#but yeah for however bad a father evan is I stand by the thought he wasn't a bad person

[carewyncromwell]

“Hey, Dad, look at me: Think back, and talk to me -- Did I grow up according to plan?”

~“Perfect (cover)” by At Sunset

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animation made with EZGif // my other accompaniment while drawing this

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Um... “happy” Father’s Day, everybody? 😅 Here’s some Jacob Cromwell content to mark the occasion -- specifically Jacob content that also features his estranged father, Evan Bach!

Those of you who are familiar with Jacob and Carewyn’s backstory are probably already aware that Evan was a pretty poor father. He tried continuously to shape Jacob in his image and only vindicated the opinions of others labeling him as a “delinquent”; he actively plugged out of his daughter Carewyn’s life from an emotional perspective, leaving her to be raised solely by her mother and brother; and worst of all, he abandoned his wife Lane and their children after the arrival of Jacob’s Hogwarts letter, unable to accept that his wife had lied to him about her and their children’s magic for so long and not wanting any part of the Wizarding World he’d have to join to be part of their lives. But at the same time, I never saw Evan as an inherently bad person, so I wanted to explore the generational trauma that both Evan and Jacob suffered through, and how it ultimately shaped them as people.

Evan Bach was the only son of Josef Bach, the son of a German immigrant raised largely by his uncle Jakob after the death of his father in the first World War. Josef learned from an early age how to lie to stay out of trouble with both his uncle and the authorities, and coupled with his chronic alcoholism, this led to him getting involved with a lot of petty crime. Josef’s childhood sweetheart Margie thought that having a family might help coax Josef to stay at home with her more, rather than spend his nights at speakeasies and pool halls, and at first, it seemed to work -- Josef wanted to put on a good face for his wife and newborn son, so he tried to hide his more illicit behaviors from them. Then Britain entered World War II, and Margie was forced to take one-year-old Evan out of Westminster and into the countryside to safety, leaving her husband behind. Soon Josef fell head-over-heels into organized crime, which actually flourished during the Second World War in Britain with most legal authorities having to focus on the war effort, and he soon became very rich working as an “enforcer” for a prominent London gang who participated in dozens of protection rackets. All the while, Josef wrote letters to his wife and son claiming he’d used that Ivy League education he’d convinced Margie he’d gotten somehow to land a job for the British government, and that with the profits he was making as part of the war effort, he’d bought them a huge house on an acre of land that they’d be able to enjoy together once the War was over. For Evan, who had next to no memories of his father aside from what his mother told him, he clung to these written lies enthusiastically, endlessly proud of the man he thought his father was and looking forward to the day that he and his mother would finally get to return home and meet him.

Sadly, while in the country, Margie became very sick and died in the winter of 1943, just before the end of the War. Following his wife’s death, Josef became all the more devoted to his gang life, and soon extortion, arson, and murder became everyday occurrences. Even so, on those few occasions when Josef would speak to his young son Evan on the phone, he’d lie about the weird noises and explosions the boy would hear in the background, saying that he’d be there to pick the boy up when he returned to Westminster and he’d take them home to their beautiful (and completely fictional) house outside the city. When the War was over, though, Evan did not find his father waiting for him at the train station, but instead his great-uncle Jakob -- for Josef, it turned out, had been lying to a lot more people than just his wife and son: he’d also lied to his bosses that he had no wife and children. And in order to keep up that charade, he couldn’t have Evan live with him -- so Josef asked "Uncle Jakob” to pick Evan up and take him in instead. The revelation of Josef’s lies and subsequent abandonment shattered Evan in a way he had trouble articulating to anyone, though he tried to once, when confiding in his future wife, Lane --

“I know what you mean. About your father, I mean. ...My father...wasn’t like yours, really. He was a crook, a liar...a petty criminal, in every way. ...But I know what it’s like, seeing the love other people seem to have for their kids and just wondering, ‘...Why? Why didn’t I have that, why couldn’t I have that? Why does my father have to put himself, and his wants, and his vices, first, instead of his family? Why isn’t he like those parents who, when faced with a tough choice, always choose their kid? ...Why didn’t he choose me...?’”

Not long after, Josef’s lies and crimes finally caught up with him, and he was sentenced to life imprisonment for all of the violent crimes he’d gotten wrapped up in. And so Evan was raised by his great-uncle, who desperately tried to take advantage of his “second chance,” raising the orphaned son of the boy the old man had raised as a son himself, and teach Evan to live an upstanding, honest life. Evan was so haunted by the corruption of his father through his addiction to alcohol, his proclivity toward violence, and his pathological lying that he was determined to be a man who would provide for his family the right way -- one who would be a proper role model for them, who would model the correct way to behave and instruct them about how to do the same. A man who wouldn’t let his son throw his whole life and potential away the way his father did.

Unfortunately Evan’s rosy view of fatherhood was complicated when his son -- named “Jacob” for the man who had largely raised him and had passed away five years previously -- ended up being both a wizard and a completely different person than Evan himself was. For as conventional and people-pleasing as Evan was, Jacob was opinionated and eccentric. For as rule-abiding and respectful of authority as Evan was, Jacob was rebellious and irreverent. For as uptight and conservative as Evan was, Jacob was wild and sometimes even violent, when provoked. Add to this Jacob’s distinct disinterest in any of the classic “father-son” activities Evan had envisioned them doing like fishing, playing catch, and going to sports games, as well as the boy’s frequent “misbehavior” (in truth outbursts of underage magic) that would get him into trouble at school, and Evan honestly didn’t know what to do to alter his son’s course. And because of his departure, Evan never saw just how hard his son worked to get top grades at Hogwarts, only to have his life upended by Lane’s father Charles and his criminal organization R and get locked in a magical portrait for seven years. Evan also never saw Jacob pull off the best, “underdog”-style comeback imaginable and graduate the school he’d been expelled from with honors so as to become a world-renown freelance cursebreaker and magical researcher. Nor did Evan ever see just how loyal, heroic, brilliant and loving of a man Jacob ended up becoming, even without his father there to mold him into what he thought he should be.

But perhaps, in a sad way, that’s the way things had to be. Evan had no desire to be part of the Wizarding World, the place where Jacob felt more complete and “himself” than anywhere else. He had no desire to lie to the people around him or to live a life outside of the straight and narrow path that had helped him move past his father’s tarnished legacy. He’d wanted to give his wife and children what he hadn’t had -- a stable, peaceful, middle-class life in Westminster, where they could just live normal, modest lives and grow into normal, upstanding people with normal, respectable careers. He’d failed in that...and ultimately, Lane -- the woman he loved, who chose him over her abusive family, who he cherished so much for having chosen him, over any other man in the world -- had chosen their son over him. Just as Jacob chose Lane over him...just like how their daughter would’ve chosen Jacob and Lane over him, if she’d had the choice. It’s not like Evan could’ve molded her any better than Jacob, even if he’d tried -- Lane said she was just as “normal” as she and Jacob were. And if Evan had stayed, it no doubt would’ve been out of duress, rather than out of sincere loyalty -- for how could he not resent a woman who he bared his heart and soul to and worked day and night to provide for, only to find out she had lied to him from the very beginning? Would he then only be a pocketbook for his family -- someone to write the bills every month, rather than someone to lead, protect, and guide them in being upstanding members of society? Someone for them to respect, love, and be devoted to, the way upstanding families were supposed to? Was he just meant to accept this life he’d never chosen for himself -- a life where he had to bow to the whims of the rest of his family, just because they had these bizarre, mysterious powers he didn’t have anyway to curb or restrain?

So perhaps Evan leaving ended up being the best outcome for all parties, however cowardly and cruel it was. If nothing else, the Obliviators assigned to keep tabs on Evan after his departure never found any evidence that he tried to expose Lane’s magic or the Wizarding World to any of his friends, associates, or remaining family, or even to the Muggle authorities. He never even made up any stories explaining away his departure to cast Lane in a bad light or absolve himself of blame -- not of her having an affair, nor of her being involved in any criminal activity, impropriety, or abuse. On the contrary, Evan always shut down any accusations of that nature, whenever anyone would suggest them.

“Lane lied to me,” was all he’d ever say. “That’s all it was, and that’s the last I’ll say about it.”

It seemed that, no matter how much Lane’s betrayal had hurt him and how much he resented how their children had chosen to follow her down a path far removed from the upstanding society he’d so wanted them to contribute to, as he did, Evan was an honorable enough man that he refused to tarnish his ex-wife’s name with lies and false accusations. For however poor of a father he was to Jacob, and however justified Jacob might be to hate the man, that honor at least can be respected.

[liptonsbabe]

Chains of a family [B.W]

Bill Weasley x Grant! reader

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4

Summary: Molly thinks that Bill’s and the reader relationship is a mistake so she wants them apart from each other. Bill’s against his mother wishes and he find a way to drag the reader into the Weasley family officialy

Word count: 1.9K

Warnings: none

A/N: Hi! Part 4 of this thing lol. I’m so happy that you guys like this story. It’ll have like 20 chapters or so, i’m still deciding that so yeah, that’s pretty much the thing. Btw, from now on chapters will be more interestings... i hope so lol. Again, english not my mother language. Please let me know if something’s wrong. Aaaaaand if you want to be tagged in the next chapters tell me and i will add you! Enjoy!

Chapter 4: Arguments

The rest of the afternoon passed as normal as the days before your arrival. Arthur Weasley made sure of it. Even if Molly attacked you with her dagger gaze when you and Bill hugged each other after you were done with dessert.

You didn’t know what Mr. Weasley had talked about with his wife while you were taking a shower, however, you noticed the tension rising from their bodies after you sat down at the table next to Bill and saw an annoyance sign on Molly’s lips. Her temple was frowned, reminding you of your own mother's gestures. Those flaming eyes, cleft chin, and pinion lips. Both women contract their features too much when they were upset and in your distress, you knew that they must not be disturbed.

The last thing you wanted was to hurt a marriage as solid as the Weasley's. More than once you heard your mother talk about it with your nanny making a powerful emphasis on how Molly and Arthur were able to carry out their marriage even if their economic conditions were precarious and the war was on their heels. They were an envied couple. Few dared to expand the family as much as they did without money in their pockets and spreading their progeny like a plague. No one was surprised, not even your mother, not when her marriage to Evan Grant was merely for financial advantage. Now Arthur and Molly looked upset, too upset for your understanding and you just hoped they could get along soon.

You weren't sure you deserved the sacrifice Bill's father had made for you, yet a flame of hope lit up in your chest. If Mr. Weasley started to trust you that was a good sign for others to do as well, right?

The afternoon continued as normal, seeing how Bill's plans to distract you from the fervent harassment of his mother was marred by the twins intervention. They had just finished a new product for their store and needed a good taster to certify the quality of their merchandise. It was a bad idea, he told himself, because twins were just a disaster and you didn't know them well enough to deny their good-natured pretensions.

"Be kind!" He yelled at them as Fred and George pulled you into their. Bill exhaled, pleading that his brothers wouldn't bother his girlfriend more than his mother already had.

Before taking you home, he thought about the pros and cons of your stay in the burrow. His conclusion was based on the fact that his entire family welcomed Harry Potter with open arms, so you didn't have to be the exception. He knew the difference in conditions in which his theory developed, yet he put his trust in the good judgment of his family even if the Grants' past left much to be desired. Bill didn't talk much about you with his mother, in fact, your presence at home was the last of his worries, the real problem came at the time of joining the Order of the Phoenix, would you be willing to fight against your relatives even if that mean betraying your own blood? Bill hope you will

Coming downstairs, Bill found his mother storing the leftover food in the fridge while the dishes soaked in the sink. Then he watched her clean each plate with her bare hands, no magic. William knew his anger was real.

"Want some help with that?"

"I'd love to, honey, thank you," his mother answered without looking at him. Bill raised the sleeves of his shirt to his elbows, dipping his hands into the tide of water and bubbles that flew across the kitchen. Molly was silent, drying the dishes and flying them to her place in the display case across the kitchen. Bill cleared his throat doubtfully "It never hurts to help, much less when I have so many things to do before the rest of the Order arrive"

"Don't worry, I'll help you with that too."

"Perfect"

"Mom, can we talk?"

"About what?

"You know what," Bill clicked his tongue, passing her the last plate from the sink to continue with the spoons. "(Y/N)..."

"Your father has scolded me enough about that girl, I don't need you to do it too"

"I wouldn't if you had a little consideration with her."

"More consideration?" Molly asked in a squeak. Bill shook his head. "I'm letting her stay at my home!"

"Our home, mom, ours," he corrected, drying his hands with a cloth. "This house also belongs to my dad, my brothers, and me. It's the burrow, a family property, not a secret club where some people can get in and others cannot."

"You know what I think of her"

"And you know I don't care." Molly looked scandalized at her son. She didn't understand what he had seen in someone like you or what you had given him to come out and defend you as he did "I don't ask you to love her, but at least you have to try...

"Have you ever wondered what will happen when she betrays us?"

"That's not gonna happen"

"You're very sure of that, William"

"I'm convinced, Mom. You don't know her like I do and, you know what? I see that wanting to talk to you was a mistake"

"Moody thinks like me," Molly stopped him when Bill was ready to go upstairs. The woman clung to the railing watching her son standing in the first step out of the kitchen "(Y/N) Grant is a danger to the Order"

"Really? Like Mundungus Fletcher? I beg your pardon, mom, but if there is anyone who represents a latent danger to the Order of the Phoenix, it's him and yet you have assigned him for the mission tonight"

Molly's lips parted and if it weren't for the fact that Bill knew her mother too well, he might think the woman was about to throw herself on the floor in a tantrum. Still, she clenched the bars tightly, her brow furrowed, and the redness on her cheeks washed over her forehead.

"William!" Don't talk to me like that!"

"I wouldn't if you had a little more respect for my girlfriend."

"Don't you understand? I care about you! For all of us!" She snarled angrily. "Having a Riddle in this house..."

"A Grant, mom, (Y/N) is a Grant and that's not the same." Bill descended his steps, approaching her mother, returning that angry look that she had inherited from him. It was a strange sensation. A dyad of emotions between joy and fear where the composed emotion was guilt. He had never exploded that way with his mother, but Molly hadn't behaved that way with anyone either "His grandfather is Lord Voldemort's half-brother and his brothers are all Death Eaters, what does it matter? (Y/N) is not. And when do we judge others by where they come from? If so, we could start with half of us. Being a Weasley is equivalent to being a blood traitor"

"William!"

Molly's face went from fury to shock to fury again. Bill's eyes were twinkling and Molly swore she had never seen any of her children this angry, or worse, this determined.

"What would you have done, Mom?" Bill questioned taking his mother by his arms in an attempt to make him feel her despair. Molly opened her eyes, scared. "When your family tell you not to accept dad? When your brothers object to your engagement, just 'cause the Weasleys have long been considered blood traitors?"

For the first time that day Molly's mind went blank, Bill guessed, rewinding the memories of how difficult it was for the Prewetts to accept the marriage. Bill pleaded silently, but pulled away from her when his mother gave no indication to be a little more respectful with you.

"We aren't like that. We don't separate people by where they come from, we hug them" Bill resumed his way towards the stairs, stopping a couple of steps up, turning to take a look at Molly's stunned figure "As you did with Hermione, Remus and Harry when you and Dad became his godparents after Sirius died. (Y/N) is no different"

"She will turn her back on us when the Order fight the Grants. That moment will come and you know it"

"Don't worry, i'll make sure that doesn't happen"

"She is not part of this family"

"That can be solved very easily," he said and the smile he wore gave her a terrible chill down her spine. "Because I'm going to ask her to be my wife."

Molly's gasp was the only thing Bill heard before climbing the stairs and heading to the twins' room. He always respected his mother a lot and even thinking of opposing to her wishes was inconceivable, but your well-being was something that was involved and Bill couldn't just let her mother control his life at her will. Maybe the mistake he made was not telling his parents the truth about you from the start or, in that case, mentioning that the woman he loved was the fucking niece of the strongest fucking dark wizard of all time.

Bill Weasley rubbed his face as he reached the twins' door. He no longer had to torment himself, it was done and the only thing pending at the moment was to get Harry out of his uncles' house, take him safely to the burrow and find the courage to do what he told his mother he would do.

Would you agree to marry him? He hoped so and if not, he wouldn't pressure you. You were young - even a little younger than him - and it would be understandable if you refused to tie your life to someone else's from one moment to the other. The war progressed every day and if you were going to do it, you would do it as soon as possible.

Loud laughings brought him out of his thoughts to observe you and his brothers sitting on the floor, right in the center of both beds, laughing at each other and touching your faces. From the doorway Bill can't see the full painted room, however George's face showed a rather abstract mural full of bright colors when he felt the presence of his older brother. Fred did the same showing his face in the same situation and then you turned to Bill, still laughing and your face smeared with paint. It seemed the twins had created a paint bomb in millimeter pills, that explode when you put a little bit of pressure. You tried to clean yourself with the sleeve of your sweater but you spread the paint even more. Fred and George laughed and so did Bill.

His heart swelled with love as he saw that at least someone in his family - besides him and his father - had hope in you. God, he may have even cried with happiness.

Bill never understood how a sunshine as beautiful as you was never accepted in your entire life.

Tags:

@purple-vodka-99

@vampirestrawberries

Thanks for the 100 followers!❤

[cherienymphe]

None Of Your Concern (Chris Evans x Reader)

WARNINGS: DUB-CON(NON-CON?), AGE GAP, CHEATING(?)

DNI IF ANY OF THIS OFFENDS YOU

➥ {page breaks done by @whimsicalrogers}

summary:  costars for a little over a year, Chris has always been protective of you in the cutthroat industry much like a father would be. However, when he learns that your boyfriend is even older than him, he realizes that his feelings might not be so familial after all

~

“Okay, so it’s sort of cool that a small chunk of the Avengers gang is reunited for this movie,” the interviewer said with a chuckle.

You all joined in, in agreement. She rested her blue eyes on you.

“I know that you were a huge fan of the franchise, Y/N. I mean, over the years there have been quite a few tweets from you about the movies, ranging from…‘Spider-Man’s on team Iron-Man so therefore I am on team Iron-Man’ to ‘Scott Lang deserves the world’,” she said, reading from her phone.

Tom got a huge kick out of that first one, and you rolled your eyes. The interviewer’s eyes flickered between you two, a small smile on her lips.

“I mean, am I wrong? Does Scott Lang not deserve the world?”

She nodded with a grin.

“No, you’re right, he definitely does! I just feel like being cast in this movie and having been on the set for a little over a year must have been something like a dream come true,” she pressed.

You thought about your answer for a moment, just like your publicist advised.

“Yeah, you could say that. It’s sort of surreal going from having been kind of a casual fan of someone to interacting with them almost every day for a year,” you honestly answered.

You didn’t know if you would ever get used to interviews, no matter how private they were. You were grateful you weren’t on Jimmy Fallon or something with a live audience watching your every move, but sitting next to Tom, Anthony, Sebastian, Chris, and Tessa in a room was almost just as bad in your eyes.

“…and you’ve gotten super close with your castmates, I’d say.”

You heard Tessa clear her throat, and when you caught her eye, she gave you a look, but you didn’t understand it.

“Yeah, definitely! I love them all and they’ve easily become some of my closest friends now,” you replied, eyes meeting the interviewer’s again.

She threw you a secretive smile.

“…but you and Tom seem to hang out together more than the rest of the cast. As thick as thieves some would say,” she pressed.

Your lips parted, caught off guard, and when you caught Tessa’s eye again, you recognized the sympathetic look she was giving you. A light bulb seemed to go off in your head as you realized what she was trying to warn you against earlier, the very thing you’d unknowingly walked into. Luckily, Tom jumped in before you did.

“Well,” he started, straightening in his seat, shoulder brushing your own. “Y/N and I are the youngest members of the main cast. We don’t really have much in common with the senior citizens to my left.”

He feigned a whisper during the last part, not so discreetly pointing to his left. It had the desired effect, and you were grateful that he was trying to draw the attention away from you.

“Um,” Tessa loudly began, straightening up in her seat just as Anthony, Chris, and Sebastian all spoke up at once.

“I think what he means to say is we don’t allow the children to eat at the adult’s table,” Anthony threw in.

“Yeah, its definitely more like we exclude them, and they have no choice but to hang out together,” Sebastian joked.

“Senior citizens,” Chris scoffed, cutting his eyes at Tom.

The interviewer laughed at the turn of events, but unfortunately, she was determined to expose whatever she thought was going on between you and Tom.

“So you two are rather close then? Being alienated and all,” she chuckled.

Tom laughed, albeit a bit uncomfortably as it became clear that she wasn’t going to give up. He nudged you, gesturing for you to take the stand, having already tried to steer her in another direction.

“Well…yes, but we’re all rather close, but yeah. I would say that Tom is kind of like my best friend,” you honestly told her.

She aw’d at that, tilting her head to the side. You cut your eyes to everyone else in the room, narrowing them as it became clear that they weren’t going to help the two of you get out of this. You just knew Anthony was enjoying this…

“Just friends then? Because you two have a lot of fans, and a lot of them seem to think there’s more to the friendship, or at least, they hope there is, and honestly? Who can blame them? You two are always spotted hanging out together, going for coffee, running to Target… You’re practically joined at the hip.”

As she came outright and said it, you both wasted no time in refuting it.

“Oh, God no,” you cried, shaking your head.

“No, no, absolutely not,” Tom laughed. “Y/N and I are simply good friends. She has much better taste than I do, hence why I have to drag her to Target. Besides, we don’t have Target back home, so whenever I’m in the states, I’m going shopping there every chance I get.”

“I don’t know, I think they answered that just a little too quickly for me,” Tessa suddenly wondered aloud.

You threw her a look of betrayal as Chris added on.

“Yeah, that…that wasn’t convincing, at all,” he said in between chuckles.

You gaped at him as Tom ran his hand through his hair.

“No, Y/N and I are just friends, and nothing more. She-she has a boyfriend, anyway,” he threw out, and you playfully hit his arm.

“Tom,” you warned.

You weren’t genuinely upset that he’d let that slip, especially since you didn’t exactly care if people knew. People knowing you had a boyfriend wasn’t the cause of your apprehension. It came from certain details about your boyfriend…

“Wait, you have a boyfriend?”

Four people said several variations of this at the same time, and you cringed. Tom at least looked a bit ashamed as the interviewer watch on in amusement.

“I didn’t say any names,” he defended, hands up.

You caught Anthony’s eye and he was looking at you like you’d just hid the world’s biggest secret. Tessa looked scandalized as well, and you didn’t dare look at Chris and Sebastian.

“Wait…wait a minute,” the interviewer said, sitting up in her own chair as she looked at you two.

There was a slow smirk forming on her lips.

“So…you have a boyfriend that nobody else seems to know about…except for Tom…”

You both froze, realizing how this looked. A few chuckles reached your ears, and you exhaled.

“Okay, I know how this looks…”

“It isn’t like that, at all,” Tom reiterated. “He’s a swell chap, no, really. He’s brilliant-.”

“You’ve met him then?”

“Well, yeah-.”

“Wait, wait, wait. So how come you’ve met this ‘boyfriend’ and none of us have?” Anthony wondered.

“Yeah, this sounds like a bit of a cover,” the interviewer added.

“Not a very convincing one,” Sebastian whispered.

“Okay, okay! I know that I’m not super talkative about it, but have we all forgotten that I have a girlfriend?”

That seemed to quiet everyone down.

“…besides, her boyfriend is like forty anyway, so its definitely not me,” he laughed, realizing too late what he’d said.

“Tom!” you cried.

Both of his hands were covering his mouth, eyes wide as all hell broke loose. You blinked several times, mouth agape in shock.

“I’m sorry, what?” Tessa yelled over the others.

“Forty?”

Sebastian, Chris, and Anthony were all talking over each other, all of their questions directed at you while you just stared at Tom who stared back, pleading. He slid his hands down, teeth bared as shame filled his features, cringing.

“I’m so, so, so sorry…”

His apology was overshadowed by Sebastian.

“Forty?” he repeated.

“Tom’s exaggerating, okay? He’s more like thirty,” you quickly said, trying to ease the tension and make light of the situation.

Tom’s eyes were wide as they met yours, and you quickly looked away.

“So, the boyfriend isn’t Tom…and he’s only thirty then?” the interviewer finally spoke up when the room was finally quiet once again.

You sighed, eyes meeting Tom’s again as he looked to see what you were going to do. You thought about what your publicist would advise. You’d been a part of stan twitter once. You knew how the internet could be. They’d dig until they found out the truth, and discovering his actual age, and identity by extension, would be pretty bad for both of you. Against your better judgement, you decided to be truthful since the cat was out of the bag, hoping it’d be enough to keep people’s curiosity at bay.

“No, he’s definitely 43,” you quietly admitted.

Once again, all hell broke loose.

As soon as the interview was over, you were the first one out of the room, Tom right behind you. You could hear your name being called, and Tom pushed you along.

“Go, go, go,” he urged.

You had just made it to your dressing room when a muscular arm slid between the door and the frame as you attempted to close it.

“Anthony, not now!”

“No, no, now.”

He pushed the door open, and you denied him entrance, two familiar faces behind him. Neither him, Sebastian, or Chris looked pleased with you, and you just knew that they weren’t going to let this go…not without a fight. Tessa passed by, and you sent her a pleading look.

She heaved a sigh, slowing down before reaching out to pull them all back.

“C’mon guys. Leave the poor girl alone,” she said.

“We just want to talk,” Sebastian said.

It was a lie.

“I’m not discussing this with you,” you told them, eyes meeting Chris’. “Any of you.”

You tried to ignore his frown as you closed and locked the door. With a sigh, you dug through your purse for your phone. You texted Alex, your boyfriend, warning him of what might make it into the article. You weren’t actually upset about the turn of events, you just hated the aftermath that would ensue.

You blamed the interviewer most of all. You knew that Tom was just trying to clear the air and make it known that there wasn’t anything going on between you two. You knew how flustered he could get sometimes when he started rambling, and you also texted him to let him know that everything was fine, and you weren’t mad.

Your main concern was the trio down the hall. Tessa felt like an older sister at times, and while you wish that it had been on your terms, you weren’t opposed to talking to her about this. You knew the conversation was going to happen eventually. Anthony, Sebastian, and Chris on the other hand were a completely different matter.

You stuck your head out, glancing around before leaving the room.

Your friendship with Seb was way more casual than with the other two. You cracked jokes and hung out with all of them often, but half the time it felt like Chris and Anthony were scolding you and telling you what you could or couldn’t do. Sebastian didn’t care, and you liked that. Hence why you didn’t verbally oppose when he suddenly came out of nowhere, easily falling into stride with you.

He didn’t say anything for a while, but you knew it was coming. You bit your lip, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye, noticing that he was doing the same. He abruptly stopped, and so did you.

“Forty-three?”

You avoided his piercing gaze, adjusting your bag on your shoulder as he faced you.

“Seb…please…”

“I mean, I’m not judging, I promise,” he said, hands raised.

“Except, you are though,” you sighed, looking at him. “You’re judging, just a little bit.”

His arms fell at his sides.

“Okay, so I’m judging just a little bit, but can you blame me? The guy’s older than Anthony,” he scoffed.

You chuckled.

“Yeah, he is, but I don’t care,” you told him.

“Clearly. I’m just saying, he’s old enough to be your father,” he said.

“Well, it’s a good thing he’s not, because then that would be weird,” you threw at him, rolling your eyes.

He heaved a heavy sigh, and somehow, you got the feeling that he’d drawn the short straw on who was going to come and talk sense into you. You briefly glanced down the hall, brows furrowed. He placed his hands on your shoulders, and you hated how he was looking at you. Like you were a child doing something bad. Your jaw clenched.

“I know you’re an adult…”

You let out a humorless chuckle.

“Do you know who you sound like, right now?”

He rolled his eyes towards the ceiling.

“At the risk of sounding like Chris…”

“You sound like Chris, that’s who you sound like.”

“…this industry can be…ruthless,” he continued.

“Don’t I know it?” you sarcastically replied.

“…and you’re still so fresh and new and there are plenty of people just looking to take advantage of someone like you and your talent and potential…”

“My boyfriend isn’t one of them, okay? He has plenty of talent on his own,” you informed him.

Sebastian tilted his head to the side, eyes narrowing.

“What his name, anyway?”

“I don’t think that’s any of your business,” you slowly sang.

“Well…what does he do?”

“Again, none of your business.”

“How did you meet? How long have you been seeing him? Something, anything! Anything at all?”

You pursed your lips before releasing a soft sigh.

“We’ve been seeing each other for about 7 months now,” you admitted.

His eyes almost bugged out of his head, lips parting.

“7 months?”

You pulled away from him, the day finally getting to you.

“Look, Seb, I have to go. I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you guys, but to be honest, this was the main reason why, so…”

You paused, facing him again.

“Please, tell Chris and Anthony not to worry, okay? I know they’re freaking the fuck out and probably sent you on their behalf. I’ll see you guys tomorrow,” you called over your shoulder as you exited the building.

When you got home, there was a slew of text messages awaiting you. Most were from Anthony, and you answered all of them as best as you could. He was just worried, and you definitely understood that, but he was freaking out more than your own mother had when you told her about Alex.

“It just…took me by surprise,” was the first thing he said when he picked up the phone.

“I know, I know,” you sighed, browsing your fridge for something to eat. “I was always going to tell you guys if it ever got more serious.”

“More serious?” he scoffed. “Seb said you guys have been dating for 7 months.”

You rolled your eyes.

“We clearly have different definitions of a serious relationship,” you mumbled.

“It’s just concerning, alright? If my kid was dating someone 20 years older than them, I’d be rightfully concerned,” he defended. “Especially considering I’ve never met this man and don’t know anything about him.”

“Look at the word you just used: kid. That is something I am not,” you said, slamming your fridge shut. “…and there’s no need to meet him.”

“I disagree.”

“That’s fine,” you tersely replied.

You heard him exhale on the other end, a tense silence falling between you two. You were being a little harsh, you knew that, especially considering Anthony always treated you like family, but you needed to make him, all of them, understand that you were an adult who could make her own decisions. They had no say in this.

“…you heard from Chris?” he eventually asked.

“No, actually, and that’s a little worrisome, I’m not going to lie,” you honestly added, running your eyes over your wine collection.

“Yeah, well, he’s not happy,” Anthony told you.

“If he’s going to pout about this like my personal dating choices offended him or something, then he can suck my ass.”

A laugh met you from the other end, a genuine laugh, and you cracked a smile.

“He’ll come around. You know how much you mean to him,” he finally said after he calmed down.

You did know. Chris was one of the first people to talk to you on set, trying to make you feel more comfortable. It was your first big movie, your first time starring with household names, with people that had way more experience than you. He got you to laugh on your first day and even dragged you over to meet everyone else. He’d taken you under his wing…

Your heart clenched as you thought about how he must feel. It was your business, sure, but you couldn’t pretend like you didn’t feel guilty. You felt even worse once you thought about the fact that you’d told Tom and not him, but Tom didn’t judge you. Tom didn’t treat you like some kid who didn’t know any better half the time.

“I’ll text him,” you told Anthony. “See if I can get him to accept my white flag…”

“You do that. See you tomorrow, kiddo.”

You texted Chris as soon as you hung up, and as the night wore on, your worry grew. You found yourself periodically checking your phone for any type of response, but you got nothing. Alex called though and talked with you until you fell asleep. He was overseas, filming in his home country at the moment, but he called you every day.

He wasn’t bothered at all by what might be in the article, only making sure that you were okay.

“Yeah…I’m okay,” you quietly replied.

“Are you sure? You don’t sound it,” he quietly replied, deep voice gruff.

You frowned before turning to look at your clock.

“Isn’t it like…3 in the morning over there?”

“You didn’t answer my question,” he lightly said, ignoring your own.

You sighed.

“I’m fine, really. It’s just…there was a reason I didn’t want to tell everyone, and some people are proving me right…”

“They’ll come around,” he assured.

“You know Seb isn’t the type to care too much, but even he was more judgmental than I expected. Anthony is slowly coming around, but Chris… He’s not answering any of my texts.”

He was quiet for a while before finally responding.

“Maybe that’s for the best.”

You frowned again, sitting up in bed.

“What do you mean?”

“He is a bit…overprotective of you, isn’t he? I know he just gets concerned, but sometimes he acts like he’s your father and…he’s not. He shouldn’t have any say in what you do,” he elaborated.

You rubbed your eyes.

“I know what you’re saying is true because I’ve thought it myself, but for some reason it sounds harsh coming from your lips,” you groaned.

He chuckled.

