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obsidianfr3sk · 3 years

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true colors

@renegadesnet event 10: pride

↪ [ “But everything was temporary. And pain was one of those things. Well, except love. Everything but love was temporary. Or that was what he liked to believe.” ]

Summary: Two years after the supernova, after Tamaya notified them the gearboxes that contained the lights had gotten soaked and that she needed the money to buy more before the next day (June 1st), Simon realized they were not enough for him anymore.

Simon wanted a bigger flag.

No. He wanted two. The biggest pride flags he could find.

AO3

Hello, friends!! I hope you’ve been having an excellent pride month and have been eating a lot rainbow cake and pissing off a lot of conservatives with the mere fact of your wonderful existence:’) As my contribution to this month and the event organized by @renegadesnet, I decided to write a fic focused on my favorite gay dads and their sons (bc I’m me, and you should have seen this coming.)

Before you read, I want to give a trigger warning: at the start of a fic I talk about a homophobic attack, which is not graphic or violent per se (it’s someone in the middle of the night taking away the flag they put outiside the house), and I do discuss about internalized homophobia during some parts of the story. If you read it and are sensitive to this kind of stuff, proceed with caution and take care of yourself <3

Also, this entry is a collaboration with my talented mother @healing-winston-pratt, who is going to be uploading some fanart of this in a near future, so keep an eye on that👀 she’s the best skjhkjds thank you for accepting to collaborate, I feel this is a great bonding activity and I hope we can do this more often✨

I need to update my tag list because a lot of the people who were included are not active as active as they were before/changed their URLs. But I’m going to tag @the-wee-woo-rita @lackadae @all-weather-is-bad @chiyuki-hiro bc you guys are the only ones who are still active users who I had on my previous tag list lol

With that said, I hope you enjoy this fic. I think that despite the angsty parts, it came out really fluffy and domestic, it was fun to write. And to all my queer silbings who are reading this: I am very proud of you.

But I see your true colors shining through.

I see your true colors, and that's why I love you.

So don't be afraid to let them show.

Your true colors,

true colors are beautiful like a rainbow

Simon couldn’t remember a time when he didn’t know he was gay.

There was a time when he didn’t know he was gay, of course. He was probably too young to even comprehend the meaning behind that word. And there was also a moment in his life when he felt embarrassed about it, and sad, and angry, and really, really scared, and probably thought that no matter how hard he tried, he was never going to be happy living the life he wanted to live.

That the pain was never going to end. That he was going to be miserable for the rest of his existence, and that maybe, there was no point in existing if he was going to stay like that until the day he died.

But everything was temporary. And pain was one of those things.

Well, except love. Everything but love was temporary. Or that was what he liked to believe.

That was the reason why, the first year after the Day of Triumph, he told Hugh they should get a rainbow flag for their house. They went to one of the first stores that opened at the mall (that had just been remodeled after twenty years of being abandoned) and bought one at a not so affordable price. Simon offered himself to install it on one of the fence pillars and had to spend thirty minutes listening to Hugh telling him that maybe he should let him do it, that the ladder Kasumi had lent them was ratty, and that Simon was going to fall.

Fortunately, Simon didn’t. He did almost fall, though, when he was about to pass out from stress because seeing Hugh getting all anxious, made Adrian cry and he started to basically beg him to come down, given that now he was convinced he was going to fall, and hearing his dad saying “Look what you’ve done to the kid, Simon” didn’t help at all to make Adrian (or Simon) feel better.

That night, there was a thunderstorm and Adrian used it as an excuse to sleep on their bed. As soon as he cried himself to sleep, two hours later, after their dads did everything in their power to calm him down, hugging him, giving him kisses, and assuring him his aunt Tamaya wasn’t going to let the storm hurt them, Simon raised his hand to high-five Hugh and tell him that they were amazing parents, just to realize he was already asleep. Simon silently judged him for sleeping so soundly while his son was having a crisis instead of sleeping.

When he woke up (at five in the morning) Adrian was looking out their window, with the Baby Indomitable blanket on his shoulders. The sky was still cloudy, but it wasn’t raining anymore.

“Darling, what are you doing?,” Simon told him. “Today’s Sunday. Let your daddy and I get some more sleep—”

“The storm took our flag,” Adrian blurred out.

Hugh was already awake too. “What?”

“You said the storm wasn’t going to hurt us,” Adrian said, turning around to see them, “but the storm took our flag.”

Simon got out of bed, looked through the window...

And, yes, the flag was completely gone.

But for some reason, Simon knew it hadn’t been the storm.

“Why would the storm do something like this?” Adrian asked.

Simon didn’t know how to answer that. Luckily, Hugh did.

“Because the storm is homophobic, son.”

Adrian laughed out loud and then asked his dads if they could have pancakes for breakfast. He had already forgotten about the storm and the flag.

They didn’t. Neither of them ever forgot about it.

While Simon and Adrian ate their pancakes, Hugh went to his office because, according to him, he needed to check something. When Adrian finished his breakfast and went back to his dads’ room to watch TV, Simon stayed in the kitchen, doing the dishes, and Hugh finally came downstairs. He was pretty quiet, and Simon thought that it probably was because he had told him to eat the burnt pancakes he didn’t dare to throw away, but after he finished them all, he said:

“I lied.”

Simon threw a glance at him. “When did you lie?”

“When I said the storm was homophobic,” Hugh answered.

“Well, of course, you lied, love. Storms don’t have strong political opinions about gay people.”

Hugh didn’t laugh. “What I mean is— that it wasn’t the storm.”

Every joke Simon’s brain could come up with disappeared at that moment. So he continued doing the dishes, and Hugh, thinking he hadn’t made himself clear, continued talking.

“It was someone else. It was a person. I saw them on—”

“I know,” Simon interrupted him. “I know. I’ve always known.”

But even if Simon knew, he still told Hugh to show him the footage because four eyes were better than two (especially considering that the owner of those first two eyes needed to wear glasses). It was all useless, though; the storm made the image all blurry, and the only thing they could see was someone taking it and running away in the middle of the night.

Simon wanted to think that it was just some dumb teen whose friends had challenged him to do it. But when it came to things like those one never really knew.

On Monday, they had promised Adrian to take him to the park that was a few blocks away so they could teach him how to fly a kite, but the thought of going out made him feel as if something bad was going to happen to them if they did, so Simon told Adrian that he and Hugh were feeling sick and that they would stay in their room to get some rest. Adrian asked them if they minded that he stayed there too because he was in the middle of watching a movie he had never seen before.

“Only if we can watch it with you,” Simon answered.

It was a weird day to be alive. They really just stayed there, watching silly cartoons with their kid and listening to him ranting about the weird proportions those characters had.

During the afternoon, Adrian told them he was hungry, so Simon went downstairs to look for something they could eat. He was thinking that maybe they should order something from that Chinese restaurant Tamaya had taken him the other day, when Hugh entered the kitchen and told him Adrian had asked him if he could bring him water.

Simon felt his hands were trembling while he looked inside his wallet for the paper where he had written the restaurant’s phone number.

“Do you want to get another flag?” Hugh asked him.

And something hurt.

Something hurt inside of him. Something started to cry, and to scream, and to flicker, trying to make him invisible to the world.

And it told him, the same way Adrian had told him he was hungry, that someone had taken him by surprise and made a deep cut on his chest.

But Simon didn’t allow it to come out.

He just said: “No.”

And Hugh answered him: “Me neither.”

He called the Chinese restaurant to order some food, while Simon went to their room with Adrian again and cuddled with him, trying to tend to the wounds of that something that was bleeding out inside of him.

Little Simon was crying, and screaming, and flickering, and needed adult Simon to take care of him.

The next day, they talked about the incident with the rest of the Council during their lunch break. It was one of those few occasions the six of them were together in the same room during their work hours. Tamaya was furious about the flag situation. She ranted for a good five minutes without anyone interrupting her about how fucking horrible people were and that she was going to find that little piece of shit and cut his hands off. Kasumi nodded in approval while drinking some horchata she had bought for herself, probably thinking about how to ask Tamaya to let her join her revolution (something she didn’t need to do, since Tamaya always included Kasumi in everything she did). Evander, on the other hand, was very quiet, something that made him feel a little bit relieved because he was not a sensitive person and Simon didn’t want him to... Evander the situation.

He didn’t say anything insensitive that day, though.

In fact, he said something… helpful, even.

“What about a flag made of light?”

Hugh rubbed his eyes and Simon knew what he was going to say before he opened his mouth.

Because he said that phrase constantly.

