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voidstilesplease · 3 years

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there you are, and I run

pairing: stiles/theo | rating: M | word count: approx. 5,500 (chapter 5) | tags: Hogwarts AU, Triwizard Tournament, Slytherin!Stiles, Durmstrang!Theo, Magic, Witches and Wizards | warning: sexual content (chapter 5)

summary: The Room Where It Happened of Requirement. That's all.

chapter 5/ Read on AO3

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January 10th – 15 days after the Yule Ball; a month and two weeks before the Second Task

“ In ancient Greek mythology ,” Allison started with a little frown, reading from the tome that Stiles had handed to her as soon as the Slytherin got her alone in an empty classroom. “ – a Siren is a hybrid creature with the body of a bird and the head of a human .” It hadn’t been as easy as Stiles thought, convincing Allison to come with him, which was, really, kind of insulting and maybe a bit gratifying, too (actually, plenty gratifying). She’d warily observed each turn they made even as she focused on Stiles, reading his body movements for any potential assault. Her body was tense the entire trip, arms rigid at the sides, ready to slide her wand out of her sleeve should the need to defend herself arose. If Stiles were Theo, he would understand the suspicion – he would be, too. But what did Allison think Stiles would do to her, seriously ? “ Sirens are dangerous creatures who live on rocky islands and lure sailors to their doom with their sweet song –“ Allison cut off, dropping the book to her lap and raising an exasperated look at Stiles. “Stiles, will you just tell me the point of this?”

Stiles huffed, pushing his back from the door to walk closer. “You French school people are so snooty and impatient.” He muttered as he hopped and situated himself on top of the teacher’s desk, shaking his head lightly. Allison rolled her eyes, mouth twitching a little at the comment, but continued staring pointedly. Stiles exhaled in defeat. “Sirens,” he said, at last, pausing a little. “That’s the next task.”

Allison’s brows furrowed, “Sirens?”

Stiles nodded, reaching inside his pocket for the wing locket – the clue he’d won during the First Task. He showed it to Allison, “I’ve cracked the clue,” he paused, considered it, and amended his statement with a little exhale, “Actually, we’ve cracked the clue – Theo and me.”

The Beauxbatons girl raised both eyebrows at that, looking more skeptical by the second.

“Something about the rune positions, apparently,” Stiles offered in explanation, gesturing at said runes on the locket. “He translated them. And that led to me thinking about the Mirror of Erised at the Room of Requirement . We went there, and the mirror showed me the next task – Sirens.” He crossed his arms, narrowing his eyes a little. “You have heard about both the Mirror of Erised and the Room of Requirement , right?”

Allison bit her lip a little hesitantly, but she nodded. “Lydia has told me about them.”

Stiles knew that. Lydia had mentioned that she had indeed shared to Allison the wonderful mysteries of Hogwarts in exchange for the wonderful mysteries of Beauxbatons. An academic trade was what Lydia called it. She had even suggested that Stiles could use Theo’s inclination for mouthy Slytherin wizards to collect intelligence about Durmstrang and the dark arts. After all, if any school had more mystery than the others, it was Durmstrang Institute. A school that wasn’t on any magical map? Sounds exactly like something right up Lydia and Stiles’s alley indeed. But he had immediately shut her off. Although, if Stiles squinted really hard, he would find he was already doing that, wasn’t he? Not deliberately, no, but all the same. Being around Theo so much, he had already amassed lots about his life in Durmstrang – the rough training they go through, all the commonplace near-death experiences, the impossible expectations sitting in their shoulders, never trusting anyone not to smother you in your sleep. Fun stuff. He had even demonstrated dark magic right in front of Stiles.

“ The Mirror of Erised is a magical mirror that shows the deepest, most desperate desires of the heart.” Allison recited as if repeating the exact words that Lydia had told her. “And the Room of Requirement is a secret room within Hogwarts Castle that only appears when a person is in great need of it.”

“Five points for Beauxbatons.”

Allison rolled her eyes good-naturedly. At least she wasn’t regarding him like a snake about to eat her anymore.

Stiles smiled at her before continuing. “Anyway, that’s how we decoded the clue. We’ve been reading about it for the past two weeks.”

There was a thoughtful look on her face as she silently pondered on the information she was given. Finally, after a long moment, she lifted her eyes and nodded to herself, closing the tome and putting it on the desk before her. “Okay, but why are you telling me?” Allison asked, crossing her arms and raising a questioning brow.

Stiles shrugged. “It seems only fair,” he replied honestly, fastening the locket around his neck. He gave it a soft pat afterward. “Theo knows, I know, so you should, too. Sirens are dangerous creatures.”

“Do you really believe that they are in possession of a live Siren?” Allison gestured at the book. “I know a little about these creatures; we studied them at Beauxbatons, too. They’re truly more mythical than real now, Stiles.”

Stiles nodded in agreement, “And the closest kin we can associate to them are the merfolks, which are very much real .”

“So, the merfolks could be the actual next task?”

Stiles shrugged again, “They’re part of the next task. The last Triwizard tournament coordinated with them for one of the tasks, after all. They could do it again.”

Allison lowered her eyes in thought.

“Look,” Stiles hopped down the desk to stand directly in front of the girl. When she looked up, nibbling on her lower lip, he continued. “I’m not asking you to trust me. I just want you to know, that’s all.”

Allison hummed, giving Stiles a speculative look. Slowly, the slight frown on her lips formed into a smile. “So,” she straightened up, tone light and playful now. “What else did you and the Durmstrang boy do in the Room of Requirement?”

Instantly, Stiles felt his cheeks getting warm. He snatched the book from the table and rushed to say, “ Nothing .”

***

Nothing that he was insane to share with Allison, or anyone else, for that matter.

It had been almost 3 in the morning when the pair of them arrived at the seventh-floor corridor where the door to the Room of Requirement was located. It was harder to escape from pissed Malia and Erica than sober Malia and Erica, apparently. And there was Jackson, completely off his trolley, who attempted the jelly-leg jinx on Theo and backfired tremendously because the tosser had pointed the business end of his wand on himself. They were hollering and hauling Jackson’s body to the sleeping quarters by the time they exited the Slytherin Common Room.

They stopped by a familiar expanse of wall. Theo was the first to break the silence. “Last time we were here, we had an unfinished business.”

Stiles’s lips thinned to a line. He did not want to think about the last time they were there. Especially not after the heated events of the past hour. Stiles was sure that had Jackson not been his usual wanker self, they would have been kissing, tongue and all, right there in the Slytherin Common Room for everyone’s viewing. Or, if they had not been distracted by the wing locket, they would have been horizontal on the bed now, frotting against each other, and Stiles would have lost the challenge – proven to Theo that he had not an ounce of control when it came to him. But they were not there for that . They were on official Triwizard champion duty.

“Last time we were here,” Stiles gritted out, facing away from Theo to hide his inflamed cheeks. “You made up my mind to put my name into the Goblet of Fire.”

Theo scoffed, looking put out, stepping closer so he could confront the side of Stiles’s face. “I told you the exact opposite of that.”

Stiles still refused to look at him directly, choosing to side-eye the Durmstrang boy. “Which is why I did the exact opposite of what you told me.”

There was a brief pause from the other boy before he scoffed again, utterly disbelieving. “You’re so contrary .”

This time, Stiles looked up to meet his eyes in the dimness of the corridor. With a tiny upward tug on the corner of his lips, he repeated Theo’s words from earlier. “It’s part of my charm, though, right?”

Theo did not answer with words. Instead, his eyes fell on Stiles’s lips once more and remaining there until the door to the Room of Requirement appeared.

They both know the answer to their question.

***

When they entered the room, it was like they opened a portal into a dimension filled with all kinds of objects you can think of: broken and functioning, ancient and modern, small and gargantuan, ordinary and dangerous. But the powerful magic surrounding the room, converging from all of the objects it held, even the defectives, was unmissable. It shrouded them like an invisible cloak the moment they entered – as if the very air they breathed was magic. It was very different from the first time they had been there together. Then, there was only a king-sized four-poster bed in the middle of a spacious but otherwise empty room. When Stiles went before that, it was the same, except the bed was sometimes a table and a chair or a cozy settee beside a crackling fire. Now, it was a whole dumpster site of magical items.

There was a wood dresser on the left side overflowing with golden trinkets; hundreds of piles of tomes and parchments; several instruments littered about, including a grand piano with a missing leg, a cello with broken strings, and a rusty harp that was playing music by itself. On their right were potteries in various sizes and shapes and artwork, brimming with sparkling gemstones; a whole cupboard of old broomsticks and random pieces of broken furniture. Even the ceiling had many embellishments hanging up like dozens of old, flickering chandeliers, levitating lamps, and even a lonely, single, time-worn shoe. It was impossible to find anything there – especially something you'd not seen in your life. But the Mirror of Erised was there somewhere, and they had to try. If only Stiles knew a summoning spell that would not call the furniture to crush Theo and him to mangled bones and flesh…

“How are we going to find the mirror?” Theo spoke behind Stiles, gaze wandering the vastness of the room. “This place probably has hundreds of them.”

“The Mirror of Erised is only one,” Stiles responded with more confidence than he actually felt. But he had enough. He already had a mental list of spells they could try. “We’ll find it eventually.”

“Yeah, in a decade, give or take.”

Pursing his lips in annoyance, Stiles turned to Theo. “You can turn back, you know? I’d still tell you the clue.”

“And leave you here alone?” Theo gave him a dry look as if Stiles was daft for even suggesting it. “Yeah, fat chance, babe.”

Stiles sneered at the endearment, but Theo ignored him and walked ahead of Stiles, procuring his wand in his hand. “If you get trapped in here, there are many witnesses that knew I came with you.” Halting in his steps, he wrinkled his nose at Stiles. “I’d rather not be the primary suspect for kidnapping you.”

Stiles snorted, “So you’d rather get stuck?”

“With you,” Theo added smoothly, smiling widely because he knew exactly what that did to Stiles. “That’s the vital bit.”

Stiles wanted to retort with something witty; he was usually good at that. But he wasn’t as sober as he thought he was, it appeared. His brain was still muddled, and Theo was a pretty strong toxin.

Shushing the traitorous uptick in his heartbeat, Stiles rolled his eyes and exhaled a long-suffering sigh. It was not the time.

Pretending he was less affected than he actually was, he took his wand from his pocket and muttered the first spell on his list – an advanced magical-signature tracking spell. Ignoring the wide grin still plastered on Theo’s face, he pushed past the git and barraged deeper into the sea of artefacts without looking back if Theo followed. Of course, he followed. He followed because he was infuriatingly dedicated like that. Dedicated on driving Stiles to the brink.

And Stiles was not far behind.

