,” he said. “No, don’t worry, I will.” Mr Nolan, who had opened his mouth to speak, obediently closed it again. “Me and George will walk out the front. You two,” he paused, and looked around at his audience with a grin, “will dress up as hotel maids and get into some laundry baskets and they’ll put the baskets in a van and drive it away!”

There fell a heavy silence. Cynthia broke the silence.

“That’s a joke.”

Mr Nolan uttered a polite cough, and all eyes turned to him. “If I may,” he ventured. He correctly took the ensuing silence as assent. “There will be so much attention on the two gentlemen leaving the hotel,” George chuckled at he and John being referred to as gentlemen, “that even if they see two chambermaids with laundry no-one will pay any attention. The ladies will get out of the grounds, and the van can stop somewhere and let them out of the baskets.”

Another deep silence fell. All eyes were on Cynthia and Pattie, the former suspicious and the latter astounded.

“This really isn’t a joke?” insisted Cynthia.

“Will we fit, in the baskets?” Pattie’s query was practical.

“It isn’t, and you will.” Mr Nolan, the erstwhile head flunky, seemed pleased with himself. The girls looked at each other.

“Well, ok,” Cynthia caved in, and Pattie nodded. There really wasn’t anything else she could do.

“Have you got the uniforms?” she said. Mr Nolan almost smiled.

“I took the liberty…” he said, and stepped outside the room and retrieved two folded chambermaid uniforms and brought them in. “You can try them for size…?”

Pattie burst out laughing. And reflected to herself that, when George had asked her out on the film set and she had said yes, this was not exactly what she had envisaged.

Mr Nolan carefully placed the uniforms on a side table and moved towards the door. “I’ll go and make the arrangements.” George smiled and nodded. The manager paused just as he got back to the door. “Er…”All four guests looked at him questioningly. “I… er.. wonder if I might have your autographs? For my daughter, you understand…” He produced from the depths of his suit a hotel brochure and a pen.

George and John cut glances with each other again, and both stepped forward to oblige.

Saturday 27th March 1964, early afternoon.

Pattie and Cynthia were by now laughing so hard that they could hardly stand up. On Cynthia the starched dress stood up on her as if it had a will of its own. On Pattie the little apron had to be wound four times around her waist before it could be tied. Cynthia wiped the tears of laughter from her eyes. “Whacha doin’ in there?” bellowed John from the outer room. The two girls looked at each other, stood straighter, and opened the door and marched out of the bed room into which they’d retreated to change into the uniforms.

They were met by a stunned silence.

“Don’t you think I look wonderful?” asked Cynthia, striking a pose. Pattie tried to stifle a snort of laughter. George’s eyes grew wide.

“That’s not bad,” he said. His customary drawled tone was distinctly lascivious. Pattie glared at him. “Can you keep the clothes?”

“Don’t be silly, George,” snapped Pattie. “And anyway,” she went on in a calmer tone, “we’ll have to keep them. We can’t bring them back.”

John’s grin was evil. “John!” Cynthia’s warning tone was identical to Pattie’s.

There came a knock at the door. Even when banging his knuckles against wood the chief flunky, Mr Nolan himself, managed to sound deferential. “Yeah?” called George.

Mr Nolan entered. “Ah… are the ladies ready?”

“I think so.” Pattie realised she was starting to feel very nervous about this plan, which had for a short while sounded fun. She looked across the room at George, who came over and put his arm around her waist.

“Is everyone packed?” The guests all nodded, and Mr Nolan, who seemed to have come into his own in his role as the chief organiser of a giant prank, took control with vigorous efficiency. “Right,” he barked.

“Were you in the army, mister?” enquired John. Cynthia jabbed him with her elbow. Mr Nolan ignored him.

“We will have your car brought round to the front,” he directed. “As soon as it arrives we will have all the cases loaded in. All the journalists will by then be surrounding the car. Once we are sure that their attention is on the car, the ladies will be conducted by our chief housekeeper to the laundry room and will be given the baskets they are to carry to the laundry van. The gentlemen” George giggled again “will leave the hotel via the front entrance. As you, sirs, speak to the journalists to explain that the ladies will be leaving a little later, the ladies themselves will be entering the laundry van and hiding in the basket. The van will set off, leaving the castle grounds through the tradesmen’s entrance. The gentlemen will be driven out through the main gate.” Mr Nolan paused and looked around the group. “Are there any questions?”

Pattie wondered, after that dazzling display of strategic efficiency, whether they would dare voice any questions even if they had any. But Cynthia voiced the query that she herself had thought of. “Where will we meet the car and get out of the van?” she asked, and Pattie nodded.

“And when do they get out of the basket?” Pattie inwardly blessed George for asking the next one of her list of worries.

“Once the van doors are closed the driver will open the basket and let them out,” assured Mr Nolan. “The laundry van will rendezvous with the car at Shannon Airport.”

“At seventeen hundred hours,” John supplied in his best sergeant major accent, and Cynthia jabbed him again.

“Are there any further questions?”

The four looked at each other, and the four all shook their heads. Mr Nolan looked at his watch. “Synchronise…” John began and this time Cynthia slapped him on the head. The hotel manager looked at his watch again, and his expression dared the guests to make fun of him.

“I’ll give the instruction for the car to be brought round,” he said and, with a sharp nod, he turned smartly and left the room.

Pattie wound both arms around George’s waist and leaned her head against his shoulder. She suddenly felt very very anxious.

Saturday 27th March 1964, late afternoon.

Shannon Airport was very small, but the staff there still kindly managed to locate a small though unglamorous private room for the four to sit in until their toy plane was ready for take-off. Privacy was essential. Not merely because they were two Beatles and women and therefore phenomenally famous, but also because the women in question could not have contemplated any degree of public viewing from others. Not yet.

John still, now and then, allowed a giggle to erupt, though each one was swiftly stifled. He and Cynthia had been together a long time. And were married. George and Pattie were newly in love and George, despite his youth and despite his inexperience of serious relationships, had become quickly and urgently aware that laughing was not politic and now clamped down ruthlessly on any mirth which struggled to escape. Pattie was hunched in a not very comfortable chair and was dabbing at tear drops which still trickled prettily from her eyes despite her efforts to stop crying. She didn’t even know why she was crying, as she kept saying. It was maybe just the shock. Cynthia was dragging a brush through her long thick hair, every brush stoke leaving the menfolk in no doubt of her anger at her husband’s response. She glared at her husband. “It is not funny,” she said, implacably.

She was met with a silence; there was little more that could be said. The problem had been a simple one. The van driver had forgotten, in his enthusiasm to effect his dare-devil get away, to let the girls out of the laundry basket. Carried away by the drama of the situation, which was without doubt the highlight of his employment at the hotel, he had put his foot down and hurled the van around sharp bends, up and down hills, slamming to a halt at traffic lights and shooting off again when the lights changed, driving like the getaway driver he fancied himself to be, all the way from the castle to the airport. Only when he drove into the airport and saw the limo waiting for him and his cargo did he remember just what he had been supposed to do.

After slithering out of his driver’s seat into the back of the van and undoing the lids of the baskets, he made sure to make himself very, very scarce.

And, in the meantime, during that journey from the hotel to the airport, all eight and a half miles of it, the basket in which Pattie Boyd and Cynthia Lennon had been hidden had thudded from one side of the van to the other, smashing into the sides of the van and ricocheting back to the other side again. In vain had the girls shrieked and yelled to be let out of the basket, as had been the plan. Locked in the van and buried in laundry they went unheard and eventually they gave up shouting. All they could do was try to brace themselves so as not to smash into each other and, occasionally, they succeeded. Most of the time they didn’t. During times when the van was following a straight road they straightened themselves out, moved as far from each other as they could, gripped with their feet at the base of the basket. But, unlike when you’re in the passenger seat and can see what’s happening, they had no warning of the next hairpin bend in this remote and rural area, and they were yet again tossed here, there and all over each other. They were in pain from where there collided with each other; Pattie’s forehead had smashed against Cynthia’s and the sharp pain made her feel sick. As did the rocking to and fro. As did the fear.

The girls were both terrified. There was certainly no opportunity to speak coherently to each other during that nightmare ride, but afterwards they found that both had feared the baskets tipping over altogether and bodies being flung and necks being snapped…

Cynthia’s hairbrush drew crackling static as she brushed and brushed and glared. Pattie’s paper handkerchief was scrunched smaller and smaller in her hand and she sniffed at intervals. George made a judgement call, and pulled up a chair to sit next to her and drew her close into his arms. It turned out to be the correct call; she pressed close to him and buried her face in his shoulder. She didn’t want to cry any more. She’d had enough of that. It was just the shock, she said again…

“Ah, ladies and gentlemen?” came a hesitant voice from the door. “Your flight is ready for boarding.”

Pattie pushed herself upright and looked at George. She remembered that hideous pressure in her ears. He remembered his complete lack of faith that the toy plane was capable of flight. His dark eyes met her tearful blue ones.

“Oh fuck,” he remarked sadly.

Sunday 28th March 1964, mid morning

George reached out towards the cup of tea, but Pattie shook her head and put it down on the night table beside the bed. “It’s hot,” she said, and scampered round to her side of the bed with her own cup in her hand, which she carefully put down before clambering into bed herself. Once comfortably in, she retrieved the cup and took a sip. “Mmmm.”

“Ta,” said George.

“S’alright.”

George pushed himself back in the bed so that he was supported by the headboard and pillows and then he too picked up his tea. The couple sat in comfortable silence for a while, drinking, waking up.