“Shut the fuck up, Evander.”

But Evander didn’t shut up. “Dude, think about it. No one would be able to take down a flag made of light.”

And everyone realized that, now, it was not only one of those strange occasions when the six of them got together to have lunch during their work hours; it was also one of those strange occasions when Evander had an idea that was actually good.

So after spending another hour discussing how they were going to make it work, they decided they were going to lit up the building in rainbow-colored lights.

Tamaya and Hugh were the ones in charge of almost all the operation because Evander said he had already given them the idea, so he didn’t need to do anything else (and then got mad at Hugh when he told the media he was the one who came up with it). Kasumi helped them, but was especially insistent about putting a trans pride flag somewhere in the building, and after they agreed with her, she personally hung it on the main entrance of Headquarters.

They started turning the lights on each night of June since that yeat.

Hugh and Simon still didn’t get a flag. Three nights after they told their friends about what had happened during the thunderstorm, Simon was woken up by the sound of someone crashing against the trash cans and almost jumped out of the window with his dagger on hand to slay whoever was trying to break into their house, but when he peeked out to see what was going on, he realized the “robber” was Kasumi, who had put a bunch of small pride flags on some pots they kept on their porch and started crying as soon as she realized Simon was watching her, not because she was upset the surprise she had for them had been ruined, but because now she was covered in trash.

(That week was like a sign Georgie was sending them from the afterlife to tell them they needed to install a better security system.)

Those were the only flags they kept around the house. They were small and discreet, and, most importantly, no one had taken them away. Why? Well— because they listened to Georgie’s sign and installed a better security system. Not because there weren’t any more homophobes out there who were willing to do it.

Until that moment, those flags (the little ones Kasumi had given them in a rather unconventional way and the one made of light that Evander had come up with) had been more than enough for them. But, two years after the supernova, after Tamaya notified them the gearboxes that contained the lights had gotten soaked and that she needed the money to buy more before the next day (June 1st), Simon realized they were not enough for him anymore.

Simon wanted a bigger flag.

No. He wanted two.

The biggest pride flags he could find.

***

That was the reason why, after having pancakes for breakfast (because it had rained during the night), he took the car, took the other three people living in that house with him, and after he was able to read the map, they arrived at a store that, among other things, sold flags like the ones they were looking for.

“I want one too,” Adrian told them when they were at the flag section of the store. “For my room, you know. And I want to get ones for Danna and Nova because I don’t think they have any. They would’ve told me.”

Usually, when Adrian asked for something Simon hadn’t agreed to buy him, like some candy, an action figure, or a pair of sneakers, he would turn around and ask him if he had the money to buy any of those things himself, which would anger him so much he would stop wanting that certain thing.

But that day, he felt like buying them everything they wanted. As if money grew on trees (something he always told his kids didn’t happen.)

“Of course, darling,” he answered, “get them everything you want. It’s pride month.”

“It’s May 31th,” Max said. He was inside the shopping cart Hugh had grabbed the second they entered. It was something he always did, even if they weren’t going to buy a lot of things because, according to him, it felt weird and wrong not to.

“It’s almost pride month,” he corrected himself.

“So can I get something for Nova?” Adrian asked again, just to make sure.

“You can get something for Nova,” Hugh assured him, smiling a little bit.

Adrian quickly turned around and started looking for the flag he wanted while texting Nova about something Simon couldn’t read (not like he was trying to, anyway).

After making sure Adrian stayed on the same aisle as them, they started walking around, gazing at the flags and posters available. Simon felt pretty progressive because he was able to name every single sexuality and gender they were supposed to represent. He imagined Hugh was doing the same thing, but with a lot more difficulty than him. He kept his eyes fixated on each flag longer than Simon did, as if he were trying to remember what they meant, and when he did, he pushed the cart (with Max still inside of it, playing a game on Hugh’s phone because he had forgotten his tablet at home), and the cycle began again.

But suddenly, Simon saw ones that he didn’t recognize.

After three seconds of standing in front of those little flags, someone hit him in the butt with their cart. He turned around immediately, ready to say a really threatening “Hey” to whoever had done it.

Hugh was the only other person who was there. He had been the one who had hit him with the cart.

Suddenly, Simon felt a little bit stupid for thinking someone else had done it.

The two of them maintained eye contact for a couple of seconds until Hugh started looking at his own hands grabbing the cart’s handle.

“Simon.” Before Simon could ask him what happened, he added, with a deep voice: “Move.”

Simon didn’t move. Instead, he hit the cart with his hips, just out of spite. Hugh hit him again with it, making Simon feel the unexpected need to grab the cart with his two hands and use his own weapon against him, but Max was there and they couldn’t act like kids in front of him. So he just hit the cart with his hips again, a little bit harder than the first time, and left it there.

He realized he was just going to be wasting his time asking Hugh if he knew what that flag was supposed to represent.

“Cherub,” he called Max. “Do you recognize this flag?”

Max looked up from the screen. He usually didn’t like it when he called him “cherub” in public, but this time, he didn’t seem mad about it. “Um… no? Ask Adrian—” and continued playing.

Adrian came back with a basket full of pins, and for a second, Simon almost asked him if he really was that naive to believe he was actually going to pay for all of them. But then, he realized that it was only the basket where they kept all of the pins they sold and that Adrian had taken it to show them to them.

“Look, they have so many pins here—” he started taking random pins “—this is the aromantic flag… this is the genderfluid flag—”

“Interesting,” Hugh interrupted him, “but which flag is that one?” and pointed at the one Simon didn’t recognize.

Max took a random pin from the basket and started looking at it with curiosity. Adrian almost didn’t pay attention to it, and after a few seconds, he said: “That one’s yours.”

Simon frowned and took one. It was a handheld flag with green and blue stripes, with a white one in the middle. He touched the polyester with his fingertips as if that was going to give him the ability to communicate with it.

“But we don’t have a flag,” Hugh told Adrian. “I’ve heard of the lesbian fl—”

Adrian took a pin of the lesbian flag. “This one.”

“Yeah— but gay men don’t have one.”

“The rainbow is ours,” Simon said, without taking his eyes away from the blue and green flag he was holding. “Like, it’s for all queer people.”

Hugh directed his attention to Adrian again. “You’re messing with us.”

“I do mess with you a lot,” Adrian admitted, “but this time I’m not because if I do and you get mad, you won’t buy me all the stuff I want to get.”

“Huh.”

Simon knew Adrian and Max were a lot of things, but "dumb" wasn't one of those. And Adrian was especially intelligent when it came to convincing his parents to buy him things.

So he decided to believe him.

“Well, I like it,” he said. Then, he asked Hugh: “Do you like it?”

Hugh grabbed one and observed it for a while. “I like that it has blue on it,” he finally answered, nodding a little bit.

Simon noticed Max was spacing out while playing with the pin he had taken, so he waved the flag on his face, making him laugh and sneeze because the damn thing had a lot of invisible dust Simon didn't notice at first.

“Oh, sh—”

“You know? Maybe we should get two of these,” Hugh said, waving it too, but in his case, not on the face of one of their kids. “For our offices.”

“Matching flags, very romantic.”

Max rubbed his nose. “Why don't you get a big one for the house?”

Simon quickly started to look everywhere on that aisle, and he saw a lot of big versions of the flags he had recognized before (and some of the ones Adrian had mentioned), but there were no gay flags in sight.

“Maybe next year, I guess,” he shrugged. “I don't think they have them here yet.”

He grabbed two of the rainbow flags that were there, inside their respective plastic bags, gave them to Max, and he put them on his lap, still holding that pin. Simon made a quick mental note to remind his future self they needed to pay for that (he didn’t know if it had to with the fact that Max had been spending a lot of time with Maggie, Nova’s sister, but he had developed this weird habit of stealing the most random objects one could think of. Luckily, he limited himself to stealing things from his dads and, one time, from a store.) (Kids went through weird phases when they were Max’s age.)

(Because… it was a phase, right?)

Adrian received a text. “Danna says that she already has a flag, so I’m getting her a pin,” he said after reading it. “And Nova says she wants one too.” Then, his whole face lit up. “And I could get one too so we match.”

“Copycat,” Simon accused him, jokingly. “Your dad and I got matching flags, and now you want to get matching pins with your girlfriend.”

Hugh shook his head, disappointed. “I cannot believe you have betrayed your own family like this.”

They stayed at the store another 30 minutes to buy some other things they needed for the house, and from time to time, when he or Hugh grabbed something, they pretended they didn’t see Adrian and said: “Um, but the copycat may be listening” to a point he told them to stop, and refused to forgive them until they agreed to buy him the flag he didn’t intend to get anymore, but now was going to.