***

They found the mirror quicker than they expected, which made sense to Stiles because they did seek the help of the Room of Requirement to find it specifically . So, more than likely, the room had opened to the exact section where the Mirror of Erised was nearest. It wasn’t Stiles’s tracking spell that found it, though – not conclusively – but Theo.

Stiles was still walking ahead of the Durmstrang boy, resolutely keeping his distance, as he followed the tug of his magic and checked side-by-side, up-and-down thoroughly, trying his damnest not to pause and gawk at every single fascinating thing he came across. He unveiled every looking glass they passed by, running his tracer magic on each one, hoping to catch a unique signature that would identify the artifact as old, rare, and extremely powerful – anything that would separate it from the other magic in the surrounding. The spell had drawbacks, of course, Stiles recognized that. The room probably had thousands of old, rare, and powerful artefacts (most might even be older than the mirror they came for) – it wouldn’t necessarily isolate the Mirror of Erised from everything with similar magical signatures.

He contemplated switching to the next spell on his list when he heard Theo speak.

“Do you see that?”

Stiles drew away from the set of portraits he accidentally uncovered – everyone in it grumbling and cussing Stiles for disturbing their slumber. Stiles quickly draped the cloth back over them – to look at Theo.

The Durmstrang boy was looking onward, a little farther from where they stood, and Stiles followed his line of sight. All he saw was a darker pathway with more antique broken objects.

“What?”

Theo pointed, “That,” he muttered, walking towards whatever it was that he saw.

Curious, Stiles tailed closely.

Theo had stopped in front of a huge ornate mirror with a gold frame. Stiles inched nearer and almost jumped in glee upon reading the inscription around it: Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi . Unbelievable. It was there; they had found it! A quick tempus charm would confirm that they had only begun searching less than twenty minutes ago. And it was now in their presence!

Stiles grinned, turning to his companion. “This is it! The Mirror of Erised .”

But Theo only stared at the mirror, brows furrowed in deep concentration. Stiles could only see Theo watching his reflection. But from the way his eyes moved around, his face flickering with different emotions (more than he ever saw Theo wear), Stiles quickly realized that the mirror was serving its purpose – showing people their desires. Stiles wondered silently, what could Theo be seeing ? What does someone like him desire the most ? More wealth? Prestige? More possession of the Dark Arts? Does Theo desire something mundane and vague as love and happiness? If so, what scene does he see himself in that includes being in love and happy? Around a family of his own, maybe? A wife, their two-and-a-half children, in a country manor with a vast field of green dragon berry trees?

Stiles broke from his stupor when the Durmstrang boy stepped away from the mirror, eyes alight in awe and trepidation. Then, softly, he chuckled without humor. “This mirror is cursed.”

Stiles glanced at him questioningly. “Because it shows you what you want?”

Theo turned to him, face set in a hard expression. He almost looked pained. “Because it shows you what you want that you evidently can’t have.”

Their eyes met, and Stiles saw the yearning and defeat in Theo’s. It was probably the most earnest he’d ever seen Theo. Something had truly rattled him. What did he see ? He thought again. What did the mirror show him that he – who, on the face of it, has everything – desires so much because he believes he can’t have it ?

Stiles shook his head and replied, “You don't know that,” He pressed on even as Theo scoffed. “If you want something enough, Theo, you devise means to achieve it.”

“Even at the expense of everything else?” Theo challenged.

“Yeah!” Stiles cried out. “Who said ambitions were always smart?”

There was a moment’s pause following Stiles’s statement before Theo lowered his eyes. Stiles wanted to say something sarcastic to break the ice – he wasn’t used to Theo like this – but he didn’t think it would be helpful at the moment. When it became apparent that Theo wasn’t going to say anything more, Stiles decided to take his previous position and face the Mirror of Erised as they came to do. Anyway, if Theo allowed it, they could talk about… feelings , after. Although Stiles reckoned Theo would probably pretend this moment of vulnerability didn’t happen once they were out in the real world, he was oddly hopeful. Because it actually felt nice, even if he would never admit it out loud, to be the only one to see Theo this way. At least, he thought he was the only one.

Stiles internally sighed and shook his head. Emotions were so weird . He was never not conflicted having them – too many and too foreign and always in-between.

He cleared his throat and stood before the mirror, forcing his mind to clear. He heard Theo shuffle behind him but otherwise remained silent, watching Stiles as Stiles had done with him earlier.

Stiles swallowed, taking a deep breath, and barred any other thoughts in his mind apart from one – his longing to win the Triwizard tournament. His victory during the First Task ignited it fully; he wasn’t just in it for the thrill – he wanted the galleons, the look of awe and jealousy directed to him, the pride, the fame, the glory. He wanted to emerge victorious on the other side. And he was going to get that if he knew how to arm himself for the Second Task. He would know how to arm himself if the mirror showed him what he would need to arm himself against. The mirror could show him.

He repeated it inside his head like an incantation.

Soon enough, his reflection started distorting, forming vague shapes like images through water, until it became a vision of him brandishing the Triwizard Cup in the air as fireworks of silver and green erupted in the sky. It was quick, but it brought the biggest grin on his face, then the mirror cleared once more. He was about to think “ that’s it ?” when the wing locket around his neck began unfurling. Stiles’s eyes widen, and his hand immediately flew to the jewelry. When he looked down, however, it was still the same: a pair of wings enclosed together, cold on his skin.

He looked up to the mirror, but his reflection was holding an opened locket. Stiles gaped in astonishment.

“Do you see anything?” Theo asked, stepping forward.

Stiles nodded, eyes still fixed on the figure inside the mirror.

Faintly, the runes glowed, and so did the encryptions that Theo’s spell created on the locket. Listen to the desire of the heart . Belatedly, Stiles thought that the opened locket now resembled a heart, actually. Then slowly, Stiles’s reflection raised the unfurled locket to his ear and held it there. Confused, Stiles mimicked and brought the golden wings to his hear.

Merlin’s fruit basket , Stiles swore, but he could hear whispers from within the locket! Listen to the desire of the heart – Stiles wanted to laugh out loud because that was almost too literal, wasn’t it? Excitedly, he pressed the locket more firmly to his ear, but the melodious whispers, almost as if singing to him, stayed garbled and incomprehensible. He started getting pissed after a moment – he, unfortunately, didn’t speak nonsense – until he caught on to a specific word: Seirḗn .

A Siren.

***

“The next task is a Siren ?” Theo asked dubiously, as they were tracing back to the exit.

“It makes sense, actually,” Stiles replied, glancing sideways at Theo, and his mind wandering to each clue, making sense of them now. “First, this is a wing locket. Sirens are depicted as half-woman half-bird hybrids. Then, when the wings open, it forms into the shape of a heart. The rune on the locket says: ‘ listen to the desire of the heart ’. And sirens are mythical creatures known to sing the yearnings of a person to lure them to their death.” Theo nodded along to his points, brows drawn together in musing. “And now this .” Stiles opened his palm to reveal a small, white object.

Right after Stiles heard his final and most concrete clue, the Mirror of Erised returned to being a simple looking glass, and the wing locket in Stiles’s hand pried open unprompted. A white object fell from the locket and into Stiles’s curious hand.

Theo looked down at it, wrinkling nose. “What’s that?”

“Wax.”

“ Wax ?”

“For noise-canceling,” Stiles explained, giving Theo a dull look. “It was what ancient Greeks used to survive a Siren’s song. You should know it since you apparently read Greek literature.”

Theo returned the look with a mild glare. “I know about that . It's why I also know that a tiny glob of it won’t do any good. It doesn’t even look like there’s enough for one ear.”

“I can make additional, Theo,” Stiles answered, already mentally listing ingredients he thought would be needed. “But obviously, it’ll take time. Thank Merlin, we have over a month to get ready. And we also have to read more about Sirens.”

“Hurray.”

They fell into silence, Stiles drawing a plan inside his head and Theo wordlessly walking beside him. He was more or less back to classic Theo – Stiles was convinced that the brief moment they shared would be pushed down to forgotten lane – and though a part of him was disappointed, it might be for the best. If Stiles were hard-pressed on not crossing the line, then confiding weaknesses should be out of the trade. This tension between them was frustrating, but it was safe. Safe was okay. Safe was preferable.

Suddenly, he found himself being shoved to a wall. He was too surprised and tired – it was past three in the morning – to react quickly. He grunted softly, but the impact hardly hurt. One of Theo’s hands cushioned his head protectively, and he only stared wide-eyed as Theo pushed closer and caged Stiles between a random wall and his body. His really hot body – Merlin, he was a furnace. He knew the Durmstrang delegates could create sparks with the tip of their magic canes, but Theo could make fire . Stiles saw it – many, many times after the Welcome Feast. Theo was always eager to demonstrate. He enjoyed watching Stiles’s open-mouthed response and the way his eyes would glaze over. Theo was always burning, and Stiles would have complained if only the burn didn’t feel perfect.

He only hoped he wasn’t leaning against temperamental portraits who cursed in seven languages because then, it wouldn’t be as perfect.

“What are you doing?” He hissed, but his hands grappled on both sides of Theo’s waist, the wax still clutched in one.

Theo’s other hand curled around Stiles’s neck and started playing with the tips of his hair. His eyes locked on Stiles. “You said that if I wanted something enough, I would have to make ways to get it.”

Stiles’s pulse quickened. “Your heart’s greatest desire isn’t seriously to have sex with me.” He tried to sound jeering, but he had turned into a gasping mess. One of Theo’s knees had parted his legs and pressed their lower halves together.

“No,” Theo’s hot breath fanned across Stiles’s face, his calloused thumb caressing Stiles’s jaw, and his voice dropped to a whisper. “But I want you badly, nonetheless.”

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hello! I've reached the maximum limit for a long post, apparently (didn't know there was one!), so I had to cut the scene. Sorry. If you wanna continue reading, it's on AO3! If not, thank you for still reaching this part!

Byeee 🖤

#steo #teen wolf #stiles stilinski #theo raeken #stiles x theo #hogwarts au #fics tag #after 9 months here's an update heh

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blueboxesandtrafficcones · 4 years

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A Muppet Family Christmas

Day 13 of 2018′s 31 Days of Christmas. Note: new for 2020. Credited as 2018 for organizational purposes, & back-filling the prompt.

Thanks to @doctorroseprompts for the prompt list!

Prompt: Holiday movies

Rating: T (sexual themes, alcohol)

Pairing: TenxRose (AU)

Summary: Despite being mid-January James and Rose have a Christmas-movie watching date, and open up about old grief amidst being childish with the Muppets and Mario Kart. Part of the Cosier With You ‘verse.

2018 31 Days of Ficmas Masterlist | Cosier With You ‘Verse

AO3

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With a final swipe of gloss across her lips, Rose returned the lipstick to her purse, fluffed her hair, and knocked on the door.

“It’s open!”