After a while, Pattie became aware that the silence was becoming less comfortable. She sipped her tea and tried to work out whether or not it was her imagination, but concluded that it was not. She then, once she’d definitely concluded that there was something not quite right, began to feel worried. She knew she had to ask him about it, to ask if there was anything wrong; but she also wondered whether she actually wanted to know.

If there had been a test which had to be passed during those extraordinary couple of days – had she passed it? Had she failed it? Had she fitted into that uniquely close-knit group, or was she outside? Not right. Not wanted.

Was he…?

“Pattie.” George’s tone was abrupt, almost harsh.

That’s it then. This was it. They’d tried it out, he’d invited her along, but it hadn’t worked out, and John and Cyn had spoken to him and…

“Pattie!”

She turned to him. Feeling slightly sick with anxiety but knowing she had to be adult about it, brave…

“Pattie!! Why aren’t you talking to me?”

She went to take a deep breath to speak, but found that she was already holding her breath and would have been asphyxiated. “I…” she began. She swallowed. “I am talking to you.” She dared look up into his eyes, and was astonished at the expression she found there. Anxious, longing – every bit as worried as she herself felt. “George, what is it?”

He was chewing his lip.

“George!” It was her turn to sound abrupt, and almost harsh.

George looked down at the bedclothes over his lap, and then straight back at her and visibly gathered himself to speak. Pattie braced herself for the blackness, the grief…

“Did it put you off?” he barked at her.

Pattie’s eyes widened in surprise, and she frowned, unable to process what he’d asked. “Did it…?” She trailed off.

“Did all that,” George almost spat out the last word, “put you off? Put you off being with me. Going out with me.” By now he had turned to her, his brown eyes searching hers. Pleading. And, as she gradually began to absorb what was going on here, a massive weight of fear rolled off her and evaporated away. She felt the corner of her mouth begin to twitch into a smile, and the smile broadened into a beam of relief.

“No!” she exclaimed. She twisted around to face him and found that her hands had made their way to cup his face, gently, tenderly. “No! Of course it didn’t!”

“It’s not of course,” he countered gruffly but quite reasonably. “You nearly got killed cos of it.”

Pattie found herself laughing; the memory was still awful but the relief that she wasn’t being unceremoniously dumped overruled it. “No I didn’t.”

“You did.”

“Well, okay, never mind, I don’t care, it hasn’t put me off, nothing would. Please don’t…” She stopped, not even sure what she was going to say. But George picked it up.

“Don’t what?”

Another deep breath, this time it was possible, and she knew she had to be honest. “I was worried you wouldn’t think it worked out. The weekend. All of you.”

“Eh?” It was George’s turn to frown in confusion. “What…? What didn’t work?”

“I thought maybe you and the others wouldn’t think I fitted in. To the group.” She paused, and searched his face again for response. She didn’t have to wait very long. At last, that wonderful toothy grin made its appearance.

“It was great!” he proclaimed, and he reached out and pulled her into his arms. Pattie lay squashed against him as he squeezed her tightly and she felt his chuckle against her cheek. “You were great. You were perfect. And John and Cyn loved you!”

“Did they?” came her muffled plea for extra reassurance.

“Yeah, they did! And Brian said we could have another holiday in May cos we’ve got time off and they want you to come too. But I didn’t know if you’d want to, I didn’t know if you were put off with all the press, and the hiding - and the fucking laundry baskets.”

Pattie wriggled out of his almost frantic clasp and pushed herself upright so that she could properly face him. “George,” she declared. “I don’t care how many laundry baskets I have to travel in, I want to be with you.” She leaned forward and kissed him on the nose. “Always,” she concluded.

George reached for her again, and kissed her lovingly and deeply and endlessly. And at the end they snuggled down together into the bed clothes and wrapped their arms and legs around each other. “Where are we going on holiday?” she asked, dreamily.

“China.”

“China?? Are you sure that’s safe?”

George nuzzled his face against her hair. “They’ve got some good laundries there,” he said.

“You bastard…!!” But he silenced her with another kiss, and not much more was said between them for some time.

END

#George Harrison #Pattie Boyd #John Lennon #Cynthia Lennon #the beatles #beatlesonholiday #fanfiction #1964 #romance #dromolandcastle

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lizord-lord · 5 years

Text

(I AM!!! NOT DEAD!!! I STILL!!! WRITE!! Or at least I like to think I do. I got stuck on multiple parts of this chapter, and just buckled down and finished it last night, and it ended up being the longest chapter yet, not to mention entirely fucking over my outline. Hopefully more updates will come sooner, but given..everything about me, don’t count on it. But I am SUPER excited to bring you this chapter, so enjoy!! And thank you to @ultimate-queen-of-fandoms2 for beta reading/ feeding my tiny gremlin ego.)

Ships: Royality

Word count: 6,585

Summary: Patton’s always believed there’s more the the world than meets the eye. Or at least-meets others’ eyes..his own have always seen glimpses of shimmer in the bushes, colors in the breeze, movement in the shadows.It was only distant hope-until a day of exploration in the woods led him to become acquainted with a pair of Fae twins. They call themselves Truth and Lies… But does he really know which is which?

Warnings: brief body image issues, sympathetic deceit

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Will O’ The Wisp, Chapter Three

I say you intrigue me, bright as you are

Work was torture. Not because Patton disliked his job-far from it, he enjoyed watching people splash color onto cups and plates and little figurines. And even working at the kiln wasn’t too bad-though hot, but it was summer in Florida, so that wasn’t too much of an issue. He was pretty used to the heat at this point. It being summer, of course, there were more customers, which meant more hectic days, but this specific establishment was run by a very nice lady named Via who believed in the workplace being a friendly environment for all involved. And her wife Esther always brought donuts on Wednesdays, so there was that too. Even if Patton had stopped partaking lately. So overall, it was a pretty nice job.

No, Patton’s suffering was not at all employment-based, but rather, patience-based. How was he supposed to just stand around doing normal person work when he, Patton, just a few hours ago, had met faeries?? It was taking all of his self-control to not bounce on his toes and begin to gush on about that magnificent experience to every one of his coworkers and the customers to boot!

Luckily, he managed not to. Roman might share his joy when they both got home, but the general populous wouldn’t, and Patton knew that they wouldn’t, and furthermore he did not want all his work friends thinking he was crazy. Heck, half of them already thought he was for refusing Esther’s donuts! Okay, maybe that wasn’t quite the same thing.

Nevertheless, by some very human miracle, he managed to make it through the day with only the occasional comment about how he had more energy than normal. Which was fine. He managed to be his usual outgoing self without too much suspicious activity up until clock-out, where he ditched his uniform as quickly as possible and hopped on his brand new baby pink bike with so much gusto that he very nearly fell flat on his face. In fact he likely would have, had Elliot not also decided to bike to work today. They caught him just in time, tugging him back to his feet by the shoulders. In an effort to play off his near-death (okay, maybe not quite that bad) Patton laughed, but he was sure that between his face and hair, he looked entirely the same color.

“Thanks,” he said, slightly breathless. Elliot rolled their eyes, but there was a fond smile on their face. “Yeah, no problem Patt. Pretty sure I’m not the only one who doesn’t want you faceplanting into the pavement.” “Oh for sure- if you hadn’t been there I would have been Splatt-on!”

Patton beamed as Elliot sighed.

“Take it back, you can perish on the floor for all I care.” “Aw, C’mon, it’s not that-” “Nope.” They held up a hand, face deadpan. Patton only giggled. “I am not letting you get a combo in there. How’s the new place?” “Oh!” Puns forgotten (much to the very sun’s relief) Patton brightened, brushing a few stray curls out of his eyes.

“It’s lovely! Even moving in was a blast, it’s just so...homey, y’know? Like something out of a storybook. And the woods! There’s this forest out back you see, and it has the most beautiful little stream, and the trees are huge, and- oh gosh you won’t believe this-”

He caught himself just in time. No! Bad Patton! God, was his mouth really that big? He just couldn’t wait, he’d had this massive revelation bottled up inside all day, and he’d almost been that careless? “What?” “Oh-” thinking quickly, Patton swung his leg back up onto his bike and made a bit of show of being careful to buy himself another two seconds. “I found this strawberry patch! Yeah, maybe I’ll pick some and Ro and I can make strawberry shortcake this weekend!”

Phew. Elliot tilted their head, clearly interested, but didn’t add anything until Patton was done putting on his helmet. “Sounds like a fun time. I won’t keep you any longer- I’ve been late to too many shifts already, now you get back to your man!” They laughed good-naturedly and gave a small wave as they headed inside the shop, and Patton grinned back over his shoulder before taking off down the road.

“Oh there you are my sunlight, my world is golden and warm again!” Patton laughed at his boyfriend’s dramatic, but routine greeting. And on par with that routine, he shut the door, dropped his keys in the little dish that they had put on the windowsill nest to the door, and let Roman sweep him into his strong arms, giggling as they kissed with way more passion necessary for people who had only been apart for about eight hours. If there was any perk to not have or be visiting Virgil constantly, it was that he wasn’t there to loudly call them gross and chuck a pillow, stuffed animal, blanket, comic book, magazine, tissue box, or on one occasion of extreme sleep-deprivation, his cat SV- at their faces.

They separated eventually, both giggling, and Roman set Patton down with a slight “oof.”

“Roman you won’t believe what I saw in the woods today!! Faeries Roman, I met real faeries!!”

The words spilled out of Patton’s mouth before anything else-even a hello, nearly squealing the last words in his pure excitement.