He got the last bisexual flag there was at that store.

***

The first time the four of them were together in their room was last June. Something went wrong with the A/C system of the entire house and the only room where one could stay without having a heatstroke was theirs because their A/C hadn’t broken down for some reason. Adrian and Max were sleeping on the air mattress until Simon (who hadn’t been able to sleep lately) heard that one of them woke up and asked Hugh something. He sat down on the bed, at the same time Hugh moved a little bit to allow Adrian to lay down between the two of them.

Then, in the middle of the dark, his eyes met Max’s.

He looked tiny. Young. Pretty young.

And far away.

Simon couldn’t remember who did it. He didn’t remember who talked that night. It could have been him, even. But he was sure that, at that moment, someone whispered:

“Get in here, kid.”

And Max obeyed. He crawled, raised his arms towards them, and Hugh grabbed him carefully by the collar of his shirt and placed him between him and Adrian.

It was a peaceful night. The bed was big enough for the four of them, and Simon was able to sleep and actually rest for the first time in weeks.

At least until their A/C turned off with a weird sound, and the four of them woke up at the same time, sweaty, uncomfortable, and almost at 11 AM, not because they weren’t necessarily willing to stay there longer, but because the heat was starting to get unbearable and suddenly the bed was too small for three adults and a little kid that was not that little anymore.

“This isn’t a room, this is a— a freaking oven,” Hugh said, while Adrian tried to push him out of bed to get the hell out of there and seek comfort on the air mattress he had abandoned in the middle of the night.

“And we are the... cookies,” Max giggled.

“The turkey,” Simon added.

Max turned around. His whole face was red and his hair was a little bit wet. “The lasagna.”

Simon grabbed him by the cheeks; a discreet way to check if he had a fever. “The cake.”

“The ham.”

“The—”

“Dad. Move.”

Later that day, Simon called someone to fix the A/C, and that was the end of the story.

When they arrived at the house, Adrian wanted to hang his flag as soon as possible, on one of his room’s walls, but Simon insisted that they should iron it first so it looked nicer. Hugh said that he was planning on ironing the ones they had bought for the house and offered Adrian to do the same with his, but when he insinuated that he didn’t trust him enough not to mess up his flag the same way he had messed up his favorite shirt (the one he wanted to wear to take Nova to a nice place during her birthday), Hugh reminded him that the only reason he kept doing that for him was that Adrian didn’t know how to iron yet, and decided that he was going to use that moment as a teaching opportunity. Max made the mistake of laughing at his brother when he thought no one was paying attention to him, but Adrian was and dragged Max into the teaching opportunity with him.

Simon joined too. Just because.

And suddenly, the four of them were in their room again.

With the A/C on, of course.

He didn't know if Hugh had noticed, but he had been so invested in his own explanation, that after he finished ironing the two rainbow flags, he started ironing Adrian’s without realizing it. Adrian, instead of giving up and stop pretending he was paying attention, was looking, kind of mesmerized, how he opened the bag of his blue, purple, and magenta flag, and proceeded to put it on the ironing board, now telling him that when Georgie had tried to teach him how to iron his clothes, she accidentally burnt Evander.

Simon was half-listening to the story, half-listening to the music video that Max was watching on the TV. He was sitting on a big and old ottoman they had bought a long time ago but had never found the perfect place to put it and just stayed there for years until they forgot about it. Max was in front of him, sitting on the floor and resting his back on the ottoman, while he covered his blond hair with small butterfly hair clips he had found at the store and bought just because he thought they were cute (who knows, maybe Nova wanted them for Maggie, or Kasumi could use them for herself, she loved them when she was little).

When all the hair clips were on Max's hair, he took a small mirror they kept in the bathroom (but Simon borrowed it for a minute) and gave it to him so he could see the final result.

“Look at me,” Max exclaimed, laughing. “I look so pretty.”

Simon grabbed one of the hair clips and pulled it a little. “Butterfly hair clips are a popular trend this time of the year.”

“This is definitely going to make me the most popular kid in the playground.”

“Definitely.”

He leaned forward to start taking the butterfly hair clips off Max's hair and was putting them on Max’s open hand when he noticed that he hadn’t let go of the pin they bought him at the store.

(Simon did remember to pay for the thing, but if he hadn’t done it, Max wouldn’t have said anything.)

“That was really nice of you,” Simon said.

Max looked at him, confused. “What?”

“Getting a rainbow pin—” he took his other hand and started putting the hair clips on it so none of them would get lost “—to show support.”

Max didn't say anything and Simon continued with what he was doing. After the music video finished, and another one started playing, Hugh gave Adrian his flag and told him he could go and hang it in his room, and as soon as Max heard that too, he gave Simon the hair clips and followed his brother out of the room, asking him if he could help him with it.

Simon, after realizing the bag where the hair clips came in had been destroyed by Max punching holes in it with the pin, took one of the empty pill bottles he kept in his drawers and put them there.

He closed the pill bottle and realized Hugh had been gazing at him during all this time, slightly leaning on the ironing board. “What?”

“That’s my pill bottle, Si,” he told him.

“Ah—” Simon pressed his lips “—can I have it?”

“No.” Hugh smiled at him. “Yes, you can.”

“So funny. Come here—” and patted the bed mattress.

Hugh, being extremely careful not to touch the flags he just ironed, lied on the bed and sighed.

“Do you want me to play with your hair?” Simon asked him with a soft voice.

He closed his eyes and nodded.

After a while of the two of them just being silent, he said, “Hey… I heard what you told Max, by the way.”

“The butterfly hair clips trend?”

“The pin thing.”

“What about it?”

Hugh opened his eyes, just a little bit. “Just don't tell Max I told you, all right? Because he told me he wouldn't tell anyone else until he was sure, but… I think it's important the two of us know,” he explained.

Simon was starting to feel his palms get a little bit sweaty. “Okay— but just tell me, please.”

He checked overhearing their conversation one last time, and that the kids were still at Adrian's room. “Max told me a couple of days ago that he has been thinking about… what he likes.”

He stopped playing with his hair for a second. But then, he continued.

It was his way of coping with the feeling of his stomach twisting inside of him. “What he likes?” Hugh nodded again. “Huh. And has he— does he has an idea or—”

“No, he doesn't,” Hugh answered. “He just knows that he doesn't like girls. Or that's what he told me.”

Simon raised his eyebrows and scoffed. “That sounds like a lot of things. Not liking girls.”

Hugh scoffed too. “That's what I told him. And that he can take all the time he needs to figure it out. Because he can—”

“Yes. Yes, of course, he can,” Simon assured, with determination. “Life is longer than we think it is.”

They stayed silent again. And Simon couldn’t help but feel relive inside his head the moment he called Max an ally, feeling his stomach twisting even more at every second it passed.

“I feel bad.”

“Why?”

His palms started to sweat again. “Because I called him an ally.”

“It’s all right. You didn’t know.”

“I shouldn’t have assumed anything.”

“You didn’t know,” Hugh repeated.

But Simon didn’t listen. “Si.”

Then, Hugh grabbed him carefully by the wrist, and, a little bit surprised, Simon tilted his head. Hugh usually didn't interrupt him when he was playing with his hair.

“What's wrong?” he asked.

“No, what’s wrong with you?” he deadpanned

Simon knew him well enough to know he wasn’t trying to be rude. It was just his way of asking things. Especially when he was genuinely worried and didn’t think about modulating his tone so it It fitted the situation better.

He sighed. Because he didn’t want to lie to him. “I assumed Max was straight.”

As soon as he said it, he realized how silly it had sounded phrased like that. But he also noticed his voice had broken and he had to put a hand on his mouth so he didn’t start crying.

And Hugh, instead of saying the encouraging phrase he expected him to say…

He smiled.

And for some reason, that made him want to cry even more. “Ew, why are you smiling?” he asked.

Hugh took his time to answer him. “Oh, it’s nothing. I think I'm just… happy.”

“Well, I’m not.”

Hugh smiled more. “I know, love, I know… It's just one of those things…” he tried to find the right words this time. “One of those things I didn't think we were going to go through together,” he kept saying. “Like… we're going to be together when Max finally discovers who he really is. Like we did with Adrian. And like other people did with us. And that makes me happy.”

Simon wanted to tell him to shut up and let him cry and be dramatic as much as he wanted because he considered he deserved it. But he tried to do it, the only thing that could come out of his lips was almost imperceptible “Yeah…” and then, a small tear started running down his face. Hugh quickly noticed this and wiped it away with his finger. Simon scoffed and looked away, rubbing his nose.