Pushing the door open, she grinned at the sight that greeted her. Hair still obviously wet from the shower, her boyfriend of three weeks (and counting!) stood on the far side of his kitchen island, preoccupied with a popcorn popper that was spitting out perfectly popped corn. “Hey!” he greeted her warmly, as she dumped her stuff and came around to his side. “Missed you.”

“I saw you this morning,” she laughed, kissing him hello. “Mm, you taste like butter.”

“I had to make sure it was good,” James shrugged, gesturing to the half-full bowl catching the freshly popped corn. “Only the best for you. And yes, but we were at your place of work, surrounded by people. I much prefer when we’re alone.”

“So do I.” Wrapping her arms around his waist, she rested her head on his bicep. “Remind me why we’re watching Christmas movies in mid-January?”

James eased out of her arms as the popper wound down, dumping the last of the kernels into the bowl before switching the machine off. “Because I don’t want to wait a year to curl up with you and popcorn and watch cheesy Christmas-themed movies with you.” He nodded towards a bottle of white wine and two glasses on the counter, still chilled from the fridge, waiting for Rose to grab them before guiding her to the couch, which was already prepared for the evening.

Two soft, fleece-lined blankets stood at the ready, along with the pillows from his bed. A stack of DVDs sat on the coffee table, two drink coasters optimally positioned, and to complete the Christmas-y vibe, all the decorations, including the tree, were still up.

“So, for future reference, do you typically leave the tree up this long?” she asked, plopping down roughly in the middle of the couch and pulling out the pre-popped cork. “‘Cause I’ve gotta be honest, mine’s been down since the third, and this might be a sticking point in the future.”

He laughed, settling next to her and reaching for his glass. “No, but… I’m not ready to take it down yet, this year. I’m afraid…”

“What?” She took her own glass, leaning back into the cushions and giving him her full attention.

“I’m afraid that this- what we have- is a function of Christmas magic, and if I remove the decorations…” he trailed off, ears flushing. “Point is, I’m not taking any chances on this.”

Rose grinned, blushing herself, and wiggled closer. “I’m not going to disappear if you take your tree down,” she promised. “And I’m mostly teasing you – it’s sort of nice, it still being up. Not sure I’d say the same if I was living- with one still up,” she faltered, and they shared a smile at what was unsaid- “but… yeah. I wouldn’t want to jinx us either. I’ve been wanting this for so long.”

“Me too.” He leaned forward, and they met in the middle in a kiss that tasted of salt from the popcorn, tart from the wine, and sweet from what she was learning was just him. “Mhmm, you’re too tempting,” he accused without heat when he pulled back for breath. “This isn’t why I asked you over.”

“All right, all right,” she resettled herself with a laugh. “Fine, we can Netflix then Chill, if that’s what you really want.”

His ears and neck turned a delightful shade of scarlet, and he all but lunged for the stack of DVDs, voice squeaking as he said, “So! What shall we start with?”

Leaning in again she rested her cheek against his shoulder as they shuffled through the selection, and it took everything she had not to scoff at the final option, managing a neutral tone to say, “A Muppet Family Christmas?”

James stilled beside her, and she was glad she hadn’t laughed when a distant expression flashed across his face. “It was my dad’s favorite Christmas movie,” he said, hesitantly. “Mum hated it, but tolerated it when we were old enough to watch it. It became our thing, me Donna and Dad’s. She and I still watch it together every year.”

“Oh.” Rose tried to marshal her thoughts, recognizing that he was letting her in on something special, wondering distantly if it was some sort of test. “I’ve never actually seen it.”

“Really?”

She nodded. “Slightly before my time. I know who the Muppets are, of course, saw the Christmas Carol one, but… not this.”

He was silent for a moment, picking at the corner of the box. “D’you wanna?”

“Yes.” She surprised them both with the strength of her response, based on how James’ head flew up to blink at her. “Sounds like this might be the closest I get to meeting your Dad, so- let’s do it.”

His blinding smile told her it was absolutely the right answer.

By the end of the movie they were snuggled together, singing along at the top of their lungs to the final song, even as it trailed off to the credits.

“-And a happy new year!” they finished, before breaking into peals of laughter.

“Oh, I loved it,” Rose proclaimed, wiping tears of merriment from her eyes. “I can’t believe I’ve never seen that – it’s adorable!”

Beside her, James made a happy noise, pressing his face into her bicep. “Really?”

Wriggling around, Rose waited until she could meet his eye to respond. “Really,” she said firmly. “There’s something special about it. And more importantly, it’s special to you. So it’s special to me. Thank you for sharing this bit of yourself with me.” No words could express how honored she felt, that he was comfortable sharing something so personal with her. It made her a little wistful for her own father; while both men were gone, James had at least grown up with his father, known him in person- Rose had been a baby when Pete died.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” James’ concerned tone dragged her out of the spiral of her thoughts, and she looked up at him when he brushed at her cheek. “You’re crying.”

She bit her lip. “I was just thinking about my own dad,” she said truthfully. “I’d give anything to share something like this with him. Or, anything, really. I was six months when he- when we lost him. I mean, on bank holidays Mum and I watch old Cliff Richards movies, but… it’s not quite the same as this.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up a… a sad memory for you.” His soulful chocolate eyes felt like they could see into her very heart, and she pushed down the ever-present but background grief.

“It’s okay. Sometimes it hits me in the weirdest moments. And I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to meet your Dad – he sounds wonderful, based on your stories.” Then she bolted upright, as a memory surfaced. “Holy shit – I think I did meet your dad! Three Christmases ago, the first couple months you were coming in – we didn’t have much of a relationship then, but I still clocked you every time, ‘cause you’re so bloody cute, and I remember you came in a few days before Christmas with an older man! You’d been out shopping, and blimey, he looked just like you!”

James was silent for a long moment, before exhaling. “Blimey, I think you’re right. I’d forgotten – I was sweet on your even then, and I think he noticed, ‘cause he kept teasing me. I never took him back, for fear of him embarrassing me. But… yeah, there you go. You did meet him. And he liked you, much as he could in thirty seconds. Kept egging me to ask you out, and I brushed him off. If only I’d listened to him…”

They sat with that, imaging what could have been, before Rose clapped her hands. “No, we are not going down that rabbit hole. Let’s be grateful that we got there, and we’re here now. Trust me, I spent my entire life pretending not to notice how my mum had one foot stuck in the could-have-beens. Better not to start down that path.” She reached for the bottle of wine, but it was empty. ��What d’you say we go do some stargazing?”

“Or…” he drawled, raising an eyebrow, “we could continue on our childish theme and play Mario Kart.”

“That’s what I’m talking about!”

By the third race their maudlin musings had been all but forgotten, as they battled it out for first place with taunts and good-natured ribbing, giving no quarter and playing as though their lives depended on it – complete with over-dramatic victory dances and cheering.

“Oh, come on!” James protested, as Rose eked out a second win by a breath. “You’re cheating!”

“Am not,” she denied, settling back on the couch after a final celebratory kick. “Novice, remember? Beginner’s luck?”

He grumbled, turning to look at her. “Care to make it more interesting?”

“How so?”

“Winner takes a shot, loser loses an item of clothing?”

Rose laughed, shaking her head. “You want to turn strip-racing into a drinking game?” Leaning back, she considered her outfit and his, then the empty bottle of wine. “What d’you got for shots?”

A rifle through the fridge produced a cold bottle of peppermint schnapps, “In keeping with the Christmas theme,” he declared, setting it on the coffee table along with two shot glasses. “Hope you’re thirsty.”

Shaking her head, Rose folded her legs beneath her. “You do know I’m a sure thing, right?” she teased, choosing the next track in the game. “You don’t need to get me drunk, or strip to get me interested.”

“Someone’s confident in themself, aren’t they?” he leered. “Better watch out – who knows what the promise of getting you in your knickers will do to my ability in the game?”

“Not a thing,” she shot back, catching her tongue between her teeth. “Because there’s no where you’re getting me in my knickers.” She started the race, laughing at his outraged yelp.

“We’ll see.”

The light turned green and they took off, and Rose waited until they were near the end and he was slightly ahead to say, “I’d have to be wearing knickers for you to see me in them.” As predicted he startled, going so far as to drop his controller, and with a laugh, she sped across the finish line for her third win in a row. As her character (Princess Peach, natch) was crowned, she turned to watch him splutter, eyes wide.

Finally, he just pointed, making a wheezing sound. “You…”

She took her shot first, nearly coughing at the overwhelming peppermint flavor, before turning her whole body to him. “Strip, loser,” she ordered with a smirk. “And, in case you don’t believe me…” Brave off the half-bottle of wine and the shot, she lifted her leg to splay it along the back of the sofa, confirming for him that she wasn’t wearing anything beneath her skirt. Laughing at the awestruck look on his face she returned to facing the telly, tucking her knees primly together. “I held up my end of the bargain…”

Coming back to life, he shook his head in disgust. “You’re not playing fair.” He whipped his shirt off, revealing his lovely muscular chest, and her knees squeezed together just a bit tighter.

“Well, lose quicker then, so we can go to bed.”

He didn’t win a single race after that, but an hour later, flat on his back on his living room floor wearing only a single sock, with a sticky and sweaty Rose collapsed on his chest, he couldn’t be bothered to care.

“I love Christmas.”

#bbatcfic #doctorroseprompts #31 Days of Ficmas #31 Days of Ficmas 2018 #ficandchips #Doctor Who #TenxRose #Tenth Doctor #Human!Ten #Rose Tyler #A Muppet Family Christmas #holiday movies #Cosier With You Universe

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lilaclily00 · 5 years

Text

The Party That Went From Haunted to Worse: A Summerween Tale

Danny hates his life sometimes. And ghost portals. And his little sister. It’s a mistake going anywhere with her.

-_-_-_

I thought this was going to just... never see the light of day like most of my WIPs, but AU!Ghost August (Day 11: Crossover) gave me the drive to actually continue, finish, and post this monstrosity. Thanks for the excuse to put this out to the world!

This is the original post for the OC, and here’s the link to this story on AO3.

There's some Zalgo Text in here, so at the end I’ll have the... translations? Is that the right word? It looks better in AO3, though. :(

Thank you for helping me with this, @goinggoblin!!!

LET’S GOOO

-_-_-_ (I don’t think there’s horizontal lines anymore? Yikes)

Dani—known as Ellie around here—handed over the last of the fake spider-webbing. “There you go, Mabel.”

Mabel cheerfully thanked her from the ladder rungs, then turned back to stick it to the wall. “Now time for the paper stuff!”

“Are you sure it's okay to just...” Danny gestured around at the incomplete decorations strung around the designated party room.

Mabel waved him off over her shoulder, tacking up a cutesy paper skeleton onto the wall with her other hand, then a sheet ghost next to it. “Of course! We invited you!”

Ellie nudged Danny—well, it was much too hard of an elbowing to be classified as a nudge by most people, but not for them. “Lighten up, bro. It's not very often you get to go to parties, right?”