“I don’t mean for it to, I promise. I just mean that maybe this will force him to lighten up a bit and realize that there are boundaries and lines he shouldn’t cross…”

You blinked.

“Huh. You might be onto something,” you admitted. “I know he thinks I’m such a child sometimes. Maybe this will make him wake up.”

You didn’t stay on the phone for much longer, and your heart sank when you hung up only to see no new notifications. Was Chris ignoring you? With a huff, you plugged your phone up and settled into bed.

You sipped on the coffee Tom had gotten you on the way here, leaning against the wall as you watched Chris and Anthony talk to the interviewer. This one preferred to talk to a few of you at a time, and considering the disaster that happened a week ago, you quite liked that.

That pushy girl had indeed included the bit about your love life in the article. Fortunately, it was tastefully done, only mentioning it in passing, but she had included that the rest of the cast, sans Tom, had been none the wiser. You hadn’t checked to see what people were saying about it. It wasn’t their opinions that mattered to you.

Chris hadn’t talked to you since, ignoring every one of your messages. Eventually, you gave up, deciding that he’d talk to you whenever he was ready. At first you were angry once you realized what he was doing, but eventually you became more understanding. He was probably more hurt than anything that you hadn’t trusted him enough to tell him.

You perked up when you heard the mention of your name.

“So, word on the street is that Y/N does indeed have a beau and it’s not Tom Holland…” he started.

Chris and Anthony chuckled, but you could tell it was forced.

“Yeah, man, I don’t think anyone was more shocked about that one than their fans,” he laughed. “…but we all know they’re just good friends. It was a nice running joke for a while though.”

Chris didn’t say anything, and the interviewer continued.

“Speaking of shocked, is it true that the rest of you guys were completely in the dark about it? I read that the ball was actually dropped during the interview. I mean, how awkward that must’ve been…”

Chris exhaled.

“Yeah…it was definitely something. It made my day though.”

Your jaw ticked as you realized that he was putting on a front.

“…and is it true that he’s 43? I mean, I’ll definitely ask Y/N this later on-.”

“Then it’d probably be best if she answered that,” Anthony interrupted, and you mentally thanked him.

“Well…the secret’s out, right?” Chris laughed, and you frowned. “Yeah, she says he’s 43.”

Your frown deepened.

“That’d be like dating one of you guys, I’d imagine, but at least it’ll be easy for him to get on well with you guys. You all are rather close with Y/N, so that must be of some importance to her,” the interviewer replied.

“I don’t know about that one considering we found out with the rest of the world,” Chris joked, but you saw right through it. “I suppose it’s a good thing we didn’t know though because…”

He suddenly trailed off, letting out a low ‘whew’. He shook his head.

“No. I never would have allowed it.”

Your jaw dropped, staring at him like he’d grown a second head as the words registered within your mind. You didn’t even hear the rest of what was said as you backed up. You almost bumped into Tessa, and she steadied you.

“Woah,” she said. “You okay?”

“No, actually,” you slowly replied, turning to face her. “I’m not.”

You found that it was true. Your stomach churned and you felt like you were going to vomit any moment. The audacity of him!

“I…I have to go,” you told her.

You let your publicist know that you were feeling ill, and you waved bye to Tom on the way out, his brows furrowed in confusion as he hesitantly waved back. You fought tears the entire way to your apartment, shaking your head in disbelief. Never mind the fact that Chris has said that, but the fact that he’d confidently said it in front of other people.

“Never would have allowed it?” you mumbled to yourself.

You were gripping the wheel so hard you were sure it would break. As you furiously got out of your car, you thought to yourself that you didn’t even care if he texted you back or not. You weren’t in the mood to even look at his face, let alone talk to him.

After you showered and poured yourself a glass of wine, you curled up on your couch, staring at the tv…but not watching it. Chris’ words kept replaying, and you wondered how he could even fix his mouth to say such a thing. He wasn’t your father! There wasn’t a damn thing in the world he could forbid you to do.

And before you knew it, you had downed two more glasses and that was exactly what you were texting him. You were certain your thumbs would crack the screen with how furiously you were typing. When you were done, you turned your phone off, slamming it on the table as you returned your gaze to the tv.

It was hours later when you heard a knock on your door. You briefly wondered who it was, but you had suspicions that it was probably Tom. You’d left in such a hurry, and your phone was off, so he was probably coming to check on you. With a buzz coursing through your veins, you pulled the door open, only for your face to drop when your eyes connected with blue ones…not brown.

He didn’t exactly look thrilled to see you either, and you were certain that your face was no different. You pursed your lips, going through a pros and cons checklist of letting him in before scoffing. You swung the door open wider before turning your back on him. You heard him close it, his feet following yours into the kitchen.

You didn’t spare him a glance as you poured yourself another glass, taking up residence on the other side of the small island. Eventually, when he didn’t say anything, you looked up at him, a frown on your face.

“Are you actually going to say something? Or just stand there and stare at me?”

Chris heaved a sigh, resting one hand on the counter while the other found a home on his hip. He stared you down, jaw ticking beneath his beard.

“You’re upset with me…”

“I wonder what makes you think that?” you mumbled into your glass.

“…but I’m upset with you too.”

“Yeah, well, at least my anger is valid,” you spat.

“…and mine isn’t?” he threw back.

You huffed, glancing away from him.

“If you’re upset that I didn’t tell you, then I’m sorry. I mean that. I don’t want you to think I don’t trust you or anything, but you have to understand why I didn’t say anything. Look at how you’re reacting,” you said, gesturing to him.

His nostrils flared.

“What does a man like that have in common with someone like you anyway?”

You jutted out your hip, resting your hand on it as you stared him down.

“Someone could easily ask you the same thing. What, I can be friends with you, Anthony, and Sebastian despite the age difference, but I can’t date someone who’s the same age as you?”

“It’s a bit different. We are your friends, we look out for you, we are not trying to…”

He swallowed his words, seeming like he couldn’t even bear to say it. You smirked at him.

“So I can choose my friends, but I can’t choose who I fuck?”

He glared at you.

“I mean…that is what you’re saying, right?”

“You can choose someone who’s acceptable…”

“…and who are you to say he’s not acceptable?” you demanded, offended on Alex’s behalf. “You don’t even know him.”

He made himself at home, taking a seat as he stared at you, hands folded on the counter.

“So tell me about him then…”

You heaved a long sigh, leaning against the sink as you crossed your arms over your chest.

“He’s…sweet,” you started, pressing your hands to your eyes. “Oh my God, he’s so sweet, Chris. You’d get along great with him. He’s funny, he loves dogs, and he has the biggest and kindest family you’ll ever meet. He’s filming overseas, right now-.”

“So he’s an actor,” Chris interrupted, sounding displeased.

“Yes. He calls me every night…,” you trailed off, suddenly uncomfortable.

“You told Anthony that it wasn’t serious…”

You looked down.

“I really like him, okay? That’s why I don’t care what you guys think. I’m not breaking up with him just because you don’t approve,” you said, eyes meeting his again. “You’re not my father, and you can’t tell me what to do.”

“No, I’m not your father, and I’m sure as hell glad for that, but someone definitely needs to be…”

“Screw you, Chris,” you murmured.

He glared at you, and you fought back tears, surprised at how much this was hurting your feelings.

“I don’t understand why you’re so mad about this! Why are you treating me like I can’t make my own decisions?”

“Because I think you’re making bad ones,” he answered, rising and heading towards the door.

You balled your hands into fists as he made his way out.

You spun away from Tessa, a thin layer of sweat clinging to your skin. Today was the last day of filming, and the crew members were hosting a party. You’d almost let Chris’ sour attitude ruin it for you, but Tessa convinced you to come.

She’d arrived at your apartment early in the morning, fed up with your sulking. You told her about your argument with Chris, and she listened while you ranted about his behavior. You talked with her about Alex too, eager to tell her everything. Talking to Tom about him was nice and all, but it was different with Tessa.

She comprehended why you had never said anything about your relationship, far more understanding than Chris or even Anthony had been. She made you feel a lot better about the whole situation and assured you that Chris would get over it. He hadn’t spoken to you the entire time you’d been here, so you didn’t know about that.

It pained you to think that your friendship with him could end just like that over something so insignificant as to who you were dating, something that didn’t affect his life in the slightest. You stumbled away from Tessa, realizing that you’d had more to drink than you thought. You touched her arm.

“Hey, I’m gonna head inside. Try to rest my nerves for a bit…”

“Okay,” she said. “Hurry back when you feel better.”

“K.”

You trudged your way inside of the huge house, heading straight for the kitchen. You filled a glass with water from the sink, emptying it in no time. You were ready to go for another when movement from your left caught your eye.

You looked over your shoulder, pausing when your gaze connected with that of Chris’. He didn’t look like he was having fun, and your shoulders sagged.

“Can we talk for a minute?”

You eyed him, almost sadly, before swallowing. You nodded, forgetting the glass of water and opting to follow him instead. You stumbled a few times, alcohol coursing through your system, but thankfully Chris didn’t notice.

You followed him into a guest bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed as he turned on the light. He was dressed plainly in jeans and a dark tee, a darker cardigan hugging his arms and shoulders. He rested his hands on his hips in that Captain America way you often teased him about, and you fought a smile.

“I’m sorry,” he eventually breathed.

You blinked at him, the alcohol making it hard to process what he said.

“You’re…sorry?”

Your voice was small and unsure, and his face crumbled as he moved to sit beside you.

“You’re right. I can’t tell you who you can or can’t date. I shouldn’t have said what I said in that interview,” he admitted.

You let out a soft chuckle.

“No…you shouldn’t have. I was so…embarrassed when you said that Chris,” you said, looking at him.

“I know,” he whispered. “I don’t want to make you feel that way. I thought I was upset because you hid it from me, but…”

You eyed him, waiting for him to continue. His gaze met yours.

“I don’t have any rights to your dating life, but…I want to,” he slowly replied.

You frowned at him, and he continued.

“I care about you…”

“I know. I care about you too,” you told him in the quiet room.

“I’m attracted to you, Y/N,” he confessed, making your eyes widen. “I always have been.”

Your lips parted, surprise and confusion filling you.

“I told myself from the beginning that my feelings were innocent, that I was just looking out for you. I convinced myself that my anger at your relationship came from a place of concern…but that isn’t true.”

“Chris…”

“Somewhere down the line, in the back of my mind, I had accepted that anything between us would be inappropriate. That you’d be repulsed…and then, come to find out, your boyfriend is even older than me.”

He chuckled, finding some warped humor in it all.

“I felt cheated. I felt like that could be me…like that should be me…”

You didn’t know what to say. You’d have to be blind to deny that Chris was handsome. He was one of the most sought-after men in America, but your feelings had been fleeting…shallow. You thought Anthony and Sebastian and Tom were handsome too, but in an appreciative sort of way. That was how you saw Chris too.

“I’m…with Alex. You know that…”

He took your hands, scooting closer.

“…but could that have been me? Tell me the truth,” he pleaded.

“I…I don’t know-.”

“I think you do. I think you thought like I thought and pushed any desires out of your mind.”

Your mind was fuzzy, too much alcohol in your system to fully process this conversation. You moved to stand, but he held you in place.

“Chris, I think I should go…”

You trailed off when his lips met yours, and you jerked back, eyes wide.

“I have a boyfriend, you know that…”

“You haven’t answered my question,” he told you.

“I…I don’t know! But it doesn’t matter because I am with someone!”

“…and that someone could have been me.”

“But it’s not, so-.”

He kissed you again, wrapping his arms around you. You reached in between your bodies, pressing the palms of your hands against his chest. He moved back, but he brought you with him. He rolled you over until you were beneath him, and you made a noise of protest deep in your throat.

“Chris,” you mumbled into his lips, pushing against him again.

He was smooth in reaching under your dress to take hold of your underwear, pulling them down your legs with ease. You opened your mouth to protest again, but all that came out was a gasp when his hand slid between your thighs.

You shook in his arms as he played between your legs, fingers ghosting over you and prodding you until he was able to slide them into your soaking lips. A choked moan climbed out of your throat, and he hummed as his lips trailed down your chin, peppering kisses along your neck.

Your body felt light, limbs numb as you heard him fooling around with his pants, the sound of his zipper deafening in the quiet room. You knew what was about to happen. Your brain was screaming at you, but you couldn’t move. You didn’t know if it was the alcohol or shock, but you were powerless to stop him.

You reached out to place your hands on his when he parted your legs, and you didn’t know if it was to pull his hands away…or not. You caught a glimpse of him as he settled between your legs, stomach sinking as you blinked at the sight of him…bare…for you.

“Chris,” you mumbled, unsure of what you were going to say.

It didn’t matter, anyway. His lips were covering yours as he pressed the head of his cock against your folds, prodding and prolonging the inevitable. You thought about Alex, and that sobered you up a bit, but it was too late.

You threw your head back against the mattress, nails digging into Chris’ hands as he thrust inside of you. The noise that escaped him was orgasmic, the deep sound causing you to clench around his length. He hissed at that before completely leaning over you, forearms pressed into the mattress beside your head as he started to move.

Shallow breaths left your lips as he pumped into you, the squelching sound of his retreat and entry reaching your ears. Your eyes were unfocused, hands coming up to rest on his sides as you started to moan. He joined you, bending his head to kiss you again and again.

There were odd brief moments at the start of filming where you idly wondered what it would be like to kiss Chris. You never imagined that you’d find out for sure. Then when you and Alex happened, you’d left those girlish and embarrassing fantasies behind. His lips were soft and sweet with the taste of whatever drink he’d had, and he moved them over yours with so much expertise it made your head spin.

“That feel good?” he breathlessly wondered, jerking his hips into yours.

You gave a shaky nod.

“U-uh-huh,” you gasped, clenching around him.

“God, you’re so beautiful… You know that?” he mumbled, kissing you again.

Your toes flexed, stomach clenching as well.

“I thought about you all last night,” he quietly professed. “I thought about your lips and these fucking thighs and how it’d feel to be in between them…”

“Chris,” you whined.

“You’re so tight,” he hissed in your ear. “Tighter than I’d imagined you’d be.”

One of your hands traveled to his back, bunching up his shirt and sweater.

“Chris,” you gasped, breath hitching. “Chris, I think…”

Your words died on your tongue as you moaned, wrapping your legs around him, pulling him closer. He groaned against your skin, lifting his head to look into your eyes.

“You gonna come for me?”

You gave a jerky nod, tightening your grip on him. He hissed when you clenched around him again, blue eyes boring into your own.

“Yeah? You’re fucking choking my cock. A greedy little thing,” he murmured, never taking his eyes off of yours. “Come on, baby. Show me what I do to you…”

You shook in his arms as your climax rushed over you, legs trembling and eyes rolling as you clenched around him again and again. He wasn’t done, fucking you through it until you were an incoherent mess beneath him.

You never did rejoin Tessa on the dance floor.

~

tags: @harryspet​ @coconutqueen21​ @readermia​ @nickyl316h​

[shifted-nights-au]

Shifted Nights Part 4

Michael's stomach jumped to his throat when he saw Henry standing outside of their home. The older man perked up when he saw Michael.

"Mikey, hey, we need to talk about something."

"What is it? Is everyone okay?"

"Yeah, everyone's fine." Henry sighed. "I just....William is pissed, and I don't think its safe for you and Evan to be here right now."

"I'm sure we'll be okay, it's nothing we haven't dealt with before." Michael felt Evan's grasp on his hand tighten.

"Michael-"

"We'll just put the kids in my office and me and you can deal with him."

Henry looked a him, uncertainty lacing his ghostly eyes.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine."

"Mikey, you don't have to deal with him if you don't want to."

"I dont want you to be alone. Not with him." With that, Michael picked Evan up and headed inside.

He was immediately greeted with the sounds of Springtrap practically roaring accompanied by loud crashing from the kitchen.

Chica quickly rushed out, clutching her cupcake to her chest. She caught eyes with Michael, almost silently pleading with her plastic eyes as she quickly shuffled over to the man.

"Are you in danger?" He spoke quietly, surely inaudible from Springtraps position.

The chicken responded with a jittery nod.

"Round up your friends and hide in Parts and Service, me and Henry are gonna try to sort this out." Michael quickly looked behind her towards the kitchen, making sure the raging rabbit was still out of view. "Take Evan to the Puppet and Lefty, tell them to take him and Scrapbaby to my office."

The foul nodded, and opened her arms to take hold of Evan. The boy looked at his brother with unwavering fear as the soft bird wrapped her arms around him and set the cupcake in his hands. She quickly trotted off to do as told.

Michael did his own part by going around and gathering the animatronics Chica hadn't spoken to yet, and directing them to the P&S closet.

"Let me help you."

Michael turned. Funtime Freddy loomed over him, staring intently at the corpse.

"What?"

"Let me and BonBon help you."

"What...? Why do you want to help now? You've never wanted to help before."

"I didn't know how bad it was." The bear's ears twitched. "I didn't know he actually hurt you, I thought Baby was playing it up. However the last little....ahem, incident, proved me wrong."

"Why would she play it up?!" BonBon swivled to look at their puppeteer with disbelief.

"Well you know how she is, she's never been the most trustworthy!"

"But why would she lie about this?!"

"Both of you, hush and go to Parts and Service." Michael sighed.

"Let us-"

"No. He would disassemble you two quicker than when y'all were alive. Parts and Service, now."

"Michael-"

"Funtime, I wont tell you again."

The large bear grabbed Michael with his free hand, keeping it planted firmly on Michael's waist.

"Curb your main character syndrome, Funny."

"Fix your hero complex, Mikey."

"First of all, its Michael, and second of all, he's my father, unfortunately, which means I'm the one who has to deal with him. I don't think I'm saving you, I'm just trying to take precautions."

"By locking us in Parts and Service?"

"Yeah. Its worked every time before this, and itll work again. Just cool your jets and let me go."

The bear let out a low growl, accompanied with a gentle puff of steam. He begrudgingly let Michael go and shuffled to the Parts and Service room.

Michael sighed and rolled his eyes, heading back to the front-most partyroom to meet up with Henry.

"Any news?"

"Kinda. I can't find him."

"Did you check the kitchen?"

"Funny thing, I heard the banging, like you had mentioned, but when I actually went in there was no one there."

Michael sharply inhaled. Usually, if they could find Springtrap, that was its own issue. But not being able to find him? That was a whole other problem, and a big one at that.

"I think I know where he might be."

Henry tilted his head. "Oh?"

The silence between the two was broken by muffled banging. Michael bolted off towards his office as his suspicions were confirmed.

Springtrap stood at the door, pounding on it, screaming at Evan or Elizabeth to let him in. The two children where huddled in the corner, blocked from view by Lefty and Puppet.

There was always something about this scenario that caused Michael to lose control.

His father, standing at his brother's door, pounding on it with every last bit of anger and force built in him. Ready to fight.

Ready to hurt him.

Evan Afton, an eight year-old little boy who barely learned the importance of stranger danger and drinking milk and eating vegetables, against his own father, a thirty to fourty-something year-old man with a little too much experience fighting kids.

As Henry rounded the corner, he couldn't tell if the scream he heard was Michael or himself.

Springtrap recoiled as the head of a fire axe wedged itself in his shoulder. He expected the pain, he expected Michael to lose his shit, but what he didnt expect was for Michael to physically pull him and slam him into the wall behind him. He didnt think his son was that strong.

Which is also why he didnt expect Michael forcing open the animatronic head to stare directly at his father's decrepit face.

The black-and-white ghost eyes Michael found himself sporting were never really good at conveying emotion on their own. They were always so....dead.

But the rage that burned in them in that instant was brighter than any fire.

Springtrap growled and grabbed Michael's wrist, squeezing tightly.

"Leave. Him. Alone." Michael's sandpaper throat rumbled deeply as he gripped the fire axe tightly.

Springtrap opened his mouth to speak, but was greeted with a blade between his lips.

"Your next sentence better be "Got it" or I am bashing your teeth out with this axe."

"Michael!" Henry quickly made his way over, stopping when Springtrap put a hand out. Once the axe had a bit of distance from his face, he chuckled.

"You really are just like me."

Wack!

The axe collided with the side of Springtrap's head, sending the man to the ground.

It was all too familiar. William had played this all out before; straddling an animatronic while driving a fireaxe through its furry head and body.

The only difference was that now he was on the recieving end, and it was a lot less pleasant.

Evan flinched further into Scrapbaby's arms. He couldn't hear a lot, the office was fairly sound resistant, but he could hear the screams of his brother as he slashed and tore at their father. He sobbed quietly into his sister's chest.

"Shhh, its gonna be okay." Puppet gently brushed their long fingers over Evan's cheek.

"Its not!! Michael, he- he's gonna- what if-" Evan stumbled over his words, mind running at a mile a minute.

"Evan, look at me."

The boy turned and looked up at the Puppet.

"Michael is going to be okay."

"And Uncle Henry?"

"He'll be okay too."

Evan squeaked as he heard his brother and father scream loud and clear.

"HENRY LET ME GO!! I CAN END THIS RIGHT NOW PLEASE!! LET GO OF ME!! LET GO!!" Michael thrashed wildly as Henry pulled him from the scene. The older man hand his arms firmly wrapped around Mike's ribs, hauling him to his own office. He plopped the boys down om the old futon and shut the door behind them. When he turned around, he was face to face with Michael.

"Henry, please, please, I can end it right fucking now, we won't have to deal with him ever again." Michael grasped Henry's shoulders desperately.

"Michael..."

"25 years of abuse, I can stop it right now, he won't hurt us ever again, Henry, please-"

"Michael."

"HENRY!"

"Michael Jason Emily, look at me." Henry spoke calmly and gently, placing a soft, calloused hand on Michael's cheek. The corpse trembled sightly, holding onto Henry like he was the only thing keeping him tied to Earth.

"We both know that that's not how it works anymore. I need you to calm down, okay? Let's calm down together."

Michael gently nodded. He's doing it again, Henry always does this. But goddamn was it effective.

"Inhale slowly, you're holding your breath."

Michael drew in a cold breath. It was strange, breathing without lungs. He felt light-headed.

"Release your shoulders, unclench your jaw."

Michael shook his head, adrenaline still pumping.

"We're safe. No one is here except for me and you. May I hug you?"

Michael nodded frantically. Henry wrapped his arms around Michael in a snug, but gentle, hug. Michael sighed and rested his head on Henry's shoulder.

"One step at a time. Unclench your jaw."

Henry walked Michael through one action at a time; unclenching his jaw, relaxing his shoulders, steadying his breathing, the whole nine yards. If he wasn't an engineer, he'd be a great counselor.

Michael lifted his head up and gently tapped his lips, avoiding eye contact.

"That's okay. I'm gonna go get Evan, would you like to come with me or stay here? 1 for come, 2 for stay."

Michael held up one finger.

"Alright. After that, us three are gonna leave the house for a while, okay?"

Michael nodded.

The two make their way through the empty hallways to Michael's office. When Lefty saw Henry at the door, the clunky bear shifted to open it.

"Hey bud. Thanks for keeping them safe."

Lefty's ears twitched in response.

"Evan, c'mon kiddo, we're going out for a bit."

Scrapbaby and Puppet perked up.

"See? I told you they were okay. Go with Dad, he'll take care of you." Puppet pat Evan's back. When the boy was hesitant to move, Scrapbaby stood slowly, holding him in her arms as best she could. She made her way to Henry, and handed the 8 year-old off.

"Where are you guys going?"

"Dinner, first. We're gonna decide what to do after that. I don't think I'm bringing these two back here for a while, though."

Scrapbaby nodded. "Okay. Keep them safe, please? We'll handle Springtrap for the time being."

"Will do. Take care of yourself, Elizabeth. And you, Charlie and Lefty, the same."

The bear and Puppet nodded unanimously. With that, Henry carried Evan and led Michael from the building, the three buckling into Henry's old Saturn.

[stxvercgersslut]

Promises 1/2

[Gif Not Mine]

Pairing: Dad! Ransom x Daughter! Reader

Description: During your sophomore year your father discovers that you are coming home with more and more bruises everyday. Once he finds out where those bruises are coming from he won’t be accountable from his actions.

Warnings: Mentions of bruises, mentione of scars,

A/n: this is my first series like this that I’ve ever made so I hope that you guys enjoy this. If you do enjoy this and it doesn’t flop then I may start a Mini series with Chris Evans characters and Daughter! Reader in different scenarios. Let me know what you think. Sorry it’s short 🥺

A/n: For this particular part the reader is 16 and in 10th Grade (year 11 in England but this is based in America) and Ransom is 37 meaning that he was 21 when y/n was born. In case anyone cares 😂 (when it’s just speech bold italics means Ransom and normal means you

Tag list: @jtargaryen18 @et-lesailes @evansxxx @stargazingfangirl18 @navybrat817 @chuckbass-love @t-stark35

When someone thinks of the perfect father they most certainly would never let the first person they think of be Hugh Ransom Drysdale. In fact no one would ever picture the trustfund Playboy to be the perfect father in anyway shape or form. Let alone love a child at all or even be a father in the first place. To many, even his family, Ransom was nothing but an arrogant prick who cared little about anyone else and more about himself. Which for the most part unfortunately had been extremely true, especially due to the god awful way that his mother and father had neglected him leaving him to be raised by his grandfather. Although, that unfortunately ended with the trustfund baby growing up to recsent every last one of his family members including his mother and father.

However, all of that changed when you, a new born baby, was left on his doorstep almost 17 years ago today. Of course at first he’d been reluctant to take care of you, thinking you were nothing other then a god awful result to a stupid one night stand that he most certainly didn’t want to look after you. Especially since you were a chubby baby who did nothing but scream, poop and cry whenever you needed something.

You weren’t his, not in his mind. You may have been made from half of him but as far as Ransom has been concerned you were nothing a pest that he wanted to get rid of. Being a father was never something that he wanted, but being a single father was even worse. After less than a week the Male had grown tired of the constant sleepless nights that you brought. Always either needing feeding , changed or plated with and Ransom just couldn’t do it. That wasn’t the life that he wanted but it was the life that he got. And no matter how many times he tried to get rid of you he just couldn’t go through with it. At one point he’d even attempted to call child services after a particular rough night where you had kept him up all night the day before a very important at meal with his family , he’d gotten so close to calling but then...oh then you did the most adorable thing. You just had to go and grab his finger whilst he was feeding you. That in itself was enough to melt the playboys usually hollow heart. From that day forward Ransom had vowed to protect you from all demons. No matter the cost.

Sadly that promise was one that he had failed to keep. For weeks now you’ve been arriving home to your fathers huge house, on the outskirts of New York, with either new bruisee or new scars covering your body and Ransom had just about had enough of seeing his teenage daughter coming home everyday in pain.Seeing you, his daughter, in pain or even just covered in bruises every single time you csme home from school was beginning to anger the Male even more then he had expected. Especially since he could hear you crying yourself to sleep each night, resulting in him practically begging you to open your door to let him. But you never did. Too afraid that he would judge you for crying so much over some stupid teenagers who had taken a joke way too far for way too long. Although Ransom adored you in every single way that one could ever love their child, he could still be quite stern when he needed to. Sometimes he didn’t no that he was being unreasonable to his own flesh and blood, but that was just unfortunately the part of Drysdale’s personality that he couldn’t change no matter how hard he tried. One particular thing Ransom couldn’t handle was tears, even when you were baby he seemed to just shut himself off when you cried. Not knowing how to deal with you. But now you were a 16 year old teenager who was crying every night and coming home covered in battle scars and he just couldn’t take it anymore.

Which was why, currently, Ransom was sitting in his Beamer, parked right outside your extremely expensive private school that Ransom had of course preferred you going to, as he waited not so patiently for you to exit the school. Yeah he hadn’t actually told you that he was coming to pick you up since it was a last minute decision but he wasn’t really expecting you to turn down a quick and easy lift home. Besides, he wasn’t just there to pick you up. No he was really there to get to the bottom of what the hell was happening and why on Earth you kept getting hurt.

Meanwhile, you were currently none the wiser about your father waiting impatiently outside the schools gates in his Beamer whilst you sat in the nurses office for the millionth time this year. Today a couple seniors had cornered you during lunch, teasing you and talking about your father as well as the rest of your family like they were a piece of meat. It wasn’t fair. But unfortunately the comment “Your dads probably disgusted by you! He’ll never be proud of you so you might as well just give up now” made by Darcy, the ‘popular girl’ had been enough to hit a nerve with you. Causing you to, for the first time, punch Darcy square in the face as an attempt to defend yourself. But, like anyone could imagine, that just didn’t end well. In fact, it ended so badly that you were currently sporting a incredibly painful black eye, a split lip and a couple scratch marks from Darcys razor sharp nails. Things like this had been happening for months, even longer then Ransom had ever known. Why was t the school doing anything? Well that was easy. Darcys father was the principle and in his eyes his daughter could do no wrong. Even if she did break your nose several times. “Are you sure you don’t want me to call your father Y/n?” The nurse spoke, pulling you out of your nightmare of a trance as she handed up a clean paper towel to wrap around the ice pack. This was by far the worst incident so far and yet no one was doing anything about it. Clearly the school wasn’t as good as Ransom thought. “N.... no...I don’t want to worry him...thank you though” you stuttered whilst wiping the stray tears from your eyes as you finally stood up on shaky legs as the bell rang, signalling the end of yet another horrific day.

Ransom was stood directly outside the school gates by the time you had finally managed to convince the school nurse that you’d be fine, of course not expected to see him there but also equally delighted that he was. Maybe with Ransom there you’d be able to escape any last minute torture from Darcy right? “Hey d—“ you began before being interrupted by your fathers worried words “Y/n what the hell happened to you? Who did this?” The anger evident in his voice no matter how hard he tried to conceal it. And believe me he really did try to conceal it. This question in itself was enough to startle you. Oh no...this wasn’t good at all. If your father found out about what Darcy and her friends had been doing to you for the last few months then it would 100% end badly. Which would most likely result in you being pulled from the school. Not that you’d mind that. But despite the bullying you did have friends here. Whom of which you did not want to leave. “N..no one I....I just fell” you lied. And not very creatively at that since Ransom seemed to pick up on your attempt to conceal the truth because without another word you were slung over your fathers shoulder and taken into the school kicking and screaming. This time Ransom wasn’t taking no for an answer.

“Y/n don’t lie to me! We have rules for a reason. Come on what’s going on?! Who did this? Who hurt you? The quicker we fix this the quicker whoever did this to you gets punished and the quicker I can get you out of this school for good” Ransom explained as he finally put you down in your normal classroom. God he really did sound like a father now which was enough to make even the 37 year old himself cringe. Never had he ever sounded so weak. But at least he had a good reason.

“Dad I told you No on—“

“I know what you told me y/n but I’m not buying it! So tell me the truth!”

“Why?”

“What do you mean why y/n?!?”

“Why do you want to know so bad?”

Okay now he was starting to lose his patience. Judging by your stubbornness, which you had most certainly inherited from him, this wasn’t going to end anytime soon. In fact if you had it your way you’d most likely be answering him with the same damn response of hours. “Because you’re my daughter? Believe it or not I actually care about you y/n and seeing you come home from school covered in bruises or hearing you crying every single night isn’t nice okay!?? Please just tell me who hurt you? You’re not in trouble right now but if you don’t tell me who hurt you then you will be!” Now he really did sound like a worried father, something that he’d never been shown as a child. No worry was ever emitted from either of his parents so of course he had no idea where all of this was coming from.

You froze, hearing your own father admit that he had heard you crying each night and saw the new bruises that you seemed to come home with seemed to break your heart. Which was of course when you realised just how much Ransom really did care about you. How the he’ll had you not know this all along? Were you just blind? Maybe you were. “You promise I’m not in trouble?” “I promise now who did this to you?”

It took you almost 2 whole hours to finally admit everything to your father about how Darcy had been tormenting you for months on end, even going as far as saying cruel things about him you really anger you just to get a response. You even admitted to why you’d been crying each night. Trying to keep yourself as calm as physically possible since you didn’t want to worry him too much.

But unfortunately the ship had sadly sailed since Ransom was currently seeing red. How had he been so dumb? How on earth had he not thought that you could have been getting bullied? But most importantly why wasn’t Darcy being punished if she had her. Caught several times abusing his daughter? She hose questions continued to swim in his mind as he tried to listen to you. His mind completely filled with range once you’d finally finished speaking. “You’re leaving this school! And I’m calling the police. Clearly school isn’t doing anything about this. So we’re suing!” He spoke unexpectedly. Giving you no other choice but to just go with it. And that’s exactly what he did. Yes it was extremely drastic and most certainly not the right way to go around this situation but if it meant that you would be safe and that Darcy would get fairly punished then Ransom would try anything.