He felt Roman’s hands go still in his, a look of pure shock spreading over his boyfriend’s face. An expression that soon morphed from shock to disbelief, then hope, and then an excitement so strong that Patton was sure that, if they were cartoon characters, his eyes would have turned into stars. Patton laughed, and then Roman laughed, and they gripped each other’s hands tight- and before long they were dancing like children in a little ring, laughing and squealing, because faeries were real and they lived in their backyard!!!

“Tell me everything!!” Roman exclaimed breathlessly once they had finally run out of energy and stopped the gleeful dance, and Patton nodded wildly, grinning so hard it hurt his cheeks as he dragged Roman to the couch, bouncing on the white cushion in his poorly-contained joy.

“Okay so- after you left I hung around a bit, and then I got bored, so I headed out to the woods y’know? It wasn’t really as fun without you at first, so I ended up back by that tree we saw last time. Beautiful tree, I think it looked even prettier in the morning! Oh- but anyway I think I fell asleep for a bit- and then I was hearing these voices, so I stood up and turned around- and when I did- faeries!!”

“How many?” Roman asked eagerly, his eyes sparkling, “How big were they? Did they have wings? Were they butterfly wings or like- insect wings? Or petals? What were they like?” Patton shook his head quickly, but the smile never left his face. “No, no wings- they were actually your height I think, maybe taller? But they were beautiful Roman, the way they moved- they were like dancers, or acrobats..it was amazing. But they talked to me, and we introduced ourselves- I’ll tell Virgil not to worry, I didn’t give my full name- but they’re called Truth and Lies, and they’re brothers! Well, sorta..they’re cursed you see- well, I think- Truth can only tell the truth and Lies can only lie, so they talk a little weird, and sometimes it’s just wind? Anyway- they said I could see them again tomorrow!!”

And just like that, Roman deflated.

“...I have a shift tomorrow..” he moaned, sparkle fading from his eyes like a puppy who had just had its favorite treat thrown in the trash. “Oh. Well-” Patton quickly squeezed his hands, worry flashing over his face- oh dear, in his excitement he’d forgotten, “Don’t worry- if they’re okay with meeting up tomorrow I’m sure they’ll be okay with showing up on Friday, right?”

“..right.”

“I’ll tell them you want to meet them okay? They’re really friendly, I’m sure they’ll be okay with it! Plus, who wouldn’t want to meet such a charming prince?” Smiling, Patton leaned in to nuzzle Roman’s nose, which caused his boyfriend to let out a high-pitched squeal. And then a bout of giggles, which Patton soon found himself mirroring as Roman’s hands cupped his round cheeks and he began to pepper kisses over every single freckle. And then finally, his mouth landed on Patton’s, and the kisses turned from feather-light and playful to slow and sweet. By the time they separated, the immediate concern had been forgotten, and somehow Patton had ended up on Roman’s lap. Neither of them minded this, however.

In fact, for a few minutes they just sat there in the light of the sun streaming through the window, with Roman’s arms slung around Patton’s middle- until Roman’s stomach rumbled.

“So….Chinese tonight, Rosebud?” he suggested- then pouted when Patton frowned and firmly shook his head. It wasn’t dinnertime quite yet, but Patton was hungry too, and with their slightly uncoordinated work schedules, he and Roman often ended up eating early, so food was something to be thinking about. However, despite his enjoyment for Chinese takeout, a more disciplined part of Patton’s brain rejected the suggestion.

“No, we had pizza last night Ro- and I made waffles this morning! We should get something healthier, at least make something ourselves?”

“Oh, alright, fine,” Roman sighed, though he was milking the disappointment a bit. “How about...enchiladas?”

Patton smiled conspiratorially at that, then rose from the couch and turned, trading out the expression for his most over-the-top stern look, placing his hands on his hips to really sell the bit. “Are you going to going to spill the sauce all over the counter and then draw a dog with it instead of cleaning it up again, young man?” “Nooooo?” Roman laughed, putting on his best “innocent face”, which made him laugh, and then Patton laughed, and Roman jumped up from the couch and took Patton’s hand, tugging him towards the kitchen. “I promise, no enchilada sauce masterpieces on the counter!”

The enchiladas went without incident (well, except for Patton dropping a bowl on the floor, but nothing was spilled and nothing broke, so it was fine) and soon the couple was seated together at the table, happily eating. It was well into the evening now, and Roman had been recounting work stories. Mostly bitching about this one lady who had come in with her seven-year-old son (which was fine as long as he didn’t break anything) and upon Roman coming up to her to ask if she was finding everything she needed, glared at him, covered her son’s eyes, and backed out of the store as if he was some ghoul asking if he could eat her child’s heart rather than a store employee just doing his job. Patton was listening intently and offering his full support in the rant, and Roman had just started to list all the other times people had been horrified to see a man in makeup working at a beauty store- when the doorbell rang.

That was odd. They weren’t expecting anyone, Virgil wasn’t the type to show up out of the blue and for that matter- neither were most of their friends. It could be the mailman, but that was unlikely, so that really didn’t leave much. Then again, after this morning, the oddness of the doorbell ringing when no one was expected seemed like nothing. Nevertheless, Patton quickly pushed back his chair and stood, Roman following, and opened the door.

Before them stood a friendly-looking man in perhaps his late thirties or early forties, with pinkish-purple hair and a tan sweater. He looked a tad surprised that they’d answered the door, but waved, then held out a hand to shake.

“Heyo! So you’re our guests for the summer, hm? Nice to meet you, I’m Emile Picani.”

“Oh!” This must be one of their neighbors. Patton took his hand and shook it, then offered a large smile and stepped back slightly.

“Sorry, we weren’t really expecting any visitors- I’m Patton Sanders, and this-” “Roman Prince, delighted to make your acquaintance.” Patton rolled his eyes playfully at the little bow his boyfriend offered their neighbor before taking his hand and shaking it firmly.

“My boyfriend,” Patton finished with a sigh, slightly relieved at the way Emile laughed at said boyfriend’s antics. “Why don’t you come in?”

“Oh no, I just wanted to say hello, I shouldn’t be intruding-” “Nonsense!” Roman proclaimed. “We were just finishing up dinner, and it’s always good to get to know your neighbors, right?” “Well..if you’re alright with it, I suppose.”

He stepped inside and Roman closed the door behind him. Patton quickly excused himself to clean up their dinner dishes, and before long they were all seated in the little living room area, Roman and Patton together on the couch and Emile in a white wicker rocking chair.

“So where are you two coming from?” Emile asked.

“Oh, not far,” Roman replied. “I’ve been around, but my family moved to Portsmount city when I was sixteen, and dear Patton has lived there all his life.” “That’s right! I’d always really wanted to see some country, so we figured rather than renting a place together we could try somewhere a little more rural for the summer and..y’know, see how we liked it!” “Aww, how sweet,” chuckled Emile “Though I wouldn’t call our little spot of town country really.” “Well it’s pretty close to me!”

“Fair. Suppose I’m kind of the same myself in a way- I’ve lived here all my life. Makes the commute a bit of a pain, but the view is worth it.” “You have?” Roman asked, leaning forward a bit with interest. “Got any stories to tell?”

He was grinning slightly, and Emile laughed again, though it was a bit high-pitched.

“Oh, plenty, but if I recounted all of them we’d be here all night. Maybe I can humor you another time?” “Of course,” Patton replied. “Plus, most of them aren’t really the town’s, if that’s what you’re after. Dare I say it’s not really too eventful a place, but it’s pretty darn homey.”

“Seems that way..” Patton’s voice trailed off almost dreamily, but his eyes sparkled- not an eventful place? He’d never heard anything less true.

“So what do you two do?”

“Well I, am an actor!” Roman proclaimed, puffing out his chest slightly, “But in between shows I’m just a Sephora cast member for now.” “An actor? My my, that’s wonderful! Though I can’t say I’m surprised, you definitely have the attitude.” Roman beamed at the compliment, while Emile turned his sights on Patton. “And what about you?” “Oh, I work at Color Me Mine.” “Color Me Mine?” he tilted his head, confused, “Can’t say I’ve heard of that place.” Patton just waved a hand, unbothered. Most people didn’t know where he worked. “It’s a shop where people can come and paint their own ceramics- bowls, plates, figurines-that sort of thing.” “Creative types then?” “Mhm!” Emile pushed his glasses up his nose. “Well our little spot is going to be lucky to have you then! I’m a therapist myself. Shame I can’t have my office out here, I think a natural environment can really help clear the mind and make sessions easier. But it’s obviously too far.”

“You can say that again,” Roman snorted. “Our friend Virgil still lives in the city and most of his texts so far have been asking if we’re dead. I’m only half-certain that he’s joking…” “I’m sure we’ll get him out here for a visit sooner or later,” Patton assured.

“Sounds like you’ve got a mom friend experiencing empty nest syndrome,” Emile joked, and they all laughed.

“Virge means well, he’s just a bit uh..” Patton rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Well, Ro and I can be a bit crazy when left alone, he’s normally kinda a voice of reason for us.” “Ah, I see.”

“Speaking of friends,” Patton began, eager to keep the conversation flowing- he liked Emile, wanted to keep speaking with him. “Have you got any around here?” Emile let out a chuckle, shaking his head. “No, not around here. There aren’t really too many people here anyway- not on the edge of the country at least. Most of the people I know live up in Vaybury proper.”

Vaybury was the actual town they were staying in- well, technically. Houses trickled off once you got out of the main area of town, and the house Roman and Patton were staying in was on Becker Street, pretty much the last real street before you hit real country, and there were only about six or seven houses on it. Some of them weren’t even occupied. So what Emile said made sense, though it disappointed Patton somewhat.