“Yeah. I know.” He knew she didn't mean his popularity—the fact it didn't exist—but that he just didn't have the time or energy for it most of the time. He wouldn't have gone to anything like this if she hadn't dragged him along as an excuse to take a break from ghost hunting.

Back in junior year, she’d sent him letters and photos from one of her longest stops in her travels, a dinky town called Gravity Falls, Oregon. She became good friends with a pair of twins around her age there, and they all stayed in touch afterwards. The twins invited her to hang out plenty since then, but this was the first time she told Danny to come along.

He had a complicated relationship with Halloween, considering the Fright Knight incident and all the kids and even adults that had started dressing up as Phantom (to varying levels of success and cringe). However, he had to admit he was intrigued with the idea of Summerween, especially when it was so far from Amity Park that its ghosts and fanbase would be very unlikely to interfere.

Even just thinking that, though, made him wonder if he just jinxed himself.

“Mabel,” they heard her twin call from the residential part of the Mystery Shack, “there's something wrong with the wig!”

Mabel shook her spiky, blue-haired head, hands on her red-uniformed hips. “No, there isn't! I would know!” She wagged her finger towards the visiting pair. “I'll go help him, so don't go anywhere!” She ran off, nearly tripping over her own costume.

“They really like to play up the twin thing, huh?” Danny asked his little sister in the silence. Someone had to acknowledge that the party's hosts were dressing up as Thing 1 and Thing 2. (He wasn’t sure what kinds of friends he suspected Ellie would make, but these two were a surprise.)

“At least they don't feel the need to be a walking pun at every opportunity,” she retorted, flipping back her Batman cape dramatically.

“I always am a walking pun. This is my truest self!” Danny gestured to his own costume, a classic zombie attire with green skin and fake blood everywhere.

“Har har.”

He looked over at the little pile of “spooky” images waiting on the top of the ladder, and took his pick of a large paper spider. He glanced back to the doorway where the twins disappeared off to, and quickly floated up to tape it to the ceiling with a grin.

“How are you going to explain how you got that there?” she giggled as he hovered back at her side.

“I won’t,” he replied smugly, touching ground. Just in time, too, as both Dipper and Mabel reappeared, now with their outfits and hair matching.

Mabel chirped, “If you guys help me with these last touches, this place will be perfect just in time for the party!”

Dipper fiddled with his sleeves, giving her a crooked smile. “At your orders, Mabes.”

-_-_-_

Danny was surprised by how many people actually showed up to what he expected to be a relatively small affair. Dipper had informed him that he and his sister lived in California for most of the year; despite that, it seemed the pair were very popular in their second home, Gravity Falls. Mabel introduced him to several of her friends, shouting over the loud pop music booming out the speakers, and he didn’t remember a single name.

Da—Ellie, he kept forgetting to call her that—was familiar with quite a few people, too. She stuck close to her big brother, though, until he ordered her to hang out with her friends instead. He appreciated the sentiment, but he could handle being by himself at a party.

Right?

He tried to dance for a few songs, but it wasn’t feeling natural. He then went to the refreshment tables for a jack-o-lantern cupcake. Maybe he needed to try to socialize after all. Hm, that one redheaded girl Mabel introduced to him seemed cool. He scanned the area for her face—

Wait.

His eyes narrowed, studying the long white hair halfway across the room. It wasn’t as glowy as usual, but he’d know that hair anywhere. He pocketed the cupcake wrapper and pushed his way through the crowd. Finally, his ghost sense said something as he crossed the dance floor.

"Hey, ghost girl!" he shouted over the music. Her head turned 180 like an owl, pigtails following slightly slower than physics demanded, then she calmly turned the rest of her body to him. Her ever-present blank, wide-eyed stare bored into him, and never strayed, as she easily swerved around the dancing kids toward him. He noticed that she made an effort of walking on the ground rather than floating.

"Hi, zombie," she replied, the slightest smile on her face showing she knew exactly who she was talking to. She was never really scared of him or angry at him. If anything, she seemed to like talking to him. He supposed it was because he was among the closest to her physical age in the Ghost Zone.

He was not going to be friendly, though, and showed it by crossing his arms at her. "What are you doing here?"

She clasped her hands behind her back. "I’d like to ask you that. You hardly ever leave your lair.”

Danny scrunched his eyebrows, then glanced around in case anyone heard her. “Do you mean Amity Park?”

“Yeah.”

He frowned warily. Considering their past interactions, it seemed like a genuinely curious question. She wasn’t the type to use his absence as a chance to cause chaos back home. (If only the other ghosts were the same way.) “I got invited to hang out here for the weekend. And I don’t think it counts as my lair.”

“I think it does,” she replied with the barest of shrugs, still staring at him, unblinking. “I’m here ‘cause a door opened up in the woods right by here," she added. "There was a flyer for this party taped up on a tree. It said there was gonna be cookies."

He scrunched his eyebrows. "You can't even eat human cookies." She finally blinked as that registered, and her gaze broke to look at the ground as she wilted under the weight of her disappointment. Drama queen. "And I know you're planning to scare the kids here, if you haven't already started. C'mon, let's go."

"What?" She flicked her eyes back up to him, igniting a small light in her irises, disrupting her otherwise unglowy appearance. Her entire face slowly, ever so slowly, began to twist clockwise on her head. "It's Summerween!"

He held up a hand; he knew exactly what she was going to argue. "I know it's like Halloween, but it's still the wrong date. We agreed on no mass hauntings outside of October 31st."

Her eyebrows just so slightly scrunched, about the closest she could get to looking angry. "This isn't a very big party."

He had to give her that; it was bigger than he expected, but still only a few dozen, which potentially wasn't enough to count as a mass of people. And everyone here was around their age, which was less worrying than her chasing down little kids just for a laugh.

Her big, empty eyes were unsettling, yet they nearly pleaded with him. He couldn't stand when she did that. He rubbed the side of his face in defeat, forgetting for a second about his zombie makeup. "Oh, fine! Only in this party. And nothing too scary. Otherwise, you go right into the thermos."

"Sounds good to me," she chirped, mouth curled into a small smile by her ear instead of her chin.

"Oh, do you guys know each other?" Danny glanced over to see the hosts themselves come from behind him. He turned back, tapping his cheek at the ghost. She knew the signal, and covered her face to recover its natural orientation.

"Kind of," he told Dipper.

The ghost girl uncovered her face, and smiled shyly at the twins. "I'm Lily. Nice to meet you." Danny raised his eyebrows at her; this whole time, she had an actual name?

"I'm Mabel! Lily, I love your costume!" Mabel squealed, hands smushing her own face. "You're so cute and creepy and ah!"

"Yeah, you did a great job," Dipper added, quiet admiration on his face as he quickly studied her appearance. Danny guessed he was wondering why the wig and body paint looked so realistic. Mabel did a fantastic job with their own costumes, but it was hard to make poofy, blue wigs not look like wigs. "I'm Dipper, by the way."

"You should totally enter the costume contest!" Mabel added, hands hovering, as if itching to reach out and inspect Lily's dress. "It’s later tonight!"

"Oh, maybe I will," she said, eyes flickering between the twins. They fixed onto Dipper when he had looked back up to her face. After a few seconds of an impromptu staring contest, Dipper turned his eyes away, blinking and glancing at Danny, unsure of himself.

Mabel seemed to not have noticed, as she continued rambling to Lily, who patiently listened, empty eyes directed back to Mabel and small smile held up.

"She takes Halloween——er, and Summerween costumes very seriously," Danny told Dipper. "Pretty sure she'll try to creep the crap out of everybody here."

"Well, seems like she's actually good at it," the boy admitted with an awkward chuckle. "But hey, that's what this holiday is for, right?"

-_-_-_

Lily was right there, right in plain sight, swaying to the music by herself, but Danny knew she wasn’t as innocent as she looked. Even now, she was beginning her haunting.

It was just little stuff. There were a few small spiders on the fake webs, real ones. The door opened automatically for newcomers. The jack-o-lantern cupcakes, once all smiling, now had one smiling evilly in the center of the platter while the rest wore a fearful frown. She was staring blankly at Dipper at every opportunity.

Danny had fetched his thermos soon after their conversation and clipped it to his belt. He tried to distract himself by talking to people, like the girl that turned out to be named Wendy, and bopping his head to the background beat. Nonetheless, he couldn’t help but keep his eye on her and her effects. Why did his problems from home have to follow him everywhere? Why did he have to jinx himself?

He felt his sister ram into his back. "Danny, I sensed a ghost!"

"Yeah, so did I. It’s the white-haired girl. I worked out a deal with her," he immediately replied, sigh heavy and beyond his years.

Da—Ellie slowly shifted into a suspicious frown. "Wait, what? What kind of deal?"

"She gets to haunt the party for the night, and will peacefully return to the Ghost Zone after." Danny wilted under her glare. "Look, sh-she's even less harmless than the Box Ghost. She's all about the scare factor, doesn't try to hurt anyone—well, maybe makes them lose their sleep if they can't handle horror movies, but still. If I don't compromise here, she'll go for much bigger plans later to spite me. I promise I know what I'm doing!"

"Since when have you known what you're doing?" She shook her head, surely knowing how very offended he was by her comment. "This just doesn't sound like you, bro."

He shrugged exaggeratedly. "She doesn't operate the same way as most ghosts."

“So that made it okay to let loose a prankster ghost on these people?”

“Well, geez, it sounds terrible if you put it like that.”

She shook her head at him again before turning away with a dramatic cape twirl. He suddenly realized she does that at him a lot.

-_-_-_

Something was off.

Dipper had made all the necessary precautions for a Summerween party he could think of. He had left anti-magic wards hidden around the house—not unicorn hair strong, but still effective against most of what could possibly threaten a gathering like this. He’d cleared out the trash cans so the gnomes would have no reason to stick around. He locked up Gompers in the attic (he never proved to be dangerous, but that goat was terrifying).

But then when he went to take a break by a cobwebbed corner, he found real spiders on it. A lot of real spiders. The party lights, which were supposed to change color every few seconds, got stuck on red when he passed by them. The doors creaked open ominously when anyone came near them. He went to pour out some fruit punch, and the dispenser screamed when he pressed on it.

Every time he noticed one of these things, he glanced around him and immediately found that ghost girl staring straight at him.

Dipper ran to check the nearest ward, but it was still intact. However, there was something written next to it on the wall, in red.

You think you can keep me out?

Well, that wasn’t good.

The only suspect so far was the girl—Lily, right? Perhaps she wasn’t just dressed up as a ghost after all. But she looked too solid to be a ghost, though he hadn’t seen anyone actually try to touch her yet, and these things that were happening just didn’t have the same MO as the ghosts described in the Journals or those he faced in the past. But what other kinds of supernatural creatures could do things like this? Which ones would?