Of course what he really wanted to do was kill that Bitch Darcy, or just brutally injure her for ever even laying a finger on you. But she was only a teenager. If He did that then of course he’d go to prison and you’d have no one, resulting in you either ending up with his parents or in care. Neither of which he wanted for you. So, in order to make sure that he stuck around to make up for his failed promise he just kept his word and sued the school for all it was worth.

[bluenet13]

Brothers

Second prompt for @badthingshappenbingo

Fandom: 9-1-1.

Characters: Evan Buckley, Eddie Diaz, Christopher Diaz.

Prompt: Big Brother Instinct.

Summary:  Continuation to "Buck Begins." Revelations about his past and the actions of friends from the present teach Buck the real meaning of family and brotherly love. Or, after Buck has a bad day, Eddie and Christopher save the day.

Links: ff.net - AO3

Maddie and Chimney had insisted he stayed at their house for the night, but Buck had politely declined. He wanted to be alone, whether to wallow in his own misery or to try to gain some new perspective about the revelations about his life, he didn't know. He wasn’t even sure the two were mutually exclusive. But he just couldn’t see himself spending the night with anyone but himself. Coming face to face with Maddie was one thing, but spending the night at her house as if nothing had changed was above his current level of forgiveness.

So he had hugged his sister, asked if he could take the bag of mementos home, and walked out of the apartment as soon as she nodded. Not even waiting to wish Chimney a good night.

Now sitting alone in his car, in the parking lot of his apartment complex, his fingers trembled as he fumbled with the zipper of the bag. Drawing in a long breath, then blowing it out slowly, Buck decided this could wait until tomorrow. He told himself the parking lot around him was dark, the only light coming from a nearby street lamp, so he wouldn't be able to see anything anyway. But in reality, he just wanted to spend the night alone with a cold beer to stop his thoughts from wandering. So, with a grunt he got out of his car and gingerly walked to his building.

His simple plan however, came crashing down as soon as he reached the front steps. Sighing, Buck closed his eyes and wished he hadn’t gotten out of the car.

"Uncle Buck!" Christopher practically bounced off the steps as soon as he saw him, his little body crashing with Buck's legs a second later. "I missed you."

Barely able to suppress a whimper, Buck stumbled before he was able to gain his footing and kneel down in front of the boy. "Hi Chris,” he said, half-forcing a smile on his face, while he also did his best to ignore the adult now standing next to his son. This unexpected visit wasn't Christopher's fault. "I missed you too, buddy. Sorry work's been keeping me busy." He didn’t like to lie to Chris, but he couldn’t as well say what had really been keeping him busy.

"It’s okay, Buck. Daddy told me your parents came to visit. And my dad is always busy too when my abuela comes from Texas," Chris said simply.

Drawing back away from Christopher, Buck turned to look at Eddie. A shadow crossed Buck's eyes and Eddie just slightly shook his head as a response. He hadn’t shared anything else with Chris.

"What brings you guys here?" Buck wondered after the silence around them had become oppressive. "Isn't it a little late for a visit on a school night?" He hoped he wasn't sounding rude, for Chris' sake that is, with Eddie he would need to have a few choice words next time they were alone.

"There's an errand I need to run before work tomorrow, so I was hoping Chris could spend the night here before you drop him at school in the morning?" Eddie asked quickly, his eyes looking at anything but Buck.

Silence seemed to stretch around the three men. Christopher waited expectantly, his hand still on Buck's leg, even as the man rose to his feet and stared at Eddie with raised eyebrows.

For his part, Eddie did his best to look as innocent as possible, offering no additional words until the silence stretched for too long and he saw his son's smile turn into an uncertain frown. "If you're still busy with your guests, I can just call Hen or Chimney. Chris always says you're his favorite and must fun uncle, but I'm sure he understands. Right, Chris?" Eddie added eventually, the ex-Army Medic not missing a beat.

"Sure, Chris. You can stay with me," Buck said at the same time as Christopher nodded his agreement with his father. The boy's frown had turned into a sad smile, and just as quickly into a full on grin.

"Thanks, uncle Buck." Chris practically shouted, his bright, grey eyes shining even more than usual. "Daddy, can I have the keys to get my backpack?"

Buck hadn’t missed how Eddie was trying to avoid his gaze and he had to stop himself from asking what type of errand was so sudden. Eddie usually gave him a few days warning when he needed him to babysit Chris, unless it was some sort of emergency. Buck wouldn’t argue that most often than not he was a dumbass, but not as much as to not be able to read his best friend’s intentions. But Chris had already lost his mother and Buck didn't want him to think he wasn't wanted here, so he didn't say anything else and just bid his time. Turned out luck was on his side and he would be able to rip Eddie a new one right here and now.

But Edmundo Diaz was always a step ahead, so he put an innocent smile on his face and turned towards his car. "I can do it for you, Chris. You can stay here with uncle Buck. I will be right back."

Buck glared at his teammate, but Eddie still wasn't looking directly at him. So instead he grabbed Chris' hand and led him to the front steps. Sitting down as he asked Chris how school was going.

Eddie came back in the middle of Christopher's very excited and detailed explanation of the upcoming science fair. And how he was working on a presentation about climate change and natural disasters. Not like most kids who wanted something easy and chose a volcano, instead talking all about how his daddy had fought tsunamis, and mudslides, and even traveled back home to Texas to fight a real wildfire. If Buck hadn’t been there, he would have thought Eddie had grown wings and the magical ability to bend the elements, cause Chris' voice was full of awe and admiration, as if he was talking about Iron Man himself. But Buck guessed Christopher was right and they were all superheroes in their own way.

"Here you go, Chris. I will leave you to Buck so you can continue telling him all about your project." Eddie kneeled down, hugging his son after helping him with the straps of his backpack. "I will see you after shift tomorrow."

"Bendicion, daddy," Chris said in practiced ease.

"Dios te bendiga." Eddie kissed his son's disheveled locks and turned back towards his car.

Buck had been around the Diaz men enough to understand they were sharing both a blessing and a farewell. A wishful smile escaped his lips as he silently wondered what it would have been to share that type of relationship with his parents. And if maybe Daniel had, before everything had gone to hell.

Fingers wrapping around his own drew Buck back to the present and he looked down to find an expectant Chris staring back at him. His eyes settled on the boy for a minute, and not for the first time he marveled at Christopher's strength and cheerfulness, considering all he had been through in his short life. And again, not for the first time, he wished he could be more like him.

Looking back to the parking lot around him, Buck sighed as he saw that Eddie's car was gone. So he turned back to Chris and smiled. "Ready, buddy? Maybe we can play some rounds before we go to bed. How does that sound?"

Christopher nodded repeatedly, his hand tugging at Buck's as he pulled them both towards the door.

-x-x-x-

"Buck, can I have a cookie?" Christopher's voice came from beside him and Buck jumped slightly as if suddenly being woken up from a dream. Another grunt escaping his lips as the movement jarred his tender side. The doctors had given him a clean bill of health, but the fire had still caused a minor burn and his side was bruised from his hard landing during the explosion.

Turning his eyes to the tv, Buck grimaced seeing the score. He wished he could blame it on being distracted but Chris was just that good. Turning to the boy in question, Christopher's hopeful look reminded Buck of his question. Shaking his head to clear more unwanted thoughts, Buck set his controller down and raised from the couch. "Of course, Chris. But only one," Buck said easily, a faint smile gracing his lips as he remembered the one time he had ignored Eddie's warnings, giving Chris half a box of cookies, then regretting his decision with a passion as the boy had been on a sugar rush until three in the morning.

Walking into the kitchen, Buck went to the cupboard he had prepared for Chris once it had become a common occurrence for the boy to spend the night at his house. Peanut butter, grape jelly, Cheez-It crackers, and other snacks occupying every available inch of the small space. And at the back, the box of cookies he had come searching for.

Last Christmas, Chris had spent a Saturday at his house while Eddie secretly went shopping for presents. After dinner, Buck had offered Chris a white fudge covered Oreo and the boy had loved it. The previous morning, Buck had rushed to three grocery stores trying to find more boxes of the Holiday Edition cookies. Now he made a point to only eat them with Chris and it had become their special treat.

Tonight as he opened the box to grab two cookies and then walked back to his living room, Buck absentmindedly wondered if Daniel had been an Oreo guy, or if maybe he had preferred Chips Ahoy!, or something else entirely.

"Here you go," Buck said, moving closer to Chris and setting the cookie and a glass of milk in front of him. He then sat back down on his side of the couch and sadly stared at his own Oreo.

"Thank you, uncle Buck," Chris said cheerfully, instantly reaching for the fudge covered delicacy. "One more round?" He asked innocently.

"Yeah…" Buck knew he should have said no, but selfishly, he welcomed the distraction and dreaded the moment he would again be alone with his thoughts. He hated to admit Eddie’s instincts had been spot-on and Christopher had been the right kind of distraction he needed that night. A 6 pack would have been less of a compromise but also a lot more destructive.

One round then turned into three, Chris' eyes beginning to close by the end of it, before a barely suppressed sniff woke him up. Pausing the game, he turned to his right with inquisitive eyes. "Are you okay, Evan? Why are you crying?" He asked, his voice barely above a whisper. His small hand moving to rest on Buck's knee.

Buck had been playing video games for years so the motion had become automatic even as his mind was a million miles away. Upon hearing Chris’ question, he shook his head, and for the first time noticed the blur of tears on his eyes. His fingers had continued to press the bottoms on the controller, following the game, but his mind had drifted back to Daniel as Buck wondered what it could have been like growing up with an older brother. One that introduced him to new games and fought the hard boss battles for him. Maddie had been great, but circumstances had turned her into more of a mother figure than a sister, and at that moment, Buck considered that he hadn’t just missed out on growing up with a big brother, but a real sister as well.

"Evan?" Christopher asked again, his eyes looking worried as the boy wondered if he should call his father.

Closing his eyes, and taking in a deep breath, Buck released it slowly as his eyes opened again. "Sorry, Chris. I'm alright. Didn't mean to worry you." Using the sleeve of his LAFD hoodie, Buck wiped the tears from his face and willed them to stop coming. "I just got some bad news recently."

Christopher nodded and moved to hug Buck, a steady hand drawing comforting circles on the firefighter's back, his head resting on his shoulder.

The pair stayed like that for a few minutes, until Buck pulled back, and just stared at Christopher. With a smile, Buck fixed Chris' glasses which had become crooked after the impromptu hug, then moved his hand to the boy's disheveled curls. "Thank you, Chris."

"You're welcome, Evan. When I got bad news about my mommy, all I wanted was a hug…” Chris began to explain awkwardly, his feet shuffling on the spot. “Just thought it could help you too." He finished matter-of-factly, even though no explanation was ever really necessary for such a declaration of affection.

Buck smiled and ruffled Chris' hair. "You're a very smart boy, do you know that?"

"My daddy says I'm too smart for my own good," Chris said simply, then scrunched his face. "I’m not sure I understand what that means, but daddy says it a lot."

Buck couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped him. "You will know soon enough, buddy. Don't worry about it. Now time to go to bed."

"Okay, Evan." Chris agreed easily, turning the game off as he stood to follow Buck. Then something came to him and he lifted his hand to stop Buck’s progress. “Wait here,” he said before he moved to the kitchen, coming back a few minutes later with an ice pack in his hand. Without saying anything else he carefully pressed it to Buck’s injured side and used his other hand to move Buck’s to hold it in place.

Buck sighed as soon as the cold began to alleviate the throbbing on his side, then raised his eyebrows in a silent question.

Chris shrugged. “Daddy never wants to use it, but I have learned to notice when he needs one.” He explained shily, looking up at Buck from under his glasses.

Buck smiled sheepishly, wondering who needed the other more, Christopher or Eddie. But who was he kidding, he needed the both of them even more. “Thanks bud. Now let's go.”

Fifteen minutes later, teeth brushed and pajamas on, Christopher was lying comfortably in Buck's guest room. "Good night, Evan. Thank you for letting me stay tonight."

"Thank you, Chris," Buck said emotionally, before a sudden thought occurred to him. "You never really call me Evan. Why now?"

"When my daddy and I have a serious conversation, he always calls me Christopher, and often when I overhear him talking to abuela, she calls him Edmundo. So Evan made sense for our serious talk. I..." Chris explained simply, the rest of his sentence ending in a yawn as his eyes finally closed and his breathing evened out.

Too smart for his own good, indeed. Buck thought to himself as he turned off the lights and walked out of the room with a sincere smile on his face. Chris’ ice pack still tightly pressed to his side.

Maybe life had taken a brother away, but fate had gifted him a teammate that had turned into an older brother and it had only taken a night with his nephew to remember. Eddie would never replace what Daniel could have been but Buck was still infinitely grateful to have him in his life.

-x-x-x-

The next morning Buck woke up feeling lighter than the days before.

After taking a quick shower, he went to his guest bedroom and woke Chris up, then made his way to the kitchen. By the time the boy sat down at the kitchen table, showered, dressed and ready for school, Buck already had two plates of eggs and toast ready for them. The two then ate in comfortable silence until Chris reached down to his pocket and slid his hand towards Buck. Setting two pills on the table and a tube of antibiotic cream. A determined and proud smile on his face.

Buck returned the smile and downed the two pills, but waited until he was alone to apply the cream. Chris didn’t need to see his wound, as minor as the burn had been, and worry about the same thing, or worse, happening to his dad.

When Chris went back to his room to pick up his school supplies, Buck did quick work of rubbing the cream and redressing the wound, then took it to his bathroom cabinet, where Chris had most likely taken it from. Or at least that’s what he thought. If he was being honest with himself, it had been quite a while since he last used it. Not that there hadn’t been injuries in between…

During the drive to school Chris resumed his conversation about the science fair, and Buck offered to help him finish his presentation this weekend. Chris gladly agreed and offered Buck to be a part of the stories he would share. After all, every superhero needed a sidekick.

Buck had to bite his lip not to argue that last statement, feeling lucky just to be included.

“Goodbye, uncle Buck.” Chris then said when Buck parked in front of his school. “I will see you this weekend.”

“Bye, buddy. Have a good day.” Buck replied with a smile, and, only when Chris had closed the door and was walking to the school’s front doors, he added to himself, And thank you. As it turned out, it wasn’t only Eddie who had good instincts.

-x-x-x-

Parking in his usual spot and walking towards LAFD Station 118, Buck could see Eddie standing at the front of the apparatus bay. His feet shuffling nervously, much like Christopher did when he was nervous.

“Morning,” Buck said as he came to stand next to his best friend.

“About last night, I can explain.” The words began rushing out of Eddie as soon as he parted his lips. “I didn’t mean to ambush you. Or well, I did. But...”

Lifting his hand in a placating gesture, Buck shook his head, then moved his arm over Eddie’s shoulder, engulfing him in an awkward side hug. “No need to explain. Thank you.”

“So it went well?” Eddie asked, feigning surprise.

“Better than well,” Buck admitted. “You’re one lucky dad, Christopher is a great kid.”

“We’re both lucky. And not only because we have each other,” Eddie said in a rare display of affection, his arm going over the shoulder of the best friend that had become his little brother.

Side-by-side Buck and Eddie then walked home.

Evan Buckley had been born a savior sibling, and even if life had made it that he couldn't save Daniel, that didn't mean he hadn’t saved many others along the way. And however broken his past was, it had led him here.

It also meant that now he had a big brother looking down on him from heaven, and one standing right by his side.

[partnersatfazbear]

Analysis of The Real Jake (SPOILERS)

I can't decide whether to make this post a stream-of-consciousness style or group it into evidence for x... but since it's easier, I'll just write my thoughts as I go. Although a lot of this is factual ties to, say, FNAF 4, things like relating Margie to Henry are just my own headcanon and you can do with that what you will AKA don't take this all too seriously, but have fun with it. There’s also specific notes about Michael Afton, for those that just want to know what was said regarding him (presumably).

Before I start, please note I've had three hours of sleep in the last... 28 hours? IDK I can't math, especially not on this little sleep. So, there may be errors. I tried to make a note on things I was unsure about, too. 

Note: I wrote this before the Evan=CC theory was all but confirmed. Although I believe this theory from the logbook, I think a lot of these notes are still valid.

Read my notes under the cut:

Margie shares similar physical appearance to Henry: Pg 84 “The window fan blew a lock of her shoulder-length brown hair across her upper lip so it looked like she had a mustache.”

“Mrs. Afton” stand in is mentioned: Pg 86 “...it had been four years since his Mom had died...” (Jake is 9 in the story)

I notice when Scott mentions plaid. Pg 87 “...a green-and-blue plaid plush chair...” I mostly wanted to note this since canonically, Henry had a green plaid shirt.

“William” stand in is mentioned. Pg 89 “And you know he thinks about you [Jake] all the time?” “So, he has to concentrate on what he's doing... ...I don't want him thinking about me and end up shooting himself in the foot or something.” Pg 102 “Yeah, I did. [I spilled some chocolate ice cream] Right on my shirt!” Pg 122 “I did that today! [While playing a DDR like game, breaking a shoelace.]” (Admittedly, I only counted these because I headcanon William is much more of a bumbling fool than he appears. It comes up very often as you can see... although you could write it off as Evan just trying to relate to his kid.)

“William” stand in is mentioned. Pg 92 “...Margie was pretty sure Evan couldn't afford to replace a washer and dryer” and “...Evan, at his rank, could barely afford her” Pg 110 “Gillian's house shared stlying with Evan's, but hers was probably four times bigger.” (Again, I headcanon William and his family is on the low end of middle class, if not lower, in terms of income. Particularly, the house is cramped.)

“Mrs. Afton” stand in is mentioned. Pg 93 “First, Jake's Mom was killed.” Pg 139 “The mom's dead.” (You could infer that she died via something akin to a car crash in the context of the story, however if you reflect it to the games given the commonalities, I like to think of this as confirmation that William murdered her, given the word 'killed' is used.)

Margie records herself on her cell phone. Pg 93 (and on other pages) (Again referencing my headcanon for Henry, in which he records ideas/diaries often. At minimum, Henry is referred to as “Cassette Man” in PizzaSim so... I just thought it could make for an interesting comparison.)

Jake mentions his “friends”. Pg 99 “Patty and Davey... Vic... and the twins... Ellie and Evie... Kyle, Clay, and Garrett” (Also, he isn't mentioned until later, but there's his best friend Brandon, too. I noted these in reference to CC talking about his 'friends', either IRL or the plushies. I assume his IRL friends are the MCI victims. The number doesn't add up though. I really, really wanted to make a connection about the twins, considering Charlie and Sammy are twins, but there wasn't enough evidence to write it off as anything other than a coincidence. Also... Clay, really? We need another double name in this series? Ugh.)

What's your favorite flavor? Chocolate Pg. 102 “What flavor did you get?” “Chocolate. Duh.” (This is a stretch, but it did remind me of Help Wanted's final level in the main game, where you're asked to choose your favorite cake flavor. Although, they're discussing ice cream here.)

Maybe some insight into William's personality? Pg. 103 “You ever do that, Evan?” “What?” “Let off steam.” “Me? No. Steam is pretty much what keeps me going.” (Just more evidence that William is obsessed with his work. You could imply “steam” implies he runs like a machine, but that's stretching a bit.)

Pg. 113 -118 (Jake climbs out of his window to run off to play at the arcade with his friend. Obvious parallel to the child in Midnight Motorist, although it's daytime and no animatronics/fursuits luring him.) There is this, on Pg 121 also. Jake says, “We played all the racing games. I love racing games.”

PURPLE Pg 121 “...did you get a slushie at the arcade? I got one. I got grape. It turned my tongue purple.” “My tongue's purple, too!” “Purple power!” (Uh, do I really need to explain this? I should note that Evan is the one mentioning “grape”. I guess William likes grape flavor and purple.)

'Michael' is mentioned. Sort of a stand in for Michael Afton, but it should be noted that Michael and Evan are brothers in this universe. Pg 126, 127 “Michael...lived in Europe for a few years...” “Michael's a serious dude. He's, well, a little different. He's intense about making money...the way he is about it... can make him seem like he's not human.” “So, he's like a cyborg with bad programming?” Michael has some dialogue: “You must excersize caution. You could get chocolate on my suit, and that would be bad. Very, very bad.” (The very very bad thing is a running joke in the family, which is why this comes up. I don't have a lot to say about it, though. I think Michael [Afton] being obsessed with money seems a bit counter intuitive to how we know him, but who knows? I also want to note that Evan doesn't seem antagonistic towards Michael; in fact, he “hate[s] to ask him for favors”.)

Also, Pg 141 “His [Michael's] flat, gruff voice was unmistakable.” Michael is also the first one to hear his father is dead and informs Margie about it. “I have been notified that Evan's dead.” Pg 142 “She had only met Michael the one time, and she knew the way he processed the world was very different from what was “normal”” Michael also states to Margie: “I've got Evan's will... you're Jake's guardian and he left you the house and some savings. I'm the executor.” Margie also says: “He[Michael]'s a numbers genius, manages money for the wealthy people and has made a killing doing it.” “He's not a bad guy. He just doesn't know how to connect. He doesn't feel the way we do.” (Just more Michael characterization.)

Direct FNAF 4 easter egg references: Pg 128 “...the IV stand lurking in the corner of the room” Pg 129 “...and the line of perscription medication bottles marching across the top of the chest of drawers”

Margie is more than a nanny and possibly in love with Evan: Pg. 139 “She'd come to love Evan, too... like a brother.” Pg 140 “...she was included in the outings, movie nights, game nights, and storytelling time...” Pg 149 “...she wanted Evan to be more than just a boss, and being in his room when he was gone made her feel like a lovelorn stalker.” “Love him like a brother... She snorted. Boy, had she been lying to herself.” Pg 158 “What she was feeling called for a screaming fit or a total mental breakdown.” (Yeah, this is just me reading too much into this for Willry content, haha... But still. I am determined that Margie is a Henry stand-in.)

'I will put you back together' Pg 140 “I'm trying to bring you home whole.” (Evan is discussing “no man left behind” with his son, Jake. I think this is obvious.)

William's home office? Pg. 149 “When he was home, she'd go in and vacuum or put away laundry... ...when he was gone...coming in here felt like an invasion of privacy.” “Evan's room would be her room.” “...I'd feel like I was sleeping in your bed, she thought.” “...the room felt discretely masculine.” “The walls were covered in family photos.” “The shelves were stuffed with fiction... mysteries to classics, nonfiction... how-to books...from rebuilding a car engine to planting a garden.”

FNAF 4 reference. Pg 152 “Outside, a dog barked.” (You can hear a dog barking as ambient noise during nights when playing FNAF 4.)

Other notes:

It happens a lot, but one of the main things in the book is the doll Simon and how Jake talks to it. This is very blatantly a reference to the Golden Freddy Plush (“Psychic Friend Fredbear”). The story confirms it's Jake's father, Evan, talking through it. Although it makes the one scene in FNAF 4 a little wonky (the only scene where we see Purple Guy), I think it's pretty much confirmed that it's William talking to CC now. Obviously, we already suspected this due to Sister Location's “Secret Room”. In this story, Evan says he did it because he wanted to give Jake some hope he would live. Combined with both the IV/medicine bottle easter eggs (in the story and FNAF 4) I think it's plausible to assume that CC was taken home after the Bite of '83 for a period of time before he passed away. I will admit, also, that Evan definetly comes off as a very caring father (in comparison to how we presume William is based on what we've seen of him as a person; although I argued this before on this blog, I don't think William hates his kids. I think he's neglectful, moreso as the story goes on. I think he resents Michael for many reasons but I won't go into that here. I just don't think he's the abusive monster the fanbase interprets him to be—at least not early on.)

The cabinet reminds me a lot of the closets in the novel series. A built in shelf with a doll in it. A doll that represents a child. Considering Margie tends to this doll (see Pg. 130-135), I have to draw more parallels between her and Henry.

The fan is mentioned A LOT. I don't really know why, but I guess we can't help but think of every single FNAF office when it's brought up. Specifically, on Pg. 106, Margie mentions the fan in her room is as loud as a jet engine and the sound made her nervous. Once again, I'm reminded of PizzaSim. Seriously, screw you fan.

The heat is mentioned a lot, too. I know the story takes place in summer, but this did remind me of Pizza Sim.

Pg. 93 “Margie sat down in the faded blue webbed lawn chair that was set up, for reasons she never understood, in front of the shelves by the stairs.” (I noted this because it's specifically called out and I don't know why.)

Margie talks about why she's working for Evan: Pg. 95 “I didn't get the internship I applied for.” I like to think her and Mia (from 1280) were after the same internship. (I may be misremembering, but I'm pretty sure Mia mentioned an internship at the hospital.)

Jake is mentioned to have brown hair, green eyes. His favorite color is green. He also wears green often. I couldn't find anything really interesting about it. It would make more sense as a Puppet reference, tbh (because of the green bracelet (and eyes? I may be remembering wrong) I guess it's also worth noting that Elizabeth has green eyes.

Pg 135 “Are you afraid people will think you're murdering me?” “...I could end you so quickly you'd never make a sound.” (Just an odd conversation between Jake and Margie. Margie is joking here, obviously.) Also, Pg. 136 “I just figured your [Jake's] wires got crossed or your circuits were frying.” (Admittedly, I don't know what to make of this. Could be a reference to Robot-CC, if you believe that or MikeBot [I don't], but more likely just ironic dialogue. It could also reference Jake's future in the Stichwraith?)

Pg 139 “Sometimes, Margie wished she was like one of the robots Jake liked so much.” (Although I can't really compare this to Henry, I did write William with this mindset and thought it was worth mentioning.)

Pg 141+ So, Evan dies overseas (he's a soldier). (I think this could be hinting that William has been springlocked around the time CC passes away. Jake has been home for some time after his diagnosis so we can infer based on that and the easter eggs that CC was brought home to die in peace. At the very least, William's probably very absent during this time. Possibly brought in for questioning but not arrested. I don't know. I feel like there's something to this.)

Pg 154 “Dave's at work.” (Why? Can we not use established names? Aghhh)

Pg 155 “The ambulance arrived at 11:32.” (I don't know why this is stated so outright. I couldn't find a reason, except that a few paragraphs earlier they say it will arrive by noon. I don't know why it's so specific, but I felt like noting it anyway.)

Pg 159 “Five people. Five sets of eyes. And none of them noticed...” (Yeah. We all know how important 5 is in FNAF.)

Three medical personel are mentioned. One at the end is named Nancy [No Last Name Given], but I like to think its a reference to Man in 1280 and we're dealing with Heracles Hospital once more, although it's never said in this story. Speaking of, the only thing that really stood out to me in 1280's story was that a billionare funded the restoration of the hospital. I like to headcanon that was Henry's doing—I imagine him obscessing over overcompensating for his mistakes by giving back in every way possible, even if it isn't directly related to him.

So, this post only took two hours of my life. I hope someone gets some use out of it, be it for my intended Willry purposes or maybe those Michael fans that are curious about it. If you enjoyed this post, let me know. I'd love to write up more of these if I have the time.

I have other write-ups on this blog, too. Just search fnaf theories on my blog page!

[nerdy-bookworm-1998]

I’ll Be Home For Christmas

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader Words: 1607 Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Drugging, Mentions of assassinations, Implied human trafficking, one swear word A/N: This is part of my 25 Days of Christmas Writing Challenge. For those that are interested, I still have 18 request spots available. Just send me a request for what you would like me to write along with the character. I will write for Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Tony Stark, Peter Parker, Legolas, Thranduil, and Kili. Feedback and reblogs are appreciated. If you want to be tagged in future works, just drop me an ask.

With less than a week left until Christmas Eve, the compound is silent. Steve had been gone on a recon mission in Stuttgart since just after Thanksgiving. The rest of the team were all spending time with their loved ones all over the country. I had just settled in for a Game of Thrones binge-session when Friday announces that my presence is required in the briefing room.

With a long-suffering sigh, I haul myself up from the couch and shuffle over to the elevators that would take me out of the living quarters and to the floor where all the offices, interrogation, and conference rooms are. After a short ride and even shorter stroll, I reach the right door and enter without bothering to knock.

At the front of the room stands Maria Hil, Tony, and Nick Fury. They all look up from where they are bent over a hologram when I enter. "Agent 19, you're right on time. Please, have a seat," Nick says, pointing to the chairs around the table. I take the one closest to the front.

"What is this about?" I enquire.

"What do you know about Kevin Ivanovich?" Maria asks, getting straight to the point.

"He's a former KGB operative working out of Moscow. He's responsible for the assassination of over 30 SHIELD agents, but we've never been able to catch him," I recall from the stories Nat and Clint had told me.

"We've received a tip-off from local intelligence that Mr. Ivanovich will be crawling out of his hiding place for a holiday gala hosted by Borris and Elena Makaveli. It also just so happens to be a cover for a silent auction on everything from advanced weaponry to enhanced individuals. We already have agents in place to take down the auction. But Ivanovich is known for escaping the net, no matter how tight it is. Which is where you come in," Maria explains as she hands me the folder with all relevant information. "We need you to go to Moscow, posing as the daughter and heir of a wealthy American arms-dealer, standing in for her father at the auction. We need you to charm him, get him to trust you by helping him escape the party, let his guard down. Once it is, we need you to drug him and take him to the American embassy, where I will be waiting to transport him to the Raft. Do you have any questions?"

"Yeah, I have a few questions. What is the name of my alias? How am I getting to Russia? How am I getting into the party? And when do I leave?" I ask, crossing my legs.

"The informant sent over an invitation for you. I'm loaning you a private jet with a crew that will take you directly to Moscow Sheremetyevo International Airport, where a car and driver will be waiting for you. You leave in the next two hours. We thought you could pick out your alias yourself," Tony answers with his usual flamboyancy.

Once the meeting is over, I head directly to my room. I pick a large suitcase to store my clothing, toiletries, and accessories for the trip. I choose a smaller, matching case to hold my favorite knives and guns. Finally, I go to the safe in the back of my closet. Inside are several manilla envelopes with the names of my various aliases written on top. After several moments of contemplation, I take out the envelope bearing the name Alexandra Gilbert and toss it onto my bed before going back into my closet to change.

A pair of white-washed skinny jeans, a red cashmere sweater, knee-high black leather boots trimmed with faux fur, and a faux fur coat later, I'm mission ready.

A short car ride, a nine-hour-long flight, and another car ride through peak-hour traffic, I am checked into a luxurious suite at the St. Regis hotel (generously paid for by Stark Industries).

The next evening, after a day of tourist-related activities, I am dressed in a burgundy colored evening gown with golden stilettos and accessories as I ascend the steps of the Bolshoi Theatre. The guards at the entrance take a cursory glance at my invitation before directing me on where to go.

Once inside, it is easy enough to find my mark and strut over to where he is seated at the bar. After ordering a drink and an hour of flirting, one of Ivanovich's men walks over to whisper in his ear. He gives a short nod before turning back to me with a simpering smile. "It would seem the main attraction of the evening is about to start. Would you like me to escort you, gorgeous?" he asks in his thick Russian accent.

"I would be honored, handsome," I answer with a coy smile, hooking my arm through his as he leads me across the room and to a side door, hidden behind a curtain. We walk down a long hallway, my heels clicking on the polished marble floor until we reach a large, dome-shaped room filled with people dressed in their finest suits and dresses milling about the room as they peruse the items up for auction.

We had already circled the room twice when a guard bursts in shouting that SHIELD was on their way just before a flashbang went off and people dressed in black tactical gear flooded into the room.

"Follow me!" I yell at Ivanovich, pulling him behind me to the hidden door along the wall closest to us, then through another series of hallways until we reach outside of the building where a car was waiting for us.

Once in the car, I hand him a glass of vodka, which he downs immediately. Barely five minutes have passed before he is slumped over in his seat, snoring loudly. I direct the driver to turn around and drive to the American Embassy while I put Ivanovich in a pair of vibranium handcuffs, then turn to look out at the snowstorm raging outside the window.

After Maria had taken custody of the Raft's newest guest, I head back to my hotel room to change clothes, pick up my bags, and make for the airport. I had called ahead to tell the captain to get the plane ready for departure. However, when I get to the airport, all flights had been delayed indefinitely due to the storm.

With a disheartened sigh, I find a cafè and buy myself a large hot chocolate and a croissant. Sitting at a small table in the corner, I take out my phone and unlock it, staring at the picture of Steve and I with our arms wrapped around each other at Tony's Halloween party last year. We had gone as Little Red Riding Hood and the Big Bad Wolf. I briefly contemplate calling him to let him know I probably wouldn't be back in time for Christmas before a voice opposite me draws my attention.

"Excuse me, miss, but is this seat taken?" says the one voice I would recognize anywhere. Whipping my head up, I'm face to face with Steve. He looks angelic, bundled up in a blue and white sweater with a white t-shirt and light wash jeans with boots, his cheeks, and nose a rosy red from the cold wind outside.