Their chatting continued for another ten minutes or so, pleasantries and enjoyable-if shallow, small talk, before Emile announced he was grateful for their hospitality and happy to make their acquaintance, but he should be getting back home. But of course, Patton being Patton and Emile seeming to have similar traits of good-natured talkativeness, they had ended up continuing the conversation with Emile leaning by the doorway. Roman had just finished up telling the story of all the hoops they’d had to jump through to even be able to see this place, and Patton picked up right when he finished with their first impressions.

“You can see why we picked this place,” Patton laughed, gesturing to the rosebud wallpaper. It was very 1950s, but when Roman saw it he had picked Patton up and teased him about how he was all over the house already- and Patton had giggled and blushed as pink as the little flowers themselves. But he didn’t reiterate that part to Emile, it seemed a bit too personal. “It’s just beautiful, and the view is gorgeous- I know it seems a bit silly but it was kind of the home I always pictured living in as a child..” he ducked his head slightly, brushing vermillion curls from his eyes, but their neighbor smiled along with him.

“You can see why I just had to insist,” Roman said with a large smile, wrapping his arms around Patton’s middle and making him squeak, “My dear sunlight was shining like his namesake when we finally got here- not to mention on our walk in the woods! Though I doubt I was much better,” he chuckled, “That forest is just magical, is it not? I swear I was certain we’d come across Rapunzel’s tower any minute!” But Emile frowned at that statement.

“You...went into the woods? For how long?” “Oh, only an hour or so,” Roman responded, waving a hand, “At least when I was there anyway-Patton was telling me all about his adventure this morning as soon as I got home!”

“You went alone into the forest?”

Patton nodded- and for a moment he was afraid Emile would be angry- or that there was some terrible danger there that the fey hadn’t warned him of..but Emile only looked concerned. He sighed, pushing horn-rimmed glasses up his nose. “I...wouldn’t do that if I were you. The fringes are usually fine, but the deeper you go- well, there are wild boar in there. Not a good place for visitors, or locals for that matter.” He shook his head and placed one hand on the door frame, stepping out into the evening sun.

Roman and Patton shared a glance, and after a moment Patton stepped out of his boyfriend’s arms and offered the concerned man a small smile.

“We’ll keep that in mind- thank you. And it was great meeting you!” “You too,” Emile replied, giving them one last friendly nod, before he stepped down the path and Patton closed the door behind him.

They stood in those positions, staring at the door, until Roman voiced what was going through both of their heads. “...Do you think he knows?” “I...I don’t know.” Patton’s voice was quiet, his gaze cast to the floor. “He could.” “Perhaps you could ask them tomorrow?” “Oh- yeah, I can.”

There was a moment of silence. “I’m sure it’s nothing though,” Patton assured. But only the air would relax at the words, because though both of them nodded, neither of them would really take the comment to heart.

It rained the next morning. Not a light drizzle either, but the heavy summer rain- Patton left the house swaddled in a bright blue raincoat, his hands shoved in his pockets. It felt better once he got into the woods, but the branches would often bow under the weight of the rainwater and dump hundreds of drops down onto is head. Despite his hood, by the time Patton reached the clearing the fey had appeared in, his red curls were plastered to his face and his glasses were completely fogged over.

He honestly wasn’t sure if Truth and Lies would appear today, with this weather...but he wasn’t going to assume anything. The massive oak that stood proud in the center of the clearing, to Patton’s relief, was tall, dense, and wide enough that it didn’t seem to be showering the ground with droplets, so Patton found a relatively dry root to perch on and pushed back his hood, shaking the water from his hair like a puppy.

He unzipped the raincoat too, just enough so that he could use the hem of his faded pink shirt to clean away the moisture from his glasses and slip them back on- and then jolted backwards in shock, smacking his head against the trunk of the oak and letting out a yelp of pain, for there were the two faeries, hanging from a branch by their knees and twisted together like a butterfly’s cocoon, both pairs of eyes staring straight at him.

“Oh, Patton!”

With his eyes closed, he couldn’t be sure as to whose petal-soft fingertips lifted up his chin before sliding around to feel among his wet curls for any sort of bump on the back of his head, but judging by the silky tone, it was Lies. “We don’t offer any apologies for startling you so..that looked comfortable.” Definitely Lies. Patton opened his eyes, still seeing flecks of sparkle at the edge of his vision- ow, that was going to swell most likely- to see the green fey only inches from his face, with Truth just a little farther away, his hands placed on the root right next to Patton’s right thigh and leaning over his shoulder. Instantly, Patton’s cheeks flushed, and he let out another squeak, this time one of embarrassment.

“No! No it’s okay, just a little bump- clumsy me really, not your fault, it happens all the time!” “Are you certain?” Patton’s nodded vigorously, and to his relief the two moved back a bit, sitting down on a raised root opposite him. Not that he minded their presence, it just...it surprised him, and despite his friendly nature having such fantastical creatures only inches from his nose- it just- it was scary! Not because he was scared of them, of course, it just...it felt like they were looking right through him.

“Well...that’s good. We almost thought you wouldn’t come. What with the rain and all. I find most humans prefer not to go out in such weather.” “Oh- I wouldn’t miss it!” Patton quickly exclaimed, “I mean, sure the rain’s kind of a pain, but that’s why I have a coat!” “That’s good,” Truth smiled, “We’re glad you’re here.”

“Of course- what was I going to do, watch TV instead of meeting with faeries?” The notion was ridiculous- Patton laughed, and the two fey added their musical giggling to the mix of sound. Patton felt a spark of pride for getting them to laugh.

“True, true, but you must remember that of course not everyone is willing to accept our existence.”

“Right.” Patton..he felt bad for those people. Those who refused to accept there might be childlike wonders in the world..maybe he got called immature or gullible for his willingness to accept the fantastical- but that was fine. Their loss.

“So..Patton.” He was jolted out of his musings by Lies’s smooth voice, and looked up, to see the green fey tapping his glimmering cheek.

“What do you think of that tour?” “Tour? Oh-OH!” Patton flushed, embarrassed at his absentmindedness, “Of the woods?” “No.” “Um...well, I don’t really think I should. Don’t want to lose track of time, y’know?” They just blinked.

Patton shifted on the damp root, suddenly self conscious, and looking for a subject change- when he remembered the conversations of the previous evening.

“Nevermind- actually, I kind of wanted to ask you two something?” “Of course,” replied Truth, leaning forward a smidge as both tilted their heads. Patton brushed a hand through his wet curls, trying to push them back into something that made him look a little less like a drowned poodle.

“Well..Roman really wants to meet you, but he couldn’t actually come today- but he’s free on Friday...so if it wouldn’t be too much trouble, I was kind of hoping maybe we could meet then too? So he could meet you?” The words came out in a bit of a rush, and when Patton looked up almost sheepishly, he was met with the sight of the two fey sharing another one of their odd looks.

“That sounds terrible Patton..” Lies said with a smile, after a moment of that silent discussion, “Was that all?” “Ye- no! No, there was actually one other thing..” bringing up Emile felt..more invasive. But he’d promised Roman he’d ask..and he was horribly curious himself.

“Our..new neighbor came over last night. He’s really nice- but it kind of ended on a..not-so-good note. He warned us to stay out of the woods.” “Well of course, none of the humans who’ve settled here find themselves afraid of the forest,” Lies dismissed, waving a hand and leaning onto Truth’s shoulder. Judging by the blue fey’s expression (hard to read as it was) he didn’t seem to think this anything important either. “...Well yeah- but you know, we were just a little worried that he knew something- you don’t know an Emile, do you?” He felt a bit bad, possibly giving out part of someone else’s name..but it’s not like he could just describe him right? They had to have seen so many people.

“Emile?” Truth frowned, tapping his delicate fingers on Lies’s knee, “No, I don’t remember any human by that name in recent years..” “I definitely remember him.”

Patton felt his shoulders relax slightly- and a laugh escaped his throat. “Of course- I knew it was probably silly, but I just wanted to check.” “Of course, cautiousness pays off well.”

“You sound like Virgil,” Patton chuckled. Well, Virgil would have phrased it more like “People can call you paranoid, but they won’t be laughing when you’re stocked for the apocalypse and they aren't.”

He missed Virgil..

“Well then Virgil must be immensely intelligent,” Lies commented, holding out one hand in front of his face, observing his nails- and Patton almost frowned. Lies’s odd opposite-speak was a bit hard to adjust to, true, but Patton caught on quick- and he swore the fey had just called his friend stupid! “Hey, he’s n-” But Patton was cut off by the sound of Lies’s laughter as Truth, his face pinched with offense, pushed the green fey off of the root and onto the slightly muddy grass. Lies let out a shriek, his laughter turning to something of disgust as he leapt to his feet and quickly brushed the mud from leaflike skin. And Patton suddenly felt immensely silly for jumping to conclusions, as he realized that Lies was in fact, taunting his brother. But he also didn’t really blame himself- years of going to bat for his friend had conditioned him to be very protective. And that was a good thing!

He found himself muffling a giggle with one hand, then almost jumped as he suddenly felt a body press against his side. Quickly turning his head, he realized that Lies had slid onto the root next to him instead of his brother, and wrapped his arms around Patton’s left arm, tucking in close. It sent Patton’s cheeks absolutely ablaze, his laughter dying in his throat (along with any other sounds he might consider trying to make) but the fey didn’t even seem to notice, instead flashing a wide smirk at Truth.