Mabel poked his shoulder, startling him enough that he bumped against the wall. She didn’t laugh, however, her attention focused on his wig. Eyes narrowed, she slowly said, “Dipper, is there blood in your hair?”

He ripped the wig off his head. Red liquid seeped out of its roots, matting down the poofed hair. He hesitantly touched a finger to it and sniffed. It smelled like copper.

Mabel pulled her own off, and found the same result. Face scrunched up in disgust, she tossed it to him and ran off to the bathroom. He could hear the door creak much louder than normal even from here.

Lily was staring at him, a blank smile on her face.

A part of him chastised himself for coming to conclusions too fast, but what other conclusion was there? And performing an exorcism, if it came to that, wouldn’t hurt something that wasn’t a ghost, right?

Clearly, what he needed to do next was talk to this girl, find out her motives before her little act became big. Just in case, though, he’d need to pull out that new silver mirror first.

-_-_-_

Amity Park and Gravity Falls were not very similar, but Danny realized there was something in common between their townsfolk: they were somewhat clueless. Not that he eavesdropped that much into the different conversations on the edges of the dance floor, but it seemed hardly anyone had noticed the odd tension in the air, the invisible slimy feeling on their skin of the supernatural hiding in their midst. Something coming.

Or, well, that that paper spider he stuck to the ceiling had grown several times its original size and crawled over one of the ceiling lights.

Ellie was consoling Mabel, who stood by the refreshments without her wig on. She glanced over to him a couple times just to glare.

He was trying to not keep his focus on Lily too much for his own sanity, but his eyes didn’t listen to his brain. They kept roaming the crowd to keep track of her. She looked like she wasn’t doing anything, but…

The eyes of the various wall decorations followed him wherever he went. Distant screaming could barely be heard over the music, if he tried to listen, but it came from nowhere. More spiders poured out of abandoned plastic cups. (She really liked that aesthetic, apparently.)

He only caught her in the act once at the refreshments table: she studied one of the Halloween-colored M&M cookies in her hand and threw it into her mouth. After a second, she pulled it back out, staring at it like it was the cause of all her problems. She disintegrated the cookie she couldn’t eat. When she turned away, all the other cookies had turned into oatmeal raisin.

How evil.

“Hey, Danny?”

He blinked and turned to see Wendy. She quirked her eyebrow at him. “What’s got you making that constipated face?”

He blinked at her even harder and she laughed. He huffed, scratching at his hair. “There’s just weird stuff going on.”

“Oh, yeah,” she agreed, “this party’s totally haunted.”

“Actually—” He had enhanced hearing, and he still wasn’t sure he heard that right. “Yeah, it is. You noticed?”

“Well, it was kinda hard to ignore.” She nodded to herself. “I thought I heard creepy laughing coming from the bathroom and there was nobody there. ‘I’m here’ was written on the mirror in blood, though. Once I came back out, more stuff just kept popping up. There’s definitely a ghost.”

Danny frowned. “And… why aren’t you freaked out?”

“Well, same reason you aren’t. Dipper’s gonna take care of it.”

Alarm bells rang in his head, drowning out that distant screaming. “What do you mean ‘take care of it’?”

She tilted her head quizzically. “Don’t you already know him? This is totally Dipper’s thing, knowing about the supernatural and saving people from it. He already took down ghosts before. He’s probably getting everything ready for an exorcism or something right now.”

Exorcism. Exorcism. His skin crawled at that word. Ellie was friends with a kid that performed exorcisms in his spare time?

He remembered that Lily had been pulling that constant-stare thing on Dipper before. She had stopped at some point, which meant Dipper was out of sight, which meant maybe he really was planning something to get rid of her. Permanently.

Wendy said, “Hey, man, you okay?” just loud enough to bring him back out of his thoughts.

“Yeah, uh, just need to find Dipper,” he muttered, turning away and quickly searching the room for his face. Where was that kid, where was he, where was he—?

He hadn’t noticed that the music had slowly quieted down until Mabel was shouting by the DJ table. “Hey, everybody! We’re gonna start the costume contest in five minutes! Come over here if you wanna be in it!” The lights flickered for a couple seconds. “Oh, that’s new! We’ll get Soos to fix ‘em!”

Okay, there’s Mabel. Where there’s Mabel, there’s likely a Dipper. Or maybe an Ellie. He figured he should probably talk to her, too, even if she’ll give him that look again, wondering how she shared the exact same DNA with his doofus self.

-_-_-_

Mabel watched as the chatter grew louder with her hands on her hips. “There you go, Dipdop, I moved up the contest. The sacrifices I make to my carefully planned schedules for you!” She turned back to the playlist and rose the volume. The song sounded strangely distorted and screechy and demented, causing everyone to cover their ears. She quickly stopped the music. “But I guess you’re right that things are getting out of hand.”

Yes, he was. The freaky little instances seemed to have gotten worse in the few minutes he had spent grabbing the mirror and Journal 3 upstairs. The fastest way to find the ghost: have her come to him.

Grenda and Candy came running up in their matching “party animals” costumes, along with a couple other kids they barely knew. Danny rushed to the table, eyes wide and much more awake than any zombie had the right to be. Dipper opened his mouth, about to turn that into an actual joke, but Danny beat him.

“Do you know anything about ghosts?” The words practically tumbled out of Danny’s mouth.

Dipper raised his eyebrows. “Well, yeah.”

“And how to defeat them?”

“Yeah?”

“What’s your plan?”

Dipper considered Danny’s strangely serious face. Then, he said, “Make her come out, find out her motives and if there’s something we can do to make her leave. Trap her away if she doesn’t want to, and exorcise her as a last resort.”

Danny set his frown grimmer and grimmer as he spoke. The lights flickered. “I think you need to reconsider the severity of this haunting. I can’t let you—”

Click.

The lights all went out, and the room was an inkier black than it should’ve been on a warm summer Oregon night. Large objects screeched as they dragged across the floor, bumping into people. Dipper felt something crawl over his feet, heard the table in front of him slide away. Just over the random yelps and screams of the attendees, a dark laughter rang.

They flicked back on. The tables, speakers, and party lights were all randomly located throughout the room. The attendees were stunned to silence, taking some seconds before their chatter began anew as they inspected their new surroundings.

A girl with a white wig (it had to be her real hair) and painted blue skin (she didn’t have skin) slipped through the crowd, glancing between the three with that little smile gracing her face. “Can I join the costume contest?”

Dipper couldn’t stop himself from setting a glare on her, gripping tighter the silver mirror behind his back. Mabel, who had more tact, plastered a grin on and said, “Of course! I invited you to do it, didn’t I?”

Lily nodded and quietly took her place by Candy, who was not the only contestant staring at her warily. She ignored them all, eyes unfocused as she fiddled with one of her pigtails.

Dipper glanced back over to Danny from the corner of his eye. “I think you don’t know what you’re talking about,” he told him quietly. “Just let me do my job.”

“Your job?” Danny hissed in return, far more offended than Dipper expected him to be. “Just let me talk to her—”

“What, do I look like I haven’t done this before?”

Danny tugged at his hair. “Listen to me! You need to change your plan!”

All the paper decorations promptly dropped from the walls, fluttering to the floor, except for the cutesy ghosts.

Mabel shouted over their quiet arguing, “Last call if you want to be in the contest!”

Ellie strode up, determination in her footsteps as she lined up beside Lily.

-_-_-_

Now that the music wasn’t playing, Danny could see people inspecting their surroundings a little more. Now that she wasn’t hidden among the crowd, Danny could see a few of those people second-guess Lily, watching her rock back and forth on her feet with a calculating eye. He wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. If there was anyone else here like Dipper...

He had to give up on talking sense into the kid because the contest was starting. Mabel was doing it by applause, and he couldn’t hear anything else over it.

Mabel wrote down on a notepad (though he had no clue what she’d be writing down), nodding thoughtfully to herself. “Looks like it’s between Count Dracula,” she shouted, gesturing with her pen to a kid in an elaborate vampire costume then to Lily, “and the ghost! One more vote decides the winner!”

The other contestants moved aside, but not too far. Ellie glanced over to Danny as she stepped back a couple feet. She was planning something, he knew it. With how mad she was at him, he had the distinct feeling he should be running for what remained of his life.

Dipper pulled Danny’s arm back as the applause rang again. When it stopped, he spoke in a dangerously low voice. “You said you knew her. You said she would try to scare everyone.”

Danny bit his lip for a second. “I did say something like that, huh?”

Quiet fury grew in Dipper’s eyes. “Well, fine. If you’re not going to do anything—” The rest was drowned out by the applause roaring up again, startled shouts mixed in as the lights flickered again, but Danny could guess, and his heart dropped to his stomach as Dipper turned away without giving him a chance to reply.

“Dracula wins!” Mabel announced, and a cheer rose up once again. “But the rest of you were great, too!”

Ellie stepped back up to Lily when the claps died back down. “Sorry you lost,” she said.

“Oh, it’s okay,” she replied amicably. “It wouldn’t really be fair if I won, anyway. I’m not a̙͈ ͖̩̠̬c̯͔̼t͚̮̗̙u̟͖͕a̻͙ ̼ll͙̙͎y̹ ̬͔̣̻̣w̠e̞̤ͅ ̪̖̦̤͍ͅ ̥ar͙͈i͈̳̰̜n̪̼̮ ͈ ̟̫͍̰͍ͅg̱ͅ ̟ ̦͇͓̻̹͇̼ ̝̯̦ ̹̬̟̱ ̭͈̠͇̟͖ ̗̤̯̮̭ a̬̯̰̦̞̪ͅ ̣̜͖ͅ ̬͚̪̫͎̰ c̫̗ ̜͕͕͇̤ ̤o ̥̮̺s̹̜͕͇t̬̘̮̼ ̗̞̥̣̖̼ ͇ ̣͓̹ u̹͖̙͙͇̠ ̼͉͓̰͙ ̝̯͍͙͍͓ ̭ ̤ ̖̠̠̙͖̮͕ ̜͔͔̮ ̖ ͚̤ͅ ̤ ̪̤̖͓̘͉ͅ ̭̳̜m̦̼̲̫ ̲̫͔̳̮͎ ̖̩̝̙̦͇ ̲̯̠͙̬ ̝ ̠͔̼͈͖ ̰̹ ̘͎̺̗ ̳̠̫̳̻̥ ̥͚̙͈̠͙ ̪̖͎̳̻ ͔͉̰͈̳ ̠ ͇̺̫ ͚̲̻̥͚͎̣ ̖̫̖̭ͅͅ ̩ ̩e͙͍͎̙̺̜.͇͍̩”

Lily’s hair and dress floated, revealing blobs of ectoplasm instead of legs. The lights went out, then returned in a dim, red hue. She was already up in the air, eyes glowing, face twisting. She raised her arms, and objects began to float at her command. Attendees screamed, almost loud enough to not hear the unsettling laughter coming from all sides. A couple of them tried to leave, but the door wouldn’t budge.