“Hey…” and he moved aside so Simon could lay beside him.

The space they had was a little too small but he didn’t mind because now he had an excuse to be closer to him.

And there it was again. Little Simon. Little Simon was there again with them.

Just that this time he wasn’t crying, or screaming, or even flickering. He was just… existing.

And all he wanted to do was to exist.

When Hugh held him that way, sometimes he felt as if it was the first time he did it. Which made Simon (and the sad, angry and scared part of Simon) wonder if there was a sad, angry and scared part of Hugh that also craved that comfort and validation, and if it was the one who hugged that younger version of Simon until they convinced each other that everything was fine.

That there was nothing wrong with neither of them.

Because sometimes it was as if people didn’t remind them that as many times as they needed. So the only option they had was to be there for the other, and tell him that it was okay to hug, to kiss, to touch, and to share until the one who was talking ended up convincing both of them.

Love wasn’t temporary.

And their love was as powerful as they wanted it to be.

Those younger versions of themselves wanted to stay like that forever every single time. But their adult versions knew they couldn’t do it because they had other responsibilities that they needed to attend.

Installing those two pride flags that were next to them, for example.

Their younger versions were excited to do that, but they also asked them if they could rest together a little bit longer. And neither of them had the heart to tell them no.

Hugh started to play with a lock of Simon’s hair. “We’ll be there to catch him.”

He knew he wasn’t talking about either of them. Even if, with his eyes closed, he could see little Hugh and little Simon holding each other’s hands and throwing themselves into the world, a little less sad, and angry, and scared than before, without being sure if there was going to be someone down there to catch them if everything went wrong.

“Together.”

And Simon agreed. “Together.”

***

“He’s going to fall.”

Simon rolled his eyes.

“No, he’s not,” Hugh told Max. “I’m here.”

“But what if—”

“Done,” Simon announced before Max could even finish his sentence. “Now, let’s just hope these things stay there as long as possible, because this ladder makes me anxious. I was trembling while putting the first flag.”

Max clicked his tongue. “It’s a windy day. The wind could have pushed the ladder or something.”

Now it was Hugh’s turn to roll his eyes. “Take my hand.”

Simon went down the ladder without letting go of his hand. Then, while Hugh took it and quickly went inside the garage to put it there, Adrian pricked his little brother up with his own rainbow flag pin, and in response, Max punched him in the stomach with all his might (which wasn’t that much). Adrian laughed and pretended to be hurt, but immediately asked him if he wanted him to help him with his pin.

Simon noticed that Adrian had already put his pin of the bisexual flag on his clothes, and watching him pull Max a little bit closer so he didn’t prink him again (now by accident), while Max gazed at his hands, trying to memorize his movements so he could do the same thing when he wanted to wear that pin again, made his mouth curved into a smile.

When his husband came back from the garage, he thought he was going to tell them to stop blocking the sidewalk and get in the house so they could continue with their day. But instead of doing that, he walked towards them and looked at their waving flags, flying on their mansion for the first time in years.

Adrian grabbed Max by the waist and carried him on his shoulders so he could have a better view. And he realized that there would be a day when they would throw themselves into the world completely alone, without knowing how people were going to act and aware that two of them were brave enough to take whatever blows that they were going to throw at them.

But they weren’t going to do it alone. Because Hugh, Simon, and their hurting parts weren’t going to spend a day without reminding them that they were going to be there, ready to catch them every single time they needed it.

Simon started to look for Hugh’s hand just to realize, Hugh was already looking for his too, and when they found each other, he couldn’t contain himself and stood on his tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek. Then, Hugh smiled and kissed him back, this time, on the corner of his lip.

Simon felt proud of what they were.

He was really proud.

And he hoped they were proud too.

#renegades #archenemies #supernova #renegades trilogy #hugh everhart #simon westwood #adrian everhart #max everhart #everhart-westwood family #the warden and the captain are sitting in a tree #obsi's writs #i should get an oscar for the homophobic storm joke

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dat-town · 4 years

Text

love passes by

Characters: Hyunjae & You

Setting : childhood friends to lovers feat good old mutual pining and a sprinkle of angst

Summary: Hyunjae was too easy to fall in love with. Too bad you knew it was bound to end in a heartbreak.

Words: 4.7k

Partly inspired by his A to BoyZ video, IU’s When love passes by cover.

Gangneung was a relatively small town by the beach, where most people made a living of fishing or something related to that and countryside tourism. You never had the ambition to leave for a bigger city, to live the infamous Seoul life because you were content with the simple one you had.

After finishing high school, instead of pursuing further education, you started working as a waitress at your family's fried chicken restaurant. You used to do the same during summer breaks, so the regulars knew you already, greeted you as if you were their daughter just the same. Living in the suburbs of the town made it feel like a lovely village where everyone knew everyone and other than the mass of tourists in the summer season no new faces arrived. Nobody that could have turned your life upside down.

Not until Lee Jaehyun.

He wasn't a totally new face per se, but still, it had been years since the town had seen any of him and now he was back.

"Kwak Auntie's family visits her for the summer. Have you heard? Nobody knows why all of a sudden. We haven't seen them in years," you overheard a few murmurs in the restaurant about the news but didn't give it much thought even though the ahjumma lived right next to your family's home. You knew that if something was indeed going on, you would get to know it in time. And how right you were about it!

"Hm?" You looked up from your food when your mother called your name during dinner and she looked at you like she always did when she had something to ask. She always looked so apologetic about it even though you rarely said no because you had never been the rebellious kind and her requests weren't huge things either.

"You know, Mrs Kwak's daughter and grandson will come to town for the summer. I was thinking since you and Jaehyun used to play together, it would be nice if you could show him around, so he would see a familiar face."

You gulped down the spoonful of rice before nodding, throat closing up in a way that threatened to suffocate you.

"Sure," you croaked out, digging your own grave.

Truth was, seeing Hyunjae again was dangerous to your fragile heart but in such a small neighbourhood it was inevitable, so you might have as well bitten the bullet and taken it.

You just didn’t expect it to happen so soon, so sudden.

"Petite!"

The familiar, playful voice called your old nickname so affectionately that your lips trembled as you forced a smile, halting your movements. You needed to take a breather before turning around to face the boy who had grown into a young man over the years. After all, you had been sixteen and hopelessly in love with him when you had last seen him.

“Hyunjae...”

The name you used to call him fell from your tongue naturally as you saw him jogging up to you on the sidewalk a corner away from the street where you both resided and you felt your heart do a silly flip (or more like a slip) in the confines of your ribs as you caught the sight of him.

Your childhood friend had been handsome already once he had grown into his lanky limbs, face thinning with the years, eyes ever so mischievous but the good span of seven years that had passed since you had met matured his features. He was even taller, shoulders wide and his soft brown hair was styled sideways, still letting a few locks fall into his forehead. His thin lips were pulled into a wide smile and the dark of his irises sparkled with a giddiness. It was almost like he hadn’t changed a bit. He still wore clothes a bit too big on his slim frame, long, elegant fingers disappearing in the sleeves of his white shirt. His smile was so bright it outshone the Sun and small wrinkles appeared around his narrowing eyes. You needed to remind yourself to breathe.

“I heard you’re back… for the summer,” you fumbled with the words clumsily like a puppy learning to stand on its feet. Truth be told, you had no idea how to act around him without being awkward. You should have been over it, way over it, but seven years had passed and all those messy teenage feelings were back.

“Yeah, yeah I guess I am,” Hyunjae chuckled and the echoing sound of it messed up your heartbeat.

Oh if he knew how he made you feel! But despite him being so straightforward and sharp about everything else, he seemed so oblivious to your feelings that it made your heart ache. You had convinced yourself that he knew, he knew about it all too well and didn’t bring up only to save you from embarrassment, to save you from a hurtful rejection. You also convinced yourself it was better this way: he always left after all. He lived on the other end of the country and you didn’t want to be anyone’s summer fling.

“Where are you going?” Hyunjae inquired curiously, hands slipping deep into his pockets, eyes expectant as they were searching for yours but you refused to look up.

“Just running a few errands,” you shrugged and lifted the bag in your hand with a container full of fresh kimchi from Mrs. Kim a few streets down.

“For the restaurant? Gosh, I missed your mother’s fried chicken! Hers is the best. Just don’t tell my mom,” the boy next to you joked and you got startled when his fingers grazed against yours around the strap of the bag. You were so taken aback by the sudden action that you let go instinctively and the boy took the baggage from you.