“Well, if you’re going to be that way, maybe I’ll just make sure to share this one..” “As if you wouldn’t have been caught in your own web centuries ago without me,” Truth sniffed. “Well excuse me for refusing to have any fun at all..” Lies drawled, letting go of Patton’s arm only to drape himself over his lap, slinging one slender arm around Patton’s shoulders to play with the hair at the nape of his neck. Warm tingles spread down his spine, and Patton shivered. He almost felt like he couldn’t move, or speak. He didn’t want to disturb the delicate scene.

“Now who’s groping the poor thing?” “Hm? What do you mean?”

It was then Patton realized that the two were indeed aware that he was still there- and probably even his reactions to their actions..which made him hide his hands in his face in order to cover up a blush that probably made every freckle on his face stand out like seeds in a watermelon. “No-it’s um-” god he couldn’t even get a word out “fiNE it’s fine I don’t really mind.” Lies laughed- and leaned up to press a delicate kiss to Patton’s temple before sliding off his lap. Patton went absolutely rigid, and by the time his thoughts calmed down he realized the green fey had perched himself back on the branch over Truth’s head, dangling one arm and one leg over like it was a perfectly soft sofa and not a cylinder of wet, rough bark.

“Now now Patton, remember, obvious lies aren’t my job.”

He had the feeling he was supposed to laugh at that, but as he was currently engrossed in trying to function like an actual person who wasn’t a tomato in a raincoat and could speak words, it was a bit difficult.

“I apologize for him…” Truth sighed, brushing a droplet of water off of one of the cobalt spots on his cheek.

“No- no, it’s really fine I mean it,” Patton managed to get out, though he did end the sentence with a very awkward high-pitched giggle that he would rather have avoided. He kicked his legs a little in an effort to distract himself.

“Hm...you said your “boyfriend” couldn’t accompany you today- why is that?” “Oh, he has work. His shift is a lot earlier than mine,” Patton explained quickly, grateful for a subject change. He received no answer immediately, but did notice Truth tilt his head thoughtfully, and heard Lies let out a scoff from his place languishing on the branch. “Work. I didn’t think humans would have gotten over such a notion by now, of course I suppose it wasn’t vital a time ago..but now you seem to do it just for boredom!”

...Patton couldn’t honestly argue too much there. He might be an optimistic soul who, while having a very strict moral compass, didn’t like to dwell too much on the terrible things about the world he couldn’t do anything about as a single person, but you couldn’t live around Virgil without being fully educated as to the sins of capitalism and the emptiness of what most people were brainwashed to believe was “necessary” work in order to earn the basic right to live.

“Yeah..it’s a..thing.”

“What does he do anyway? You’ve all gotten past farming right?” Truth asked a bit boredly, tracing a pattern on the root with his finger. Patton pursed his lips, trying to figure out how to explain it all.

“Well...I mean no, a lot of people still farm since we need food, but thanks to technology most people have other jobs. Roman um...well he works at Sephora, which is a store that sells makeup, which is like- facepaint! Yeah, humans paint colors on their face to make themselves look different.” “Oh how despicable!” Lies exclaimed- a little to Patton’s surprise, considering the...well not disinterest, he wouldn’t call it that, but general..detachment, that the two fey had expressed so far. “What?” “Oh, it’s just so awful to hear you’re finally taking some enjoyment in your little lives,” Lies said with a smile- and Patton felt his own lips curl up too, the faerie almost seemed to glow when he grinned, despite the cloudy sky and tree shading the three of them. “Humans in the past were just so interesting, not scared of their own shadows and not a single hour of the day spent working!” ….Honestly, Patton could...see that. He wouldn’t want to live a few hundred years ago, even if it was some alternate universe where there wasn’t any of the admittedly awful social norms..he’d feel trapped. Trapped in one role, in one or two places, with little ability to know what else was out there or meet new and interesting people unless he dedicated decades to traveling. He wouldn’t quite call the humans of the past “scared of their own shadows” as opposed to “superstitious” but here he was talking to a pair of faeries so...that assumption could be wrong. In fact it probably was. Goodness, he was still having revelations!

“....tton?” “Huh?” Patton’s head snapped up in surprise- and immediately felt something soft against the back of his skull. He quickly realized it was Truth’s’ hand, and then came the embarrassing realization that he had almost bashed his head into the tree again. His cheeks flushed, also because he had just realized he had gotten lost in thought while being spoken to. “Oh-thanks..” “Of course, we wouldn’t want you to hurt your head again.” “Are you alright?” “Of course!” Patton scooted forward, a bit away from the tree that the back of his head seemed so very fond of at the moment. “Sorry, I just..got a little lost in thought there. Again. How very..root of me!” He giggled, tapping the twisting root he and Truth were sitting on, and felt a little bit of pride in his chest as he noticed Lies’s lips quirk up again. “I wouldn’t say that’s a clever bit of word play.” “You think so?” “Of course not.” “..Gee, thanks..” Patton dipped his head a little, feeling warm and fuzzy inside. Normally people just laughed (or groaned, but oftentimes it was really the same thing with puns) not acknowledge the little joke. “You’re a real sap, aren’t you Lies?” And there were the reactions he was used to- a musical laugh from Lies, and an agonized groan from Truth. “Please don’t encourage him…” “Come now Truth, his jokes aren’t darling..when will you learn to humor people?” “When doing so doesn’t result in being subjected to terribly constructed wordplay,” Truth responded flatly. “Plus, flattery is your job.” “Oh yes, and that’s why you’re the favorite.” “Excuse me?” “Face it, no one knows I’m the better seedling.” “It is likely they only say that so you don’t throw a tantrum.” Lies gasped, a look of exaggerated hurt flashing over his pointed face as he drew his hands to his chest protectively- and in that moment, the two of them so much resembled Virgil and Roman- one responding to goads with dry wit, the other teasing but reacting with “horror” when the words were turned back on him, that Patton was unable to stop himself from bursting into laughter. “..Pardon?” “It’s- oh, it’s-” Patton let out another bout of laughter at seeing the expression crossing the face of the two faeries, and by the time he stopped, his face was still glowing with mirth.

“You just- you argue just like Virgil and Roman!” “...We do?” Truth’s voice was...actually surprised. And a little confused. It was the first time in the hours he’d spent with them that Patton was actually certain that he knew what was going on in the fey’s head. “Yes! They bicker just like brothers sometimes, it’s adorable!” He got no response. Truth and Lies simply glanced at each other, but Patton was too full of glee to feel embarrassed at the silence. “..Say, do you think we’ll ever meet this Virgil?” asked Truth, and Patton briskly answered. “I’d like you to- but it probably won’t happen. I mean, he lives in the city, and it’s about an hour away when there isn’t traffic..and Virge really doesn’t like driving in traffic. So if he does visit it won’t be often- and…” his smile dropped, “Well, no offense, but Virgil isn’t really..well, he probably wouldn’t feel too comfortable around you two.” “...I see.”

Lies’ response felt..wrong, to Patton. But thankfully, he was saved from delving further into that awkward topic by the sound of Night Owl. Not the actual bird of course, though it was dim out due to the rain it was still late morning, there wouldn’t be any owls about- but the sound of the alarm Patton had set to remind him when he had to start heading home to get to work on time.

“What was that?”

“Just my alarm,” Patton responded, pulling his phone out of his pocket and turning off the alarm, sliding off the root and onto the damp grass. He noticed the way Truth and Lies leaned towards him and the phone- no doubt curious, but as much as he’d like to explain, he really had to get going. Especially considering that he might get lost on the way back.

“...An alarm,” Truth repeated, and Patton nodded.

“Yeah, it’s a noise I set to play so I remember to do certain things- like, I need to go right now, for my job.”

“Oh, must you?” Asked Lies, with a tone of voice that could only be described as a whine as he slid from the branch and wrapped his arms around Patton’s waist- which made him squeak as his face was pressed into the faerie’s chest.

“Can’t you stay just a little longer?”

“....No, I’m sorry, I really have to go,” Patton insisted, very gently squirming out of the fey’s grip and ignoring his pout. “But I’ll see you on Friday, right?”

“Right,” Lies sighed, and Patton heard the soft sound of feet touching down onto grass, turning to see Truth had stood from the root, and was smiling gently.

“Right. And we are so looking forward to meeting your partner.”

He placed a kiss on Patton’s forehead- and though Patton did not squeak this time, he did blush and giggle. He turned, zipped up his raincoat and pulled his hood up over his damp hair, still smiling.

“Goodbye!”

“Goodbye,” the fey chorused, but when Patton turned back around to wave, they were gone.

Well, that seemed to be their way. So he waved anyway at the empty glade and turned around, marching off through the woods and savoring the smell of damp leaves and wood.