“Hey!” Dipper shouted as he ran to her. He was holding a… small mirror? “What do you want, ghost?”

She abruptly turned her head to him, face upside-down. Her voice had a demonic overtone as she replied, “T͍̝o̗͙ͅ ̥m͈a͕̲k̶̼͙̻e̼̟̼ ̳̱y̨o҉͎̹u͔͇̬͟ ̼s̹̙cr͉̦͇̮̭͇͡e̺͓͖̱̤̗a̪͙͓̩̮͟m͢.͎̮̳̱̬̯”

“Come on, there has to be something else,” he insisted, hand gripping the mirror harder. Danny inched his way; that mirror had to be a trap of some kind, and he wasn’t going to let Dipper use it—not when Danny didn’t know if he could get her back out of it.

“I know what you don’t want,” Ellie shouted, holding out a Fenton Thermos. Wait—Danny felt for the thermos on his belt. It was gone. She stole his thermos. How did he not notice until now?!

Lily stared her down, but she didn’t look scared. “Y̘o̺͎͖̱u̖̜̳̭̺ ̸̣̭̥̦͉̙̭s̝͢h̨o͙̞u̠͓̰̙͉l̡͉̠̗̣̥̗d̯̩̮̦̯͎̗’̨v̰̘̹͞e̙͉̘̦̱ ̶̙us̻̩̪͎̝̯e̯̱̜̬̮̝̫d͕͢ ì̟t̗̻̬̯͕̪͘ ̝͉w̹̤̫h̞̼̫̹̘̲͍͢e̖ņ̦̹̬̣̫̱ ̗̟̺y̵̬̤͖͓̖o̰̯̪̟̼̥u̟̩̰̙͢ ̝̖͕̗́h̪̰͝a̖͍̲͉͡d͕̹ ͙͖̬͉͟t̻̗̠͈̝h͚͚̜̖͎̕ͅe̼̰͍ ̰̲̪̥c͏̟̞̝͓̫h̗̤͚̲͔̼a̯͎̳͇͙̝͈n̦̥̜̹͘ͅc̳̭ȩ,” she answered, holding her hand out at Ellie. She began to float off the ground, yelping as she flailed her arms and legs in the air. She lost her grip on the thermos as she suddenly began to spasm, as if fighting off a—no, she couldn’t be.

She stilled, eyes closed, then opened them. They were glowing ecto-green. She was dull and slack-jawed, staring off at nothing.

Danny couldn’t help the dread trickling into his chest. She wasn’t really...?

He stepped towards her, and she... glanced down at him? Oh, she didn’t.

She winked.

She did.

Danny felt a thrill of anger run through him—how could his own clone decide to act possessed and make all of this worse? (When did those two even get to plan this?!) It was clearly working, with how all the partygoers stared at her in horror, looking like they were about to pass out.

“A̛̫̙̮n͏y̗͇o̩̝͇̫n͖̜̬͇͖͖e̳ ̣̱̙̭͓e̤͚͉͉̮l̢̞̦̟s͎̱͍͍̩e̪̭͘ ͈͡w͖͚̩̹͉͢a͇͔̘ņ͎̟̣̫n͈͉̕a̷̟̝̯̬͚ ̭̱͉̟͔͘p̷̙̬̮̫̲͈̞̼͇̜͇̎̐͊ͨͅ l̜͖̲̀̇̚ ̼ ̤̄ a͙̻̲̰͂̋ͦ̎͌̏ ̬̘͍ͯ͝ ̙͎͚̊̆̆ͨ̚ ̝̟̎͑͐ͬ́ỵ̶͉͉̳ͨͥ̌͋̓ͅ ̖͉͓̙ͮ͌̑ͤ̽?̡͎̦̭̩̙̰͎”

Danny was about to dive for the thermos and suck both of them in (Ellie absolutely deserved it too, now), but he saw Dipper holding up the mirror and beginning a chant from a thick book. He had to take care of that first. He tackled the boy to the ground. The mirror slid away, unbroken, and both of them scrambled to get up and grab it first. Danny won, barely, and Dipper tackled him in return.

“Give me that!” Dipper growled, furiously trying to pull the mirror out of Danny’s hands.

Danny elbowed him away. “No, we need to use the thermos!”

“Why?!”

“Because—” he grunted as Dipper kicked him surprisingly hard— “it’ll work better!”

“And why should I believe you? You don’t care about stopping her!”

“I never said I didn’t!” Dipper paused his fighting. “I said to change your plan because she doesn’t deserve to be killed or trapped forever, and I already know that!” Danny pushed the other boy off of him and stood up, brushing himself off. “The longer we argue, the more she’ll make everyone pee their pants.”

“Okay, fine, we’ll use your thermos thing,” Dipper grumbled as he pushed himself back to standing. He sobered as he saw food flying around and Ellie still floating there, gawking into space. “You better be right.”

“Of course I am.”

Danny sprinted for the thermos. He turned it on the second his hand touched it. Lily and Ellie apparently heard its mechanical whine, as they both glanced at him, Lily wide-eyed in a different way than usual.

“I̙̻̺’̩͍m͇͔͢ ͅṋ̰̮̦͎͡ͅo̞̤t̩̯̰̖̱͖͖ ͞f͚̜̙͢ǐ̭͉͓͈̅͗ͥͅn̝̯̻͎̣̰̱̅i̮̹͔̲ͨͥ̋̆̕s̓̽ͤ͑̋҉̜͈̱̪h̤͉̫̭͍̒͆̉̈̊̐e̵͈̣͖dͧ͏͎͍̻ ̖͙́̇̒͛ẅ̘̠̤̤̭̒̾͟ḭ̩͈̥̬̅ͪt̰͇̟̹͖͂ͪͪ͋͟ḩ̝̯̖̤͉ͬ́͌—”

He gave her an apologetic look as he pulled the lid off. She let out a chilling, unnatural scream as she was sucked in, the finale to her entire performance.

Everything that had been floating crashed down, the lights flicked back to their usual white, and the laughing died off. Ellie fell to the floor, rubbing at her head and looking around as if dazed (that little liar).

“Are you okay?” Mabel cried as she ran to Ellie’s side, just as Dipper came up to him and asked, “Are you sure she can’t get out?”

“Yeah,” Danny replied, knocking his knuckles against it. “I’ll let her out in the Ghost Zone.”

“The Ghost Zone?”

He found himself explaining it halfmindedly, the rest of him focused on inspecting the party. It looked like everything really was back to normal, minus the rearranged room and food that fell to the floor.

“That’s amazing!” Dipper’s eyes sparkled, and Danny could finally see what Wendy meant about him wanting to know the supernatural, too. “I have so many questions!”

Danny suddenly suspected he’d be here a long time if those questions started now. “How about you write them down and I’ll tell you about it when the party’s over?”

He was surprised that Dipper agreed so easily, running off to grab Mabel’s pen. With that, he snuck out of the party, thermos in hand.

-_-_-_

Danny took the lid off again, watching as Lily reformed. She stretched her arms over her head with a sigh. He rubbed at his neck. “Sorry about trapping you, I didn’t really have a better choice.”

"That was still really fun!" She giggled, with the biggest smile Danny had ever witnessed her pulling. Her coloring shifted back to how she usually looked in the Ghost Zone, with purple hair, gray-black skin, and her dress bleached from black to bright white. She was officially out of her “scare-mode”, it seemed.

He huffed. "If you tone it down next time, and not include my sister in your schemes, I might not have to resort to it again.” He glanced around. “Well, time for you to go home. Is that portal still open?"

"Perhaps." Lily floated into the forest, and Danny warily followed.

Only a few minutes passed before they came across a long rip in the air, carved out in front of one of the many trees, shining ecto green like a bleeding wound. One of its neighbor trees wore a sparkly Summerween party flyer.

"See you later, Phantom!” Lily chirped. “Oh, and let Mabel know her cookies were good!" She paused to wave, her grin lingering on her face turned counterclockwise, then flew through.

Danny watched the portal until it closed; luckily, it only took a minute or two to stitch the fabric of reality back together, leaving no trace. Well, except for his nerves being fried for the night.

He was not looking forward to Ellie’s smug grin.

It’s a mistake going anywhere with her.

-_-_-_

Zalgo Text:

"I'm not actually wearing a costume."

"To make you scream."

"You should've used it when you had the chance."

"Anyone else wanna play?"

"I'm not finished with—"

#Danny Phantom #DP #ghostsona #AU!Ghost August #aughost #Lily? Lily.#Lily? Lily. Fic.#Gravity Falls #GF #DPxGF crossover #crossover #DP headcanons awaaaaay #and yay spooky times #Dani and Danny call each other siblings but otherwise this is basically post-canon (minus PP maybe?)

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megaphonemonday · 8 years

Note

Do you write aus? Because what about one where Bill Baker is still alive and Ginny has to finally tell him and her Mike.

I’M ALWAYS A SLUT FOR AUS! (how old is that meme?? as old as i am??)

if we lay a strong enough foundation | ao3

Ginny’d always been a little shocked that her father had given up control of her career to Amelia. He’d turned away every other agent that’d come sniffing around, and there’d been quite a few. As she made her way up through the low minors, making a name for herself with her screwball, sports agents started coming out of the woodwork, smelling a big potential payoff in representing the first woman who could make it to the show. Of course, Bill Baker had one thing to say to the vultures: Over my dead body.

Then, along came Amelia Slater with her thousand dollar suits, complete disinterest in baseball, and steely gaze. Ginny expected her to go the way of every other agent who’d expressed an interest in her career, especially once Amelia met Bill for the first time.

But her pop must’ve seen something in Amelia, because before Ginny knew it, he was flying back to North Carolina, leaving his daughter’s career in a stranger’s hands.

Much as she sometimes misses her pop, though, she’s equally grateful he took that step back.

Because if he’d been hovering around San Diego for the past few years, there’s no way she’d be in the position she’s in right now.

And that would be a shame

Pinned to the mattress beneath the weight of Mike Lawson, naked and sated? Yeah, there’s no way she’s giving that up.

Especially not when Mike nuzzles into her neck sweetly, his beard rasping against her collar bone and making her sigh. Her hands smooth down his back and Mike practically purrs in contentment. He lifts his face to hers and Ginny melts into his kiss. Her heel runs up the back of Mike’s leg and the kiss turns needy as the heat rises between them.

Mike’s moving south to get round three started when Ginny’s phone starts to buzz on the nightstand.

“Leave it,” he mutters into the skin of her stomach, but Ginny catches sight of the name on the screen and rolls away.