"Steve!" I squeal as I hop out of my seat to throw myself into his arms.

"Hey, gorgeous," he grins as he wraps his arms around me, burying his face in my hair. "Fuck, I missed you so much," he mumbles.

"Language, cap," I tease while burying my face in his chest, breathing in the smell of home. After several long moments of just quietly standing together, I hesitantly pull back far enough to see his face. "I don't understand what are you doing in Russia of all places? I thought you would be home by now."

"Well, by the time the mission was over, the storm had already closed down the airport where I was supposed to take off. The guy at the office told me I might have better luck getting a flight at a larger airport. I was planning on grabbing a coffee before trying my luck at one of the airline desks when I saw you sitting here. What are you doing here?" he asks, delicately cupping my cheek as if to check that I'm real.

"I had a mission here. I was supposed to be a tourist, so Tony let me borrow one of his private jets. I was about to go home, but the plane was grounded because of the storm," I explain.

Over the next few hours, we sit in the cafè, sipping hot chocolate and just talking while we wait for the storm to pass. It's nearly midnight when I get a call from the pilot that they had been cleared to fly. Grabbing our luggage, Steve and I make a mad dash for the plane. Once we're on board, the stewardess closes the door and helps us get settled before telling the pilot that everything is ready for takeoff.

We reach New York just as the sun is starting to set. Happy is at the airstrip to pick us up and take us back to the compound, where the rest of the team and their loved ones are already gathered, for dinner.

When we stroll into the dining room hand in hand, Tony cheers, "The lovebirds are back! Now Capsicle can carve the turkey so we can eat," he grins while the rest laugh, and we take our seats at the table filled with our family.

Tags:

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[pastelwitchling]

               The day had started with a knock at the door.

               Alex had woken up in the middle of the night and had stayed awake, preferring to focus his mind on coding and military work than try to let it rest for another second. He’d been doing so since he’d come back to Roswell, and even more so since Michael and Maria had started dating. It never mattered that they broke up, something in Alex had shattered at the thought of Maria’s hands on Michael’s body, kissing down the trails that Alex had kissed himself.

               The real problem now, however, was the fact that Alex was struggling to do almost anything during the day, the exhaustion taking over more and more of his sanity. But he couldn’t go back to sleep, he couldn’t hide behind any more trenches, hear any more explosions, run from his father, run from the man he loved and the woman who had been meant to love him and yet betrayed him. Alex would’ve rather let the exhaustion kill him than succumb to these nightmares.

               But that also meant that time stopped having any meaning, so when Alex heard the knock at his front door, he thought it was still barely dawn. A glance at his phone told him it was almost noon. Days off without any work schedule will do that to a man.

               He pushed himself off the counter and went to answer, surprised to see Max Evans standing on the other side, smiling mischievously as if he and Alex were best friends sharing a dangerous secret.

               “Morning, Manes!” Max said, uncharacteristically cheerful.

               “Uh – good morning, Max,” Alex said with furrowed brows, stepping aside as Max let himself in. “Did – did something happen?”

               “Hm?” Max looked over his shoulder at Alex, arms crossed behind his back. “No. I just felt like coming to see you.” He raised an eyebrow at him. “That okay?”

               Alex blinked, surprised. A blush rose up his neck but he ignored it and began quickly clearing away his files. “Y—Yeah, that’s fine. Does Michael know you’re here?”

               Max chuckled. “Come on, Alex, you know Michael. No one can even mention your name around him. You know, because he” – here he did animated quotes with his fingers – “loves you.”

               Alex’s brows furrowed. “Max?”

               “Or, you know,” Max shrugged. “So he says. Doesn’t really act like it though, does he?” He chuckled. “What a dick. You want me to make you some breakfast? I’m basically Chef Ramsay with a few eggs and spices.”

               “Uh – Max,” Alex asked. “Are you okay?”

               Max stilled for a moment in front of the stove, but when he turned to Alex, his smile was smaller, more hesitant, the kind of smile Alex knew Max to usually have. Though there was something about the look in his eyes…

               “I miss Liz,” he said blatantly. “You know, with her gone to California, I just thought you would understand what it feels like to miss someone and not be able to tell them.”

               Alex felt an odd chill at the base of his spine at the darkness in Max’s eyes. Something still felt off, though Alex couldn’t put his finger on what exactly. “I…”

               “I can’t tell Michael,” Max shook his head. “You know what he’s like, he doesn’t take anything seriously, he doesn’t think anything’s worth caring about –”

               “He cares about you and Isobel,” he defended.

               “I know,” Max nodded gravely. “I know, but he doesn’t love anyone like you and I do. He doesn’t understand what it’s like to feel like you’re burning from the inside because of how badly you want that person.” He sighed. “Alex. Michael doesn’t have room in his heart to really love just one person. He fights for who he loves… but not to keep anyone. He just doesn’t care enough.”

               Alex blinked, startled at the cruelty of Max’s words. He wanted to deny them, to tell Max just how loving Michael could be, to tell him of all the times Michael had fought for him… and he came up with nothing. All Alex could pull from his memory were moments Michael had taunted him, had turned him away, had refused him, had let him turn away without a question, without holding on, without a single request to stay. Then there was the moment Michael chose someone else because it was easier.

               Alex’s shoulders fell only for a moment, his gaze dropped for a single instant, but it was enough for Max to notice, and for a split second, Alex thought he saw Max smirk, but when he blinked, the man’s expression was one of sympathy and kindness.

               Still…

               “So,” Max shrugged a shoulder, his smile so gentle and so full of hesitation that Alex could not help but sympathize. “Can I make you some breakfast?”

               “I…” Alex glanced at the door, half-expecting Michael to suddenly come in and explain what Max was really doing here, and why his brother was offering to do something nice for Alex instead of him. “Sure.”

               Max smiled, and Alex felt the small ball of tension in his chest loosen just slightly. “Okay! Okay, food for two.” He pushed Alex’s shoulders, guiding him onto a stool at the counter. “You just sit down and relax, I’ll take care of everything.”

               Alex sat down with a sigh and watched with a smile tugging at his lips as Max took a carton of eggs and a bundle of vegetables from Alex’s fridge as if he lived there. Alex had no idea how hungry he was until Max set a colorful omelet in front of him with an expectant smile, waiting for his reaction. Alex dug in and his eyes fluttered. A moan escaped his lips and he quickly covered his mouth with his hand, hoping it would take the sound back, but it was too late. Max had heard him and his smile had widened.

               “Good?”

               Alex shook his head. “Amazing.” He pointed a fork at Max. “Aren’t you going to eat?”

               Max blinked, as if surprised to be offered. “Sure. Yeah. Breakfast, you and me.”

               So Alex and Max sat and laughed and talked. All about little nothings but none of it mattered because for the first time, Alex wasn’t thinking about Michael or Project Shepherd, but about Jane Austen and movies and Hamilton. He was smiling and it didn’t feel forced. He couldn’t remember the last time that had happened.

               Then his phone rang.

               Alex glanced down at the name flashing on the screen and any semblance of a smile on his lips disappeared. Max followed his gaze and his brows furrowed. They sat in silence until the phone stopped ringing.

               “Why didn’t you pick up?” Max asked.

               Alex searched Max’s face carefully, looking for any sign of judgment, any disappointment. There was none. He sighed, choosing to smile instead of cry about it like he wanted. Like he’d been wanting for the past few years.

               “Because I’m having breakfast with you,” he said simply and stood, taking his and Max’s empty plates. Max was staring at him with an unreadable expression. “Look,” Alex said, putting the plates in the sink, “for the first time in a long time I’m having an actual good morning. Can’t I have it just a little longer? And then, I promise I’ll call him and help him with whatever he needs.”

               Max smirked, something that reminded Alex a little too much of Michael. He shrugged. “I’m not here as Michael’s brother, Alex.” He scoffed then, as if he’d made a private joke. “Believe me. You want to have a good morning, let’s have a good morning.”

               Alex began to smile, but then they heard a tapping on the roof and rubble fell from the ceiling.

               “What the hell,” Alex muttered.

               Max tilted his head. “Must be an animal up there or something.”

               Alex rubbed his eyes. “If it’s picking at the wood, I need to stop it.”

               Max stood. “Now?”

               “I don’t want to let it get worse,” Alex said. “I’m sorry. Hey, make yourself at home, I’ll be right back.”

               Alex turned, not even considering that he was leaving Max alone with his phone that had started, once again, to ring.

               *

               “Come on, Alex,” Michael muttered. “Pick up. Pick up.”

               “He’s still not answering?” Isobel asked, sitting across from him in a Crashdown booth. “Maybe he’s still asleep.”

               “Alex is always up before the sun is,” Michael said. “He doesn’t really sleep.”

               She frowned. “Aw.”

               Michael was directed to voicemail again. He got off the automated message and dialed again.

               “Would you give it up?” she said. “He doesn’t want to talk to you.”

               “I just need to hear his voice,” Michael said.

               “Then go see him.”

               “He doesn’t want to see me.”

               Michael was just about to hang up and try texting instead when Alex picked up on the other end.

               “Private?”

               “No,” Max answered. “Not exactly.”

               Michael frowned. “Max?” He caught Isobel’s gaze. She looked just as surprised as he was. “What’re you doing with Alex’s phone?”

               “Oh, we’re just spending the morning together,” Max said cheerfully. “It’s been a lot of fun. I’d ask you to come, but… well, Alex really hates you right now.”

               Michael’s brows furrowed, a painful sting in his chest. “What?”

               “He just gets it, you know?” Max said matter-of-factly. Michael was getting more and more confused.

               “Max, what’re you talking about? What’s really going on?”

               “Michael, I’m telling you,” Max said with a chuckle. Was he drunk? “Alex and I just understand each other. I know what he’s going through. Being abandoned by the one you love sucks. Not that you’d know, am I right?”

               Michael’s fingers curled to fists. “Max,” he said, his voice dangerously low. “What do you think you’re doing?”

               “I’m being there for Alex,” Max said sweetly. “Does that bother you, Michael? Does it upset you that someone could actually care about Alex? Or do you want him to wait on the sidelines until you decide he’s worth your time?”

               Michael’s jaw clenched, his eyes narrowed. Isobel kept nudging his arm, asking him what was wrong, but Michael couldn’t hear her anymore. Because just then, Max Evans walked through the front door of the Crashdown. Isobel followed his gaze and gasped, her eyes wide.

               Michael stood. Max saw him and came over, concern evident in his expression.

               “Mr. Jones,” Michael hissed before Max could ask what was wrong. “If you touch a hair on his head –”

               “Then what?” Mr. Jones laughed. “Tell me, what will you do, Michael?”

               “Listen to me, you sick bastard –”

               “It’s too bad, you know,” Mr. Jones said. “He’s pretty handsome. Really nice, too. But, you see, the problem is… he’s too clever. Pesky, I know, but how am I supposed to corner you guys if he’s always there to save your asses? No. You understand I have to do something about it, right? Nothing personal.”

               Michael was already out of the Crashdown, Isobel and Max at his heels. “I’ll find you,” he said. “You hurt him in any way, and I swear, it will be the last thing you ever do!”

               “Oh, gotta go, Michael!” Mr. Jones said cheerfully. “Alex is working on the roof. I should probably go make sure he doesn’t, you know, slip and fall to a painful death. Later!”

               Michael tried to argue, to threaten, to plead, but the line had already turned dead.

               *

               “Alex, hold up!” Max called as Alex brought out the long ladder and set it against the side of the house.

               “Max, I told you I’ve got it,” Alex said. “You should go back inside, have some coffee.”

               “I wouldn’t be much of a Superman if I let you do this by yourself, would I?”

               Alex laughed, and Max smiled. “Superman?”

               “Don’t look at me!” Max said. “I’m not the one that came up with it! But,” he sighed, “I figured that if everyone was going to make me out to be so perfect, then I should probably do more than screw up all the time.”

               “You’re talking about Liz,” he said softly.

               “I let her down,” Max nodded. “Least I can do is help make sure her best friend stays safe.”

               Alex looked to the ladder and sighed. “All right, hold onto it then.” He got ready to climb as Max hung onto the ladder. He paused, “And don’t worry. This time, Liz was in the wrong. She’s just got too much pride to admit it. But she’s smart, she’ll realize that she made a mistake, and she’ll come back.”

               Max scoffed. “You, Alex Manes, are way too nice for this town.”

               Alex rolled his eyes. “Shut up.”

               It was slow, Alex’s climb up the ladder, but eventually he made it to the roof. He tried not to show how out of breath he already was, looking around for the animal tapping on the wood. Instead, he found that a part of the roof was caved in, barely held together by the support beams below.

               Alex frowned. “What the hell?”

               “What’s going on?” Max called from below.

               Alex shook his head. “It looks like something struck the roof and broke the wood apart.”

               Max hummed. “Or someone.”

               “Who would be able to do this? I would’ve noticed if someone had been on my roof, they would’ve had to not use their… hands…” Alex looked down again and was met with two sights.

               The first was that the ladder had been taken down and Alex was now stuck on the roof. The second was that Max was watching him, amused, his arms crossed.

               Alex stepped back slowly so that he could hold onto his chimney but keep an eye on Max – or the imposter, he should say – at once.

               “You’re not Max.”

               “No,” Mr. Jones said with mock sympathy. “But hey, getting you up there was easier than I thought it’d be. I thought this would have to be a lot messier, but falling off the roof works, too.” He cackled. “You’re usually too smart to trick. You must be tired!”

               “Get away from me,” Alex warned.

               “Oh I won’t touch you, Alex,” Mr. Jones smiled. “That’s sort of the point. Murder always comes with way too many questions. Accidents, on the other hand…”

               “No one will believe that I let myself fall off the roof,” Alex said.

               “They will actually, want to know why?” Mr. Jones tilted his head. “Because you’re broken, Alex. You’re a shattered toy who can barely stay on your feet, and everyone knows it. You don’t sleep, you don’t eat…. Max Evans may be Superman… but you’re definitely not.” He shrugged. “Anywho. We don’t really have a lot of time, so –”

               Mr. Jones put out a hand and Alex felt himself suddenly jerk forward. He managed to stay on the roof only by grabbing the chimney at the last second.

               “It’s a shame,” Mr. Jones sighed. “You really could’ve been someone, you know, if you weren’t so busy looking after everyone else. Let this be a lesson for the future; only look out for yourself. Well, you won’t have a future, but you get my point, right?”

               He tried to yank Alex off again, and once again, Alex held on by the tip of his fingers, his nails scraping the bricks and breaking off. Alex’s fingers bled and his hands scarred, his head felt heavy and the world was spinning. He was too tired to keep holding on, too disoriented to think of a plan. All he could do was hang on as Mr. Jones tried to throw him off the roof again, and again, and again.

               “You’re being really difficult right now, Alex!” Mr. Jones snapped, the both of them breathing heavily after several minutes. “Would you just… die… ALREADY?!”

               Michael, Alex thought desperately, terrified that just saying the cowboy’s name would take too much of the energy he was using to stay alive. He wanted to see Michael, he wanted to tell him how much he loved him, how much he would miss him. Where are you? Alex shut his eyes tight, thinking of Michael, his grip on the chimney weakening.

               One more pull, he knew, was all it would take. Then –

               CRASH!

               Alex opened his eyes and gasped. Mr. Jones had been thrown into the set of chairs and tables Alex had in his backyard. He was unconscious.

               “Alex!” Michael called. “Alex, where are you?!”

               “Here,” Alex breathed, then, louder, “Up here!”

               Michael, Isobel, and the real Max came into view, looking as if they’d run a marathon.

               “Alex,” Michael called, eyes wild. “Are you okay?!”

               Alex nodded. “Yeah, I’m – I’m fine.”

               “Michael,” Max said, lifting the ladder. “Help me with this.”

               The both of them set the ladder against the wall for Alex to climb down. Max held onto the ladder while Michael held his arms out for Alex. The airman barely touched the ground before he was engulfed in a bone-crushing hug.

               “You’re okay,” Michael breathed against his hair. “You’re okay, you’re okay, you’re okay.”

               “Alex,” Isobel stared cautiously at Mr. Jones who Max was injecting with what looked like a serum. “What happened?”

               Alex shook his head. Michael would not release him for a second. “I thought he was Max. I’m sorry, I – I should’ve been able to tell.”

               “You’re exhausted, look at you,” Michael said, taking Alex’s face in his hands. He seemed to forget himself as he kissed Alex’s forehead, his eyes, his cheeks, his nose. Alex stopped him before he mindlessly kissed his lips.

               “I’m – I’m okay,” Alex said, though he kept a tight hold on Michael’s jacket. “Really.”

               Michael seemed to realize that Alex also wanted to stay close, and he brought an arm around his back, rubbing soothingly. Alex thought he could almost collapse against him and fall asleep now.

               “What did he want with me though?” Alex asked.

               “He knows how important you are to us,” Michael said.

               “All the help you’ve given us,” Max shook his head as he came over. “You’re kind of our protector, Alex. He doesn’t really like that.”

               “No kidding,” Alex muttered. Looking at Max now, he could see the difference between them. Max’s eyes were darker, but his concern more genuine, his kindness almost palpable. Alex blushed when he thought of the man he’d had breakfast with. He found himself disappointed that he’d lost a friend he didn’t know he needed.

               “I’m here now,” Michael said against his hair, and Alex’s heart hammered painfully in his chest. “He won’t touch you again.”

               Alex turned his red face away from Isobel and Max’s eyes. He wished Michael wouldn’t talk to him like that in front of other people.

               “I just need some sleep,” Alex shook his head against Michael’s chest. “Please, just… get him off my property,” he nudged with his chin at Mr. Jones. “I don’t want to see him here again.”

               Max nodded sympathetically, touched his shoulder, and asked for Isobel’s help dragging Mr. Jones to his car. Meanwhile, Alex was left alone in Michael’s arms.

               “Mind if I stay with you?” Michael said, pushing Alex’s bangs back from his eyes. “I won’t be able to function if I know you’re here unprotected.”

               “I don’t need protection.”

               “Please, Alex.”

               Alex searched his face, his hands coming around Michael’s waist and reaching up to touch his back. He couldn’t believe how much he missed Michael’s body against his.

               “Can’t you just stay with me for the sake of staying with me?”

               Michael’s expression faltered. “You’d let me?”

               Alex pressed his forehead against Michael’s shoulder, trying not to think of Mr. Jones’s words. He fights for who he loves… but not to keep anyone. He just doesn’t care enough.

               Mr. Jones had been wrong. Alex knew that better than anyone. He held on tighter to Michael, as tightly as he needed to make sure the cowboy didn’t leave him again.

               “Just stay with me, Michael. Stay.”

[pigtownchronicles]

Chapter 2.1 - Back to Reality

Dennis and Barry didn’t speak much for the rest of the weekend, after their night out at Depot. It was clear that something between them was withering in a way that was rather unexpected, but neither of them could articulate. Barry, however, was closer to understanding it. It was the same sensation that he always felt after a circuit party, or an orgy, when he was back in the quiet house again. He was back in reality. The party, the club, the sex, all of that was just fantasy, it couldn’t penetrate him. He couldn’t allow it to penetrate him. But when he saw someone like Samuel, or Parker, who not only allowed that energy to flow through them, but lived and breathed it, all he felt was restless. Like he’d done scuba diving, with all of this protection, only to discover other guys he knew had gills. That Dennis had intruded on that rather sacred experience, injected his own kind of order and justice and control into it only made him feel more sour, more disconnected, more jealous of what he could be, if he hadn’t chosen all of this.

Dennis, on the other hand, was feeling usurped. Annoyed that Barry had dragged him to that party, annoyed that he had challenged him when it came to Kyle and threatening to tell his father, annoyed that he felt bad about it, most of all. He’d done the right thing, he was sure of that. Kyle shouldn’t have been there, he was too young. It was illegal. Pretty much everything that was happening in that club was illegal, in fact. But Barry had put him on the defensive, a position Dennis hated, since he was very careful to always maintain a moral high ground. He felt like he needed to defend something that ought to be obvious. The fact that Barry apparently disagreed only made his own values feel more slippery. 

Barry dealt with the frustration by going to the gym, and stopping off at a gay sauna on the way back for a little action. Dennis dealt with it by making calls to the health department, the liquor control board, and the police department, reporting the myriad of violations he had witnessed at Depot on Friday. Neither of them felt satisfied, by the end of it. The energy that Barry was craving just wasn’t there, like it had been at Depot. The guys were all too nervous, too embarrassed, mostly older closeted men with wives in the suburbs. It only made Barry feel more hemmed in than before. Dennis kept getting the runaround from every agency he called. They would seem interested, and then as soon as he mentioned where he had been and they confirmed the address, the person on the other line would go quiet, say that wasn’t their jurisdiction, thank him for his vigilance and hang up on him. Only once, with a police officer, did he manage to get a little bit of info out of him. “Look, the folks you ought to talk to are down at Precinct 27. They handle everything in that neighborhood.” Frustrated, and again feeling like he was running into some bureaucratic red tape he hadn’t expected, he decided he’d pay a visit to the precinct sometime in the next week, and get some answers there. Surely they would have a more difficult time dismissing his complaints in person.

Monday came for them both. Dennis headed for the hospital--Monday was usually a day for appointments, and getting his surgeries for the rest of the week planned out and organized. Barry headed into the office, dreading it more than he had in some time. He’d hoped that seeing Samuel and having a chance to blow off some steam would have helped soften the blow of being passed over for a promotion, again. Instead, he just felt caught between two worlds, one unsatisfactory foot in each. He couldn’t invest himself entirely in his job--it bored him to death, and he didn’t understand how Dennis could stand being so normal all the time--but if he didn’t, he’d never get the respect there he longed for. Each time he saw Samuel though, it was like looking at some amazing being. He was so free. Sure, his life likely wasn’t easy, but it seemed effortless and fun and exhilarating in a way Barry’s had never been. It also terrified him, all the same, and he hadn’t even been able to hack an hour on the dance floor on Friday. He got settled in his office, and got caught up on his email for the first couple of hours, before the usual Monday morning meeting was due to start.

This is what he was dreading the most, of the entire day. He showed up a bit late, took a seat towards the far end of the table. Evan Ternbull, his current boss, was sitting at the front, and off to his left was Richard Carlisle, the man that Barry privately considered his rival, but they had never spoken more than a few words to each other, since Richard was a relatively new hire, and they’d been working on different projects.

“As you know,” Evan said once getting everyone in order, “I’m going to be transferring over to a new project team in a month or so, which I know all of you are so disappointed to hear about. I’m happy to announce today that Richard here will be stepping up into my role and overseeing your team for the remainder of your project. As you know, Richard is relatively new here, but he comes with some great outside experience, and I am very confident that he will be a great project lead.”

The folks around the table clapped for Richard, who stood up, looking a bit sheepish. How old could he be, really? Twenty-five, twenty-six? Slender, twinkish but clearly straight, Richard got up and introduced himself, talking about his wife, and about the baby they had on the way. The table clapped again, and Barry tried to mask his scowl as he clapped along. Part of him felt a bit bad now for feeling so entitled to the position. Dennis and he were doing just fine with their incomes, and he knew that kids were expensive--one of many reasons he’d never wanted one. But as soon as that sympathy popped up, he pushed it back down. Just because he was straight, just because he was “starting a family” didn’t mean he was entitled to more money than him. It didn’t mean he was entitled more respect.

That was it, wasn’t it? The respect. He didn’t feel respected here. He didn’t feel respected at home, even. Dennis loved him, sure, but did he respect him, really? Did it feel like a relationship between equals all the time? It didn’t. Barry would goad him, and half the time Dennis would just dismiss him out of hand, refuse to even engage, like fighting with Barry was simply beneath him. Like he knew that no matter how dissatisfied he might be, he’d never leave him, because he liked the money, and the lifestyle, and Barry’s own job here couldn’t afford it. 

He could barely focus for the rest of the meeting. After an hour, he faked a phone call, and retreated to his cubicle to think. Mostly, he stared at the little business card that Hugh had given him, and thought about what on earth “Broker” might mean. Someone in the drug trade, apparently, if Hugh worked for him. So much of that conversation had been...weirdly cryptic, but Hugh had been right about the central proposition. Barry was unsatisfied with his life, and more hemmed in he felt--by Evan, by Dennis, by Richard now--

“Hey, Billy, right?”

He was startled up from his thought, looked up and saw Richard looming in the doorway of his cubicle. The meeting was over apparently--was this the first thing he’d thought to do? Hunt Barry down?

“Barry, actually.”

“Oh shoot, sorry man. Everything alright? You zipped out of there in a hurry.”

“Yeah, just the husband, you know. Everything sounds like an emergency to him.”

Richard laughed, “Yeah man, I get it. Hey, Evan told me that you were on the shortlist for the position, and I just wanted to let you know that he thought you would have been a great choice too, and he wants you to keep throwing your hat in the ring, alright? He just didn’t think that this position would be a better stepping stone for me, since we’re at the tail end of a project, about to ship. He knows that wouldn’t have been a challenge for you.”

Barry’s face was growing a bit heated. Evan thought so, huh? Then why wasn’t Evan here telling him this? Why send this cherub faced little shit to come apologize on his behalf? “Sure thing, I understand. Besides, you got the growing family to feed, right?” Barry said, stretching his mouth into something he hoped was a smile and not a sneer, and from the way Richard’s face lit up back, he must have managed well enough. They chatted a bit about Barry’s current duties, and then Richard moved on to the next member of the team.

That settled it, then. If nothing else, he would have his curiosity satisfied. If it was a service that could make his life better, than great. Why care that the info came from a drug dealer? He pulled out the card Hugh had given him on Friday--it was rather simple. All it had was a name, Ian Miller, the word “Broker” below it, and on the bottom of the card, a phone number. He picked up his phone, and gave the mysterious number a call.

***

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[katehuntington]

Title: In Bad Waters - part ten Word count: ±3400 words Episode summary: Still in possession of the Winchesters’ belongings, Zoë meets up with the hunters on her next case. When it turns out to be a little more complicated than anticipated, she accepts their help in order to make an important deadline. Part ten summary: Zoë and the Winchesters face the aftermath of losing a victim. Especially the huntress takes it hard, and the reason soon surfaces. Episode warnings: Dark! NSFW, 18+ only! Descriptions of domestic violence/child abuse. Drug use/addiction. Angst, gore, violence, character death. Description of blood, injury and medical procedures/resuscitation. Swearing, alcoholism. Supernatural creatures/entities, mentions of demon possession. Descriptions of torture and murder, drowning. Illegal/criminal practices. Mentions of nightmares and flashbacks. Author’s note: Beta’d by @winchest09​​​​​​​ and @deanwanddamons​​​​​​​. Thanks, girls! Gif isn’t mine. If you are the creator or know who made it, please tell me so I can credit you.

Supernatural: The Sullivan Series Masterlist

S1E02 “In Bad Waters” Masterlist

     The black Harley Davidson rolls into the parking lot of the Hampton Inn, followed by the Chevrolet Impala. Zoë hasn’t said a word to Sam since she found Taylor at the Dawlson home. Both of them gave a statement to the local police and managed to talk their way out of an interrogation at the department, Zoë continuing her role as agent Sharon Evans. Without missing a beat, Sam improvised and said he was her partner. They kept the cops in the dark, hoping they will not be making their ghost hunt more difficult than it already is.

     Sam also talked to Jeff Dawlson. The poor guy was a mess, but the widower made clear that he was certain that this wasn’t just some ordinary murder. The silence, the windows that didn’t break, the door that didn’t open. He called it a force, something he couldn’t possibly begin to explain. Even for a skeptic down to earth guy like Jeff, this was obviously not from their world. So Sam told him everything about Laura, all that they know. Jeff took it quite well, even thanked them for their attempt to save his wife, but he was devastated, never to be the same.

     Quiet, Zoë gets off her bike, takes her laptop case out of the saddlebag and strolls to the entrance. She’s glad no one stole her Macbook when she left it at the terras, the database as valuable to her as John’s journal is to the boys.      Sam follows her, watching the huntress as she makes her way to room seventeen; not a single remark has left her lips, yet she keeps a straight face. People passing by don’t notice anything about the strong woman, but Sam can only imagine that this is messing with her.

     The huntress slips the key card through the lock and opens the door. As she expected, Dean is obviously present. A KFC bag and several paper wrappings plus an empty bucket that once contained fried chicken are scattered on the bedspread, loud music is blaring on the radio. Dean, who is freshening up in the bathroom, apparently didn’t hear them come in, because he keeps singing along with the song.

“There’s a lot of people sayin' we'd be better off dead. Don't feel like Satan, but I am to them. So I try to forget it, any way I can. Keep on rockin' in the free world!”, he belts out.

     His younger brother halts and raises his eyebrows, but doesn’t laugh or chuckle; his brother’s poor vocal skills would have been amusing if the circumstances were different.      Zoë doesn’t appreciate his singing either and she slams her fist on the bathroom door. “Hey, Neil Young! Shut your piehole, will ya?”      They hear a glass breaking on the bathroom floor and Zoë rolls her eyes while sighing deeply. Wonderful.      “Fuck,” Dean curses softly, then sets up a voice loud enough for Zoë to hear it. “Sorry!”

     Without responding she walks away from the door and turns down the volume of the radio completely, allowing a deadly silence to hover the room. As Sam picks up the paper wrappings, Dean pops his head around the corner.      “What the hell are you doing here?” he asks them both, when he notices his brother by the door.      “I could ask you the same thing,” Sam returns.      “I let him break in,” Zoë says before Dean can answer.      “Didn’t expect you two to be back anytime soon.” He walks out of the bathroom, buttoning his white shirt, since he doesn’t have a change of clothes. “The shower is amazing, by the way. It’s so big and it has this fucking awesome massage setting--”      “Something occurred at the Dawlsons,” Sam interrupts.

     His older brother halts and looks from Sam to Zoë, who sat down on the bed, staring at nothing in particular, her gaze blank.      She can feel his unspoken question and decides to answer. “She’s dead.”      Dean expected something like that when he sensed the mood, but it still comes as a shock. He needs a few seconds to collect his thoughts.      “Dead as in hit-by-a-car-dead or killed-by-a-ghost-dead?” he asks carefully.

     A depressing quietness remains between the hunters. Zoë doesn’t reply; words aren’t necessary. When her eyes meet his, Dean knows enough. The oldest of the brothers breathes out with a sigh and looks away, shaking his head; damn it.      “Did you see Laura?” he wonders.      “We did,” Sam responds on Zoë’s behalf. “We tried to stop her.”      Dean frowns at that. “How did you know Laura was inside the house? So far no one witnessed her actual attack, right?”      “I had a vision,” Sam explains.

     Both Zoë and Dean look up at him, stunned by his statement. Zoë is well aware Sam had one. But what she didn’t know is that Sam told his brother about his ability, which she presumes, as he just blurted it out like that.      Dean however, bites down the mixture of concern and frustration. He tries to ignore the fact his brother shared this information in the presence of the huntress, which they only met a couple of days ago.  Filing it under either carelessness, he addresses the other issue: since when does Sam have these visions when he’s awake? “You fell asleep or something’?”      “No, this was the first time he had one during the day,” Zoë answers before Sam does.

      The comment triggers Dean to snap his head towards her, unpleasantly surprised to learn she’s all up to date with Sam’s powers. Agitated, he glares at his brother.      “You told her?!” he exclaims.      “Yeah, so? We hunt together, so what’s the big deal?” Sam returns defensively.      “You wanna know what the big deal is? If this goes public amongst hunters, some of them might seriously keep an eye on you, Sam!” his brother snaps.      Zoë tries to cool the looming clash. “It’s safe with me, Dean.”      “That’s not the fucking point!” He counters angrily, focusing on the huntress. “He doesn’t realize how dangerous this could be!”      Sam reminds him of his presence. “Don’t talk like I’m not even here, Dean.”

Zoë’s not sure where it’s coming from, but she has the sudden urge to defend Sam. She can relate with the youngest Winchester, she’s going through the same after all. Dean has no idea what these special abilities feel like, how painful and confusing they are, how they wreck their mind. He’s not the one experiencing them. Who the hell does he think he is to tell Sam how to handle this?      “Like you have a clue what’s going on,” she jumps in. “I think hunters are the last ones on earth you should worry about.”      Dean narrows his eyes at her, reading into her words. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”      “Haven’t you wondered where this is coming from?” she looks up at him, waiting for an answer. “Because I for one have never encountered a human being with supernatural powers. Have you?”