“I can do it,” you protested, reaching for the strap after a moment of shock but Hyunjae’s mouth curled up in a smirk as he raised an eyebrow in challenge.

“Good luck taking it from me.”

For a second long you held the eye contact but then you were the first one to give up, of course you were. You turned your head, feeling your cheeks heat up at the depth of his dark eyes and his laughter filled the quiet streets with life. His steps resumed and you needed a moment to catch up under the scorching Sun.

“Have you been well?” he asked, sounding curious and your heart wished to tell him how much you had missed him all this time but it was too pitiful.

“Same old, same old. You know, nothing much changes down here. I’ve been doing well,” you answered instead because really, you had no complaints. Your life wasn’t exciting at all but you didn’t need it to be, you didn’t need heart attacks like Hyunjae to come more often than they did. Which also came to the fact that he was indeed there after all these years and you wondered why all of a sudden. However, you didn’t want to push, so your voice was kind and your tone was tentative as you asked: “And you?”

“Good. Seoul keeps me busy as always,” he said but he was short on words, didn’t tell you much, nothing specific and you were too afraid to ask, so instead you thanked him for his help with the container when you reached your house. It felt awkward not to know how to say goodbye. Your mother might have asked you to show him around but you weren’t kids anymore, he didn’t need a helping hand to get to know a town he had already been familiar with and you didn’t want to become a bother. But as soon as you turned around to go into the house, hand already on the handle, the boy called after you.

“When is your next day off? We could hang out a bit, catch up,” he suggested casually and it gave you a feeling similar to nausea.

“I’m free on Monday,” you told him and closed the door behind you so quickly that you missed his bitter smile.

The beach sand burnt under your bare feet.

“Remember when we were playing tag around here?” Hyunjae brought up suddenly and you hummed, grateful to the ice cream in your hand to cool you down a bit. You walked closeby, arms almost brushing, sharing stories here and there, nothing serious though, nothing that could have ruined the light atmosphere.

“Yeah. You always cheated,” you scoffed but with no malice and the gasp the boy let out was playful as well.

“Not my fault that I run faster,” he objected to your accusations to which you rolled your eyes.

“You just have longer legs,” you argued and as you started bickering about something so trivial like this, you could feel the tenseness melt in your bones and looking at him didn’t hurt that much anymore. By the time you both devoured your sweet treats, you had walked along the beach up to the famous white lighthouse and the ground turned more rocky than sandy. It didn’t stop the boy from chasing you to prove a point and laughter bubbled up your throat as you looked over your shoulder while trying to find your balance on the colder surface.

Hyunjae threatened that he would catch you and you weren’t going to let him, but you didn’t pay enough attention to the slipperiness of the rocks as you jumped from one to another and before you knew you lost your stable point. You had already gotten ready to land on your butt in the shallow sea water, but before that could have happened, slim fingers wrapped themselves around your waist, holding you in place. Hyunjae caught up with you just in time and the giggles stuck in your throat as he pulled you back into safety, close to his chest, looking down at you with worrisome eyes.

“I told you I’d catch you,” he murmured and you gulped. Oh how you wished he would have been there to catch you when you fell (deep in love with him).

Hyunjae became a regular at the restaurant your parents owned. He was always doted on, getting free treats just because he flashed a pretty smile. Or maybe it was because of his neverending compliments on which you called him out after a while.

“No, for real! Fried chicken became my favourite because of this place, so let me enjoy it,” he insisted and let out a moan at the taste of the crispy meat and you let out a laughter before running off to serve another customer.

You slowly got used to having him around, having him keep an eye on you from across the place. Sometimes he was there for hours long, a notebook in front of him, pencil in hand, hovering over the table, only looking up with a bright and mysterious smile when you walked by to refill the water jug on his table. He never showed you what he was working on.

Sometimes he stuck by until closing hours and then, no matter how much you objected, he stole a wet cloth for himself and helped you wipe off the tables, turning the volume on the radio up, having fun around the place. It was indeed more fun with him there, you had to admit and if it wasn’t for you fearing your heart, you might have admitted it out loud.

“Come on, dance with me,” Hyunjae held a hand out just when you wanted to get a mop and clean the floor but he saw through your weak protests and took your hand in his.

Your parents and other employees had left already, it was only the two of you for once in this cozy place you knew as your second home. An English song you liked came up on the radio and the boy had you twirl and laugh as you stumbled around in-between tables as if you were in a ball room. When he pulled you close and you felt his heartbeat over his chest, eyes boring deep into yours, you told yourself you only imagined the hammering speed of his heart and the longing of his eyes. It made it easier to laugh it off and to let go of his hand when the song ended.

Just one song, for that much you could let yourself be in love.

Again. Still.

Warm sand stuck to your water-soaked feet as you watched the waves play with your toes every other minute. It was getting dark, you were supposed to go back soon after another day off spent together. The silence wasn’t heavy, just nice and cozy, just like being next to him. So you didn’t expect him to tell you anything grande. Not until his quiet voice got lost in the wind.

“I dropped out of college,” he said, as if it was final but his voice wasn’t sad. You didn’t know what to say. Sorry? It sounded weird because turning your head to look at him, he didn’t seem like hurting. Just maybe a bit afraid of judgement. There was an answer on the tip of your tongue but he was faster. “I wanna do art. Something to let my voice heard. Business is not for me.”

The words felt rushed, as if he wanted to explain himself but he should have known better: there was nothing to explain to you, he didn’t need to.

“You’re still young. You have plenty of time to find your way. Don’t waste it on something you don’t like,” you said trying to soothe his pain, trying to mend his wounds and the smile he gave you had you catch your breath in the throat.

Suddenly he looked much older than your teenage selves. Suddenly you felt like adults who shouldn’t have made rash decisions and while you were okay letting life go with the flow, enjoying the calm serenity of your seaside days, Hyunjae had always had big dreams and big ambitions. He had grown out of this town, he belonged to the city with its buildings reaching for the skies.

“Tell me about your art,” you spoke up before he could have done anything that made your heart falter even more. You turned back to the sea, watching the Sun set on the horizon while Hyunjae told you about how he had picked up on drawing first and then photography. You listened to the way he talked about what he liked in these and there was a surreal kind of jealousy building in your chest as you realized he was in love with art.

“You could show me one day. If you’d like to,” you whispered and you thought the waves washed away your wish but the stars seemed to listen as Hyunjae didn’t even take his eyes off you.

It wasn’t the first time you were in his room but back then it was a child’s room, now it was just a guest room with barely anything personal. You felt like walking in a territory you weren’t supposed to but Hyunjae acted very casual, telling you to make yourself home while he brought drinks and snacks. Sitting cross legged on his bed, looking out of the window, seeing the same as you see from your own window made you feel some type of way.

The boyish smile that pulled on his mouth when he got back just added to it but then he pulled out his sketchbook and camera, laying them both on your lap, letting you look over them, seeing into the depth of his art. You were in awe at the way he was able to capture the sea and the sunset or the way he made ordinary things like an empty street seem serene and beautiful. It struck you even harder when you flipped through his drawings made with nothing but pencil and yet so delicate and amazing. Your hand trembled though when you found a few drawings of you.

“I was just messing around and you were there,” Hyunjae shrugged, skipping a few pages full of you as if you had been on his mind just as much as he was on yours.

You didn’t ask why though, you didn’t dare.

Yet, you agreed when the boy asked whether you would stay over for a movie night and he put on his favourite superhero film before settling on the bed next to you. One movie turned into two and then a whole marathon, him lending you more comfortable shorts and an oversized shirt to wear to bed. Both of you knew you could have just gone home to change but somehow you didn’t have it in you to reject his offer. So you sat by the headboard of his bed next to him, in a soft white tee smelling like his laundry detergent, smelling like him, while watching Tony Stark save the world again.

Summer was passing too fast.

You knew you were getting too attached with each second. You knew you should have stopped it before it was too late but you were already too deep, especially after that day in the arcade.

Hyunjae was still sometimes a kid at heart and you couldn’t say no to him when he dragged you into the corner arcade, playing a few rounds of games, giggling so loud as if he had the time of his life. He even promised to win you your favourite Pokémon plush but after wasting ten thousand won you stopped him from trying, telling him it didn’t matter that much but he wasn’t one to give up.