“It’s my dad,” she tosses over her shoulder with an apologetic smile. Mike huffs and drags himself back up the bed as Ginny answers. “Hey, pop.”

As she listens, her stomach twists itself into knots. She’s uncomfortably aware of the man in bed with her as she does her best to wrap up the phone call. Ginny would have done that anyway; it’s weird to talk with a parent when you’re naked, even if it’s just over the phone. But when she finally hangs up, she doesn’t roll back to Mike, just flops against the pillows.

She can feel his eyes on her, but she was still trying to process.

“So,” Mike drawls. “What’d Bill Baker have to say today? Training tips? Or was it diet suggestions?”

Ginny just breathes, staring up at the ceiling. She’s silent long enough that Mike frowns and murmurs her name. The concern in his voice is enough to shake her loose.

Taking a deep breath, she turns her wide eyes on him and says, “He’s coming for a visit.”

Mike blanches and flops back onto his pillows.

“Fuck,” he hisses, staring up at the ceiling. Ginny falls back, too, and mirrors him.

Fuck is right.

Bill Baker has a lot of presence for a man that Mike’s never really met. He’s been around every so often—for Ginny’s first game and All-Star appearance—but never long enough for Mike to do much more than introduce himself. Three seasons Ginny’s been a Padre and the man who started it all might as well be a ghost.

Still, it feels like Mike knows him. He would even say that he’s more familiar with Ginny’s dad than some of his teammates. Which is ridiculous, but that’s where his life is right now.

He’d been skeptical at first, both of Ginny and Bill Baker. With the number of times Ginny brought up her dad in that first season, he’d been sure that she was just a spoiled, homesick daddy’s girl with a trick pitch. She’d implode in a few games and the front office would replace her with someone who didn’t come with their own three ring circus. The more Mike saw, though, the more he had to eat his words. Bill Baker had trained one hell of a ball player.

And raised one hell of a woman, but Mike really doesn’t like thinking about his girlfriend’s dad when he’s… appreciating her womanly attributes.

Attributes that are fully on display in a pair of cut-offs and a tank top. She’d been more covered when they left his house, but when she realized it was his flannel that she’d grabbed, she left it in the car to avoid any awkward questions.

Mike knows that he can’t glare at every person who ogles Ginny’s long legs or powerful shoulders. As far as most of the world is concerned, he’s just her captain, making one final run at the play offs before his knees need to be taken out back and shot.

And, apparently, her errand boy since he’s chauffeured her to the airport to pick up her dad.

“Remind me why I’m here again,” he mutters out of the side of his mouth, arms crossed over his chest. Next to him, Ginny scans the crowd. Her eyes flicker over him appreciatively, though, and it almost makes this charade worth it.

“Because you’re building up brownie points for when we finally tell him,” she replies patiently. They’ve been over this. Several times, in fact. Still, Mike chews huffily on a wad of gum.

“Which we’re not doing now.”

Ginny’s eyes slide over to him and she sways into his space. Not enough to actually touch him, but enough that Mike can feel the radiant warmth of her skin. “Not unless you want him to lose it on the both of us in public.”

Mike considers this. There aren’t many people that know he and Ginny are seeing each other. There are fewer who know that Mike plans on spending the rest of his life with her.

(Actually, he’s the only one who knows that one, but he’s got time.)

Nonetheless, it feels weird to hide their relationship from Ginny’s dad. Neither of them have the most functional relationships with their parents, but Ginny and her dad come the closest. He knows that Ginny doesn’t like keeping the secret, but that Bill would not take the news in stride.

Still, he wants to shout from the rooftops that he’s Ginny Baker’s man. That he’s somehow convinced this brilliant, talented, beautiful woman to put up with him.

But much as he wants to brag, Mike would rather cut off his right arm than potentially derail Ginny’s career. And going public with a relationship with her team captain has derailment written all over it.

“Let’s save that for after the postseason,” he responds, going back to scanning the crowd.

“After the postseason,” she agrees, knocking his elbow with hers.

It feels dangerously close to jinxing it, but nearly everyone’s in agreement: the Padres are going to the World Series this year.

That, in fact, is why Bill Baker has decided to finally come out to San Diego for an extended visit. He’s apparently worried about Ginny’s staying power, and wants to monitor her training. That he doesn’t fully trust the Padres staff after Ginny’s arm blew out two years ago is clear.

Mike can’t really blame him.

It’s gonna be a long month and a half, though. Mike’s gotten used to Ginny staying the night and sharing space with her. It’ll be strange going to bed alone while Ginny stays at her sparsely used condo with her dad. More than that, it’ll be strange only having her around during training and games. Usually, they spend most of their free time together. Enough of it that even though they haven’t made their relationship official—except to Blip, Evelyn, and Amelia—there have to be plenty of their teammates who suspect something more is going on at least.

(Because their teammates are not stupid, they keep those suspicions to themselves.)

Still, when Ginny lights up at the sight of a stocky, bald man, Mike can’t really mind that they’re going to have to do more actual sneaking around than they have in a long time. She looks so happy. How can he be annoyed?

“Hey, pop!” She waves, like Bill isn’t already on his way over, duffel bag slung over his shoulder.

“Hey yourself, little girl,” he greets with a smile, hardly rocking back as Ginny launches herself into his arms.

Mike smiles fondly at the sight, though he feels guilty as hell when Bill Baker’s gaze pins him down. Was he wearing his heart on his sleeve again? It’s hard reining in his affection for his pitcher, especially now that he knows it’s a two way street. Still, he doesn’t really need her dad figuring him out within a minute of meeting him.

But, if this is setting the tone for the next six weeks, Mike’s going to have his work cut out for him.

Bill Baker doesn’t take his eyes off Mike, not even as his daughter pulls away and turns to gesture at the catcher.

“Pop, you remember Mike.”

His little girl is nervous, her eyes darting between her captain and him, searching for approval. Bill tucks that bit of information away as he reaches out to shake Mike Lawson’s hand. He’s already got quite the stockpile, but it’s nice to finally have firsthand experience.

“Doesn’t the captain of the Padres have better things to do than drive his teammates and their fathers around?” He smiles, but the question requires an answer.

Mike smiles easily back, though the expression softens when it lands on his daughter for a minute. He doesn’t linger, though Bill can tell that it’s a struggle.

“Oh, definitely,” Lawson jokes, reaching out to shake Bill’s hand, “but when his teammate forgets that her car’s in the shop, it’s really the least he can do. It’s nice to see you again, sir.”

Bill’s eyebrows want to jump at that even as he takes the offered hand. Sir. Like the boy’s trying to make a good impression. It’s not until he sees the smile on Ginny’s face, eyes lit up with undisguised affection, that he realizes.

Like that, every vague suspicion that Bill Baker has ever harbored about his daughter’s relationship with her catcher crystallizes into a near certainty.

He wants to be angry. Wants to explode, even. How could she risk everything they’ve worked for? In such a big year, too. The Padres might actually make it to the World Series. They might actually win it all. And Ginny wants to go and get distracted?

She’s not the worst of it, though.

Mike Lawson is her captain, her catcher, her mentor. He should know better. Know better than to try and get involved with the first woman in the league. As if she won’t have enough of a hard time convincing history she’s a real ballplayer without being tied to one of her teammates.

Besides, Bill Baker knows all about Mike Lawson. Knows his reputation with women. He likes to think that he knows his daughter better than to believe that she’d let herself get talked into the kind of arrangement Lawson must be used to. He also thought that Ginny knew better than to develop feelings for her captain, but judging by the look in her eyes and the smile on his face, he’s wrong on that front. Who knows what else he’s wrong about?

Bill’s learned to pick his battles, though, so he squeezes Lawson’s hand just a bit tighter than he usually would and holds his tongue.

“It’s nice to meet you, too. Ginny’s been a fan of yours for a long time.” If he leans into that “long” harder than he has to, Bill figures that’s his right as a father.

Rather than chagrin, Mike perks up, sending a sly smile Ginny’s way. “Oh, really? There didn’t happen to be a poster on her wall, did there?”

Ginny flushes and crosses her arms over her chest. She’s practically pouting, the way she used to when he’d send her to bed earlier than she’d like.

“Stop fishing, old man,” she grumbles, leading them over to the baggage carousel.

Bill keeps his mouth shut and observes. He’s still getting over the surprise of his realization, and it’ll take time until he resigns himself to it. His head is clearer now, though.

Whatever’s going on between Lawson and his daughter—they’re too casual with their touches for something not to be going on—it clearly hasn’t gotten in the way of the game. The Padres are having the best season in franchise history, due in no small part to Mike’s bat and Ginny’s arm.

In fact, Bill spends most of the month leading up to the World Series keeping his mouth shut and observing.

What he learns is this:

1. Ginny is everything he’s ever dreamed of in a ballplayer.

She’s focused and dedicated. She knows the game inside and out and uses that knowledge to her advantage. Sure, his daughter might never be the best, might never win a Triple Crown or the Cy Young, but she has earned every opportunity that’s come her way and will doubtless earn many more.

2. Ginny doesn’t really need his guidance anymore.

Three seasons into her major league career, Ginny is confident in herself. Bill had seen the evidence of that when he watched her play on TV, but it’s something else to see it in person.

(As a coach, it makes him proud. As a father, he can’t help but feel a little nostalgic.)

3. Ginny’s confidence is bolstered and encouraged by Mike Lawson.

Bill’s had plenty of opportunity to see her work with Lawson and Duarte, and while she performs well with both of them, the trust and camaraderie Ginny’s built with her captain sometimes creates baseball magic. They don’t need to talk to understand each other, though they do. Constant ribbing and teasing, enough to set Bill’s teeth on edge. But neither of them loses focus while they’re in game mode.

Whatever is between them doesn’t matter when they’re on the field.

But off the field…

4. Ginny is in love with her captain, and he loves her back.

It’s not a surprise, given all the suspicions he’d harbored over the years. Honestly, it’s a surprise they’ve managed to keep their relationship—and Bill is sure it is a relationship, not just poorly concealed feelings—under wraps. It seems so obvious, even while they’re clearly doing their best not to give themselves away around him.

They are putting a lot of effort into that. Bill watches with growing amusement as Ginny and Mike do their best not to give into gravity around each other. They rarely touch, but when they do, it takes concerted effort on both of their parts to move away. If they’d been honest with him, Bill would’ve considered putting them out of their misery, but they haven’t so he doesn’t.

Bill is fairly sure they’re just waiting for the postseason to end before spilling the beans, which he can respect. Baseball trumps just about everything in his book.

Honestly, though, if he has to witness his daughter making moon eyes at her catcher one more time.

Well, he can at least keep their secret for another two weeks.

When Ginny bounds up to him, soaked in some horrific mixture of beer and champagne, her smile is incandescent.

“We did it, pop!” she shouts, flinging her arms around him.

Bill wraps her up in his embrace and soaks in the moment. His daughter, his little girl, all grown up.