Tags: @patton-croc-agenda @why-things-go-boom @tawnyevergreen @jynxlovesluck @towersandmyrtles @notveryglittery @per-seph-o-nee @definitely-a-plant @starryfirefliesbloggo @karmels-stuff @impatentpending @the-parentheticals @chinesewaffles2 @whatwashernameagain @em-be-lievable @theincediblesulk @xx-fandom-potato-xx

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thewritingstar · 4 years

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Ah well were all at home better ask all 200 questions g, don't really know much about u

200 QUESTIONS???? ALRIGHT HERE YA GO.

hope you enjoy me spending an hour answering all of these :)

200: My crush’s name is: N/A 199: I was born in: 2000 198: I am really: nice 197: My cellphone company is: idk 196: My eye color is: Hazel, can turn dark brown or light green sometimes 195: My shoe size is: 8 194: My ring size is: 7 I think 193: My height is: 5′3 192: I am allergic to: penicillin 191: My 1st car was: Toyota 190: My 1st job was: Baskin Robbins 189: Last book you read: Suicide Notes (highly recommend) 188: My bed is: galaxy bedding and is currently on the floor in my bed fram cause my friends broke it... 187: My pet: Black cockapoo and a white cockapoo named Abby and Molly 186: My best friend: is a hoe 185: My favorite shampoo is: herbal essence color me happy 184: Xbox or ps3: I perfer Wii, Wii U or Nintendo switch 183: Piggy banks are: cute, Mine is a ducktales cup 182: In my pockets: nothing rn 181: On my calendar: nothing rn 180: Marriage is: a good thing but not a necessity for a happy life 179: Spongebob can: get it 178: My mom: is a queen 177: The last three songs I bought were? i only buy cds for my car so: Lover, Hozier, Blink 182 176: Last YouTube video watched: The Office deleted scenes 175: How many cousins do you have? 8 but I only see four of them and two of them are adults with kids so i consider them more of aunt and uncle figures 174: Do you have any siblings? One older sister 173: Are your parents divorced? Nope 172: Are you taller than your mom? Nope 171: Do you play an instrument? Nope 170: What did you do yesterday? Sat on ass and watched youtube

[ I Believe In ] 169: Love at first sight: ye why not 168: Luck: yes 167: Fate: yes 166: Yourself: kinda 165: Aliens: yes 164: Heaven: mmmm yes i guess 163: Hell: yes 162: God: uhhhhh yes and no, kinda indifferent 161: Horoscopes: yep 160: Soul mates: yesss 159: Ghosts: ye 158: Gay Marriage: WHO THE FUCK DOESNT BELIEVE IN THISS?? ITS REAL 157: War: think it does more harm than good 156: Orbs: ye 155: Magic: ye i wanna be a wizard

[ This or That ] 154: Hugs or Kisses: hugs 153: Drunk or High: drunk, i dont do drugs and i dont drink yet but ill prob get drunk 152: Phone or Online: oo i use both but Online i guess 151: Red heads or Black haired: Black hair 150: Blondes or Brunettes: Brunettes 149: Hot or cold: HOT 148: Summer or winter: Summer 147: Autumn or Spring: Both 146: Chocolate or vanilla: Vanilla 145: Night or Day: Day 144: Oranges or Apples: Oranges 143: Curly or Straight hair: I have straight hair but curly hair is also beautiful 142: McDonalds or Burger King: BURGER KING..I HATE MCDONALDS 141: White Chocolate or Milk Chocolate: MILK 140: Mac or PC: Pc 139: Flip flops or high heals:...High heels prob 138: Ugly and rich OR sweet and poor: SWEET AND POOR, IM ALREADY UGLY 137: Coke or Pepsi: NEITHER 136: Hillary or Obama: obama 135: Burried or cremated: cremated 134: Singing or Dancing: love both but maybe dancing rn 133: Coach or Chanel: Coach 132: Kat McPhee or Taylor Hicks: idk who they are 131: Small town or Big city: Big city, i grew up in a small town 130: Wal-Mart or Target: TARGET 129: Ben Stiller or Adam Sandler: Adam 128: Manicure or Pedicure: Mani 127: East Coast or West Coast: West Coast 126: Your Birthday or Christmas: Christmas 125: Chocolate or Flowers: Chocolate 124: Disney or Six Flags: DISNEY 123: Yankees or Red Sox: eww sports

[ Here’s What I Think About ] 122: War:....does more harm than good 121: George Bush:....dont know enough to say but im pretty sure he was an awful human 120: Gay Marriage: It should just be called marriage, just because you’re gay doesnt make it any less or any more, its equal to other marriages 119: The presidential election: 118: Abortion: Pro Choice, no one has the right to tell someone what to do with their body 117: MySpace: i never used it cause i was too young but i bet it was lit 116: Reality TV: its funny af 115: Parents: are nice if they care about their child but if they are abusive or horrible then they dont deserve respect 114: Back stabbers: should be stabbed 113: Ebay: its nice 112: Facebook: full of idiots and boomers 111: Work: a scam 110: My Neighbors: they fine 109: Gas Prices: A SCAM 108: Designer Clothes: a nice but really $200 for socks, no mama 107: College: SHOULD BE FREE 106: Sports: fun but no one needs to make that much money for throwing a ball 105: My family: i like them 104: The future: is wild and idk at this point

[ Last time I ] 103: Hugged someone: my mom like a few days ago 102: Last time you ate: at 11 today! 101: Saw someone I haven’t seen in awhile: 100: Cried in front of someone: my mom after i yelled at her 99: Went to a movie theater: i saw Onward when we were allowed outside 98: Took a vacation: went to disneyland last October 97: Swam in a pool: like almost two years sadly 96: Changed a diaper: when i was like 8 95: Got my nails done: never got them done because my mom wouldnt take me cause i was a ‘tom boy’ 94: Went to a wedding: never 93: Broke a bone: when i was three, my big toe 92: Got a piercing: my nose in January 91: Broke the law: i guess i sped the other day 90: Texted: literally as im doing this

[ MISC ] 89: Who makes you laugh the most: my friend 88: Something I will really miss when I leave home is: the silence of being alone 87: The last movie I saw: Princess and the Frog 86: The thing that I’m looking forward to the most: Moving for college 85: The thing im not looking forward to: 84: People call me: Deanna (real name), Dean, Star (what yall call me) ton of others 83: The most difficult thing to do is: idk 82: I have gotten a speeding ticket: never 81: My zodiac sign is: Aries 80: The first person i talked to today was: 79: First time you had a crush: Ive had 78: The one person who i can’t hide things from: my best friends 77: Last time someone said something you were thinking: my friends over ft 76: Right now I am talking to: no one 75: What are you going to do when you grow up: hopefully being an animator 74: I have/will get a job: at disney 73: Tomorrow: doing nothing 72: Today: doing nothing 71: Next Summer: hopefully not on quarantine 70: Next Weekend: nothing special 69: I have these pets: 2 doggos 68: The worst sound in the world: ICE SCRAPING OR MOUTH BREATHING 67: The person that makes me cry the most is: 66: People that make you happy: my friends 65: Last time I cried: few days ago 64: My friends are: my world 63: My computer is: a Dell 62: My School: is a community college 61: My Car: it goes 60: I lose all respect for people who: are bigots, dehumanize people, republicans 59: The movie I cried at was: Onward had me sobbing 58: Your hair color is: Brown rn 57: TV shows you watch: theres too many 56: Favorite web site: tumblr or youtube 55: Your dream vacation: every disney park 54: The worst pain I was ever in was: i think when i cut my finger or when i went to the hospital for my chest 53: How do you like your steak cooked: Medium rare 52: My room is: disney themed and my safe zone 51: My favorite celebrity is: Tara Strong 50: Where would you like to be: Disneyland 49: Do you want children: ehh maybe 48: Ever been in love: nope 47: Who’s your best friend: my neighbor that ive known since i was 4 46: More guy friends or girl friends: more girl 45: One thing that makes you feel great is: making cake 44: One person that you wish you could see right now: my cousin 43: Do you have a 5 year plan: not really 42: Have you made a list of things to do before you die: ye 41: Have you pre-named your children: kinda 40: Last person I got mad at: my mom 39: I would like to move to: La 38: I wish I was a professional: animator

[ My Favorites ] 37: Candy: Kitkat 36: Vehicle: Cars 35: President: 34: State visited: California, Nevada, Texas, Hawaii, 33: Cellphone provider: 32: Athlete: n/a 31: Actor: Colin O'Donoghue 30: Actress: Lana Parrilla 29: Singer: Joe Jonas, Taylor Swift 28: Band: Big Time Rush 27: Clothing store: Hot topic, Ross, 26: Grocery store: Safeway 25: TV show: Once Upon A Time or PPG 24: Movie: Princess and the Frog and Ratatouille 23: Website: tumblr 22: Animal: elephant 21: Theme park: disneyland 20: Holiday: Halloween 19: Sport to watch: hockey 18: Sport to play:..i do not play 17: Magazine: i dont read mags 16: Book: Kingdom Keepers 15: Day of the week: Friday 14: Beach: one i went to in Hawaii 13: Concert attended: Jonas Brothers 12: Thing to cook: chowmein and strawberry shortcake 11: Food: Chowmein 10: Restaurant: my fav Chinese restaurant 9: Radio station: I don’t listen to the radio 8: Yankee candle scent: Vanilla 7: Perfume: Vanilla 6: Flower: Rose or Larkspur 5: Color: Black or blue 4: Talk show host: umm i dont watch many but i guess Jimmy Fallon 3: Comedian: Jaboukie Young-White or John Mulaney 2: Dog breed: Pomeranian 1: Did you answer all these truthfully? ye

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365daysofsasuhina · 5 years

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[ 365 Days of SasuHina || Day Two Hundred Seventy-Three: A Screeching Halt ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata ] [ SasuHina, blood, serious injury ] [ Verse: Best Years of Your Life ] [ AO3 Link ]

“All right, I’ll see you after class, then.”

“Okay! So, are we still going to have our take-out and movie Friday, or…?”

Sasuke chuckles, bringing his wife forward with an arm around her waist, planting a kiss against her temple. “Of course. I even delayed a quiz so I’d have less to grade this weekend.”

“Oh, scandalous, putting aside your work!” Hinata can’t help but tease, going a light shade of pink at the gesture.