     Silence. It might not have yet occurred to Dean, though, but Sam and Zoë have thought of it constantly. People, normal, random people, shouldn’t be having visions, period. Zoë is right; It’s not normal, it’s not human.

     Dean however, decides to ignore her notification and points his finger at his younger brother in the way a father would do to his son. “You shut up about this,” he warns. “If you wanna talk about it, talk to me. If you share this with anyone else--”      “Don’t you treat me like you’re Dad!” Sam counters.      Zoë rolls her eyes the moment John is mentioned. She turns to the window with her hands placed firmly on her slender waist.      “I am responsible for you and I am the one who has to drag your ass out of trouble when you have God knows what on your tail because of this freaky stuff. As long as Dad ain’t around, I’m gonna talk to you like that. Suck it up!” Dean returns sternly.      Sam huffs and grinds his teeth. He hates, absolutely hates it when he’s treated like a child. It doesn’t matter if he’s talked down on by Dad or Dean; he can’t stand it. He's twenty-two for Christ's sake!      “No. This is my life, my problem. I’m not gonna listen to you,” Sam sneers, cynically.      Furiously, Dean raises his voice. “Yes, you are!!”      “Would you two SHUT THE FUCK UP?!”

     Both brothers seize their argument and look at Zoë, who turned around to face then. Enraged, she glares at them, her penetrating eyes darting from one to the other, disgusted by their behavior.      “How old are you? Fucking ten?!” she asks resentfully. “People are dying and you two are actually arguing over who’s boss and who’s not?!”      Sam gulps; she has a point. This is senseless; because both Dean and Sam know that neither of them are willing to admit their wrong. Even Dean seems to be ashamed, his green eyes breaking away from Zoë’s penetrating stare.      “I’m gonna be honest with you two. If you don’t get along, that’s your problem, but you’re no good to me if you don’t function together,” she continues, gritting her teeth in frustration. “An innocent just died, Goddamnit!”

     They could hear a pin drop in the spacious hotel room. Having enough of the Winchesters’ stupidity, Zoë turns her back on them and saunters to the end of the room. She sits down on the bed, sniffing, then she wipes her nose. 

Sam and Dean exchange a look, both noticing how much this is bothering her. So far the huntress seems to be a lot more careless about cases; she’s more the shoot-to-thrill type. She was willing to leave this case in her rear view mirror after all.      Dean  carefully attempts to find out what’s really going on with the fellow hunter. “What’s wrong, Zo?”

     Instead of answering, she just shakes her head. Avoiding their questioning eyes, Zoë folds her hands together and rests her elbows on her knees. For a long while she doesn’t speak, but then she starts to open up, just a little bit.      “I was supposed to watch her,” she claims. “Yet I was goofing around and bored, while she got slaughtered.”      “This isn’t your fault,” Sam replies immediately, trying to take away the guilt.      “It is.” Her piercing gaze moves to meet his. “I should have known, I should have drawn a conclusion from the first two killings, but I didn’t.”      “Hey, we didn’t see this coming either,” Dean brings to mind.      “It doesn’t matter. Someone lost their life again while I could’ve prevented it,” she states, her voice fragile now.

     Sam furrows his brow, confused. Again? What does she mean? With a questioning look, he glances over at Dean and is surprised by what he sees. Compassion, compassion for Zoë. He realizes Dean might know more about her past, after all, he and Dad worked her case and casted out the demon that possessed her. Dean wasn't in a sharing mood when his younger brother requested more details about what happened back then. Sam thought he didn't know more and that their dad kept him in the dark, but now he begins to realize that he simply didn't want to elaborate on it. Is it not his place to tell? Or did that hunt go wrong?

     Dean offers some reassuring words, trying to convince her. “Zo, what happened back then was out of your hands.”      “Don’t go there,” she warns.      “You shouldn’t still be blaming yourself for that, nor should you feel guilty about today,” he presses.      “I said: Don’t. Go. There,” Zoë repeats, glaring over her shoulder.      Sam glances from one to the other, disorientated, unable to follow the conversation. The oldest of the Winchester brothers isn’t spooked by the threat, however.      “Maybe you should step away from the case,” he suggests.      “What?!” she cries out, perplexed.      “It’s obvious that you’re emotional about this, Zo,” he starts to explain, deliberately getting under her skin.      “Emotional?!” She scoffs, fury in her eyes, pressing her clenched fist in the mattress. “Oh, I’m sorry. Am I not allowed to give a fuck about people dying? My mistake!”      “I’m just saying that maybe you should let us take care of this one,” he explains.

     He might say so, but Dean doesn’t want her to quit. What he does want, is to trigger her. He used the same technique on his brother before and it worked like a charm, it seems like it might just work on the huntress as well. He can sense her blood beginning to boil as she rises to her feet; he really pissed her off this time.      “Are you fucking serious right now?! I don’t quit on cases, I don’t take the easy way out!” she yells, pointing at her chest.      “You were gonna before you allowed us to help you. So tell me why the hell you’re so worked up all of a sudden,” he bounces back.      “No!” Zoë shouts outrageously, her voice hitting a higher tone than she anticipated. “I don’t wanna talk about it!”      “It’s been over four years, Zoë. It’s about damn time you talk about it. This isn’t healthy,” Dean pressures.      “I just can’t, okay?”

     Her voice is suddenly softer now as it breaks, almost begging him to stop. She averts her gaze quickly, but Sam could see her eyes glister. Slowly, he starts to get the idea of what happened back then, remembering the first file in her database, the one consisting of the demon that possessed her.      “Zoë, if this has something to do with that Diligo Vesco demon...” he carefully starts off. “Whatever happened, it wasn’t on you.”      “My hands--” She holds them up in front of her. “- and his blood all over them. Now don’t you tell me it wasn’t me.”

     Confused, Sam cocks his head from Zoë to Dean, who watches the woman with his arms crossed in front of his chest. His stance is still defensive, but his eyes tell a different story, one of empathy.      When the huntress spots the confused expression on Sam’s face and turns to Dean as well. “You didn’t tell him?”      “I didn’t. Wasn’t sure if you’d be okay with that,” he says.

     With a deep breath, she prepares to say the words that bring her so much pain. Words that remind her of that dreadful day, the moment that everything got screwed to hell. Her heartbeat has sped up throughout the conversation, first by anger, but now that she has to admit out loud what went down four years, four months and five days ago, she feels like it’s about to jump out of her chest. A panic attack is prevented when she breathes in through her nose slowly and lets the air flow from her mouth again, repeating it once more while closing her eyes. Then she looks up at Sam and swallows back the tears. She can’t break, she never has and she won’t now. With a trembling voice, she speaks up.

      “When I was possessed, I killed my dad.”

      Sam’s jaw almost drops to the ground. For a moment he just stares at her, his eyes large, unable to form words. Poor, poor girl. Losing a parent is one thing, but she experienced her father’s murder like she was the one killing. How do you get over that?      And just like that, he sees Zoë in a totally different light. Her attitude makes more sense, her eagerness to hunt, her reluctance to new friendships. She lost one of the most important people in her life, no wonder she shut herself in.

     Both boys watch her struggle, there’s not much they can do to make her feel better. She walks over to the window and rubs her face. The brothers can’t see the tears run down her cheek, but they know she turned away to prevent them from witnessing her sorrow. She can’t show her weakness, not to them, not to anyone.

     Dean notices something about her that he recognizes in himself. The huntress is unable to express how she feels, simply because it hurts too much. It’s easier to stuff it away and sweep it under the rug, hoping that way it doesn’t have to be dealt with, that the pain will slowly fade away over time. But let’s be fair; it doesn’t.

     Zoë sighs deeply and takes heart, turning back to them when the tears have stopped falling.      “We shouldn’t be talking about me, guys. Our ghost is getting more violent by the hour. We need to stop this,” she reminds them.      Sam glances at his brother and their eyes meet. He knows she’s avoiding the subject, but they have to admit there is truth in her words. Laura might be killing someone right now, especially since Sam left the Shire residence unattended. They decide to give it a rest.

     “You’re right, let’s get our head back in the game. I’m gonna get the doctor to talk, I won’t take no for an answer.” He grabs his tie from the chair and folds it around his collar as he looks up at Sam, awaiting a follow up from his younger brother.      “I’ll check on the Shires and keep you guys in the loop,” Sam suggests.      “Sounds good to me. Talk to them too, fire it up a little. Maybe they know more about this. We need more intel to wrap this one up and we need it fast,” Zoë urges, checking her watch and startled to see that it’s almost five o’ clock.      “Take the car. I’ll walk, it’s just a block away,” Dean nods at the car keys on the drawer, while struggling with his tie.      “C’mere,” Zoë beckons him to edge closer and takes Dean’s tie in her hands.      Skillfully, she redoes it, her hands moving swiftly. Dean can’t help to take in her pretty face. Her makeup has run down a little, it emphasizes her frame of mind. Focused on her task at hand, she avoids his unraveling eyes.

     “Should I tell them the truth?” Sam proposes.      “Not yet,” she tightens Dean’s tie and dares to look up at him. “You try to speak with the doctor first. We're sure he actually knows something, but we aren’t certain about the Shire family. We don’t want to spook them.”      “Okay, let’s go then.” Dean picks up his suit jacket and heads for the door.      Sam hesitates in the doorway, glancing over his shoulder at the young woman. “What are you gonna do?”       “I’m gonna look into Laura, see who she was close to. I can imagine the kid would’ve tried to stay out of that toxic household as much as she could, maybe she stayed over with friends a lot. Could lead to her next victim,” she explains.      “We’ll get her, Zo,” Dean assures.      “Hell, we will. Taylor was the last one killed by Laura Shire,” she states determined.

      Just after she pronounces those words, the door slams and locks. Surprised, Zoë stares at the doorknob, which felt like it was just ripped from her hand. As she slowly turns around, she feels chills running down her spine, the tingling sensation way too familiar. The bathroom light starts to flicker, then the faucet of the sink turns, water splattering on the porcelain. Suddenly the TV flips on, but all broadcasts a disorted image and static noise. She exhales clouds of warm air, her breath condensed, the temperature suddenly changing. It turns ice cold in the room.

      Zoë gulps. “Oh, fuck.”

      Seems like she doesn’t have to search very long to find Laura’s next victim; it’s her. Anxiously, Zoë searches the room for something iron, but then suddenly the image of the ten year old girl appears in the corner. Her blonde hair looks darkened, her pupils hazed over with white. The nightgown she was wearing the night she was killed is stained with blood. Then her eyes sink deep into their sockets, leaving gaping black holes in her small skull, before her form flickers and suddenly stands right before the huntress. Without an iron forged weapon or anything to use in the huntress’ defence, Zoë stares at the poltergeist for a brief second. This is it; she’s fucked. Even though she realizes the boys can’t hear her, she cries out one of their names at the top of her lungs.

  “SAM!!!”              

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to like or reblog my work, shoot me a message or buy me coffee (Link to Kofi in bio at the top of the page).    

[once-upon-an-imagine]

All Of the Stars - Chapter 1: Friends

I solemnly swear that I am up to no good!

Chapter 1: Friends

But then again, if we're not friends Someone else might love you too And then again, if we're not friends There'd be nothing I could do, and that's why Friends should sleep in other beds And friends should kiss me like you do And I know that there's a limit to everything But my friends won't love me like you do No, my friends won't love me like you do Oh, my friends will never love me like you do Ed Sheeran

**********************************************

"Remmy!"

Remus Lupin was barely able to turn around properly before he felt arms quickly wrapping around his neck. He smiled instantly and returned the hug, recognizing one of his best friends in the entire world.

"Hello Cassie" he said with a small chuckle wrapping his arms around the girl and kissing the top of her head. "How was your summer?"

"Ugh bloody boring" she said stepping back a little but he still had his hands on her waist. "I am so glad to be back" she said with a small smile. "How was yours?"

"A bit boring too" he admitted. "Nothing out of the ordinary."

"How were the- um" she started before looking around and lowering her voice. "You know?" she whispered. Remus smiled knowing what she was talking about.

"They weren't that bad Cass, honestly" he said knowing she always worried about the full moon.

"Sorry we couldn't come" she said getting a little nervous. "Father decided to have a stupid dinner with the Malfoys that night and-"

"It's alright Cassie, really" Remus said with a kind smile. The black-haired witch smiled apologetically back at him.

"I missed you Remmy" she said hugging him again.

"I missed you too" he whispered placing his head on top of her head until they were interrupted by her angry brother.

"CASSIOPEIA! How many times have I told you not to run out of my sight like that?"

"I wouldn't know Sirius. How many times have I asked you to NOT call me that?!" the girl said glaring at her twin brother. Remus tried not to laugh. He knew just how much Cassie hated her full name. Since first year she had warned every single person in school that she would hex them if they ever used it. The only ones who called her that were the teachers, sometimes. And, of course, her brother, just to get on her nerves.

"You left me with mother and Regulus, thank you very much! Mother made me carry your trunk!" Sirius complained. "Oh, hey Moony!" he said, spotting his friend.

Remus laughed at the sight of two of his best friends fighting like they always did.

"Hi Padfoot, I trust you had a good summer?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

"You don't even want to know, mate" he said hugging his friend.

It was a known fact that Cassie and Sirius didn't have the best home life, to put it in a nice way. They came from The Noble and most ancient House of Black, one of the largest, oldest, and wealthiest pure-blooded families in the wizarding world. However, unlike the rest of their family, they didn't care about the 'importance of blood purity' as their parents put it. Remus, on the other hand, was a half-blood. His father was a wizard but his mother was a muggle. Needless to say, Mr. and Mrs. Black didn't really approve of their friendship with him or Cassie's muggle-born friend, Lily Evans, for that matter.

"Sirius, Cassiopeia" the three friends turned around to face the third Black sibling. Regulus. Unlike his older brother and sister, he believed in everything their parents said, although he wasn't as drastic as they were. He didn't care for muggle-borns or half-bloods but he wasn't exactly mean to them. "I've been looking for you everywhere" he said slightly annoyed.

"Well, what a coincidence Regulus, because we've been avoiding you everywhere!" Sirius answered with a small smirk. Remus knew the two brothers never got along. Sirius always said Regulus needed to stand up to his parents as they did. But Cassie was very protective of both her brothers and she was always the peacemaker of the three.

"Siri" Cassie warned. Regulus simply rolled his eyes and continued.

"Mother told me to tell you that she hopes you two behave this year" he said without any emotion in his voice. "And she said that running like that is not lady-like Cassie" he added and Remus saw the girl rolling her eyes but she smiled at her little brother.

"Thanks, Reggie" she told him and he smiled back at her. In the long time Remus had met the Black siblings, he had only seen Regulus smile if it was towards his sister. "Do you have everything you need in your trunk?"

"Yes" he replied before picking up his trunk. "Lupin" he acknowledged the boy before he left them standing there and made his way to the train.

"Well, we should go and find a compartment too" Remus suggested.

"Yeah, here!" Sirius said tossing Cassie her trunk and she quickly grabbed one end as the heavy trunk landed on the floor almost bringing the girl with it in the process.

"Hey! I thought mother told you to be chivalrous!" she mocked him.

"Yes, and she told you to be a lady" he laughed before messing her hair and grabbing his trunk before he made his way to the Hogwarts Express.

"I can carry it for you" Remus offered kindly, seeing that the trunk was a bit too heavy for the girl, but Cassie shook her head.

"No, Remmy, don't be silly" she said smiling gratefully at him. "I can do it, I just wanted to tease Siri, but thanks" she said grabbing her trunk and they both made their way inside.

"Hey! Moony, Cassie! Over here!" they recognized the voice as soon as they stepped inside the train.

"James!" Cassie shouted excitedly as they made their way to the boy with black, messy hair and she hugged him.

"Hey, Prongs!" Remus greeted the boy at the door of the compartment where Sirius was already seated.

"Took you long enough" he said looking up at his friends. Cassie rolled her eyes and threw her trunk at him. "Oi!"

"That's what you get, you lazy bum!" she said sitting next to him.

"Things never change, do they?" James asked Remus as they sat across from the twins.

"Call me crazy, but I kind of missed it" Remus said laughing a little. "So, how was your summer?"

"It was alright" James said shrugging his shoulders. "I finally found a way to get Lily to go out with me!" he said excitedly.

"You're still on that?" Sirius asked laughing at his friend. "Mate, the girl's said 'no' at least 800 times. I think she means 'no'" he stated as Remus rolled his eyes and Cassie let out a small laugh.

"Honestly Jamie, you can't possibly think she's interested! You followed her around like a sick puppy all of last year" Cassie added. "The girl hates you!"

"Well that was before I thought of my genius plan!" he argued.

"Which is?" Remus asked.

"You!" James said pointing at Cassie.

"Me?" she asked, clearly confused.

"You're friends with Lily" he commented.

"So?"

"So, you can help me out!"

"It took you all summer to come up with that?" Sirius asked, making Remus laugh.

"Shut up! Come on Cassie, please?" he asked turning to the girl, once again. "I asked Remus last year to help me out since they were both prefects and did their rounds together-"

"Does that mean I am off the hook this year?" Remus asked him hopefully.

"No" James quickly said. "But Cassie shares a dorm with her. She can help me out even more. You can tell her how I am a nice a guy and how funny and how smart and charming-"

"And how modest" she said sarcastically and Remus smiled at her, but James ignored her as he kept on saying all his good qualities, including how he was an amazing Quidditch player.

"... So, what do you say?"

"No" the girl simply said.

"What?" James asked taken aback.

"I said no" the girl told him.

"But Cassie-"

"No" the girl repeated again.

"But... why not? I'm your best friend!" he said offended.

"Be that as it may" she said rolling her eyes a little. "Lily is one of my few, if not only, female friends, thanks to you two idiots flirting with every single girl, dating them and then, never talking to them again!" she said glaring at James and Sirius. "I am not going to jeopardize my friendship with Lily just because you can't take a hint, Potter!"

"But this is different! I love her!" James argued. The other three friends rolled their eyes once again when the door opened.

"Hey, guys!" Peter Pettigrew said walking in the compartment. "Hi Cassie" he said eyeing the girl sitting next to her brother.

"And that's my cue to leave" Cassie said standing up and walking out of the compartment.

"If you see Lily, be sure to mention my name!" James shouted getting up and out the door to see his friend walking down the hallway.

"Bite me!" she yelled, without even looking back at him. James laughed and went back to sit down. Sirius stood up and punched Peter in the arm when he didn't move.

"Ey! Stop ogling over my sister!" he said before sitting down again.

"I wasn't ogling!" the smaller boy argued sitting down next to him.

"Things really never change, do they?" Remus asked James this time.

"Nope" James replied laughing before all four boys started talking about their summer.

**********************************************

"Hello again, my friends" Cassie greeted the Marauders at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall, sitting between Remus and Sirius, across from Peter and James.

"Hey! You can't just sit like that! Why isn't my Lily Flower here with you?" James asked upset looking for the red-haired girl everywhere.

"She saw you here and ran away as fast and far as she could" Cassie replied and James glared at her sticking his tongue out. "Oh that's very mature, James" she said rolling her eyes and mimicking the boy.

"And that's real lady-like, Cassie" he mocked her. She was about to reply when she got interrupted.

"Good evening! And welcome to yet, another year at Hogwarts" the Headmaster's voice was heard in the entire room.

"Shh! Pay attention" Remus warned his friends while Professor Dumbledore gave his regular speech.

"Why? We know all this stuff anyways" Sirius complained. "We're in sixth year!"

"Well there are first years that need to listen to this" Remus replied in a serious tone.

"Look at them, all scared, lined up, waiting to be sorted" James said, smirking at all the first years.

"Don't be mean!" Cassie said hitting his arm. "Don't you remember what is like to be that nervous?" she said remembering how afraid she was in her first year.

She was called to the sorting hat right after her brother. When the hat yelled Gryffindor, she saw the terrified look in his eyes. But when she stepped up, she was more afraid to be placed in a house without her brother than to not be placed in Slytherin like the rest of her entire family. To her happiness, the hat also yelled Gryffindor.

"I don't ever get nervous, darling" James said winking at her and she let out a laugh.

"Keep it quiet!" Remus scolded them again just before they heard a loud growl. The four boys turned their heads to an embarrassed Cassie.

"Tell that to Cassie's stomach" Sirius said trying to contain his laugh. Cassie glared at her brother before Remus noticed the blush in her cheeks as she looked down.

"Didn't you eat something on the train?" he whispered concerned.

"Uh, no I um, didn't have time" she replied with a shy smile. Remus knew that wasn't entirely true but he let it pass.

"Here" he said taking out some chocolate from his pockets.

"Remmy-"

"Don't make me use your full name" he threatened before she had a chance to protest. Cassie glared a little at him before smiling. She knew that Remus loved chocolate even more than she did so the fact that she was giving some of it to her was a big deal.

"Thanks" she said taking it and eating it. She couldn't help but feel a fuzzy feeling in her stomach when he smiled back at her but she decided that it was just her hunger and ignored it.

"Hey! No fair!" Sirius complained, trying to take away her chocolate, but Cassie quickly snapped his hand away.

Finally, after the speech and the sorting, it was time for the feast to commence.

"About time! Merlin's beard, I'm starving!" Sirius said, filling his plate with everything in front of him as the rest did the same.

When he noticed his sister only filled half her plate, and she was just playing with her food, he frowned at her and passed some of his food to her plate. Cassie turned to face him but Sirius only gave her a look that was all she needed to turn back to her plate and start eating. Two of the other three Marauders witnessed the exchange between the twins but didn't say anything. The third one was oblivious to the whole thing.

Remus knew how they always came to this. Mrs. Black would always put Cassie down because of her conduct. Her eating habits were only one of the subjects she didn't approve of her daughter. She was always nagging her about not acting like a lady and not being more like her cousins, Bellatrix, Andromeda, and Narcissa. Remus had seen the three witches at some point when they attended Hogwarts. They were all older than them. Narcissa, the youngest one, was one year ahead of them. They were all known for their remarkable beauty. They were all in Slytherin, like the rest of the Black family. Their look was always flawless, always seemed perfect to the public eye. To say that every single guy in Slytherin was head over heels for at least one of the Black sisters was an understatement. Interestingly enough, Ted Tonks, a Hufflepuff, won the heart of the middle sister, Andromeda, causing the family to disown her for marrying a muggle-born.

Cassie, on the other hand, was, not only a Gryffindor, but she was more of a free spirit. Her long black hair, that almost reached her waist, was always a little messy. Whether it was in a messy bun, a messy ponytail, a messy braid or just let down. Her uniform tie was usually undone; her shirt would rarely be tucked inside her skirt and she would rarely wear makeup. The only times she would look 'acceptable' for her mother was whenever they had a fancy dinner to attend and her mother would make her act like that. And to top it all, she was a Quidditch player, the Seeker to be exact. According to her mother, no boy would want to go out with a tomboy like her. Mrs. Black was always telling Cassie how she should be more like her three cousins. How she wasn't as smart as them, or as pretty as them, or as thin as them, or as popular as them. And she would never find someone worthy of her that way.

Remus found it disgusting, really. How could she put her own daughter down like that? And even if Cassie never admitted it, Remus knew how much it hurt her. He and James knew about the matter because Sirius had told them all about it when they were in third year. If there was someone who hated Mrs. Black's attitude towards Cassie more than Remus, or even Cassie herself, it was Sirius. He had always been very protective of his sister. He would make sure to tell her that she was beautiful no matter what. Mostly because she was his twin, but still. Whenever they were home, Mrs. Black would serve the 'appropriate' amount of food on Cassie's plate, making the girl self-conscious in the process, so Sirius would always pass some of his food to her. He was always messing her hair and asking for her help on some subjects even if he was just as good as her. Remus hated seeing her like this. She was usually very outgoing and very confident, but three months stuck in that house and some of it had to sink in. So, Sirius, James, and him would always try to get her not to listen to Mrs. Black and just be the girl they all loved just as she was.

"Come on Cassie, Quidditch season is coming" James said, trying to cheer her up. "We need to get protein in you!" he said making her smile just slightly. She knew what they were doing and why they did it. She was so grateful to have amazing friends and loved them for it.

Remus sat there for a minute just looking at his friend as she kept her conversation with James about Quidditch. Little by little, he saw how quickly she forgot the matter and went back to her old self. Her dark grey eyes started to spark a little as they remembered how they won the Quidditch Cup the past year, thanks to her. Remus smiled at having his friend back. He chuckled a little when James said something that made her laugh and spit a little of her drink. In his opinion, Mrs. Black was insane. Cassie was just as pretty as her cousins, if not more. He had always wondered how come she didn't have a boyfriend. Boys were always chasing after her, Peter being one of them, but she never really seemed interested. Not, that he would notice or anything, but he still found it rather odd. Sirius was always taking advantage of his looks with the girls. He knew Cassie could get away with it as well, but in that aspect, she was the complete opposite of her brother. He was a bit thankful for that. He was very protective of the girl and never really liked any of the guys that had tried to have something with her. And he could feel this year would be a little more difficult since he saw that she got more beautiful over the summer.

Wait! What? Beautiful? Since when do I think Cassie is beautiful!? Sure, I mean the girl is attractive and all but that's it! Right? Still, he had never liked the idea of her being serious with another guy, but that's just because he was looking out for her... as a friend of course.

As if someone was reading his mind, at that moment Augustus McLaggen, another one of Cassie's big fans, approached the group. "Hello Cassie" he said smiling flirty at the girl. "Black, Potter, Lupin, Pettigrew" he nodded to the boys. Remus found himself glaring at the boy a bit and had to make himself stop.

"Hello, Augustus" Cassie said politely as the boys just nodded.

"Looking forward to this year's Quidditch Cup?" he asked, excitedly.

"You bet we are!" Sirius said, high-fiving James. "We're gonna win it again!"

"Yeah, we need new beaters, though, since Fabian and Gideon graduated last year" James said.

"Well, with the best Seeker in the entire school we will surely win, obviously" Augustus said winking at Cassie. Remus felt a tight knot in his stomach but thought maybe it was something he ate.

"Ow, thanks, Gus, but I can't take all the credit myself" she said mocking them. "I guess the Chasers and the Keeper also had something to do with it."

"Well, obviously" James said messing her hair a little. "Without me to score the points, the team would be doomed!"

"Hey! Do I need to remind you that I scored more points than you last year?" Sirius argued.

"Yeah, well, who was the one making sure the other team didn't score?" Augustus also intervened.

"Gentlemen, please" Cassie interrupted making them all look back at her. "I think we can all agree, that if I hadn't caught the Snitch, Ravenclaw would've had the Cup, so really, is all on me" she smiled happily.

"Careful Cassie, you're starting to sound like Padfoot over there" James teased her.

"I am not! I am way prettier than him, don't you think?" she said making eyes at James, who raised his eyebrows suggestively at her. Remus had to control his stomach again, apparently, and stop his mouth from saying 'obviously'.

"Hey!" Sirius complained as the other two laughed.

"I think I speak for all of the boys in our school when I say that you are" Augustus suddenly said. Remus suddenly noticed his fist was clenched for some reason. He took a deep breath and let it pass.

"Aw, thanks, Gus!" Cassie replied turning to face him again and smiling up at him.

"Oh please, we could make a survey around the school and I think I'd beat you, sis... girls and boys" Sirius mocked her.

"Getting a little full of ourselves, aren't we, Siri?"

"You'd have my vote" Peter suddenly said looking at Cassie and Sirius punched his arm. "Ouch!"

"Mine too" Augustus said winking at her again. "Well, guys it was nice seeing you, but I'm off" Augustus announced. "I'll see you around" he told them. "Always a pleasure" he added his eyes landing on Cassie again before walking away from the group as Remus glared a little more. He was about to say something but someone beat him to it.

"Well, with the best Seeker in the entire school we will still win, obviously" James mocked Augustus' voice once he was out of sight. "That guy is a bloody prick" he stated.

"What? I thought you liked Gus" Cassie said confused.

"I did until I saw the way he was looking at you" James said in a protective tone. Remus was relieved that he wasn't the one who had to say it, even if he was about to.

"James, I already have an annoying protective brother! I don't need another one!"

"Of course you do!" Sirius said. "You think I can fight all of the boys at school by myself? Cassie, I know I'm tough and all, but come on, sometimes I need Prongs and Moony to help me get them off your case!"

"What about me?" Peter protested with his mouth full of cake. Cassie eyed him with a disgusted face.

"You are the president of Cassie's stupid little Fan Club" Sirius said glaring at him. It was true; Peter had developed a crush on the witch since their fourth year. He blushed a little at the statement and decided it was better to just keep on eating.

"I don't have a Fan Club!" Cassie argued blushing just a little. James smirked widely at her.

"I think I speak for all of the boys in our school when I say that you do" he said mocking Augustus' voice again. "And is not that little!"

"Knock it off!" Cassie said hitting his arm while the other three boys laughed.

"Come on Cassie, you can't tell me that you haven't noticed several guys at school, well... um, fancying you" Remus said trying not to sound so upset about it.

"They do not" Cassie said blushing a little when she turned to Remus. "Not all of them" she muttered looking down but James heard her.

"Right, not all of them, is just Augustus, and Peter, Adrian, who's always taking your photograph-"

"He what-?"

"Fabian and Gideon used to have their eyes on you, that Ravenclaw guy, what's his name?"

"Bertram Aubrey!" Sirius said glaring at the Ravenclaw table.

"Right! Remember when we hexed him last year for lifting up your skirt with his wand?"

"His head grew twice its original size!" Peter said laughing, remembering the incident.

"It wasn't funny" Remus intervened. Although he had gotten furious for what Bertram had done, he didn't think what James and Sirius did was right.

"Oh, please, Moony! He's lucky that was the only thing we did" Sirius said upset while Cassie just tried to sink in her seat hoping they would stop soon.

"Who else? Let's see... There are guys in Hufflepuff like Davey Gudgeon, Dirk Cresswell-"

"That's enough, James" Cassie said getting upset.

"Ah! And there's Slytherin! Evan Rosier, Avery and Mulciber, Malfoy, Scabior... oh, this is fun!" James said laughing and looking at Remus who forced a laugh. Fun wasn't exactly the word he would use to describe all of the boys chasing after Cassie.

"Ugh! You are so irritating! And you wonder why Lily won't go out with you!"

"Well, to answer your question, is simply because Potter is an arrogant git who hasn't changed one bit" the five friends suddenly turned to see the red-haired Prefect standing behind James. James quickly composed himself and got up to greet the girl.

"My beautiful Lily" he said gleaming at the sight of the witch. "Wow, you got even more beautiful over the summer" he commented. To what do we owe the pleasure of you joining us? Have you finally fallen for my charms?"

"No" she said rolling her eyes. "I asked Cassie that if that day ever were to come she would immediately have me sent to St. Mungo's declared with insanity" she replied. "I came over to tell Remus that we have to guide the first years to the Common Room and you guys should be heading there too" she advised.

"Wow, not even a 'hello' Evans?" Sirius mocked her. "Didn't you miss us?"

"I missed your sister, Black" Lily offered, smiling at Cassie and Sirius pretended to be hurt.

"See? I already got three votes on my survey" Cassie said smirking at Sirius.

"I missed you too" James added making the girl glared at him again. "Would you guide me to the Common Room? I'm afraid I might get lost without your help" James said smirking as his friends all rolled their eyes.

"I think I'd be doing everyone a favor by letting you get lost" she said in a serious tone. "Remus, shall we go?"

"Uh, yeah, sure" he said standing up. "I'll see you guys later, please don't get into any trouble, at least for tonight" he begged.

"Can't make any promises, mate" Sirius said. "You know trouble can't seem to stay away from us" he said as James nodded.

"Yep, that's us... handsome and dangerous" he said winking at Lily, who made a disgusted face.

"Cassie" Remus pleaded, turning to his friend who wasn't as bad as the rest. She sighed, knowing she couldn't say no to him.

"Fine, we'll try" she said offering a smile.

"Cassie!" James and Sirius complained at the same time.

"Thanks" Remus said kissing her head, ignoring the two boys. "Bye guys!"

"Bye, Lily!" James yelled, but she simply ignored him. "I'm going to marry that girl" he said sitting back down next to Cassie.

"And the day that happens, I'll be named Head of the Slytherin House!" Sirius mocked him as they all laughed at his hopeless romantic friend before they all headed back to the Common Room.

**********************************************

"Hey, what are you still doing up?" Remus asked, coming down to the Common Room and finding one person sitting there, looking out the window.

"Well, I could ask you the same thing" Cassie said, smiling up at him. Remus walked over and sat next to her.

"I asked first" he said with a small smile. Cassie saw he was holding something on his hand but she couldn't see what it was.

"Couldn't sleep" she said shrugging her shoulders. "What time is it?"

"Almost 2:00 a.m." he said, getting chocolate out of his pockets and giving some of it to her.