When she’s back on her feet, he smiles. “Little girl, you ain’t done nothing yet.” Somehow, her smile blooms even brighter, but Bill is distracted by something over her shoulder. He nods and says, “I think someone’s waiting on you.”

Ginny turns and looks right into Mike Lawson’s eyes. She softens a bit, victory still coursing through her veins but tempered by something longer lasting.

Then, his words seem to catch up with her.

She whips her head up, panicked. Ginny at least has the good sense not to deny anything. “Pop, I can—”

“No.” He holds his hand up. “I don’t want an explanation. I just want to know one thing. Are you happy?”

“How couldn’t I be?” she responds, gesturing around to the carnage of the clubhouse, Padres still celebrating as family members and loved ones trickle in. Bill just waits, though, knows his daughter won’t avoid the real question. She straightens her shoulders and looks him dead in the eye. “Yeah, pop. He makes me happy.”

“Good,” he says gruffly, unwilling to make this into some kind of ordeal. “As long as that’s the case, we won’t have any problems.”

Mike chooses that moment to make his entrance. His gaze darts uncertainly between Ginny and Bill, but his question is just for her. “So, he knows?”

His daughter nods slowly. “He knows.”

“Good. Good. Because I’ve been waiting forever to do this in public.”

Before either Baker can blink, Mike scoops Ginny up by the waist, and spins her around the room. Automatically, Ginny’s legs wrap around his hips, her peals of laughter cutting through the celebratory ruckus. She only stops when Mike’s lips slant across hers, effectively cutting her off. Not that she seems to mind.

Raucous cheers flood the clubhouse, Padres banging on lockers and hollering their approval. Ginny hides her face in her hands, but Mike keeps staring up at her like she’s the best thing to ever happen to him.

While Bill could do without the display of affection, he is glad to know that he and Mike Lawson are at least agreed on that.

#Anonymous #bawson #bawson fic #Pitch #pitchfam #If Bill Baker were alive he'd be #so unbelievably proud of his girl #i need that for ginny #the man has his issues #but i'm assuming he's mellowed with age #and ginny finally making it to the show #or i'm hoping he would've #i wrote something

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fafsernir · 5 years

Text

These Are The Days Of Our Lives (3)

Title: These Are The Days Of Our Lives

Fandom: Good Omens (Crowley/Aziraphale)

Chapters: 3/? (Read 1, 2) (#TATDOOL on my tumblr)

Summary: Everything was fine, tickety-boo, as Aziraphale said. And Crowley knew that because he saw him every day, not because he loved him. Because he didn’t. (Teachers!AU)

Read on AO3

Support me on Ko-Fi :)

Crowley was walking in the street when he heard his name being called. Crowley wasn’t a usual name, so there wasn’t much doubt that someone was calling him. The thing was, he didn’t know a lot of people. Not a lot that would call him across the street, begging him to wait, at least. He had to do his grocery shopping, because Aziraphale was coming and Crowley wanted to cook something, but he had realized very late on that his cupboards were empty. Sometimes, being too minimalist was just a tad too much.

With that in mind, it seemed natural for Crowley to ignore the person who desperately wanted to talk to him. Odds were that the feeling wasn’t mutual. But he knew the voice, and after four times, people were staring at him as if they had clearly identified him as the source of the annoying noise. It was partly his fault; the person would stop screaming across the street if he would just stop and turn. So he eventually did. Right when the person had caught up with him, which resulted in them colliding into each other.

It didn’t take long for Crowley to recognize the clumsy man finding his balance again. Apparently, he was still as clumsy as before.

“Newton?”

“Yes! Crowley! Hi! You must have been listening to music, I was calling you…”

“Oh, I heard you,” Crowley answered before Newton would start one of his rambles. He rambled, a lot.

“Cool. Anyway! Fancy meeting you here.”

Oh, this was about to be very awkward, wasn’t it? Crowley put this thought aside and tried a smile.

“I haven’t seen you in ages, not since—”

“Uni! Graduation day! We didn’t really keep in touch. I wasn’t expecting you to do so, to be honest. How have you been? Scared any child with your plantamania yet?”

“That’s not how—” Crowley started, then gave up. They’d had this conversation over and over, and Newton persisted in calling that plantamania, because he liked the word. “I’m doing great, what about you?”

“Computers are still not agreeing with me…”

“You’re still working in that?”

“Of course! Only now I advise people, so I’m not technically touching the computers. Found my way around it.”

Crowley scoffed. Newton had always been particularly unlucky when it came to computers. He loved them, he understood them, he was great at them, but they didn’t want him near them. There was always something wrong, as soon as his fingers touched a keyboard. But he was passionate about them anyway, which had always sounded odd to Crowley, but who was he to judge?

“And I’m married now,” Newton added, showing his ring proudly. “We thought about inviting you, but Anathema said you wouldn’t come anyway, and she’s always right so… I hope you don’t mind. We thought about you, though!”

“You married Anathema?” Crowley asked, surprised, to say the least.

They had been a chaotic couple. Not that they argued or anything, they had actually been really sweet and all, but individually they already presented chaotic characteristics, so when they came together, it was… a lot of weird stuff happening. Crowley had thought they wouldn’t survive real life as a couple, but apparently their dynamic had worked well, because Newton seemed very happy to be married. And Anathema too. Even if Crowley couldn’t see it, he knew she would have left long ago if she hadn’t been happy.

They had all met in First Year, through a social meeting – one of the rare Crowley had gone to. After artificial and very bad icebreakers, the four of them – Aziraphale was the reason why Crowley was there –talked and laughed. Even if none was in the same degree, they stayed close together as a small group. They didn’t see each other every day, but they often gathered and liked each other’s presence. As Crowley knew Aziraphale already, he had never really needed anyone else in his life, and thus had never been the closest to anyone. He had very much enjoyed discussing with Anathema, though.

Newton and she had started dating somewhere during Year Two. It had been a surprise for no one, except Newton himself, maybe. To be fair, she was a very beautiful woman and Newton had a low self-esteem. Crowley could relate.

“Of course!” Newton said, interrupting Crowley’s thoughts. “How about Aziraphale?”

Bold of him to assume that Crowley still talked to anyone from Uni. But then again, Aziraphale wasn’t from Uni, but way before, so it was only natural that he still talked to him. Well, he had stopped talking to him after Uni, so he hadn’t been an exception back then – it wasn’t true, he had always been an exception.

“We work together now,” Crowley smiled. How small the world was, sometimes.

“Oh, is that right? It must be useful!” Newton seemed excited, and Crowley couldn’t see how useful it was.

“Sure. We do hang out a lot.”

“I wish I worked with Anathema.”

Something definitely sounded wrong. Crowley’s guts told him that the conversation wasn’t going in the way he wanted. He ignored the feeling.

“Are you sure?” he asked, instead. Nobody wanted to work with their partners, right? That meant no break from that person, surely it would be weird to see each other constantly.

“Is it not going well with Aziraphale?” Newton looked almost apologetic. Crowley was starting to lose the point of the conversation.

“It is, but it’s not like we’re married,” he shrugged.

“Do you guys want to get married?” Newton asked, as if the question had been in his mind for years. “You’ve been together for a while, now.”

“Not really,” Crowley answered before the rest of the sentence sent signals and alarms up his brain. “Sorry, what?” he thought he asked. It might have sounded more like “Uh, I- whu—“, though. He couldn’t be sure.

Newton looked puzzled. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to bring up something awkward,” he quickly said.

“Wh-why would we be married?” It’s not that Crowley didn’t like the sound of that. But that was absurd. Why would anyone think that?

“That’s what couples do, I guess. I mean, not that every couple has to get married, but it’s just, you know, part of it, I guess? Maybe you guys aren’t into it, I mean…” The man was digging his grave by now. Crowley wasn’t even listening.

“C-c-couples? I’m not—we’re not…”

“Oh f—sorry! My bad, I thought you said… I’m sorry, what happened? You guys were so close? Oh, it must be awkward then, working together…”

“We’ve never been…” Crowley flailed his arms for a bit, then finally managed to get the word out, “a couple.” He almost whispered it, as if saying it might curse him. Or jinx the possibility of it being true. But why was someone thinking they were together?!

There was a silence. Then a profusion of excuses that gradually formed sentences.

“I thought you were… oh, my bad… But, I mean, everyone just figured you guys were together, back at Uni.” And then more excuses and ramble.

“What do you mean, everyone thought we were together?” Crowley asked, suddenly very, very intrigued. How had no one ever said anything?

“Yeah,” Newton frowned, as if he was the one not quite grasping the point of the conversation, now. “We went on double dates!”

“Those were dates?!” Crowley exclaimed. Oh, how his perspectives on a lot of lunches were changing suddenly. He wished he had known that. He didn’t know what that would have changed, but maybe…

“We just thought you guys weren’t much for PDAs. I mean, you did call him ‘angel’ all the time.”

Crowley wasn’t sure how he could still hold a conversation, but he was doing exactly that. “That’s… That’s a nickname. Because of his name.”

“That’s a term of endearment.”

“It’s not!”

“Who else do you call ‘angel’?”

“Well—uh… No one, but that’s because they’re not named after an actual angel.” Now, that wasn’t quite true, but Newton had never met Aziraphale’s family, so he didn’t need to know that.

“Sorry, but everyone thought you two were together… And we all thought you were adorable.”

Filing that last bit of information away, Crowley focused on not reddening – even if his cheeks felt very warm, suddenly – and on what Newton was suggesting. “Who’s everyone, anyway? We didn’t talk to many students…”

“Oh.” Another silence. Crowley started to dislike those silences, which seemed to come before life-changing statements. “Literally anyone that knew the nerd from the library? Aziraphale got quite the reputation for staying up late, being always there, with the most impressive pile of books that he would borrow and give back in a record time… Only to borrow all of them again, setting up other kinds of records…”

“So, everyone that walked in the damn library?”

“And more. People talk. Especially when there’re gossips about the tall, handsome man that is the only thing that seems to matter to the nerd, except his beloved books.”

Crowley was speechless. Not even for a deconstructed speech. He remembered being in the library a lot, to drag his friend’s ass out of the damned place. Sometimes, it was to drag himself away from studying too much. He had never spent as much time as Aziraphale on books – who had? – but he had been studying hard, nonetheless. His eyes wouldn’t let him work so long on books, anyway. So breaks from learning anything that his brain agreed on swallowing were welcomed, and always called for Aziraphale to be here. Because it was Aziraphale. And Crowley enjoyed his presence. It smoothed him.

To know that people, that everyone, thought of them as a cute couple, was weird. Disturbing and weird. But oddly comforting.

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #crowley #ineffable husbands #newton pulsifer #aziraphale #TATDOOL #mel writes #fafsernir #humor fic #english fic #alternate universe fic #teachers au

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