“Give me your hand,” he said as you were sitting on a wooden bench waiting for the bus to come and you frowned as you looked at his determined face. You let out a small huff of a sigh and gave up already. Hyunjae was too stubborn, so if he didn’t want to tell you why, he wasn’t going to no matter how much you begged him to. You held your right hand in front of you with palms up but the boy’s gentle fingers quickly turned it over, nails grazing over the back of your hand before you felt something cold slide onto your index finger. You could only stare when you noticed the thin band of pink toy ring he just put onto you.

You blinked at him, seeking the warmth of his brown eyes on you but when he looked back at you, his mouth was already pulled up into a mischievous kind of smile, washing away any other emotions.

“See? I won you something,” he said triumphant and you were too taken aback to notice the matching silly plastic ring on his hand.

You had always had a fascination with summer rains but you would have never thought you would be caught in one with the boy who made your heart beat so abnormally.

The two of you were out on the beach, running around in the warm sand bare feet, splashing water to each other and laughing about some story he was telling you before you would have let out sounds of shrieks at the cold raindrops on your skin. It didn’t take even a minute for the downpour to turn into a storm, pouring enough water on you to soak your clothes through.

“Come, let’s find a hideout,” Hyunjae grabbed your hand, your slippery fingers fitting perfectly as he pulled you away from the beach but both of you chuckled by the time you made it under a balcony to catch your breath. You were quietly panting as you watched the storm move the trees and sunshades.

“I told you it was going to rain! You never listen to me,” you nudged the boy’s shoulder next to you but only then you noticed that you were still holding hands, fingers intertwined and there were so many unsaid questions in your eyes as you looked up at him. His hair was almost in his eyes, the brown mop sticking to his pale skin like second skin while the raindrops looked like pearls against his smooth features and sitting on his eyelashes. He was the most beautiful daydream you had ever seen.

Hyunjae called your name, gently, almost like a stroking touch and a breath got stuck in your lungs as you kept eye contact. You felt yourself drowning in his eyes and you weren’t sure you shivered because of the chilly breeze the storm brought. Those dark orbs on you had something serious in them, something that pinned you into place.

Hyunjae’s thumb stroked your wrist and the sharp inhale of air he took had his mouth parted, had you follow the movement with your eyes, only to have him take a step, impossibly closer to you. You needed to raise your chin to look into his eyes and when you saw him leaning down, your eyes fluttered closed on instinct.

It felt like dreaming, the drawn out moments, until a loud thud made you open your eyes.

“Yah, come inside, both of you will get cold!” The ahjumma from the nearby café yelled at you and embarrassed, with pink ears, you stepped away from Hyunjae. On your lips you were missing the feeling of something you never experienced: his kiss.

You didn’t talk about it. Hyunjae didn’t say anything even when he walked you home after the storm passed, so you just watched him go with a thudding heart.

But you should have been a fool to not notice how he avoided you the next couple of days until you got enough of this weird awkwardness between the two of you and you went over to the neighbouring house only to face unexpected news: the house was on sale. It was clear on the table displaying a phone number and when you pushed your way through the entrance, you only saw wrapped up and covered furniture. Mrs. Kwak was moving, that much was obvious. That must have been why her family came: for a last time. You couldn’t let that pass without comment, so knocking on Hyunjae’s door, you didn’t even greet him.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you raised your voice immediately. There was a storm inside you threatening to spill and you could barely hold it together. He was never supposed to stay, you knew that much but to act as if this summer was like any other when in reality it was your last together was unfair. To you at least.

“I just wanted a chance to say goodbye before we leave,” the boy gulped, shoulder tense and eyes swimming with sadness. But you were too busy fighting your own demons, the hurt in your body, the ache of your heart to care about that.

“You should have told me nevertheless. How was I supposed to find out that you will leave next week and never come back?” You questioned harsher than you wanted and seeing Hyunjae’s face crumble made you guilty right away.

“Why are you so angry? You knew I was going to leave. Like every single time! I never made you believe otherwise. I didn’t want to give you hope when I can’t stay,” he said and arguing from the two sides of a doorstep really made it feel like you were on opposite poles of the absolute truth, yelling something that the other wouldn't have heard anyway. All you could hear were excuses while he only heard accusations. His question - Why are you getting so angry? - rang in your ear and you just wanted him to understand, finally, after all these years.

“That’s exactly the problem! You always leave,” you claimed, putting the blame on something that you had known from the get go, so in that sense you should have been blamed just the same but Hyunjae with that desperate darkness in his eyes seemed to get it.

“No, the problem is what we make it to be. The thing is: you belong here and I don’t. I’m just passing by like summer, I come and go like the ocean waves but you never asked me to stay,” he said through gritted teeth, leaning closer. He looked very cozy in the shirt over his tee, off the shoulder as he kept his balance on the door frame. At his words, you felt like air was knocked out of your lungs but if someone then Hyunjae knew exactly how to take your breath away. “Why do you think I haven’t visited in the last few years? Why haven’t I told you I’m in love with you?”

“You… what?” you blinked because his words didn’t make sense. Not to you, not now and the boy you had known all your life was standing in front of you as if he had been standing at the edge of a cliff before diving forward until your back hit the wall of the corridor behind you. With a hand on your neck, he tilted your head and pressed his chapped lips against yours so gently and so loving that you had the urge to cry. It was a goodbye you knew, so no matter how sweet it tasted your salty tears broke your heart.

“You’re being unfair,” you told him as you shoved him away until he stumbled back. You looked into his heartachingly beautiful eyes one last time. “You never asked me to leave with you either.”

After Hyunjae left, the town got quiet and calm again.

Your days were just the same and you claimed you didn’t want anything more no matter how pitying your own mother looked at you. It was like she knew yet you didn’t want to share your heartbreak story with anyone. You told yourself it would go away and months after months it seemed you were right.

On winter nights, you missed his warmth and in spring you wished he would be there to see the cherry trees bloom. When songs reminding you of him played on the radio you could smile again after almost a year and then you only thought of him from time to time when storms passed by the beach, the sea and the rain singing their own ode to him. You convinced yourself you moved on, almost believed it was better this way until news of someone buying the house next to you came.

“What? It can’t be bought by just anyone,” you looked at your mother in horror after she told you that the house is going to be turned into a studio and abruptly, you stood up from the table.

Mrs Kwak’s house was a part of your childhood, a place you cherished and treasured as it held many of your memories with Hyunjae: hide-and-seeks, movie nights and a kiss desperate and regretted. You didn’t want a stranger there who would do who knows what. It was irrational, you knew that much but you just couldn’t help it, the urge to do something. So you took the welcome tarte from your mom and got out of the house before she could have protested. You walked up straight to the van of the moving company and asked where you could meet the new owner. One of the guys from those who carried those brown boxes pointed towards the sea. There, on the beach sat a man in the sand, knees pulled up and hugged close to his chest.

Your heart skipped a silly beat as you got closer because you knew this silhouette all too well. You almost dropped the dessert in your hands when he turned around, looking straight at you.

“What are you doing here?” you asked in a trembling voice, trying to hide the childish ring on your finger in the meantime but Hyunjae always had sharp eyes and the small movement made him crack a smile. A heartwarming, genuine one.

“Staying.”

#hyunjae x reader #tbz x reader #the boyz x reader #hyunjae scenarios #6daysofhyunjae #i managed to write sth for him eventually #happyhyunjaeday #stories

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the-mirror-witch · 4 years

Text

Sinister Supper

“Silver!” Lilia sang the boy’s name as he floated through the halls of the castle, startling those he passed with his volume. “Oh, Silver! Come out, come out, wherever you are.”

Lilia sailed through the air, accompanied by his bats, as he checked under tables, behind drapes, and even within pots for any sign of his absentee son. The young child was impressively skilled when it came to hiding. He had to be with Lilia as his guardian.

Busy with searching as he was, Lilia nearly collided with Tullius as he traveled through the halls.

“Lilia!” Tullius cried with a startled shriek, as he nearly bent over backwards to avoid getting hit by the wayward vampire.

“Oh, Tullius. What a pleasant surprise!”

“I wish I could say the same. What in Guivre’s name are you doing?”

“Why, searching for my darling little night owl, of course! I don’t enjoy just randomly calling out names of precious metals, you know?”

Knowing Lilia, Tullius wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case. The vampire thrived off of chaotic energy more than blood.

“Are you saying you lost the human child?” Tullius asked with narrowed black eyes. All he could think about was a little human monster running around the castle, unsupervised, and causing all kinds of mayhem. Tullius heard that Silver was exceptionally mild-mannered for his age, but really, he was only human.

“I didn’t lose him, per se,” Lilia defended. “I turned away for a single moment and he took off.”