"Did you put a charm on your pockets so that they'd always be filled with chocolate?" she asked, grabbing the piece and eating it. Remus laughed.

"No, I fill them myself" he answered.

"My knight in shining armor" she said playfully making Remus smile.

"Why couldn't you sleep?" he asked all of the sudden.

"I don't know" she said shrugging her shoulders, hoping he would let it go.

"Cassie" no such hope. Cassie sighed and turned to look back at the window.

She didn't want to tell him. She didn't want him to know the truth. She didn't want him to know that while James was naming every single guy in school that apparently fancied her, she was hoping for Remus' name to pop out. But it didn't. She wasn't quite sure why she had hoped for that, but she did. She didn't want him to know that she couldn't care less about every other guy in the school because, for the past year, she had developed feelings for the young werewolf. She wasn't quite sure what they were yet. She just knew that she loved spending time with him, he was her best friend and everything seemed happier when he was around. She also didn't like it when another girl made him laugh, or got too close to him during class.

"Is just um-" she started, seeing Remus' eyes looking intently at her. She couldn't do it. She couldn't admit what she was feeling to herself, let alone to the guy in front of her. "Uh, my mother had my skirts 'fixed' again" she said smiling sadly and looking down. It had happened before that her mother would make her skirts smaller so that she would have to fit into them. But ever since third year, Remus had helped her to charm them back to their original size.

Remus felt his heart clench. He hated when she was upset. Every time she was sad, he would make sure to make her laugh. He loved her laugh. But he couldn't say that. He couldn't let himself start to feel this way over Cassie. She was his best friend. She was a Black and Remus was... well, a monster. There is no way that she would ever see him as more than a friend. He wasn't even sure why she was his friend, but he was thankful. And he couldn't let her slip away. If that's the only way he could have her, he was glad. And he was determined to make her happy anytime he could.

"Cassie, look at me" Remus said in a very gentle tone. When the girl didn't look up, he placed his index finger under her chin and lifted her head so she was looking directly at him. "I don't care what your mother says, I don't care what your cousins look like and I don't care how many times do I have to say this, but I will repeat it until you believe me" he said in a serious tone. Cassie was looking at him a little confused. Remus was rarely this serious about something unless it was something very important. "You're beautiful."

Remus froze when he realized the words escaped his mouth before he could stop them. He felt his heart stop for a little while. He couldn't believe he had just said that. He just blurted it out. What is she going to think? Wait, why do I care about what she thinks? I'm just comforting her as a friend... there's nothing wrong with that... right? He felt himself calm down a little when he saw her grey eyes sparkle a little and a shy smile forming on her face.

"You think I'm beautiful?" she asked blushing just a little. No one, aside from Sirius, had told her that she was beautiful. And she was pretty sure he only said that because, well, they were twins. She knew James wasn't wrong about all the guys fancying her, and most of them tried asking her out, but they never called her beautiful.

Remus felt his cheeks burning a little, but there was no going back now. "I do" he simply said with a warm smile.

Cassie reached out to him and kissed him on the cheek before she wrapped her arms around his neck and he wrapped his arm around her waist. "Thank you, Remus" she whispered before she rested her head on his shoulder.

Remus smiled to himself, knowing what this had meant to her. He turned his head and kissed her forehead.

"You're welcome."

Cassie sat back down and turned to face him again. "So, what are you doing up?" she asked trying to get things back to normal and Remus took the hint.

"Oh, did you know that James' snores got worse over the summer?" he asked a little irritated and Cassie laughed.

"Worse? I didn't think they could get any worse!" she said, feeling sorry for the boy.

"I'm surprised you didn't hear him from your dorm" he told her. "So, I came down here to read and I saw you" he finished.

"Oh" she said with her smiling falling a little. "I can leave if you want" she said a little sad. She didn't really want to stop spending time with Remus.

"Don't be silly" Remus said grabbing what hi had on his other hand and showing it to her. "This is the book I brought" he said showing it to her and seeing a wide smile appearing on her face.

It was her favorite book. It was a book that had all of her favorite muggle Fairy Tales in it. Remus had shown her this book when they were in first year, on a night much like this. Remus couldn't sleep because his roommates were snoring and he came to find the small girl in the Common Room. She couldn't sleep because she was upset. Her parents had found out both her and her brother were placed in Gryffindor and they had sent out a Howler showing their disappointment.

"So, which one do you want to read tonight?"

"Peter Pan" the girl said without even thinking.

"Again?" he said letting out a little laugh.

"Is my favorite" she replied as she got comfortable and laid her head on Remus' shoulder like they always did. Both teenagers decided to ignore whatever fuzzy sensation they felt as she did so. "Along with Beauty and The Beast."

"Alright, Peter Pan it is" Remus said with a small laugh and opening the book to the page where the story began. As he stroked the girl's long black hair he began to read. "All children, except one, grow up..."

**********************************************

[Ch. 2] [Ch. 3] [Ch. 4] [Ch. 5] [Ch. 6] [Ch. 7] [Ch. 8] [Ch. 9] [Ch. 10]

Mischief Managed!

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter :)

[justkindaoverhereobsessing]

so big/so small

In which a nightmare prompts Ziva and Tali to have a little ice cream and a much-needed heart-to-heart.

Written for my friend drabble project, this time for my dear friend @zikaiuris! I appreciate you so much, Alex! <3 The title and a few paraphrased quotes are from “So Big/So Small” from Dear Evan Hansen.

Drabble also available to read on AO3 or ff.

_____________________

It’s nearing four in the morning when something jolts Ziva awake. The instincts that have served her well for many years are humming, telling her that something is amiss. She doesn’t know what it is, but something is wrong. 

She no longer keeps a gun by her bed—a suggestion from her therapist, who seems to think letting go of that physical safeguard will help her let down her mental barriers, too—but it doesn’t matter. Since beginning her training for Mossad nearly two decades ago, she hasn’t really needed a weapon.

Ziva David is the weapon, and that’s something she’ll never grow out of.

She sits up quickly, flicks the bedside light on, and scans the room; nothing seems out of place at all. Tony is sleeping silently beside her, the light no bother to him at all, and his hand is still resting lightly on her thigh. Ziva debates waking him, but there’s nothing so far that suggests she’s not just being paranoid. 

She climbs out of bed and heads for the hall, keeping her eyes and ears alert for any suspicious changes in the Parisian flat Tony and Tali settled into several years ago… and she’s only a few steps from the bedroom she shares with Tony when she hears something that sends her running.

“No! No, Ima! Ima, please!” 

It’s Tali.

A second later, Ziva is bursting into Tali’s room. Thankfully, it’s almost immediately clear what’s happening—Tali is still fast asleep, deep in the throes of what appears to be a nightmare. There’s no external threat, nothing to fight off; that doesn’t stop Ziva’s heart from racing for several long moments, however.

She crouches down next to her daughter’s bed, hating the sight of the trembling little frown on Tali’s face.

“Ima, please don’t—please don’t, I don’t want you to—no, Daddy, please stop her!”

Very concerned, Ziva hastens to wake Tali, being as gentle as possible. She isn’t sure exactly what the five-year-old is dreaming of, only that it must be unpleasant. “Tali, little one, open your eyes. It is all going to be alright—wake up now, my love.”

It takes a few moments of gentle petting and murmuring, but Tali finally opens her eyes, blinking into the dim light shed by her night light. “Tali, are you alright?” Ziva asks quietly, not wanting to startle the girl.

“Ima?” The question is a little disbelieving, its speaker not yet fully awake. 

“I am right here,” Ziva promises quickly. 

“Ima!” All at once, Tali’s tone of sleepy confusion gives way to sorrow, and she bursts into tears. 

Alarmed, Ziva perches on the side of Tali’s bed and gathers her daughter into her arms. “Tali, what is the matter? Shush now, ahava, there is nothing to worry about. Take a deep breath, yes? Ima has you now.”

Tali doesn’t answer and she doesn’t immediately calm, but she clutches onto Ziva until her tears slow and then finally stop. “I had a bad dream,” she mumbles into Ziva’s neck, wiping her wet face on her mother’s shirt.

“I thought that might be the case,” Ziva shares, kissing Tali’s temple and tightening her hold slightly. “Would you like to talk about it?”

Tali shakes her head wordlessly, and Ziva nods. “That is alright. You do not have to say anything.”

They sit in silence for a few minutes, and despite what she just told her daughter, Ziva gets concerned when Tali’s arms never loosens their hold and the little one never speaks… truly her father’s daughter, it’s unlike Tali to go for very long without speaking, especially when she’s experiencing strong emotions of any kind.

Making the executive decision that one night of poor sleep and excessive sugar intake won’t hurt the almost-6-year-old, Ziva gets to her feet, automatically adjusting her hold until Tali’s on her hip like she’s still a toddler and not a too-quickly growing girl. “Come, Tali-girl. I know just the thing.”

Tali lifts her head as they emerge into the hall, her curiosity pushing away her lingering distress for the moment. “Where are we going?” she wants to know.

“Patience! You will see!” There’s a smile in Ziva’s voice that she’s sure Tali can hear even if it’s too dark to see, and she gives the girl a little bounce. 

When they reach the kitchen, Ziva deposits Tali on the counter. A murmur of “stay here for a moment” and she leaves her daughter’s side to dig a pint of ice cream out of the freezer. On her way back, she flips the light on so they can see one another properly.

Tali sees the ice cream, and her face—still heavy and sad—brightens. “Ice cream? At night!?”

“Ice cream is good for sadness, yes?” Ziva suggests warmly, pulling out a few spoons and setting them alongside the ice cream tub on the counter next to Tali.

“Hey, that’s what Abba says, too!” Tali shares, slightly impressed by her mother’s unexpected decision to temporarily abandon healthy eating. 

“Who do you think I learned it from?” Ziva teases lightly, hopping up on the counter on the other side of the ice cream. She pulls the top off the tub, hands Tali a spoon, and the two dig into the sweet treat in companionable silence, both swinging their feet lightly against the cabinets below them.

Eventually, Tali speaks, though she doesn’t look at Ziva as she does so. “I had a bad dream,” she says again.

“Oh?”

“I dreamed that…” Tali pauses and takes a bite of ice cream. After she swallows, she sighs. “I dreamed that you went away again.”

There’s something heavy in her voice, too heavy for a five-year-old to carry, and it breaks Ziva’s heart. “Tali, I would not—”

“I dreamed you didn’t want me ‘n Abba anymore.”

That admission arrests Ziva’s voice deep in her throat, and for a moment, she can’t answer.

Tali takes another bite of ice cream, staring at the floor.

“Is that what you think?” Ziva asks finally after several tight swallows.

“No,” Tali says too quickly.

Ziva sighs, experiencing a sensation that has plagued her since reuniting with her family; it’s the feeling that no matter how many steps forward she takes, she’ll never stop taking steps back whether she wants to or not. 

She slides off the counter and moves to stand in front of Tali, putting a hand under Tali’s chin and pulling her small face up until their eyes meet; with her other hand, she gently pries Tali’s spoon from her fingers and rests it back in the ice cream tub. “Tali,” she murmurs, tired and tender.

“Mm?”

“I need you to understand something. Are you listening to me?”

“Yeah, Ima.”

“Good girl.” Ziva gives her daughter a small smile; it’s all she can muster, but it seems to reassure Tali anyway. “I need you to understand, sweet girl, that I always wanted you and Abba… especially when I could not be with you.”

“But you weren’t here!” Tali protests, her lower lip and chin starting to quiver again. Her eyes glaze over with a new film of yet unshed tears. 

“I know, darling. I know. But there was nothing I wanted more than to be here.” Until tonight, Ziva had been under the impression that Tali had not questioned her and Tony’s very simplified explanation for her long absence, but now it seems that Tali was merely accepting what they said in favor of not disturbing the peace.

It’s a choice that no child should ever have to make—something no child should ever have to even consider.

“But you weren’t here!” Tali repeats, and a few little tears spill from her eyes onto her cheeks. “It doesn’t matter if you want us, ‘cause you wanted us before and you still went away! I don’t want you to leave again!”

Ziva reaches up to swipe the girl’s tears away, heartened by the fact that Tali doesn’t shrug her off. “Ahava shelli, I think it may be time to tell you more of the story.”

“What story?”

“The story of why you went to live with Abba when you were little.”

She and Tony discussed this in the very beginning—they talked about what Tali had already been told and how much more—and when—to tell her, but it seems that Tali has her own timeline. It’s not fair to avoid answering her questions when being left so entirely in the dark is clearly hurting her.

With that in mind, Ziva starts to talk. She doesn’t go into detail, and she still glosses over the darkest parts of the story… but she tells Tali the very basics of what happened. She explains that there was a very bad woman who wanted to hurt them all, and how in order to protect Tali and Abba, Ziva had to run. She tucks Tali’s hair behind her little ears and tells her that she never lost hope that she’d be able to come back to her family, that Tali and Abba were in her mind every moment of every day, even as she traversed the globe looking for answers and for help. 

Ziva isn’t sure how much of the story Tali is really absorbing, but for once in her young life, Tali doesn’t interrupt. She just listens, nodding or shaking when she’s asked a question but otherwise remaining still and quiet. 

When Ziva finishes, she squeezes Tali’s little hand, which found its way into her own a few minutes ago. “Does all of that make sense?”

Tali nods, but there’s still a small frown furrowing her brow. 

“Do you have questions?”

“Yeah. Is she dead? The lady that wanted to hurt us, did she die?”

“Yes, Tali.” Oh, how Ziva wishes Tali didn’t know what death meant! She won’t lie to her daughter, though... not when the question is this straightforward, not when it’s this simple and it’s an age-appropriate thing to ask. 

“So she won’t hurt you anymore?”

“No. She will not hurt anyone anymore.”

“Did you kill her?”

Ziva swallows, thankful that for now, she doesn’t have to look her daughter in the eye and confess to being a killer. “No, I did not.” She doesn’t add that she would have done so without hesitation had Gibbs not taken the shot he took, though.

Tali seems to accept this, and Ziva takes the break in her daughter’s questioning to reinforce an idea. “Do you see now, however, that I would never be parted from you if I did not have to be?”

“Yeah,” Tali agrees, and now it sounds like she means it.

Ziva draws her into another hug, relishing in the feel of her daughter’s small head resting once more on her bosom. Ziva will never tire of that, nor will she take it for granted. “Good,” she murmurs into Tali’s ear. “Because I will never leave you again. Never. There is not a force in the world strong enough to pull me from your side—no matter what. I am not going anywhere; I will stay right here. No matter what, I will be here, where I belong: with you.”

She can feel Tali smile. “Promise, Ima?”

“I promise. I will hold you whenever you need me to—when it all feels so big, until it all feels so small. I love you more than you will ever understand.”

“I love you, too.” There’s a pause, and then Tali’s head pops back up, a grin on her face that Ziva wasn’t expecting. “Ima?”

“Yes?”

“Can we finish the ice cream now?”

Ziva laughs, extraordinarily glad that Tali is appeased enough to have moved on entirely. “Yes. But you must promise not to tell Abba that we did. He will tickle us mercilessly if he finds that we finished his favorite Moose Tracks without letting him help, yes?”

Tali mimes zipping her lips and throwing away the lock. 

“That is my girl,” Ziva says warmly, and she hands Tali her spoon again. 

Tali won’t always be so easily placated, Ziva knows… but for now, it’s enough to sit side-by-side on the counter again, eating an unreasonable amount of sugar. It’s enough to believe for a moment, as Tali does, that the world is simple and black and white and that asking a few questions can solve any problems. It’s enough to experience this little slice of life that Ziva came so close to losing entirely...

No, that’s not quite right.

It’s more than enough.

[cosmiceverafter]

Legend

Isobel Evans Week • Day 7: Free Day - Belmanes Fic 

 @isobelevansappreciation​ I hope you all enjoy it!  ♡

"You're still the Isobel Evans who convinced the basketball captain to pull four different fire alarms to get out of AP Gov, right? Yeah. Legend."

The remark floored Isobel. How did Gregory Manes remember that? Did he think about it as she did? When she was a sophomore, he had been a senior, and both had taken AP Gov. It was the one class they had had together.

Isobel couldn't help but blush; truthfully, she had always thought Gregory Manes was something special. She could still remember that day as if it were yesterday. 

She had been staring at him from afar in class and felt her chest fluttering over how he would bite his pen and ruffle up his messy long hair as he flipped through his book quickly. 

He was knowledgeable, which she found insanely attractive. A lot of guys in high school didn't care about those kinds of things. Greg wasn't Michael smart, but no one was...except maybe Liz Ortecho. But she didn't want to think of Liz; all she ever heard her brother talk about was "Liz this," and "Liz that." Ugh. Instead, she just focused her attention on the intelligent human boy.  

Gregory had his group of friends, but he had also kept to himself. Nothing like his annoying brother Flint, a junior who loved the attention. Gregory was more reserved, kind of like Alex, his other brother, who was their age. The brother who Michael would always stare at from afar, yet wouldn't talk to. 

Peculiar. 

Isobel managed to look briefly away from him as she glanced at the clock. 

Where the hell is Jake? She wondered. Mr. Otto was about to give the quiz. She had not studied but had heard from a random girl in the hallway, that there would be a big pop quiz today. And not just any exam, one that would make up half of their grade until finals. 

Humans and their games. Infuriating. 

So, naturally being herself, she had taken it into her own hands, switching things up. Yes, she could've used her powers on the teacher, but Max had warned the squad to "blend in." But that was the problem; she liked to stand out, so she had found another way. 

Jake Mulligan, senior and captain of the basketball team, was half in love with her, aka with her looks. Typical. To her, he was just another dumb jock who thought with his little head more than his big. The guy would stare at her boobs constantly, clearly undressing her with his eyes. The male population was so predictable. However, this time, she used it to her advantage. 

She had flirted, a lot, touching the guy's arm. But even then, the stupid fool had pushed, "I want something in return for jeopardizing my basketball career." So, she'd agreed to go on a date with him with no actual plan of following through with it. 

Isobel stared at the clock with a groan, ready to use her powers to enter Jake Mulligan’s thoughts, and have him walk into a wall. 

That's when she noticed Gregory looking stressed. Could it be that he didn't study either? Having a father like Jesse Manes, well, you wouldn't want to flunk—that was for sure. She had heard rumors about the Captain...he wasn't someone you wanted on your bad side. 

Was that why Gregory was so reserved? She didn't know, but wanted to learn more about who he really was. Isobel did have an inkling that was why he was likely to join the military after graduation. The thought bummed her out; maybe she needed to hurry and make the first move with him—she was more than capable after all. 

Yet, he gave her the butterflies whenever they spoke, which wasn't often. Isobel wasn't used to that feeling, so it had given her a bit of nerves. 

But before she could go deeper into those thoughts, the shrill piercing of the alarm erupted all but shook the classroom. Everyone was startled, knocking their books over as they stood up loudly. This hadn’t happened in a very long time. 

"Form a line. People form a line!" The teacher called out, looking annoyed with the whole ordeal. 

They got into line, and guess who randomly stood behind her? 

The butterflies fluttered as she looked back at Greg, who gave her a smile.

As they stood outside waiting and then watching the fire engines pull up, Isobel felt a tad bit guilty. That disappeared quickly as she noticed her classmates jumping up-and-down at the news class would be canceled. They had dodged that pop-quiz-bullet. 

"Tell me somethin'," a voice said, that familiar calm voice she'd know anywhere. Greg had moved over towards her. "Was this your doing, Evans?"

"Who me?" Isobel asked, batting her eyelids. 

Greg smirked, "Jake was close by, and I may have overheard a thing or two about it." He looked over at the jock and rolled his eyes. "The bragging and all—four different alarms and everything.” 

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Gregory." 

He shook his head, and kicked the grass, "Sure sure. I suppose you didn't agree to a date with the guy in return, either?"

"Um...maybe I actually like him. Did you ever think about that?" 

That's when he looked up and gave her a look, raising his eyebrow, "Mmhmm. I'm sure that's what it is." She couldn’t deny that he looked a bit...relieved. 

He didn't press further, and Isobel loved that it seemed like he knew her, what she wanted, and what she didn't. 

"Regardless of the reason, freedom, right?" Isobel said with a wide grin and clapped her hands.

Gregory looked into her eyes, humor melting away from his expression, "Yeah, freedom..." There was so much in that gaze that it felt like he wanted her to see him. The real him. "Thank you, Isobel." 

The gesture was unnerving; her previous notion still stood. Gregory honestly looked grateful. Maybe life at home was hell on earth, or perhaps it was all for his future. It seemed like such a small thing, a test, but the meaning suddenly felt bigger. 

She felt a bit nervous as she gave a small nod. He slowly walked away to stand next to his buddy, looking back at her one more time. 

Isobel vowed at that moment, that she would go on a date after this was through, but it wouldn't be with Jake Mulligan. 

Back in the present at the reservation, Isobel shook her head, remembering with regret. Life had gotten busy, too busy, and Isobel had never found the time she had wanted with the guy. 

They hadn't had the chance to have their own story, just the melody of “what could have been” and “The one that got away.” Gregory had enlisted shortly after high school and joined the Navy, and with that, brought years wasted. 

She looked over towards him now, a smile still on his beautiful face after calling her a "legend," and the feelings came rushing back like a tidal wave. 

Had he thought about her over the years, too?

How was it that he still managed to fill her with butterflies? So much had changed in both of their lives, but this feeling remained. 

There was something about him, not just his looks...even though he was gorgeous, it was his calm demeanor and kind heart. It made Isobel feel like whatever happened would be okay, even all the hell she had gone through. If he had survived—the hell his family had been through, she could, too. 

It was inspiring. Gregory Manes inspired her. 

Damn, fate had a way of coming back at you: Sometimes quietly or as loud as an alarm. 

As Isobel stood a bit taller and smiled back, she realized that one thing was certain—she planned to make that first move after all. 

[winters-blue-children]

Games and Theory (A 10k Evan Buckley disaster fic featuring jealous Eddie, phone sex, a fake relationship, and Albert being a genius)

Eddie's not looking for serious. He just wants casual, easy, and uncomplicated. 

Buck has been in love with his best friend for two years. Does he take his sister's advice and confess his feelings? Nah, Evan Buckley always has to do things the hard way.

At some point, Buck and Albert became pretty good friends. Maybe it’s the shared older siblings mackin’ on each other, or the having horrible parents thing, but it turns out they get along really well. A little too well, as Chimney often likes to complain about. He calls it a Buckley-Han recipe for disaster.

Wanna meet up for pool later tonight?

Can’t. It’s movie night with Eddie and Chris.

The blinking ellipses begin immediately after his last text is sent. Buck rolls his eyes in anticipation. He knows exactly what Albert is going to say.

Have fun with your looover.

Fuck off. He’s not my lover.

But you want him to be ;-)

Buck scowls at his phone before turning the screen off. His loud, frustrated groan echoes throughout his empty apartment. Damn high ceilings. While it’s nice to have someone to complain about being completely head over heels for his best friend, it also sucks to be reminded constantly that his love life is hopeless and helpless and, in Chim’s words… embarrassingly tragic.

“Movie night,” Buck mutters to himself, mentally preparing for an evening of kid-friendly movies, lots of popcorn, and being in painfully close proximity to the man he’s desperately in love with. “Completely platonic movie night.”

…

In between their last film and Chris’s bedtime, which the kid managed to convince his dad to push back—“But it’s not a school night, Dad!” And like most people who have met Christopher Diaz, Eddie has trouble saying no to his kid too—Buck finds himself seated on the living room floor, a jumbo Lego set spilled all around him. He spends the next thirty minutes sticking pieces together with his best friend’s son.  

“What is that?” Chris asks, tilting his head in confusion at the multi-colored lump in Buck’s hands. It’s all sharp angles and weird shapes.

“I’m not sure, bud. I made it to match yours.”

Chris laughs loudly, head thrown back as he giggles. And Buck laughs too, open and free and so genuinely happy.

Several feet away from them, Eddie watches quietly, a soft smile on his face.

…

Eddie’s not much of a talkative guy, at least not compared to Buck. When they’re together though, Buck brings him out of his shell, and Eddie makes sure to keep Buck grounded. Chim and Hen joke that they ‘complete’ each other. Whatever that means.

The point is that Eddie has a shy side. And considering he’s about twelve years out of the dating game, he needs his best friend to help him out.

“I thought you said you needed a wingman?”

Eddie stubbornly looks up and glares at Buck. He’s nursing his third beer, which he’d been staring at with what Buck had described as ‘crazy eyes’. And he’s adamantly refused to look anywhere around the bar that they’re currently in.

Buck leans closer over their small table. “We’ve been here for an hour and you haven’t even made eye contact with anyone. What are you doing?”

“Look, I haven’t done this in a very long time, okay?!” Eddie hissed. “I was with Shannon for two years before I enlisted. Two tours later, and add a kid to the picture, I’m a little out of practice!”

Buck’s face softens and he seems to take pity on him.

“Well, if you would get out of your own head and take a look around, you’d notice that more than a few lovely ladies have been eying you up all night.” Buck pauses and adds, “A few guys, too. If you’re into that.”

Eddie rolls his eyes and pulls a face like Buck just told a joke. He misses the way Buck looks slightly dejected, just for a second, before his grin slides back into place.

“So what are you looking for then? Blonde? Brunette? Are you into any weird stuff ‘cause the chick with the sleeve tats over there looks like she likes to play with toys.”

Eddie sighs and shakes his head, finally looking around the room for the first time. “I want something… uncomplicated.”

“Uncomplicated like a quickie in the bathroom? I’ve been there, and would not recommend. Your back will be killing you the next day.”

“Just… something easy, no strings attached, never have to call them again…”

“A one-night stand?” Buck frowns and tilts his head curiously. “Sounds like my old kind of thing. I didn’t think it was yours.”

Eddie shrugs. “It’s too hard to try for anything serious. I have Christopher to think about, and he needs one hundred percent of my attention. And I definitely can’t be bringing home random girls, hoping one of them is going to be Chris’s new mom.” He sighs and shakes his head. “Most would run away once they find out I’m a widowed veteran-father anyway. Talk about a flight risk.”  

“Don’t be so negative about yourself,” Buck says, his voice low. “You’re a great guy, and anyone would be lucky to have you.”  

Eddie pauses at the sincerity in Buck’s voice. It’s sweet. And nice. But he shakes his head and the moment ends. “Alright, help me out here. I really don’t want to go home tonight to just my left hand for company. Who do you think I’ve got a chance with?”

Buck grins, a little mirthless. “The girl in the red top, drinking a Long Island at the bar.” He raises an eyebrow and nods in her direction. “She’s with a group of friends, but she’s not been chatty. She keeps looking around the room like she’s looking for someone.”

Eddie turns and to his surprise, he makes eye contact. She’s attractive, probably mid to late twenties, with brown hair and blue eyes. Three solid seconds pass before she grins flirtatiously, bats her eyes, and looks away.

“Hook, line, and sinker,” Buck murmurs.

Eddie finishes off his beer. The bitter taste lingers and settles in his mouth, giving him an odd sense of confidence as he stands. “Wish me luck.”

“Good luck,” Buck says softly.

Eddie slides against the bar next to the girl in the red top. He grins, friendly but not over the top. “Can I buy you a drink?”

“Yeah, I’d like that,” she answers with a bright smile.

Eddie waves over the bartender. “Hi, can I get an IPA and another of what she’s having? Oh, and one more beer for my friend—” He turns his head, about to point to Buck when his eyes land on their empty table. Buck’s jacket is gone too.

He must have left.

“Um, nevermind about that last one. Thanks.”

…

Evan Buckley has been in love with his best friend for over two years. It’s painful, that they can be so close and yet he sometimes feels a million miles away. “I can’t get him out of my head, Mads. I think about him all the time and it’s so fucking distracting.”

“Dude, I work with you guys,” Chimney says slowly. “In a very dangerous line of work.”

Buck scowls as Maddie slaps her boyfriend’s arm. “I came over here to talk to my sister. Do you really have to be a part of the conversation?”

“I was here first!”

“Hm, yeah sorry,” Buck frowns and shakes his head. “I think I’ve got about twenty-six years on you in that department.”

“Stop fighting, children, please!”

Buck continues to mope on the couch while Chim shakes his head and helps himself to snacks on the coffee table. The crunch of chips between his teeth clashes harshly with the constant thump of Buck’s knee bouncing against the underside of the table.

“Look, Evan,” Maddie says carefully. “I think you really need to tell Eddie how you feel.”

“Why? What’s the point?” Buck demands. “So that he can reject me nicely? Let me down easy, maybe? Best case scenario, he says that nothing’s ever going to change between us and then he acts all weird and awkward because he knows that his best friend—who is a guy—is fucking in love with him!”  

Maddie reaches over and grabs her brother’s hand to hold. Even Chim’s eyes are downcast, looking like he feels a bit bad for him.

“You have to tell him, so that you can start to get over him,” Maddie says softly. “So that you can move on.”

“Maddie’s right,” Chim chimes in. “Rejection is the first step. If Tatiana hadn’t rejected me, I’d probably still be in that awful facade of a relationship. I never would have found the most wonderful and amazing person that I was meant to be with.”

Maddie grins softly at him. She leans over and they share a sweet kiss.

“Ugh,” Buck pulls a face and looks away. “Gross. That’s it, I can’t take any more of this. I’m out of here.”

“Evan, you don’t have to go!” Maddie says.

At the same time that Chim says, “See ya tomorrow, Buck.” He shrugs when they both give him a look. “What? I spend all day with the guy, I gotta see him at home, too?”

“Love you too, Chim,” Buck says sarcastically.

“He’s family,” Maddie says sternly.

“Hey, speaking of, where’s Albert?” Buck asks.

“Probably hooking up with rando hot girl number thirty.”

“Huh.” Buck pulls out his phone and hums. He says his goodbyes and leaves his sister and Chimney to do… whatever old, happy couples do on a Wednesday night.

Where you at?

A minute later, Albert responds. Some bar on West 23rd St. Wanna join?

Not feeling up to it. Wanna come over and hang instead?

Sure. Albert says. And then another text. I’ll be over in an hour.

…

It’s the middle of their shift and things are slow, which is never something to complain about. Eddie regales a tale about the latest girl he hooked up with. There have been a few girls since that night at the bar, and Eddie never shies away from telling Buck. Nothing too lewd. Just the highlights.

Buck nods and hums in response. His attention, however, is glued to his phone, where his thumbs rapidly fly across the screen as he texts. He plasters a lopsided grin on his face for show.

“I’m sorry, is my story about my foray back into the dating scene for the first time in over a decade too boring for you?”

Buck’s eyes snap up and he grins apologetically. He quickly slips his phone back into his pocket. “Sorry! I was listening, I swear!”

Eddie doesn’t buy it for one second.

“It couldn’t have been that bad,” Buck says quickly. See, he was listening. “You sealed the deal, right?”

Eddie sighs. “Yeah. It was alright. Not exactly a night of passion.”

“Better luck next time. Plenty more one-night fish in the sea, am I right?”

Eddie frowns, figuring Buck is right. He puts his mediocre night out of his mind. Buck looks like he’s itching to check his phone again. And then Eddie suddenly wonders what’s got his friend so distracted lately. “Hey, what was that just now? You’ve been glued to your phone the whole day. What is going on with you?”

Buck blushes and actually looks embarrassed, a rare sight. “I uh—I met someone,” he says bashfully.

Eddie raises an eyebrow, surprised. “Wow, um, congrats, dude. You haven’t mentioned getting back out there or anything.”

“Yeah, well. I figured it was time. It’s been a year since Ali…”

Eddie frowns and tries to be happy for him. But the only thing he can think is, “Is it serious?”

Buck grins softly. “It might be. Too early to tell, you know? But I think I want it to be.”

Eddie nods. An uncomfortable feeling rolls around in the pit of his stomach. He must have eaten something at lunch that doesn’t agree with him. He brushes it aside. “What’s her name?”

Buck hesitates. “His name is… Tom.”

Whatever Eddie ate for lunch might be threatening to come back up again.

…

“How could he not tell me? I mean, how could he not tell me?! We’re best friends, this is the type of thing that you tell your best friend!” Eddie gestures wildly with his arms as he speaks.

“I don’t understand why this is such a big deal,” Hen takes a drink of her cocktail and narrowly avoids being hit accidentally by Eddie’s flailing hands. “It’s not like he outright lied to you.”

“Not telling me that he’s into guys isn’t lying to me?”

“He’s dated one girl in the two plus years that you’ve known him. So he omitted one small fact about himself, so what? There are people who like both, you know.”

Eddie scoffs, incredulous. “Yeah, but Buck?!”