“Hey, you teach first graders, you don’t have to deal with teenagers and their boatloads of homework like I do. If I want to give myself a break, I’ll do it. We’re not about to fall that far behind on the curriculum. We’ve had this planned for two weeks, now. A few days’ break from an algebra quiz won’t kill anyone.”

“All right, all right...well, I better get going. I’ve got a mini field trip to prepare for.”

“Heading to the park for the day?”

“Mhm. The high school band is hosting a concert and the elementary classes all get to go watch.”

“You’ll have to tell me how it goes.”

“I will. See you later, hun.”

“Bye.” Dropping Hinata off in front of their small town’s elementary school, Sasuke watches her reach the door before heading off further down the street to the high school. While his wife is a first grade teacher, he himself hosts algebra classes, typically for freshmen, but a few older students tend to get sprinkled in. True to his word, he’s skipping their quiz that was scheduled so he can, instead, have a guilt-free night without anything to grade to finally get a little peace and quiet with his wife. With the school year newly begun, they’ve both been up to their ears with work since the tail end of August. Any chance they get for a break is more than welcome.

Parking in the staff lot, Sasuke fetches his supplies from the back seat before making his way into the building...which means navigating a sea of teenagers. Easing his way through, he occasionally gives a greeting, nodding to students he knows. At one point he gently taps a teen’s head, giving him a scolding look at having found him lip-locked with his girlfriend.

“Try to keep PDA to a minimum, please,” Sasuke chides with a sigh.

The pair just pout, making no promises either way as they sulk. Sasuke just snorts. He knows well how it was being a teenager in love...at least, a bit. He and Hinata didn’t really get together until their senior year, carrying on into college when they both went into the same basic major of education, just with different focuses. While Hinata loves small children and early education, Sasuke prefers math and people a little more...grown up.

...not that all teenagers are mature, by any means.

Making his way into his classroom, he starts sorting through his things: reviewing today’s lesson plan, making sure he has graded homework to pass back, taking out today’s roll call sheet...and sending Hinata a quick text.

Did you pick a movie, by the way?

As he awaits her reply, he glances up as a few early bird students file in before the bell, eyes then lowering back to their textbook. His first period class has actually turned out to be one of his most productive, averaging a bit higher grades than the other slots he has through the day.

His mobile then buzzes.

Hm, not yet...we’ll have to browse Netflix and see what’s what. Should we watch an old favorite, or try something new?

He mulls that over.

Personally, if this is a relaxing kind of night, I’d prefer something we know so we don’t have to pay TOO close of attention...I might just doze off.

After a pause she responds, and he can almost hear her laugh.

All right, oldie but goodie it is! But next time I want to see that new drama...can’t remember the name but you can’t put it off forever :P

Sasuke can’t help a snort. Oh, yes he can.

But by then the warning bell rings, so he puts the phone on silent and gets ready to address his gaggle of teens. What with it being Friday, he doesn’t have the highest expectations for attention spans, but...hopefully they can get through his lesson, and then they’ll have all weekend to study. Or...in most cases, probably just cram a bit Sunday night.

He knows their ways.

“All right class,” he calls as the final bell rings, every desk occupied. “I’ll take roll call, and then we’ll jump right into things. I know you’re all eager to get through to the weekend, so...let’s just get today’s lesson over with, shall we?”

With everyone in attendance, he dives right into their current chapter section, explaining and giving examples on the white board. A few students have questions toward the end, but otherwise it seems to be smooth sailing.

So, when the bell rings, he announces the upcoming quiz as they take their leave. “Be ready on Monday! No homework for today, so go enjoy your weekend outside studying, all right?”

Second period he has free, finishing up a few stray assignments for an afternoon class he has yet to finish grading. When third period rolls around, he finds several students missing.

“They’re at the park for the concert,” one girl explains, and Sasuke nods in understanding.

“Right, the one for the little kids, gotcha. All right, well let’s get started, and -”

Before he can go on, the door slams open, and the entire class (including him) give a jolt. Beyond it is the gym teacher, looking harried and out of breath.

“Sasuke, I’m sorry but - your wife, she -”

Dread immediately weighs in his gut like a stone. “...what happened?”

“There was a-a car, and -” He swallows. “She was leading her class across the road to the park. They aren’t sure if the driver was drunk or not, but Hinata was struck, and -”

Sasuke’s face slackens, quickly draining of color. “...I...I have to -?”

“I’m free this period, I’ll watch your kids - get going!”

Nodding jerkily, Sasuke wastes no time in rushing past him through the door, sprinting down the hall to the door nearest the elementary school as frantic voices fill his classroom.

Please, please no...please no!

Shoving the door open, he doesn’t slow down, running flat out the entire way to the school and the park across the road. Already there’s sirens cutting through the air as the local ambulance makes its way to the scene. Elementary school students are gathered in the park, many crying as confusion and panic spread through the classes like a wildfire.

On the sidewalk, several teachers are gathered around, frantic and gesturing. One looks up, and he recognizes the elementary nurse. “Oh Sasuke, good you’re here - she’s pretty badly hurt, but she’s going to be okay. I think she’s got a few broken ribs and a broken arm, but her head and spine appear to be fine. We’re not moving her just in case, until the EMTs get here.”

Let through as the other adults part, Sasuke feels his heart stop in his chest. Hinata lays on the sidewalk, a bit of blood smeared across her chin. Her breath is short and gasping, an arm wrapped around her middle with a grimace of pain. The other lies weakly along her side.

“Oh shit...Hinata…” Carefully kneeling, he gently lays a hand on her shoulder. “Honey, I’m here…”

“Sasuke…? Oh, thank God...I-I’m all right, just...just a little banged up.”

“Shh, don’t talk - save your energy, and don’t make it any worse for those ribs.” He smooths at her bangs, expression gaunt with worry and apprehension. A glance up, and he asks, “What happened?”

“Hinata was leading her kids across the street when a car just...swerved around the corner,” a man replies, tone hushed. “It was all over the road, and going far above the speed limit. Hinata managed to corral the kids and get them out of the way just in time, but she was hit instead. The car tried to stop, the tires screeched something awful, but...it was still moving at a good clip when it hit her. She saved those kids...no telling the damage someone that small would have had. She kept them from panicking and scattering all over the road...”

“And the driver?”

The other teacher nods, and Sasuke looks up. Only then does he see the car smashed into a tree, a small swarm of police cars surrounding it.

“Seems they were in some kind of high speed chase. What possessed them to go through a school zone is beyond me…”

Siren blaring, the ambulance finally pulls up, EMTs rushing to evaluate the situation. Once they have her checked out, a stretcher is fetched, Hinata lifted onto it and loaded into the back.

“Sir, are you her husband?”

“Yes, I am. Can I go with you?”

“Of course.”

Turning back, a teacher lifts a hand in understanding before Sasuke can speak. “We’ll get word to the high school. I’m sure they’ll understand.”

“Thank you…” Climbing in beside his wife, Sasuke takes her hand, face still drawn.

“I’m all right, Sasuke...it could be w-worse.”

“I know, but that doesn’t make it any better. You got hit by a car…!”

“A few weeks, and I’ll be right as rain,” she assures him, smiling tiredly. “But...I guess this m-means we’ll miss our movie night...huh?”

“...I’m sure we can reschedule. For now...you’re my priority.”

Lacking any more words, Hinata just blinks slowly at him as the doors are closed and they pull away.

.oOo.

Oh man, I hate writing a hurt Hinata ;o; But this was the first thing that came to mind upon reading the prompt. She'll be okay, just needs some recup time...and she was a hero saving those kidlings! Poor Sasuke's very shook up, tho... Anyway, not...much else to say? I'm v tired and tomorrow's gonna be a long one, so I better get some sleep~ Thanks for reading!

#sasuhina #uchiha sasuke #hyūga hinata #blood //#serious injury //#best years of your life [ au ]#365daysofsasuhina

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inyourwildestdreamslove · 6 years

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Upside Down Chapter 10

Pairing: Sweet Pea x Reader

Summary: You don’t know much about Sweet Pea, except for what you hear in the hallways around school. You pass him on your way to and from classes and you’ve perhaps brushed his arm a hand full of times. You don’t know him and he doesn’t know you.

That is until you save his baby sister from the Ghoulies all while simultaneously getting involved in a world you want nothing to do with and events you would rather stay out of.

Too bad the Ghoulies have other ideas…

Get Caught up with the Masterlist!

Girl Meets Betrayal

The student population of Southside High knew that to incur Sweet Pea’s wrath would be the end of them. They knew without a shadow of a doubt that once you are on his bad side, there was no going back to his good side. The student body, however, is curious about the new addition to the Serpent’s crew. The illustrious (Y/N), with her sweet smile and quick wit she had tamed the beast that is Sweet Pea. They thought her the Beauty, the kind and caring princess that he protects with a snarl and well placed right hook. Nobody would ever expect that she would be the one to bring the famous Sweet Pea to his knees, metaphorically speaking of course. All it takes is…

Silence.

“So you’re really not talking to him?” asks Toni as she leans against your locker.

“Nope…”

“Not even a little bit?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Because he sent the other Serpents to check up on you?”

“Because he’s throwing a temper tantrum and being too overprotective. I’m sick of his shit Toni. He acts like I can’t have friends that aren’t you guys and it’s some kind of personal betrayal I wasn’t up his ass Friday. Then, I’m having a good time with Jughead and he sends a scouting party, like I can’t even get a moment to myself without his interfering.”