“And why did the child flee from you?” Besides the obvious reasons. “Did he finally tire of your antics.”

Lilia pouted at that, “You say that like there’s something wrong with my antics. I simply engage in harmless fun is all.”

Harmless fun is not what Tullius would call it.

“As for why he was running from me, I haven’t the faintest clue. I was simply serving him dinner.”

Ah. That explained it. Speaking of which, Tullius took not of the obsidian pot Lilia was carrying in his arms. Tullius could feel a malevolent aura oozing from the pot. True evil lurked in there.

“Suspicious indeed,” Tullius replied dryly.

Lilia sighed dramatically, “I simply cannot fathom what I’m doing wrong. Silver is such a picky eater! I’ve tried every recipe imaginable, but he barely touches any of it. My poor little heart cannot take this treatment.”

Tullius imagined that he would be a picky eater too if his meal could potentially come to life and eat him instead.

“I even made the dish exceptionally special today,” Lilia bemoaned, lifting the lid off of the pot and oh sweet Thorn Witch-

That scent alone was enough to send an army fleeing in fear. Chills traveled down Tullius’s spine as he peered into the pot of hell. He couldn’t even tell what it was supposed to be or what it was even made up. Was it burnt, or was it supposed to be that black? Oh Guivre, Tullius swore he just saw it move!

“Oh, yes. Very special,” Tullius replied, his voice hoarse. It was special in the way poisoned laced meals were special.

Tullius wasn’t fond of humans, but at that moment, he felt a great swell of pity for the tiny human.

Eating that would be a fate worse than death-

“Here, why don’t you have a bite.”

Before Tullius could protest or flee for his life, Lilia pulled out a spoon, scooped a generous portion out of the hell pot, and shoved it into Tullius’s mouth.

Immediately, Tullius gagged, his eyes tearing up. He couldn’t describe the taste, for it was unlike anything Tullius had ever tasted in his life. If he had to choose, he might describe it tasting like death and old hair.

“Lost for words, Tullius?”

No. He was unable to form words, for he feared that if he opened his mouth his stomach would return that horrid substance with a vengeance.

Tullius ran from the hallway in search of the nearest lavatory, his hand clamped over his mouth.

Lilia watched him run, “My, my. What a dramatic little birdie he is.”

Bonus:

“My young prince, have you seen Silver anywhere?” Lilia asked when he chanced upon Malleus in the hallway, his dark cloak wrapped around his tall figure.

Malleus shook his head, “I’m afraid not.”

Lilia sighed before continuing his search, “Silver! Little Owl!”

When Lilia had left, Malleus lifted his cloak, “You can come out now.”

Silver crawled out, gazing up at Malleus with grateful violet eyes, “Thank you.”

“Avoiding supper?”

Silver shivered, “It winked at me.”

Malleus nodded in sympathy. He himself had suffered Lilia’s cooking before. Even his fearsome grandmother avoided Lilia’s dishes as if they were cursed.

“Well, I cannot allow you to go hungry. Do you wish to have some ice cream with me?”

Silver’s eyes gleamed, “Yes, please.”

#twisted wonderland #twst #lilia vanrouge #malleus draconia #silver #young silver #silver childhood #Lilia's awful cooking #my poor oc #I keep writing the Diasomnia characters and I'm not sorry #I hate ignoring the other dorms though #I think I'll torture Octavinelle next

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musicallisto · 4 years

Text

🌘 — 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲𝐥𝐨𝐧; (nik ryder x f!mc)

~ 2021 start-of-the-year event ~

@ladylamrian requested: No. 75 - Nik Ryder (Choices fandom) I wish you good luck, @musicallisto 😊 song: 5 seconds of summer - babylon | 𝄞

summary: Each time they crossed paths, she’d curse herself right afterward, and device some plan to disdainfully walk away next time she saw him. Each time they crossed paths, she forgot everything.

author notes: I liked this a whole lot when I started writing it and now I’m not so sure of it - I feel like it’s rushed in a way I can’t explain, and I’m just crap at writing arguments, and that’s on me being a libra. also, if you think i projected and the first part is just me rambling about my crush haha!! shut up word count: 1.9k words warnings: language, angst, lowkey obsessive infatuation/relationship but that’s just because I feel everything 100% and know no balance. I do not recommend loving someone with this much intensity, kids.

𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐘 𝐓𝐎 Nik Ryder’s charm had been like fighting a fire kindling in her chest. If she closed her eyes long enough, she could maybe take a deep breath, fill her lungs with air and hopes, and naively believe it would soon die down, the embers a mere reminder of what a long-forgotten stranger had once ignited in her.

Funnily enough, she didn’t close her eyes too often. It made her miss out on all the flames around her, she said.

Each time they crossed paths, she’d curse herself right afterward, reprimand herself for being so lovestruck and him for being so infuriatingly magnetic, and device some plan to lift her chin, eye him through half-opened eyes, and disdainfully walk away next time she saw him.

Each time they crossed paths, she forgot everything except for what her gut could yell and her eyes could see - him, nothing but him, everywhere and every time, even when she wasn’t looking. So she trailed after him, bit her lip when she caught him staring, soared when they bickered and he smiled, that devilishly crooked grin of his.

And inexorably, over the weeks and months, without him even realizing at first, he found himself pulled closer and closer to her, opening little cracks in his walls for her to see all the ruggedness beneath.

The first time they sat next to each other on the steps of the Graveyard Shift, shoulder to shoulder to fight the chill of the night, was the first time she caught a glimpse of Nik’s beating heart. When he absent-mindedly took her hand in his, not even commenting on how cold they were, her breath caught in her chest. She’d been infatuated before - but they always appeared to her as angels bathed in light, unstained and crowned in gold. But Nik’s heart was charred and his eyes glimmered with the gentle, albeit a little worn spark of disillusionment.

So much pain, solitude, and yet so much vulnerable softness all in one man, all in the man holding her trembling hand and not saying anything, enraptured her as nothing had before.

Maybe it was the New Orleans night, maybe it was all the supernatural chaos rushing to her head, maybe it was just that she’d had a charred heart too. But from then on, she wanted all but one thing. Him.

“I’m real glad I found you,” he had whispered into the cold, damp air, and involuntarily pressed her hand. “You make it seem like all this is worth fighting for.”

“It is.”

You are, she meant with all her heart. We are, she’d murmur later to the secret nooks of her ribcage.

How long will we be, she forgot to ask.

Falling in love with Nik Ryder was like letting the fire rage uncontrolled in her chest and savoring the warmth and the burns as they came.

After that night at the Graveyard Shift, and all those that followed where he would just hold her and talk of anything and everything, she’d only breathed in the same air as he, warm with an aftertaste of smoke like an embrace before an adieu. She’d seen the corners of his chest, the scars on his back, the hints of his life before her, but she wanted it all. She wanted to know his soul completely bare, to drown entirely into him, into his familiar, strong, and acidic smell of firewood and naphthalene. She’d seen his highs and his triumphs; she had loved them all like the rivers love the ocean; now she wanted the dust, the dirt, the grime, the tears, and the blood.

Her heart had once roared like a fury when she caught his gaze, when their hands accidentally brushed against each other or when he stepped between her and every danger; now it wasn’t quieter, but she had gotten accustomed to the rumbling like that of a waterfall. Her pulse didn’t skip anymore when he grabbed her hand as a reflex, because it had long before settled in tune with his. Her dreams were not haphazard flashes of him anymore, but vast expanses of sea. A brazen brown sea, exactly like the shade of his eyes...

And the more he talked, the more she listened; the more she unveiled about herself, the more he leaned over; until she knew him better than she knew herself; until he’d rested his head on her shoulder, and let go of years worth of troubles and worries and fears. There, on a quiet balcony overlooking Lamrian at night, she had uttered the word for the first time.

“I love you, Nik.”

She was certain of it. What else could be this fluttering in her chest at the sight of his face, so pure and tranquil and handsome, slightly tilted toward her own? How else could she call the fever that had taken over her, delectable and dizzying all at once, that threatened to consume her whole - what else, other than love?

He had looked up at her, opening earnest and profound eyes. He hadn’t seemed taken aback by the confession in the slightest, perhaps a consequence of his smug radiance. A silent mist, hovering beneath the moon and around them both, encapsulated their heartbeats until he spoke.

“Hell, MC, I think I love you too,” barely a murmur, an inch away from her face. “This is stupid, but I want to say it... I think-- I think I want to love you till I die.”

“I’m not stopping you.”

Please do.