Hen gives him a pointed look and Eddie sighs. “I just… I don’t get why didn’t he tell me sooner.” He says softly.

“Please. You are not about to ask a lesbian why Buck didn’t out himself to you sooner. And you are definitely not having an issue with the fact itself, right?”

“Of course not,” Eddie says firmly. He might have grown up in a homophobic town in Texas, but that was never him. He stood up for the kids who got bullied growing up. He would never hate Buck for being gay, bi, pan, or whatever he labels himself. He would never hate anyone for that.

He just can’t seem to wrap his head around it. Why didn’t Buck tell him sooner? Why does it feel like such a painful and devastating betrayal, knowing that Buck met someone and they ‘might’ be getting serious?

“Wait,” Eddie freezes. “Hang on. Why aren’t you more surprised by this?”

Hen chuckles. “We have… a type of radar. I’m sure you’ve heard of it.” She finishes her drink and laughs to herself. “From the second I laid eyes on that boy, I could tell he was a womanizer and a playboy. But let me tell you, that bitch also looks like he is two clicks away from calling the first man to pull his hair Daddy.” She cackles loudly, unaware that Eddie is struggling not to choke on the air in his lungs.  

…

Albert is really good at chess.

Apparently, he won some sort of big deal tournament in South Korea. He brushes it off like no big deal whenever Chimney brings it up.

“It’s about being able to predict your opponent's move before they’ve even thought of it. You need to be three steps ahead, always. And flexible enough to adjust your strategy to the evolving game.”

Buck frowns. “That sounds really complicated. And hard.”

“I can teach you. Have you ever heard of game theory?”

“Dude, I told you I wasn’t the best in school,” Buck groans.

“Game theory is recognized as an important tool in many fields. It’s won Nobel prizes,” Albert says seriously.

Buck’s head spins from the nerd talk. “The only thing I care about, is will this even work?”

“Trust me,” Albert smiles, young and soft and genuine. “With my help, it will work.”

…

“Hi, Buck!”

Buck grins at Christopher’s excitement and quickly shoves two bags of take-out into Eddie’s hands so that he can kneel down and give Chris a hug. “Hi, buddy, I missed you!”

“I missed you too, Buck!”

“I’m sorry I haven’t been over in a while. I’ve been busy.” His brow furrows, regretful, and he sneaks a quick glance at Eddie, who wears an unreadable expression while he tries to balance the bags Buck had pushed into his arms.  

“That’s okay, you’re here now.” And with that, Chris takes Buck by the hand and leads him over to the couch.

Clearly, it’s now Eddie’s responsibility to handle the food.

After dinner, Buck helps Eddie with the dishes, while Chris is engrossed by a movie in the living room.

“So I was thinking maybe you could spend the night?” Eddie says, as he rinses a dirty dish under the tap. “We can do breakfast tomorrow morning at the diner on Stratton, the one that Chris likes. And I was going to take him to the park afterwards, you know he loves having you there.”

Buck is silent for a moment, just long enough that Eddie stops and looks up from what he’s doing.

“I um… I actually have plans later tonight.”

“Oh,” Eddie says dumbly. Out the corner of his eye, the clock on the oven blinks 8:11 PM. “What kind of plans?” He asks casually.

Buck blushes and drops his gaze. “Tom’s coming over.” A small smile tugs at the corners of his lips. “I don’t think you want any details beyond that.”    

Eddie purses his lips and returns his attention to the dishes. He doesn’t want to think about Buck and Tom, the latter is just a faceless shadow in his mind. But one with broad shoulders and a chiseled jaw.  

Nope, he does not need any more details.

“Maybe I could still join you guys at the park though?”

“Yeah,” Eddie mutters, as he scrubs a plate with far more force than necessary. “I’m sure Chris would love that.”

…

Eddie isn’t as great at hiding his emotions as he would like to believe. Maybe once upon a time he got away with it, but over the past two years, the 118 has become family to him. And families pry. They get into each other’s business, with good intentions, of course.

“Rough night?”

Eddie looks up and sees his Captain’s concerned face watching him. “Uh, sort of, Cap. I haven’t been sleeping well,” he admits. “Kind of have a lot on my mind right now. But I’m fine, don’t worry. It’s not affecting my work.”

Bobby takes a seat in the chair next to him. “You’ve been pretty quiet lately. Is everything alright at home?”

“Yeah, everything’s great,” Eddie says carefully. “Christopher is doing well and he’s loving his classes at school. Everything’s great, Cap.”

The words taste like ash and sound fake to his own ears.

“Listen, it’s my job to know when something is wrong with my team,” Bobby says seriously. “And you’ve been off for weeks now. Is there… is there something going on between you and Buck that I should know about?”

“No! No, of course not!” Eddie says, a little too quickly. “I mean… Okay, honestly, Buck hasn’t been around much lately—” He clears his throat awkwardly. “Since he’s been seeing someone and… Chris has been asking why he hasn’t been around as much, and I know that he misses him.” He sighs and runs his hands through his short hair. “I just don’t know what to do about it.”

Bobby gives him a strange look, like maybe he’s being a bit slow. “Have you tried… talking to Buck about this? I’m sure Buck is more than happy to make time for you guys. You’re family to him.”

Eddie blinks, oblivious. “No. Why would I?”

“Because it might solve all your problems.”

Eddie snorts. That doesn’t quite compute.

Bobby pats him on the shoulder and gives him a sad, knowing glance. He wonders how long it’s going to take for Eddie to admit to himself that it’s not just Chris who misses Buck.

…

“Eddie, h-hey, what’s up?”

Eddie grins. Buck’s voice is breathy like he’s just gone on a run, or been going hard at the gym. It’s a sound that Eddie associates with a bad call that ends well because they saved the day. Out of breath and gasping, but still with a grin plastered across his face so bright it could light up a room.

“What’s going on?” Comes Buck’s concerned voice over the line when Eddie doesn’t answer. “Is everything okay? Is Christopher alright?”

Eddie closes his eyes and tries to get himself out of his own head. He’s been having trouble thinking straight lately. “Yeah. Yeah man, everything’s fine. Just wondering what you’re up to tonight? Chris is having some friends over and I could use another pair of eyes on them. You know I hate being outnumbered,” he chuckles.

“Oh, I’m sorry I can’t,” Buck says, and then there’s a rush of air into the phone before he continues, “I uh… I think I’m staying in tonight.”

Eddie frowns. Something doesn’t sound quite right. He narrows his eyes and presses the phone closer to his ear. There’s rustling in the background, like something is going on over Buck’s end. “Come on, dude,” he presses. “We haven’t hung out outside of work in like two weeks.”

“Yeah, I know,” Buck drawls. “You’re hopeless without me.”

Eddie is about to say something snarky in return when he hears a muffled sound in the background, right before Buck grunts softly into his ear.

His hand tightens on his phone. “Buck?”

“W-what?” Buck sounds distracted, and then the clear sound of a backboard squeaking rhythmically tells Eddie all he needs to know. “Eddie, I gotta go,” he says breathlessly. His voice is cut off by commotion on his end of the line.

Eddie winces when he hears the clear clatter of Buck’s phone dropping to the ground.

“Shit, I dropped my phone!”

Muffled noises and heavy moans drift over the line. Warmth floods his body and Eddie feels his face flush red. It’s suddenly very hard to breathe. He should hang up. He should pretend this call never happened. He really, really should not stay on the line listening to his best friend having sex with another man.

“Oh, fuck, harder—”

Eddie closes his eyes. Buck’s face in high definition lights up in his mind, lips parted, cheeks rosy and flushed, and maybe he bites down on his bottom lip as he gets fucked—

What the hell is he doing? Thinking about Buck’s red lips and how it’s so adorable that his birthmark is the same shade as that luscious mouth—

Eddie considers hanging up yet again.

But the grunts and moans and sounds of pleasure are getting louder. And he’s suddenly so fucking hard.

“Fuck! Come on, give me more, right there—”

His hand is reaching down his pants and wrapping around his hard cock before Eddie even realizes it. He jerks himself roughly as he listens to the sound of Buck’s voice.  

He’s never come so fast in his life.

…

“Hey Chim, how’s it going with Albert?” Eddie asks. “You guys getting along any better?”

Chimney frowns and glances over at the bar where Albert, Buck, and Hen are sharing a laugh over drinks.

“They are getting along wonderfully,” Maddie answers for him.

“Well, he’s family,” Chim manages, shaking his head.

Eddie chuckles and his eyes can’t help but land on Buck and stay there.

Of course, they never mentioned the call, instead both chose to act like the whole thing never happened. Maybe Buck didn’t realize that it was blatantly obvious what he was doing when Eddie called, and maybe he didn’t realize that Eddie stayed on the line, blowing a load over him, like a goddamn creep.  

The next day, he just smiled and clapped a hand on Eddie’s shoulder like nothing was wrong. Nevermind that Eddie’s whole world was crashing around him because he got himself off to his best friend being fucked by another guy. And the orgasm he had over Buck’s voice was more intense than any he’d had with the random women he’d slept with over the past month.

He can’t even remember their names.

So lost in thought, he doesn’t realize that Maddie and Chim are giving each other smirks and looks while he’s distracted.

“What’s going on with you, Mr. Mopey?” Chimney asks.

“What do you mean?” Eddie asks, confused.

“Come on, you’ve been acting off for weeks,” Chim says while Maddie tries to hide a laugh. “Everyone’s noticed. Just admit it.”

“Admit what?” Eddie genuinely has no idea what he’s talking about.

“You can’t possibly be that thick,” Chim says slowly.

Maddie pats him on the shoulder. “Babe, don’t push it.”

“Oh, come on! Even Albert won’t stop talking about it—”

Eddie never finds out what it is because they’re interrupted by the presence of none other than the man who is the star of his wet dreams.

“What’s up, guys?” Buck’s grin is a mile wide and he’s just loose enough from a few drinks that he’s extra handsy. And he’s pretty handsy with Eddie on a regular day.

Eddie swallows the lump in his throat as his skin hyper focuses on Buck’s arm around his shoulders. He quickly takes another drink of his beer so that he doesn’t have to answer.

And then he spends the rest of the night hoping and praying that his jeans are tight enough to hide the obvious erection in his pants.

…

Eddie thinks it can’t possibly get any worse. He’s wrong.

Weeks of blue balls and pining leave him in a near constant bad mood. Even Chris has noticed that he’s been snappier than usual—which of course, makes him feel like an asshole.  

Buck hasn’t mentioned anything, though everyone else seems to be avoiding him like the plague.

And then during one of their shifts, twenty minutes after Eddie texts Buck to confirm his pizza topping of choice for lunch, he receives a photo to their text message chain. He thinks he’s hallucinating when the little icon image pops up on his screen.

But then he opens the image and his eyes bulge wide out of their sockets.  

Buck is shirtless. It’s not like Eddie hasn’t seen the guy naked before. After all, they’ve spent plenty of time together in the showers and locker room at the firehouse. It’s the look on his face that gets him. The angle is taken from above. It’s meant to be sexual. Buck is biting his lip, head tilted back, a look of absolute sin gracing his handsome features. Eddie has never thought of his friend as pretty before, but god damn, Buck is pretty.

And as Eddie’s eyes trail down Buck’s chest, down his chiseled abs, they travel over the gorgeous V of his hip bones, to just past the base of his shaft, the rest cut off by his boxer briefs pulled down by the hook of his thumb.

The picture was clearly meant for something else.

Eddie doesn’t know what the fuck to do. He’s torn between confronting Buck about this egregious error that he made and running into the bathroom to jerk off.

In hindsight, the latter would have been better. After all, with post-nut clarity, he never would have done what he actually did, which is yell at Buck, in front of the whole firehouse.

“What the actual fuck?!”

Buck gapes at the lewd image on his phone, when shoved in his face. “I—I am so sorry, Eddie!” He stutters, red with embarrassment. “I did not mean to send that to you! I—I didn’t check the chain, and I had forgotten that you texted me your order—”

“You think I want to be getting shit like this on my phone?” Eddie rages. “Be more fucking careful next time you send shit like this to your boyfriend, or whoever the hell he is!”

Buck looks hurt. “Sorry, man,” he says softly. “It won’t happen again.”

Head bowed, Buck walks away with his tail tucked between his legs, leaving Eddie feeling like the biggest asshole on the face of this earth.

It doesn’t help that their little squabble had gained an audience.

Eddies groans and clenches his fists by his sides. He fights the urge to smash his phone to pieces.

He never does delete that photo.

…

Eddie’s not sure how they got to this point. Their friends pity them and Bobby has personally demanded that they resolve their differences. Fast. Or they won’t be covering the same shifts anymore. And now Buck is mad and wanting answers.

“Why are you avoiding me?”

“I’m not avoiding you, Buck.”

“You haven’t looked at me in days. If this is still about the pic that I accidentally sent you—”

“No!” Eddie says loudly. “No, it’s not about that. I am definitely way past that.”

Buck pauses and stares at him in disbelief. “Then why doesn’t it feel that way?”

“I don’t know,” Eddie swallows thickly. “Maybe you’re just imagining things.”

“You’ve been acting like a real dick lately,” Buck says blatantly. “If you have a problem with me, you should just say it.”

Eddie bites his tongue. “Nope. No problem at all.”

Buck grits his teeth and storms away. And that’s that.

…

Not too long later, Eddie reaches his breaking point.

“Alright, fine! Maybe I am pissed at you!” Eddie gives in to the weeks of loneliness and sexual frustration and yells at his friend. “I’m pissed that you haven’t been around! And when you are, you’re distracted and distant and all you talk about is this Tom fella—”

“My boyfriend?”

“Whatever!” Eddie says. “Fuck!”

He knows he’s being a Grade A asshole, but he can’t help himself. Buck drives him crazy and he has no idea how to stop it.

A long moment passes before Buck speaks, “Well, not to get your hopes up or anything,” he says softly. “But this Tom thing might not last much longer.”

Eddie’s curiosity is piqued. Despite knowing better, he asks, “What’s going on?”

Buck shrugs uncomfortably. “I think we just want different things. Probably not going to work out in the long run.”

“And… what do you want?”

Buck looks at him and for a second Eddie gets lost in the blue of his eyes. “I want something real, you know? And I thought that’s what he wanted too, but… he wants to keep it open. Keep seeing other people.” He sighs heavily, sounding sad and defeated. “Which I was fine with for a while, but… I kind of thought he’d change his mind eventually.”

Buck shakes his head. “Sorry, man. You don’t want to hear about this—”

“Tom’s a fucking asshole,” Eddie spits.

Buck blinks in surprise. “W-what?” He chuckles softly.

“You heard me. He’s a fucking asshole. I’ll kick his ass if I ever meet him.”  

Buck stares at him for a long moment. And then his face breaks into a grin. “Thanks, Eddie. You’re a good friend.”

Eddie nods. For the first time in a long time, he does feel like a good friend. Because he would absolutely kick anyone’s ass who hurt Buck.

…

Things between them get better after that.

And one evening, after the end of a long shift, Eddie and Buck get good and truly hammered.

It’s been a long time since Eddie had drank that much. But they don’t have to work the next day, Chris is sleeping over at Abuela’s, and him and Buck are friends again. So he lets loose and just goes along with whatever Buck wants. And Buck leans very much into his personal space in his drunk and disorderly state.

Eddie doesn’t mind one bit. Like an idiot, he doesn’t push him away.

He misses the laughs and doesn’t catch the mild looks of judgment and concern from Hen and Chim, because he’s too drunk to care. And when Albert keeps pushing tequila shots their way, he giggles and throws them back with Buck because it finally feels like they’re them again. And he’s really missed this.

…

The pillow that smacks him in the face wakes him up fast. With a startled gasp, Eddie blinks the sleep and haze out of his eyes. The first thing he registers is his throbbing headache.  “What the hell—” The second is the pillow that hits him again before he can do anything more than blink dumbly in surprise. And then he’s pissed. “What the fuck, Buck?!”  

“Stop that!” Eddie grabs the pillow before the other man can hit him again. “This is not exactly the morning after I was hoping for!”

“What exactly were you hoping for?! What the hell, Eddie?! We had sex last night! TOGETHER!” Buck’s voice gets higher until he’s nearly screeching, which is not great for either of their hangovers. He seems to suddenly realize he’s naked because he pulls the covers up tighter around himself as if it might preserve his chastity. A bit late for that, Eddie thinks.

“You… asshole! What the hell?!”  

Eddie rubs the residual fog out of his eyes and stares at him. “You told Chim last night that you would give your left nut to suck my dick, so what the hell are you complaining about?” He smirks and nods at the shocked expression on Buck’s face. “Yeah, apparently, you get reeeal chatty when you’ve had tequila.”

“Chim said what?” Buck whispers softly, looking mildly shell-shocked and like he really wants to bury himself in the earth and never come out again.

“Oh, and by the way, I am way hotter than that guy you were flirting with at the bar,” Eddie growls, indignant and affronted. “If you want to know regret, know that you could have woken up next to that!”

“He—he was perfectly fine looking,” Buck stutters.

At the same time that Eddie hisses, “Man-bun.”

“And more importantly,” Buck continues harshly. “Since when do you sleep with guys?”

“Since last night, apparently,” Eddie says steely, not nearly as mortified and shocked as he should be. He adds, “And it was really great. Morning after could use some work though.”

Buck swallows. “I never thought… I never thought you were interested.”

“Neither did I,” Eddie lies. He takes a breath, counts to three in his head, and on a whim and a prayer, he reaches for Buck and crashes their lips together with such force that they nearly topple over.

They’re all awkward limbs and gross tequila morning breath—and yet, they seem to fit together perfectly in each other’s arms. They fall back onto Buck’s sheets. A mess of gangly limbs, dried bodily fluids, and lips desperate to feel more.  

Perfect.

…

If anyone were to ask what this thing is between him and Buck, Eddie would say that it’s casual. That’s the word he likes to use when he thinks of them. They’re sleeping together and it’s good and hot and mindblowing sex. But it’s also easy. Because Buck is uncomplicated, and he’s there again when Chris wants him. He loves Christopher, Eddie has no doubt about that. And most importantly, Eddie can get laid whenever he wants.

“Hey, so I was thinking about asking Carla to stay late this Friday to watch Chris,” Buck brings up to him one night. “Maybe you and I can go out to dinner after our shift. We could go some place nice. That new restaurant on Main St. maybe.”

Eddie follows his first instinct which is to laugh, because it sounds like Buck just suggested that they go out on a date. The look on Buck’s face says that he made a mistake.

“Wait, you’re serious?” Eddie asks after seeing the dejected look on Buck’s face.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Buck’s voice is low and strange.

“Because that… that sounds like a date,” Eddie says incredulously. “That’s not what you and I do. We don’t go to nice restaurants, we’re not—”

“A couple?” Buck cuts him off roughly. His expression has grown hard. “So what exactly are we?”

It’s a rare moment when Eddie is at a loss for words, but right now they seem to be stuck in his throat and he has no idea what to say.

“What exactly is this to you, Eddie?” Buck asks slowly.

“We’re just… good friends helping each other out,” he manages.

“Friends?” Buck demands, eyes narrowed and furious. “I’ve sucked your cock, I think we’re a little beyond friends, Eddie.”

“Jesus, Buck! Keep your voice down!” Eddie hisses, even though Chris’s room is on the other end of the house and he’s probably fast asleep at this hour.

But now Buck just looks defeated and hurt, and it’s the last thing that Eddie wanted.

“I thought this meant more to you,” Buck says quietly. “I guess I was wrong.”

“Look, Buck,” Eddie starts. “You know I love you, man. Just… just not like that. I can’t do that.”

Buck scoffs and looks away, which makes Eddie feel worse.

“I told you, a long time ago, that I’m not looking for anything serious, with anyone. It’s… it’s not you, Buck. It’s just that, I have a son to think about.” It makes sense in his head. It’s not like he’s sleeping with anyone else. He just needs to make Buck see.

“Okay.”

Eddie blinks. Okay? “Yeah?”

Buck nods. “Yeah,” he says softly. He slowly turns away, looking lost for a moment, before turning back, eyes glazed and hurt and unseeing. “I’m gonna go.” He says, pointing a thumb behind him. He starts gathering his things to leave and Eddie’s heart sinks into his gut. It hurts like there’s a knife buried there, twisting.

“Wait, no,” Eddie says desperately. “Buck, don’t leave—” He reaches for him but Buck snatches his arm away before Eddie can make contact. Somehow that stings more than when Shannon asked for a divorse.  

Buck is adamant about avoiding eye contact, or any type of contact at all.

He’s hurt. And Eddie hates that this time, he was the one to do it.

“I’ll see you later, man,” Buck mutters, and then he’s gone.

Eddie stands, alone in his kitchen, feeling more lost than ever before.

…

Hen, bless her soul, is the first to pull him aside and demand to know how he managed to fuck up such a sure, good thing.

“What kind of moron are you?” She asks after she listens to his side of the story.

“W-what?” Eddie sputters helplessly. “This isn’t my fault.”

“You are both miserable,” she says bluntly. “Why?!”

Eddie sighs heavily and agrees. “Buck looked like he was about to dry heave when I stepped into the station today,” he says sadly.

“You are dumber than a bag of rocks. Eddie Diaz, I’m going to say this once and only once. You. Love. Him.” She says, enunciating each word.

“Of course, I love him,” Eddie responds. “He’s my closest friend. He’s Buck. I trust him with everything—”

“No, you dumbass. I mean, you love him. He’s not just some rando hookup you picked up for a night. He’s not just a friend, he’s Buck, the guy who would rather die than see anything bad happen to you or your son. He’s the guy who loves your kid like his own. And, speaking as a mother, that is not something to be said lightly.”

“I know Buck loves Chris,” Eddie says softly. “And I never asked him to, he just…” His voice trails off, as the realization slowly dawns on him.

Hen raises a brow. “Let me ask you a question,” she says slowly. “Why did you stop looking for girls to sleep with? You stopped long before you and Buck started this thing between you two. So why? Why did you stop?”

“I…” Fuck. Eddie remembers the longing that he felt when Buck was with someone else. He remembers how much it hurt. Like someone had reached into his chest and squeezed his heart. “Anyone else just… wasn’t what I wanted,” he realizes.

“So what are you waiting for now, dummy?”

“I’m scared,” Eddie admits. “I thought that it would be too difficult or too complicated, or whatever dumb shit I was thinking at the time. I thought it wasn’t worth the risk. To me and to my son.”

“And is it?” Hen asks softly.

Eddie bites his lip. “If this goes sideways, I don’t know what it’ll do to Christopher. That kid has lost so much already. And he loves Buck to death, if this doesn’t work out—”

“Kids are a lot tougher than we like to give them credit for. I’m saying this from one parent to another. You can’t let that hold you back. You can’t let it stop you from going after what you really want. Trust me, Chris will understand. He probably already knows you’re head over heads for his Buck.”

Eddie laughs and bows his head. “Yeah, probably. I never did hide it very well, did I?”

“No, you didn’t,” Hen agrees.

“I think I was wrong,” Eddie finally whispers.

Hen’s fingers flex around his forearm, offering what comfort she can.  “Are you done being an idiot yet?”

Eddie considers it. “Yeah, I think so. I just gotta clear it with one more person,” he says softly.

…

His son is the most important person in his life. Eddie has so much to make up for. He was away for so long and he missed so much. And he vowed that he would never let Christopher down again.

But he has. Of course he has, he’s only human. But he keeps trying and he never gives up. And he figures that’s got to count for something.

For over two years, Eddie watched the relationship blossom between Buck and Chris. He watched as Buck doted on his kid, took him under his wing, and not long after, he started loving him.

Eddie now includes Buck’s name on his list of emergency contacts.

It took a little while longer, but eventually Eddie realizes that Chris looks up to Buck like another parent.

The moment really came when he peeks into Chris’s bedroom and sees Buck reading his son a bedtime story, one of Christopher’s favorites. Chris insists every night that Buck is there. Buck does the voices better than Eddie.

There they are, side by side. Chris’s eyes are drooping, no longer focused on the page. Buck’s voice is still animated and excited, though getting softer by the minute. And the look on his face, Eddies loves that look. Eddie loves him.

It’s a terrifying thought.

It catches him off guard. It scares him. Chris already lost one parent. Eddie couldn’t bear his son losing another. So he kept Buck at a distance. Tried to draw a line between what he had with Buck and what they had as a family.

Hen was right, he was a goddamn moron.

Buck was family long before he and Eddie got wasted and fell into bed with each other.

“Hey, kiddo,” Eddie kneels down by his son where he’s playing with his toys in the living room.

“Hi, Dad.”

Chris’s grin warms his heart and Eddie can’t help but smile as well. “I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“What is it?”

Eddie smiles at his kid, the shining epitome love of his life. “I want to talk to you about Buck.”

Chris’s grin grows wider. “I like Buck. Is he coming over tonight?”

“I like Buck, too.” Eddie says carefully. “So you… you like it when Buck is here?”

“Yeah, Buck is fun. And he loves me.”

“He sure does. Who wouldn’t love you, kiddo?” Eddie jokes.

“No,” Chris shakes his head. “Buck is special.”

“Yeah?” Eddie asks. “And why is that?”

“Because you love him, Dad.”

Eddie freezes. He closes his jaw and swallows the lump in his throat. “Chris, how… how did you know that?” He whispers.

“The way you look at him,” Chris says easily. “And the way you act around him.”

“What do you mean?” Eddie presses.

“When Buck was hurt, you were really worried,” Chris explains. “You were sad and you were upset, and you would do everything you could to make him feel better. Remember?”

“Yeah, I remember,” Eddie says softly. When Buck got crushed by a ladder truck, there were moments when Eddie thought he was going to lose him forever. He was scared—terrified. Not just for Buck’s health and safety, but he was scared that his life could forever be changed because some asshole kid decided to play bomber.

And when Buck almost died from the pulmonary embolism, because he pushed himself too hard—that made Eddie angry. Angry that Buck risked his life and his health and did this to himself. And maybe if Eddie had tried harder to be there for him, Buck wouldn’t have felt the need to get back to where he was so quickly.

Apparently, Eddie didn’t hide this very well.

“When Buck’s not here, you’re sad,” Chris says softly. “When he’s here, you’re happy.”

“Yeah,” Eddie nods. Kids make it sound so simple. He has a hard time remembering why he’s been acting like an idiot for so long. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“So you love him,” Chris says simply.

“I do,” Eddie says quietly, tears growing in his eyes. “And you’re okay with that?���

“Of course I am, Dad. Buck is amazing,” Chris says with a grin.

Eddie has never been so grateful that he has such an amazing kid. He still can’t believe he lucked out, that he has such a wonderful son. “Yeah,” he agrees, pulling him into a hug. Tears trail down his cheeks, but they’re happy tears. “Buck really is amazing.”

Chris smiles and lets out a soft laugh against him. “I love Buck, too, Dad.”

So, now Eddie has some groveling to do.

…

Buck isn’t surprised when he opens his door to see Eddie on the other side. He does huff in annoyance though. “What are you doing here?” He asks. They haven’t spoken since Buck walked out. Buck has avoided his calls and the texts go unanswered.

Eddie doesn’t answer at first. But he motions awkward with his arm and Buck eventually steps back to let him in.

“Look, I really don’t want to do this with you, Eddie—”

“Of course, you don’t,” Eddie says quickly. “We were always awful when we’re mad at each other. Over such dumb shit too.”

“You’re kidding, right?” Buck gives him an odd look. “Am I just supposed to get over it? I mean, I’ve had your dick up my ass, are we just supposed to pretend that never happened?”  

Eddie blushes. “Yeah, that’s not really a memory I want to erase from existence, so…”

Buck stares at him, stubborn and calm. “So, what exactly are you saying?”

“What I’m trying to say, is that I’ve been acting like a royal idiot lately,” Eddie says. “I did pretty much everything wrong. I didn’t think that I wanted you until you were with someone else. And then when I did have you, I didn’t realize that what we had was so much more than I ever gave us credit for.”

Buck stays stubbornly silent. But he’s not kicking him out, which is enough to make Eddie continue. “I need you to know that I love you, and not just as a friend. I love you like a partner, like Chris’s second dad, like a missing piece of myself, and when you’re not there… it literally feels like my life is falling apart.”

His breath shudders and he sighs, trying to get a hold of himself. “I am so lost without you, Buck. And I was such an idiot that I didn’t realize it sooner. So, please… I am asking from the bottom of my heart… will you give me another chance?”

“I always knew you were an idiot,” Buck eventually says. “I don’t know where Chris gets his smarts from, because it definitely isn’t you.”

Eddie grins and takes a hesitant step forward. “Yeah, I deserve that,” he says softly, and then he takes another step. “You’re right, I was an idiot.”

“I’m gonna make you take me out, you know,” Buck whispers. “You’re gonna have to wine and dine me, and I mean, the good, expensive stuff.”

“Whatever you want, babe. I swear.” Eddie takes another final step and then he’s crowding into Buck’s space, pressing tight against his chest. He leans up to press their lips together and Buck’s got that look in his eyes that Eddie knows all too well. The look that says he’s in too deep, he loves too much, and if Eddie hurts him again, that’ll be the end of him.

But Eddie swears to high heaven, he’ll do his best to never ever hurt this man again.

“I’m so sorry I’ve been such an idiot,” Eddie murmurs against his lips.

“You swear you’ll stay with me this time?” Buck asks. “You’ll try this for real with me?”

Eddie nods. He presses their lips together, again and again, like he can’t get enough. His fingers are wrapped tight around the other man’s shirt, and he can tell Buck is holding himself back. He presses his weight against him, pushing him through the small apartment until they both fall against the couch—the stairs being too much to traverse in their state. The intense heat of their bodies together opens all the floodgates.  

“I promise you, Buck. For real. You and me,” Eddie nods his head, his fingers fumble with Buck’s zipper, and then his own. “Like we should have been this whole goddamn time.”

When the clothes are off and skin is pressed to bare skin, they moan like starved men gasping for air. There’s lube somewhere in Buck’s coffee table drawer, and a box of condoms. Eddie presses his fingers into the hard flesh along Buck’s hips and buries his face in the crook of his neck. He sucks bruises into Buck’s skin, tastes him on his tongue and smells him in his nostrils. He can feel the other man’s pulse; strong, fast, and steady. He feels it rise and flutter as he moves inside him.

Their bodies grind together and the feeling is intoxicating; hot, sickly, and sweet. They’re reckless and dangerous and so in love that they’re sure nothing they’ve ever experienced even comes close to this.

They groan and pant and freefall toward climax together, limbs wrapped around each other, messy and uncoordinated. And when it’s over, Eddie presses his sweaty temple gently against Buck’s cheek. He’s gasping, struggling to catch his breath.

Buck chuckles softly, his hand comes up to wrap around Eddie’s arm. Their sounds echo through the apartment, a familiar comfort to them both.  

“I’m hungry,” Buck says softly, before Eddie has even pulled out of him. “You wanna grab some food?”

Eddie grins and nods his head.

This feels good, he thinks to himself, better than anything he’s had before. And this time, he’s going to remember that.

…  

Some time later:

“Chim, your brother is still here?” Eddie nods to Albert who’s engrossed in conversation with Buck by the bar. Eddie narrows his eyes at the serious look on Buck’s face. He wonders what they’re talking about.

Chimney gives him a strange look, perhaps surprised that he asked, and then he shrugs. “Yeah, thought he was staying a few weeks. Guess that’s turned into a few months now.”

“Couch-surfing for months, that’s got to be rough,” Eddie comments.

“My couch, random strange hook ups’ couches, Buck’s couch. That guy really knows how to get around.”

Eddie frowns. “Buck’s couch?” He knew Albert had stayed at Buck’s place once, after Chimney blew up at him. Not that it had happened again though.

Chim raises his eyebrows. “You don’t know? They hang out like… all the time. It’s fucking weird, man. If I didn’t know you and Buck got a serious thing going on, I’d be a little worried about Buckaroo over there taking my little brother’s innocence.”

Eddie gapes. “Are you serious?” His eyes fly around the bar again, not knowing what he thought he’d see. Buck and Albert look the same as they did twenty seconds ago, still talking by the bar.

“I’m kidding!” Chim says, laughing as he slaps Eddie on the arm. “Of course, I’m kidding!”

Eddie breathes in relief.

Until Chim continues, “My little brother doesn’t have an ounce of innocence inside him.”

Eddies doesn’t know how to approach this. He wants to know why he didn’t know—why Buck didn’t tell him that he was apparently close to Chimney’s estranged half-brother. He wants to go over there and find out what they’re talking about. How does he do that without coming across like some jealous asshole? His mind flips back and forth between playing it cool and storming over there.

Thankfully, Buck saves him the trouble.