“He’s just looking out for you… I mean those Bulldogs did bother you…”

“One guy being a dick does not mean that I was in danger… Enough is enough…”

You slam your locker closed and turn on your heels and start off down the hallway. The sound of Toni’s heels on the dirty linoleum floor follows you.

“So ignoring him is how you are dealing with this?”

You just shrug in reply as you continue down the hallway towards your first class.

“He didn’t talk to me all weekend either Toni and I don’t see you grilling his ass.”

She stops in her tracks before she rushes to catch up with you, “That’s because we both know you are the more rational one.”

“Not today.”

You sit through the next period stewing in your anger. You know he’s in your next class and you aren’t sure how this is going to play out. You are glaring at the board, barely paying attention to the teacher when your phone vibrates.

Jughead: You free after school?

(Y/N): Yeah… why?

Jughead: Want to go to Pops? I have something I want you to read

Jughead: Plus you’ve been down since you and boyfriend got into a fight.

(Y/N): he isn’t my boyfriend!!

(Y/N): but yeah I’ll meet you at Pops…

Jughead: Cool

You put your phone away as the teacher turns back to the class. You spend the rest of the lesson wondering how you are going to deal with Sweet Pea in the next class.

You almost miss the familiar weight of Sweet Pea’s arm as you walk to your next class, but the moment you see him sitting in his seat, turned to a girl in your class smiling and talking to her like she’s the only girl in the room you feel your blood boil.

“That’s my seat…” you grumble to yourself as you raise your head up high and walk to an empty seat in the back of the classroom as far away from Sweet Pea as you can get. Throughout class you don’t even look at him, even as giggles from the girl he’s talking to drift from your usual seat.

You spend the day not paying him any attention and with the Serpent girls.

“So you’re telling us that he’s talking to some girl in a poor attempt to make you jealous?” questions Dare to your right.

“I didn’t say he was trying to make me jealous…”

“Umm… He clearly is…” says Wink from your other side.

“That boy is so whipped when it comes to you it’s almost cute,” interjects Tori, “if it wasn’t so disgusting.”

“He is not whipped…”

“Yes he is…” they all say in unison.

“Whatever…” you grumble as you all continue down the hallway.

The day ends with you still pointedly ignoring Sweet Pea and him still attempting to get a rise out of you. You could tell you were getting more of a rise out of him though. Throughout the day you watched as he became increasingly more agitated.

Attempting to put your anger aside, you walk into the Pop’s and over to the booth that Jughead is situated in.

“What’s up?” you ask as you plop down across from him.

“I wanted you to check out the piece I did on what happened to Gumdrop.”

“Whoa! You’ve finished it already?!” you ask jumping up and sliding into the booth next to you. His arm slides around the back of the booth to allow you to lean in and read the article he has pulled up on the screen.

“You really think Alice Cooper will run it?” you ask hopefully.

“Oh yeah! She’s all about causing general chaos,” He says with a chuckle.

Neither of you notice when the door to Pops opens and Sweet Pea walks in. Fire springs into his eyes as he sees the two of you together.

“Wow… Seriously? Is this why you’ve been such a bitch?” questions Sweet Pea from behind you.

You whip around in your seat to see Sweet Pea, “You did not just call me a bitch.”

“Didn’t I?” he says with a cruel smirk, “Good to know that while I was taking care of Gumdrop all weekend you were fucking some Southside traitor! What? Did you decide that us lowly Southsiders aren’t good enough for you?”

“What the fuck Sweet Pea?! I thought you were my friend but you’re going to treat me this way? Fuck you!” you exclaim hurt he would say such things about you. You honestly thought you were better friends than that.

Jughead looks like a fish out of water as you get up and push past Sweet Pea, you can feel the tears in your eyes from the hurt and the surprise from his reaction.

You don’t think twice as you storm out the door and drive off into the setting sun.

It’s about an hour later with all the girls piled into your room that the shit talking begins.

“I cannot believe he would say that!” yells Toni.

“He needs to have his balls ripped off!” growls Tori from her spot at your window seat.

“He needs more than that…” grumbles Wink as she steals the chocolate sauce and generously pours more onto her sundae.

“What are you going to do?” questions Dare before she tilts her head back and sprays whipped cream into her mouth.

“She’s going to get even obviously!” exclaims Tori.

“I’m sure he will apologize tomorrow, I bet he feels really bad about the way he talked to you,” says Toni.

“I don’t care… That was completely unacceptable,” you say as a dollop of whipped cream toples over in your bowl.

“Well he’s not going to talk to you like that again, or he’s dealing with us.”

You glance up at your new found friends and give them a watery smile. You don’t necessarily like how all of them have come to be in your life, but you don’t know what you would do without them now.

You spend the rest of the night complaining about boys and eating all the sweets you could possibly want.

The next day at school you don’t even look at Sweet Pea, or the next, or the next. By day three Sweet Pea is getting close to cracking when he calls out your name and you walk by him like you don’t even know him.

That’s when the text messages begin.

Sweet Pea: Look… I shouldn’t have said those things to you…

Sweet Pea: I didn’t mean it… I just don’t like that Jughead guy okay?

Sweet Pea: Come on! Talk to me!

Sweet Pea: I don’t know why I said all those things okay? Can we talk? I feel like shit about all this…

Sweet Pea: Fine… I get it you’re still pissed…

Sweet Pea: I’ll be at the Wyrm tonight if you want to talk.

You look down at your phone before leaning your head back and releasing the breath you didn’t know you were holding. You’re done being mad at Sweet Pea, but every time you think of what he said you get hurt and angry all over again. “Besides he hasn’t even apologized yet!”

“Maybe he wants to do it person?” asks Betty from the other side of the table.

You’ve finally gotten the chance to meet Betty and the two of you hit it off right away.

“Maybe…”

“Well do you really want to be someone’s friend if they talk to you like that?” questions Jughead from the otherside of the table.

You look up at him, “He doesn’t usually talk to me like that…”

“Why do you think he did that day then?” questions Betty before she takes a sip of her milkshake.

“Who knows… He was already pissed at me for choosing Jughead over him on Friday, I guess it just made it worse when he saw us together that day…”

“Sounds kind of controlling to me…” says Jughead off handedly.

Betty whips around to face her friend and elbows him in the side.

“What?! It does!” he defends before taking a large bite of his burger.

“He’s not controlling… He’s just had a rough week…”

“And now you’re making excuses for him…”

“I’m not…”

“Wow… so it is true…” says a voice from behind you.

You glance over your shoulder to find Roger’s standing there with a smug smirk and his arms crossed.

“What’s true?”

“That you aren’t Sweet Pea’s girl anymore…”

“I wasn’t ever Sweet Pea’s girl…” you grumble, “Why does everyone think I am?”

“Well you are always with him… Except for this week that is… Wonder why?”

“That’s none of your business…”

“Well he has been talking a lot of shit about you this week.”

“What?”

“Oh yeah… he keeps talking about how you’re fucking some guy and how you think you’re too good for the Southside now…”

“No he’s not…”

“That’s not what I heard… Look I’m not as big of an asshole as you think I am. I just think you should know what he’s been saying about you,” he says with a shrug as he grabs his order off of the counter.

You can feel your blood boil as you practically leap out of the booth and rush out the door. It takes you all of 10 minutes to get to the Whyte Wyrm. You see his Harley in its usual spot and almost rip the door off its hinges to get into the bar.

When you are in the dimly lit bar you look over at Sweet Pea’s usual table and see him waiting for his turn. His eyes land upon you when he looks up and a slight smile comes onto his handsome features.

In your rage, you see none of this and rush towards the tall male.

“What the fuck have you been saying about me you asshole!”

Sweet Pea is taken off guard by your rage and almost takes a step back in surprise.

“What are you talking about?” he asks in bewilderment.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about! You’ve been talking shit about me being with Jughead!”

“No I haven’t,” he says through gritted teeth, “Who told you that?”

“That doesn’t matter. What matters is I thought you were my friend! Then you go and yell at me and call me a slut for hanging out with a guy!”

“I did not call you a slut!”

“Umm… you pretty much did! And why does being friends with Jughead make me a traitor?!”

“Why are you hanging out with him so much then? Don’t think I don’t know you were with him tonight!”

“What does that even matter?!”

“IT JUST DOES!”

“Don’t you fucking yell at me!”

“You’re the one who came in here yelling at me! What you think you just get to do whatever the fuck you want?”

“Considering that I don’t answer to you… YES! Yes I do!”

“So that’s it then? We were just your friends until you could find some Northsiders to take you in?”

“What the fuck Sweet Pea? That’s you that decided that. I’ve always been your friend, I’ve never once thought bad of you or any of the Serpents. You guys have become like my second family and then I get treated like this? Fuck that. By the way… Jughead wrote an article calling out the guys at the school that were trying to suspend Gumdrop. I was working on an article to submit to the Riverdale Gazette in order to highlight the unjust way that the situation was handled. And Betty gathered several testimonials from young women who went through a similar situation and how it was poorly handled. I wasn’t kidding about taking their jobs Sweet Pea. WE did all that for Gumdrop.”

With that you spin on your heel and walk out the door.

You don’t see the look of shock or guilt that haunts Sweet Pea.

You don’t see how he breaks the pool stick in half over his knee in his rage.

And you don’t see when he sinks to his knees outside the bar and holds his head in his hands in shame, wishing he could take back all the things he said.

Umm.... So...What just happened? Guess you’re going to have read the next chapter to find out!

Shoutout to @claryfray1698 for editing and @sweetpea-cc for helping me organize my thoughts!!

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