He pulls him aside and looks hesitant when he speaks, which Eddie takes note of right away.

“Hey, can we talk about something real quick?” Buck asks.

“Yeah, of course,” Eddie says carefully. “What’s going on?

“Um,” Buck shifts uncomfortably. “You know how I kind of made you grovel when you came back? And I kind of emphasized how you were a total dick, who needed to beg and plead before getting back into my pants?”

Eddie snorts. “Yeah.” He remembers it vividly.

“Okay,” Buck admits. “So, I’m kind of an asshole.”

“You weren’t that bad,” Eddie chuckles.

“No,” Buck insists. “I actually am kind of a dick.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. He clicks and swipes while Eddie watches confused until Buck holds the screen up in front of his face.

Eddie doesn’t know what he’s looking at. It’s his contact info, with call data, and all their incoming and outgoing calls.

“Eighteen minutes and twenty-three seconds.”

Eddie stares, blank and confused, until it dawns on him. He sees the call log. He sees the date and the numbers and there’s only one possibility. Eighteen minutes and twenty-three seconds that he stayed on the line. Listening. Like a perv.

“Um… I—I wasn’t—” He stutters. “I don’t know what—”

“Don’t be embarrassed, I knew you were listening,” Buck says quickly as he shoves his phone back in his pocket. “Um, I don’t really know how to tell you this, but… Tom wasn’t real.”

“What?” Eddie blinks and struggles to process. “Tom, your… ex-boyfriend?”

Buck looks genuinely shameful. “Yeah, he was… kind of, made up?” He says lightly.    

Eddie’s mind sort of short-circuits then. Because what the hell does that mean? “W-what?!” He sputters.

“I’m sorry!” Buck says quickly. And then he rolls into a tangent that Eddie can only hope to follow as best his can. “It was Albert’s idea, ‘cause I was complaining about how much I was in love with you. And apparently, I talk about you a lot, like non-stop and he was getting sick of it. And I think I was moping and pissing him off because he just wanted a drinking buddy. And then he kept going on and on about behavior theory and logical decision making and all this other shit that I don’t really understand!”

Eddie blinks and Buck continues, “He told me what to do to get you and I just went along with it! He told me to invent some guy and it would make you realize what you wanted all along… And that if I threatened to pull away, you would realize that you love me and that this thing between us—” He gestures quickly with his hands. “—is real. And it worked!”

Buck shrugs, a small, hopeful expression on his face. “Except now I kind of feel like a dick because I made you feel bad, and he said that I should come clean about everything and that you wouldn’t mind because you love me too—”

“Wait, wait, wait… hold up,” Eddie’s mind hasn’t quite caught up yet. “You lied to me?”

“I’m sorry,” Buck whispers.

“Tom was… was a lie?” Eddie tries to think of the evidence. He never met the guy, never even saw a photo. Buck just kept talking about him… “But the call…”

“Yeah, I kind of had a bit of fun with that one,” Buck grins bashfully. “Our first phone sex!” He tries to joke, but it falls flat when he sees the look on Eddie’s face.  

“You tricked me? You’ve been lying this whole time?”

“Well, I… I prefer to think of it as, I used dishonest tactics to persuade you…”

“The—the fucking… naked picture of you…” Eddie’s jaw drops as the pieces finally come together in his head. “You sent that to me on purpose!”

“I’m sorry,” Buck says softly.

“I cannot believe this! You—you inserted yourself into my life, lied to me for months, pull yourself away, and of course, I’m over here tweaking like an addict without dope! And feeling like the biggest jerk in the world!”

“Well, that’s a bit dramatic, I think.”

“Where is that asshole?”

Buck’s eyes widen comically when he sees the other man prepare for a rampage. “Eddie, wait!”

But Eddie’s already making his way back to the group. He doesn’t know what he’s doing but he knows that he’s furious, embarrassed that he was played so easily, and completely blind-sided by the truth. He can’t even put his thoughts in order to make a coherent—

“Hey, asshole!”

All eyes turn to him, shocked by his outburst. Hen and Chim are clearly confused, unsure of what’s going on. A second later, he registers that Buck has caught up to him. The expression on his face is oddly reminiscent of Scrat from the Ice Age movies that Chris loves watching. Stunned, sheepish, and a little bit of ‘did I do that?’

“What the hell is wrong with you?! You think you can just mess with people’s heads like this?! You think you can just treat this shit like a game, like… like some fucking chess game?!”

“Eddie, stop!” Buck pleads.

“Whoa, wait, what the hell is going on?” Chim asks.

“You fucking piece of shit, I ought to—”

Albert stands slowly, his hands held up innocently in front of him. Eddie breathes slowly through his nose. He can feel Buck’s presence behind him, ready to hold him back in case he decides to do something royally stupid.

“I’m sorry if you feel fooled,” Albert says carefully. “We had no intention to hurt you. Quite the opposite, actually.”

Behind him, the others stare, mouths gaping. “What is happening right now?” Maddie whispers.

“Eddie, please think about this,” Buck says softly. “Please—”

Eddie cuts him off by taking a step forward. They all hold their breaths. And then, to their surprise and his own, Eddie wraps his arms around Albert in a tight hug. “You are such an asshole.” His voice is tight and strangled. “But thank you.”

“Okay, can someone please explain what is going on?” Chim asks. “We’re kind of losing our minds over here.”

“I think we might need some more drinks for this,” Hen says, right before she and Maddie share a look.

“Amen, sister.”

Later, after everyone is caught up and thoroughly impressed—

“I studied game theory in college,” Albert explains.

“Glad to see you’re doing something good with that fancy education of yours,” Chim says sarcastically.

“I can’t believe I didn’t know about this,” Maddie says, incredulous. “Who knew you were such a good actor?” She smacks her little brother on the arm and chuckles at Buck’s yelp.

—and Buck and Eddie finally have a moment to themselves, Buck asks him, “So I can relax and trust that you’re not going to kick his ass?”

Eddie sighs and shakes his head. “I wanted to.”

“You had me worried there for a second.”

“Albert’s genius is what got me to stop being an idiot,” Eddie says softly. “He got us together, and you are the love of my life. I could never hate him for that.”

Buck makes a face, about to coo and aww at the ‘love of his life’ comment until Eddie continues. “You, on the other hand, you lied to me. For months. You manipulated me, made me feel like an asshole for hurting you. And this whole time, you were playing me. I think I’m owed some groveling now.”

Buck pouts and says, “My feelings were never a lie. I’ve been in love with you for years and I was getting desperate. You know, desperate measures and all.” His lips turn up a little and he wraps an arm around Eddie’s waist, tugging him close. “I’m so sorry, Eddie. Please don’t be mad at me. After all, I am the love of your life.”

Eddie grins and leans close, pressing their lips together for a gentle kiss.

“Yeah, you really are.”

Fin.

[littleredroseonthevalley]

Land of the Blind

Summary: Nathan is caugh on a DUI and is sentenced to comunity service. There, he meets someone who can change his life.

Rating: T - Suitable for teens, 13 years and older, with some violence, minor coarse language, and minor suggestive adult themes.

Words: 5400

Notes: So, Natey-boy again. Who hasn’t gotten over him yet?

בשוק סמייא צווחין לעווירא סגי נהור

In the street of the blind, the one-eyed man is called the Guiding Light

*_*_*_*_*

"Nathan Sterling! Come over here, bro!" Beau Han bellowed, causing several heads in the party to turn, but he remained uncaring, as he went on to wave his bottle of beer as a half-hearted greeting.

Nathan sighed, shaking his head in frustration at the closest thing he could call as best friend. His boorish antics got old fast, and he had to take them for years now. However, it did not keep the young, blond man to slip into the seat next to him and grabbing a bottle of beer.

They had met in college, when they pledged the same fraternity. They both came from privileged upbringings, with the difference that Beau was nouveau riche, while Nathan was a Boston Brahmin. The Asian boy, because of that, submitted himself to be his faithful lapdog, and he did not care for the difference between that and “true friendship”.

"Anything fun going on around here?" Nathan asked, unamused.

Beau gave a casual shrug, before pulling a face. "No hot girls are allowed here, apparently."

He craned his neck then, as if looking for something. Nathan frowned, opening his mouth to question him when Beau beat him to it. "Eh, Nathan? Where's Becca? I thought she was your conquest for the week?"

Nathan flicked his finger dismissively, before downing the bottle of beer. The voluptuous girl was not bad-looking, on the contrary, but she really was just really bossy and nagging, and her name was tarnished since her parents divorced and cut her off, it was no fun.

Not to mention, she wanted commitment, too. She wanted to raise herself from the filth she was thrown in. It was a big no-no for Nathan. He did not, under any circumstances, do commitments. Anytime a girl seemed to imply that, she was out. Especially the social-climbers.

"She's old news already, Beau.” He responded, lazily. “I can't seem to find anyone else up to my standards."

"Your standards must be reaching heaven, my dear friend." Beau shook his head as he chugged his beer, before wiping the corner of his mouth to clean himself of the trail of white booze. "I'm pretty sure dear Katie would be glad to lecture you again."

Nathan sighed, shaking his head. Katie was the exact reason why he is so averse to commitment. She was his cousin’s wife, daughter of a fisherman from down at the harbour, and seemed to think they were a loving family just because they were around the same age. She firmly believed in love and that Tanner was her One and Only.

To him, it all sound either naïve or malicious. She knew he was cheating on her with the Emersons’ slag, Scarlett, but she took it because parting with the Sterling fortune was too much to bear. Not that she will ever really have to, having birthed a daughter already.

He almost scoffed at just the mere idea of fairy-tale love. Pick any marriage on his lineage, from the very day the first member of his family set foot in America hailing from Norway, and they would be a good example that love did not exist. Including Kate and Tanner’s.

“She can’t lecture me if she doesn’t know, and evidence shows it isn’t that hard to hide things from her. She is pretty stupid.”

"Damn, you're bad!" Beau chuckled heartily before pulling Nathan up from his seat, gesturing to the platform set up for the party. "Let's go dance, and maybe pick up some hot girls, yeah?"

The corner of Nathan's mouth lifted slightly. Yes, that was exactly what he needed.

"Yeah, you're on."

*_*_*_*_*

"Nathan, you honestly shouldn't… " Beau stopped in the middle of the sentence, hiccupping for probably the umpteenth time. "Drive the car in such a state. You might get into an accident."

"Shut up, Beau, unless you’d like to walk." Nathan threatened. He was sure that he could handle liquor well, Beau was totally underestimating him. "I'm pretty sure you're the one who needs help getting home. Whose party is this again? Elliott's? I'm sure he'll be glad to drive you home."

"Yes, see that horn over there?" Beau hiccupped again, before chuckling and pointing at the roof of the house. "It’s Elliott's!"

"Damn, Beau, you are drunk." Nathan shook his head. Beau really seem like a stupid teenager at times. He muffled a sigh. “Call yourself an Uber. I know you like to spite your mother.”

"No need. Beau's going home with me." A familiar voice stated from behind the said male's bulky form.

Nathan's eyes widen by the tiniest bit, before he recovered, trying not to laugh. Trying to make him jealous? With Han? How quaint. Too bad it would not work.

"Oh, alright then." Nathan said, grinning as he saw his friend's face morphed into one of horror's, but he paid him no heed. He was apparently still sober enough to realize what he was getting into. "Have a nice night, Claire."

Without another word, he silently washed his hands from Han before he slipped into his Ashton Martin and sped off. The adrenaline was coursing through his veins, most probably a side effect from the consumption of beer. It had actually been a while since he had gone home with a girl, and for this moment, this silence was actually rather nice and peaceful.

He took a deep breath before he relaxed against his comfortable leather seat.

The sirens of police cars suddenly broke him out of his reverie, and he immediately swerved to a stop in an unconscious move.

Ugh, Nathan, you moron! What did you stop for?

He suppressed his grumbles as he rolled down the window of his car to come face-to-face to Officer Silverhawk. He muttered a curse under his breath. Of all people... Of all days...

"Good evening, Officer Silverhawk." He greeted grudgingly.

"Yes, Nathan." She sounded displeased. "What're you doing out here that late at night? Is that alcohol? You reek of it!"

"No, of course not, ma’am." Nathan lied smoothly. "I wouldn't do such a dangerous, reckless thing."

“You certainly would.” She said, unbelieving. “Give me your keys. I’ll pull up your record.”

"Don’t get your panties on a twist, Officer Silverhawk." He muttered.

Officer Silverhawk looked up from scrolling through the records at the mention of her name, but Nathan waved his hand like it was nothing.

"Well, Nathan…" She said, sounding gruff. "It's not the first time you've been caught speeding. In fact, this is the fifteenth time, and there's another few which was after consuming alcohol."

Again, shit.

"Well, I'm afraid you'd have to go to the police with us. Don't worry, you will most likely just have to serve community service if it comes to that." Chief Silverhawk seemed to meant for her to sound reassuring.

However, she seemed smug and Nathan noted irritably that her upper lip seemed to twitch slightly at that comment.

Fuck was the only thought echoing through his mind. His parents were going to kill him.

*_*_*_*_*

“You are a disgrace, Mr. Sterling. You are a smudge on this town prideful tradition, and a shame to your surname.” Judge Rhodes said, sternly, from his bench. “I am very glad that I was able to shield my stepdaughter from the likes of you.”

Nathan used much of his willpower not to roll his eyes at that comment. Judge Rhodes was obsessed with his wife and stepdaughter, to the point it was nauseating.

The man congratulate himself into making a “safe” town for his family to live, as if he would ever be interested in Emily Harper. She was a very creepy character, and he is not alone in thinking that. Yes, she was his neighbour, but they just never interacted anymore.

He could remember that, before Queenie Harper married Dr. Rhodes, before even Evan Harper died of a heart attack, him and Emily would spend a lot of time together. Mrs. Harper would have him on their home to relieve his nannies, and the two kids would spend the Summer afternoons together.

Over Winter, while he was away in New Haven with his parents, however, Mr. Harper passed away and Queenie moved away with Emily to God knows where. They returned years later, when the old bat had already remarried, conveniently, with the new county judge.

Every time he sees her, which was actually quite rare, she would be wearing a long dress and she would be wearing a sunglass with Zigmund Ortega, if he remembered correctly, the felon son of their housemaid, or with either of her parents by her side.

“I would prefer to send you away for a month at the county jail. That ought to straighten you out. However, the laws of the state of Massachusetts do not allow me.” The judge continued, doling out the punishment. “Therefore, I hereby sentence you, Nathan Sterling, III, to ten weeks of community service. I really hope this would be of help to your behaviour."

The gavel went down, he was taken away from the courtroom to where his family was restlessly waiting, no doubt anxious to give him a piece of their mind. He almost wished that Rhodes had locked him away.

“A DUI, Nathan, honestly.” Lois Sterling, his mother, admonishes coldly. “Why don’t you just piss on your great-grandfather’s statue at main square while you’re on it, huh?”

He limits himself to a glare. His mother really knows how to make a bad situation worse just by standing in the room.

His father, in turn, merely sighed, patting Nathan's stiff shoulder. "Learn something there, son."

"Nathan, you're an idiot. I swear, you are!" Katie huffed, looking very much like an angry poodle dog. "But I really feel like something good may come out of this whole mess, so don't go messing things up."

He rolled his eyes. "Whatever you want, Cinderella."

All he got was an answering smack.

*_*_*_*_*

"Well, now what am I supposed to do?" Nathan asked, refraining from groaning as he looked at the peeling layers of wallpaper in the room of the orphanage.

The matron of the establishment narrowed her beady, black eyes at him, as if threatening him, before she pushed the grey bun on her head up higher. He stared at it for a moment, fascinated, before turning to face her. "I'm sorry, Ms..."

"Mrs. Higginbotham." She snapped, her lips twisting to a grimace. "You weren't listening."

"I'm sorry." He shuffled his feet and stared at them for a moment, trying to deceive her into thinking he was feeling guilty, which he obviously was not.

She released a sigh. "It's alright, boy."

Some people just were so easy to deceive. Most people, in fact, were easily thwarted by him. Call it a congenic trait.

The older woman motioned for the wall. "You need to peel of the wallpaper of this entire room before repainting it. A few older children will be coming in to help you out later, so don't worry about the workload."

He nodded.

She mimicked his movements, looking satisfied before leaving him with the appropriate tools.

He sighed, pulling his sleeves up and dreading the loss of a shirt. "Better get to work now, I guess."

"Hello!" A cheery voice disrupted his concentration, and he turned to face her after scraping off the last peeling layer of white from the ceiling.

What he saw was an assorted group of approximately thirteen-year-old teens standing there and looking at him. He fought back a grimace, before he raised his hand in an awkward wave.

"Uh, hi?"

"We heard you were here to serve your sentence." One of the boys blurted out.

The boy beside him smacked him.

"Not a sentence, Nicky. That's such an exaggeration!" He paused, before giving Nathan a curious look. "Or is it?"

"Alright, boys." A girl who was obviously the leader of the group of five stepped out, holding her palms up for silence. "Enough. We are here to help."

The two boys bowed their heads in resignation. "Sorry, Vanessa."

She nodded her head in satisfaction before turning her attention to the gaping Nathan. "What do you need help with, sir?"

"The scraping of wallpaper at the rest of the walls, I guess. I already did the ceiling. Then we can paint this room." He replied after recovering quickly. "And don't call me 'sir', please. It makes me sound old."

Vanessa grinned.

"Okay. Let's get to work then!"

This kid must be something to control them like that. Blonde curly hair, bright blue eyes, clearly a strong-willed kid. Had not been for the crude demeanour of her posture, one would say they were siblings. He found he rather liked her.

A few minutes after they started work, Nicky, if he remembered correctly, suddenly asked. "Brad, aren't you looking forward to the afternoon?"

The boy who smacked Nicky turned, his eyes bright as a cheeky smile surfaced, accidently scratching the wall with his tool in his carelessness, but he paid it no heed.

"Like, duh! Emmy is coming!"

"Emmy?" Nathan could not help himself from asking.

All eyes in the room turned to look at him, looking shocked before exclaiming in unison, "You don't know who's Emmy?"

“No, not really.” He responded.

“Emily Harper.” Vanessa supplied, helpfully. “She’s a voluntary teacher here. The kids that have been here the longest call her Emmy.”

“Oh! She’s my next-door neighbour.” He gasped in recognition. "Um, well, we’ve met, years ago, but we’re not close anymore. She's kind of... I don't know… "

He tried to untangle himself out of the situation, noticing how everyone seemed to stiffen at his words.

"You're one of those creeps who look down on her, right?" Nicky yelled, his face red with anger as he fisted his hands, stepping forward and looking as if he was about to hit him.

"Nicky." Vanessa's soft voice stopped him, and he bit his lip before muttering an apology.

"I'm sorry, Nathan, we're rather protective when it comes to Emily." She managed a smile. "I sure hope you aren't one of those who look down on her. She is a lovely person. She really brightens up our day."

He smiled back, unsure of what reply to give.

After that exchange, the room's atmosphere seemed to escalate to a freezing region, where everyone talked among themselves, occasionally only speaking to Nathan when they need to.

It seemed hours to him before Mrs. Higginbotham came, looking very pleased with their progress. "Well, you are almost done, ain't ya?"

All the teens nodded their heads eagerly, excluding Nathan.

"Well, I suppose you all can go for your break." She turned to leave before she angled her face back to face them once more, a twinkle in her eye. "By the way, Ms. Harper has arrived."

It was a moment after she left, before all the children threw down their tools and dashed out, pushing against each other as they stumbled along the corridor. Nathan blinked once in bewilderment, before he decided not to follow.

He continued working on his part of the room for a few more minutes, before his stomach growled. He bit the inside of his cheeks, before resigning. Now, he would have to find the canteen by himself.

How pathetic. Why did he have to stop his car when Officer Silverhawk signalled him to? Walsh would never let her come after him, anyways. There were so many better ways to spend his precious time, to the point he is willing to go work with his father.

Pulling the towel off his neck, he jumped down from the stool before trudging out of the room. The county orphanage could not be that big; he was sure of it. It should not be too hard to find the canteen.

He yawned, rubbing his eyes. This work really was exhausting.

As he walked down the hallway, commiserating with himself, a beautiful melody drifted to his ears then, and he immediately perked up. Someone was playing the violin, and that person was really good at it, too.

Unknowingly, his feet followed the source of the music, and he stopped in front of a door at last.

Placing his hand on the doorknob, he debated for a while whether he should go in or just leave it be. But the curiosity of knowing who was inside overwhelmed him, and he twisted the knob as softly as he could before he poked his head to the room.

A redhead with long, flowing curly hair tumbling down to her waist was on the middle of a mostly empty room, holding the instrument. She was wearing a white floral dress that reached over her knees. He watched, transfixed as her fingers danced over the strings, her eyes closed and her full lips in a concentrated pout.

"Nathan?" Mrs. Higginbotham's voice broke him out of his entranced stare.

The music abruptly got cut off and the girl turned to face him. His jaw almost fell to the ground.

"E-Emily?" He managed to get out.

She smiled a breath-taking smile, standing up from her seat, her eyes still closed as she tilted her head to the side for a moment.

"Hi, Nathan."

"Hi?" But it sounded more like a question. The beautiful girl playing the violin just now... Was actually Emily Harper? The ghost of Birchport? The bratty child of the county judge?

He swallowed, watching as her long, elegant fingers pressed against her full, red lips, looking embarrassed.

"Did you hear me play?" She asked, a soft stutter on her words.

"I did. It was beautiful." He breathed, still looking utterly entranced, his emerald green eyes lighting up as they stared at her.

Red coloured both her cheeks as she fidgeted even more, seeming to feel the weight of his stare. "Thank you, you’re too kind."

Suddenly, someone coughed in the room, and Nathan realized they were not alone. The entire roomful of teens and children and Mrs. Higginbotham were looking at him, seemingly in amusement and curiosity.

"New brother!" One of the younger kids squealed before clapping his hands together, looking very happy.

Nathan stared at them with a completely bewildered expression.

"Well, Nathan, how nice of you to join us." Mrs. Higginbotham said, motioning for him to take a seat and snapping him out of his thoughts.

"Thank you, Mrs. Higginbotham."

"Sorry, Nathan. I really thought you were one of those creeps who look down on Emmy." Nicky whispered to him from in front and Nathan tilted his head to the side. Why would anyone look down on her? She was beautiful, and she played such beautiful music.

Before he could ask, though, Emily had already picked up her instrument and placed on her neck, measuring the tempo for a new song. She seemed tense now, her fingers stiff. Was it because of his presence?

He wondered about it, before shaking it off. Impossible.

Her first note was slightly shaky, before it was followed by a firmer tone. As she continued on, her confidence began to grow and the music slowly crawled to a crescendo, her fingers flying over the strings.

He could not help but gape. She was the epitome of beauty and class. Maybe she would be deserving to be his next conquest.

"Beautiful, isn't she?" Mrs. Higginbotham murmured from beside him.

He nodded, not speaking, transfixed by the song.

"You can't even tell that she's blind." She said softly and Nathan whirled to face her in shock.

"What?"

"Why, yes, Nathan. She's blind." She said, a little surprised. “I thought you knew. Most people in town do.”

“I… She wasn’t blind back when we were close.” He responded lamely.

Higginbotham tutted, lost in thought. “She did lose her sight, just after her father’s death.”

“How did it happen?” He asked, curiously.

“You’d do better asking her yourself.” She answered with a tone of finality.

That night, as he went out with Kassidy Marquez, his mind was elsewhere; thinking of a certain redhead with a lovely blush.

Soon, he broke off with a shocked and angry Kassidy, because he simply could not stand the heaviness in his heart.

*_*_*_*_*

Emily teaches music to the children at the orphanage, or at least tries to. Their music room was on the bare side, so their lessons are mostly consisted of her playing for them to hear. After every break she plays, she would tell the children the stories of her life, and Nathan would sometimes be one of the characters.

When she was feeling particularly wicked, she would tell some humiliating story of the two of them when they were kids, which would always finish with him red as a tomato and mumbling, “That’s so not what happened…”

She, however, never told them about the time she spent away from Birchport, curiously enough. She never told them how she lost her sigh, nor where she had been or what she had been doing. It was mysterious.

Every day, after clock out, Nathan would go home alone looking dazed, and Katie would be waiting for him on the foyer, just to pester him as always, wondering who the girl was.

She sure was not the only one wondering.

He stopped going out at night, he stopped dating different girls at the time. In a nutshell, he stopped doing everything like he would always do. Instead, he would always go to their library to play the piano when he had any free time.

There was a time he loved playing the piano. His mother had commanded him to chose an instrument, and he took to that. He even had quite a deal of talent, but on his Senior year in high school, Lois barred him from playing and at Hartford was impossible. By the time Summer came and he returned to Birchport, he had long forgot it.

The change of his personality within such a short period of time was shocking, to say the least. It was a pleasant one, though, of course.

He would always look out of his bedroom window, gazing beyond the gardens, wanting to see her, but he would never have the chance to. So, he had to wait every day until he reached the orphanage.

*_*_*_*_*

"Nathan, it's your last day of community service today, right?" Katie declared, over breakfast. "It must have been a long two months and a half."

He shook his head, but refrained from a snarky comment. Nathan had been more patient with his cousin by marriage these days. In fact, he had been more patient and mindful with just about everybody, with the notable exception of his mother.

Happy people want for everybody to be happy too, he reasoned. Since he felt more comfortable in Emily’s company, he stopped to be so cynical about everyone’s angle when talking to him, he became more trusting. He was even beginning to accept that Katie was just a good person, after all.

"It's not long at all." He murmured, the corner of his lips tugging up slightly. "Not long at all."

Nathan, Snr., stared, seeming shocked, but said nothing. An approving smile was on his face. They simply have to meet this miracle-worker.

Lois, in turn, glared at her son. “I hope you’ve learned your lesson, boy. The next time you pull out something like that, you won’t be getting off so easily.”

The young man shrugged and got up to his feet, leaving the house with no further words. He jumped into his car and drove as fast as he could to the orphanage, getting straight into work as soon as he arrived.

He watched her as he ran his errands, during every break of that week, watching the beautiful girl playing music that touched his very soul. He was captivated, he was entranced, and he was completely falling to the grace of it.

Not only to the violin, but to the girl playing it.

The slight furrow between her brows as she contemplated something; how she pressed her fingers against her lips when she was embarrassed; how her hands would wrang together when she was nervous; how she would bite her lip when she was frightened; how...

Fuck, how did he know these things?

He buried his head into the crook of his arm. It was the last day of his community service, and he was actually here, obsessing over a girl. A girl who barely knew him and would certainly hate to.

"Nathan?"

It was then, did he realize that Mrs. Higginbotham has been calling him for some time. She looked rather displeased. Again.

"I'm sorry."

"It's alright." She smiled. "As I was saying, I've seen in your information that you're rather talented in the piano. Why don't you two play a piece together? As a farewell?"

"You're leaving?"

A slight furrow could be seen from his view and he smiled, though he knew she would not see it. She actually looked concerned. He almost laughed at the irony of Judge Rhode's words on his sentence. Well, it certainly backfired.

He nodded slowly, out of habit. "Well, yeah. It's my last day of community service."

“I’ll round up the kids, while you decide on a song.” The matron declared, excusing herself. “I’m sure it will be beautiful.”

A pause.

"So, would you like to play a duet with me?" He asked, his tone velvet and smooth.

He would not talk to her anymore after this. Perhaps he would, they were neighbours, but it did not seem likely. It would not be like it was now, in these hallowed rooms, away from their families and away from the prying eyes of the community.

As he spoke, he took big strides, reaching her quickly. He took her hands that were wrung together on her lap before taking one of them to his lips, pressing his lips against them gently. She blushed deep red.

He felt his crooked smile on his face. His real smile, the one born out of legitimate joy, that he almost forgot he had. He frowned at that thought, dismissing it away quickly.

"A duet, my Lady?"

"Sure…" She stammered, a blush still on her cheeks.

He sat on a bench and stretched his hands to play the old piano that the institution kept and he had tuned earlier that month.

There was a silence as they shifted to make themselves comfortable, before he blurted, “Where were you?”

“What?” She asked softly, in confusion.

“We were friends, Emily. It might have been long ago, but I remember that much. I left for New Haven after Labour Day one year, and when I came back in the Spring, you were gone.” He said, rather feverishly. “Then, as suddenly as you left, you came back, and now you are blind. What happened?”

The girl turned her face away, trying to hide the tint on her cheeks. “It was entirely too sudden. My dad died, and then we moved right away. I didn’t know until I heard the movers come into the house.”

“Why, Emily? What happened?” He insisted.

“My dad, he had a heart attack while driving. He hit a tree and died from the impact. I was on the car with him, and the glass shards from the windshield cut my eyes.” She explained. “The doctors in Boston said I wouldn’t be able to see anymore, so my mother moved us to New York, so I could attend a school for the blind.”

“I see.” He nodded, sober. “And Judge Rhodes?”

“My mother met him in New York. He is a good man, just a little overbearing. He thought it would be better to live in a small town, that it would be safer, so when I got into Boston Conservatory, they decided to relocate to Birchport for me to commute.” She finishes her story with a soft voice, barely perceptible.

“I see. Thank you for telling me.” He responded, a little ashamed of himself. He should not have pressured her that way.

“It’s okay, I’ve been meaning to, actually.” Emily said, smiling again. “I was honestly quite intimidated by you in the beginning. You seemed always so angry and frustrated.”

Nathan chuckled. “It’s because I was.”

“You’ve mellowed out since.” She concludes. “I’m glad. You have a nice voice when you’re happy. I like it.”

“I have a pretty voice…” Nathan teased. "I must be pretty hot, huh?"

She giggled softly. "Yeah. You seem to be, if I remember you right."

"You aren't the only girl who say that."

Her smile melted away then, and Nathan berated himself for saying such a thing.

“You’re very perceptible. I live in a house full of perfectly seeing people, and none of them identify what I think or feel.” He smiled sadly, trying to cover up his slip of the tongue.

“I’m sorry for that, Nathan. You shouldn’t be made feel this way.” She raises her hands to him. He picks them up and cradle them on his. “People are good in hiding emotions in their faces, but not on their voices, not on their bodies. If there is one good thing about being blind is that it is difficult to be lied to.”

They took a minute to enjoy each other’s bodily presence, one that was too soon interrupted by a loud cough from Mrs. Higginbotham. All the older teens behind her stifled their laughter, seeming to know what was going on.

"What piece then?" Nathan questioned, a smile seeming stuck on his face. He just could not stop smiling.

"How about Dvořák?" She offers. “The fourth duet.”

"I like it." He murmured, watching as she fumbled with the stacks of scores for a moment before pulling out the desired one.

"I hope you'd have no problem with it. Um, no, I'm not underestimating you, it's just..."

He laughed. "No worries, Emily. I can cope, and I know you're not."

He could not help the arrogance that slipped through, but it was him, after all. He was not called a piano prodigy for nothing. His thumb brushed her warm cheek casually before they turned to the score before them.

He counted softly under his breath before his fingers swept over the keys in a beautiful, enchanting dance. The soft, soothing melody filled the room, their music interacting beautifully on the dusty air, and a smile would surface on both Nathan's and Emily's face as a surge of electricity run through their veins.

"Beautiful piece, isn't it?" Emily whispered, almost too soft for him to hear as their fingers choreographed a breath-taking dance, without any rehearsals or practice. They felt whole.

"Yes." Nathan murmured, unable to stop the next sentence from slipping out. "More beautiful when it's played with you."

He knew that out of all the girls he had been with, she, Emily Harper, the ghost of Birchport, brought out the best in him. He did not need to look at her to know she was smiling a timid smile.

They struck a final chord and simultaneously turned to face each other; though Emmy could not see him, before breaking out into a joyful laughter. The people in the room started laughing too.

The younger children had no idea what was happening, but they joined in, clapping their hands and squealing, immersing themselves in the happy and light atmosphere.

The fingers that were once dancing over the keys were now interlaced with each other tightly.

He knew it then, as he swept a strand of brown hair away from her closed eyes, a beautiful smile on her face; that he wanted her to love him; that he wanted them to be together.

"Emily." He murmured, cupping her face gently in his hands, before he pressed a soft kiss against her full, pouty ones, watching as a familiar red coloured her cheeks.

"Yes?" She answered breathlessly.

He smiled. "I promise I’ll share my eyes with you, if you promise to always be with me."

He watched a tear escape from the corner of her closed eye, before leaning forward and capturing it with his finger.

“I promise.” She whispered.

The children cheered while Mrs. Higginbotham looked at them with a berating eye-stare, scolding them for the display, but she could not stop a soft smile from spreading across her face, either.

*_*_*_*_*

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