A gasp escaped him, neither entirely relief nor laughter, when she took his hand in hers, warm for the first time. It was a mere second of her wondering at his eyes where stirred a few glimmers of the night before he’d kissed her deeply. She clung onto the lapels of his cloak, closed her eyes, and let herself be devoured. Soon enough his sighs had dissolved in the dark.

Oh! How naive had they been, to talk of life and death and love, with a Fate thundering overhead like a sword over their necks!

Having her heart broken by Nik Ryder was like the fire erupting into a blaze, like its tendrils of smoke clutching her throat, like a famished inferno devastating everything around her. It wasn’t losing him per se; it was losing them both, him and herself, all at once, as though the dormant mountain between them had exploded with no grunt to augur the outburst.

They had seen everything, they had fought everything, they had survived everything. But they both died the night they shattered.

“Goddamit, MC, how can you be so stubborn? You’re not listening to a goddamn thing I’m saying -- you never fucking listen!”

“Oh, I’m listening alright -- listening to you insult me and belittle me and ignore what I say and want because I’m a Rookie and an imbecile and--”

“When have I ever belittled you, MC? When?”

“Every damn time you’ve looked at me, Nik!” she exploded, making the walls and windows rumble. “Every damn time you’ve looked at me and treated me as if you saw nothing but a defenseless, spineless idiot!”

A deafening silence fell on the living room, as she breathlessly took notice, for the first time, of the unrest that had taken over Nik’s apartment. None of it was tangible; the cushions were in their usual place, the coffee table lined up with the sofa as it always was; but a troubling stillness lingered in the air as if the world were quietly frothing before a blast. None of them had noticed the lights outside dimming with the day, nor the slight breeze blowing in the room; and it all appeared suddenly to her, as she was staring up at Nik before her, her eyes neither cotton nor steel. Nik, who always had to have the last word, especially when it came to you, always so sure and full of himself...

“You were defenseless when I met you. All I ever did was to protect you.”

His tone, metal and ice, and his eyes, stone and darkness, and his abject self-sufficiency... always having to be the indispensable one... a bout of pure fury rose in her throat once more. He had been indispensable to her once, so very much, like the sun and air. He probably still was, too. Yet she realized with horror that she’d been engulfed in him for so long that she didn’t know what remained of her, purely her, and it suddenly made her sick beyond reason.

“Maybe I never wanted your protection! Maybe I’ve had enough! Maybe I never wanted to meet you!” she raised her voice again.

“Hell, if this is how it’s gonna be, maybe I was better off without you!” he spat back, throwing his arms in the air.

“Maybe, Nik! Maybe I don’t want the constant fear and pressure that being with you entails!”

“If you’re so scared of being with me, then leave! Leave, MC! I’m not stopping you!” he roared, as a first teary tremor troubled his voice. “But don’t come back crawlin’ when you miss me, MC, or when you find out I was right. I’ve had enough heartbreak and anger for a lifetime.”

“You always made everything about you,” she spat, resorting to bitterness just like he had.

Maybe it was all my doing, indirectly. Maybe I loved you too much for my own good. Maybe I wanted to forget myself into you. Maybe all we could both see was you...

No match ignited like theirs had been could have burnt for any longer.

No soul who’d been so utterly and desperately entangled with another could sit face to face with itself, bare and rotten, and escape unscathed.

“If you leave now, MC,” he hammered with a composure you loathed without really knowing why, “it’s forever. I ain’t choosin’ for you, for once.”

The weight of his words dawned on her suddenly, like a vice constricting her throat. She raised her eyes at him, meeting and holding his gaze, swallowing hard. Such a beautiful face, one she had loved so tenderly, all she could see, imagine, and sing for months. A face she had covered with kisses and touches and sleepy words. A face she had started at for so long, in hopes she would eventually forget hers...

“I need some space.”

Nik’s shoulders deflated, and he rubbed a hand behind his neck as she took a laborious breath. Something was twitching and yelling in her insides, begging to break free; perhaps one last sense of self she had unknowingly preserved... All she needed was space. An immensity. A wide, open field, where she could yell and cry and jump and sing... stare at her reflection in puddles and find herself again.

She grabbed her coat from the back of a chair. On her way to the door, she thought she heard an agitated but above all immensely pained whisper.

“You were all I cared about, MC, hand to God. I would’ve died for you.”

I would have too. Maybe that’s why we couldn’t both live.

More violently than she had intended, she closed the door behind her.

Breaking both her and Nik Ryder’s heart was like wrecking a tower, sky-high, unsinkable, unshakeable. Neither of them remained long enough to salvage anything among the rumble; specks of dust jammed their mouths and chests already.

#mywriting #playchoices #choices stories you play #nightbound #nik ryder #nik ryder x reader #nik ryder x mc #nik ryder imagine #nightbound fanfic #nightbound imagine #nightbound one-shot

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c-optimistic · 5 years

Text

brave

They met as wide-eyed, sticky fingered, mess inclined, and chatty third graders. And Kara had known it was a love story from the start.

Well, all right. No, she didn’t know at eight years old, per se. She certainly had figured it out by the time they were seniors in high school, but in third grade, watching some short, grubby, sniffling boy attempt to shove Lena off the swing set made Kara see red, not hearts, ending up with a fistful of the boy’s shirt, making threats there was no way she could’ve backed up. (That bully hadn’t seemed to realize that; she found out he’d transferred schools not a week later, teachers citing he had ‘irreconcilable issues’ with the other students—namely, Kara.)

The point, of course, was that it wasn’t exactly the beginning of some romantic love story. Rather, it turned into Lena’s favorite thing to talk about when they met new people, an icebreaker of sorts when she met with investors and board members and random strangers on the street, the lot of them chuckling over Lena Luthor’s childhood best friend.

(“She was barely three feet tall, I swear. But she scared him with nothing but narrowed eyes and a gritted voice and honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything more impressive. My best friend was, and I guess still is, a badass.”

Not that she’d admit it, but Kara always blushed at the story and at Lena’s added comment at the end.)

And the thing was, she knew she screwed up. Because Lena was more than just a best friend to her—most times, Lena felt a little bit like everything. Lena was her rock, her anchor, her grounding point. When everything was going wrong in her life, it had been Lena that she turned to, Lena who held her hand, Lena who allowed her to sob on her shoulder.

Falling in love with her best friend wasn’t a part of their story. Until, well, it was. And once it happened, it felt pretty damn inevitable. (Like the sun rising. Like the stars shining. Like the rising and falling tides. Like the changing of seasons and the blooming of flowers and the fresh scent of an afternoon breeze.)

Yet, when Kara shared these thoughts with the others in her life, she wasn’t exactly met with a response that inspired much confidence. Alex just laughed at the use of the word inevitable, Winn questioned her sanity more than once, and James had pulled her into a silent hug. And yes, their support would’ve been nice, but it’d gotten to the point that Kara didn’t care what they thought, because they hadn’t been there the day she met Lena. Her sister and friends weren’t there when Kara turned to Lena, her chest heaving in anger, horrified that anyone would dare hurt someone over a swing set, and Lena had smiled at her, stuck out her hand (already practicing her future career, already charming and clever and confident), and leaned forward.

“Hi,” she’d said, “I’m Lena. Thanks for helping me.”

And Kara (clumsy, cheerful, and carefree) promptly fell in love.

It just took her ten more years recognize it for what it was, then another ten before she did anything about it.

Lena was her best friend.

She didn’t come to such a conclusion lightly. No, at nine years old and precocious to boot, Kara took great care in the way she labeled the people in her life. Alex was her sister in all but blood—their families close, spending most free evenings and weekends with Alex, Eliza, and Jeremiah—and Clark, her actual blood relative, was a continual disappointment, making promises he seemed never able to keep.

And Lena, Lena was her best friend.

“Is that why you talk about her so much?” her mother asked one afternoon, home early from work, an exhausted but pleased expression on her face. “Because she’s your best friend?” Kara didn’t understand the wry smile, the funny expression. It didn’t seem to matter at the time.

“Yes!” she answered cheerfully, bounding over to her mother and ignoring her aunt’s snort from where she sat in the kitchen, head buried in a book, hands preoccupied with a mug of hot chocolate (the one she made for Kara long finished, burnt tongue forgotten in the repeated—and rejected—requests for more). “Like you and father! Or Aunt Astra and Uncle Non!”

Astra looked up at the sound of her name, brows furrowed in the way that Kara worked so hard to mimic, and she put her mug aside, lips quirking into something resembling a smile.

“Oh little one,” she began slowly, shaking her head as she clearly steeled herself to say something, her eyes soft in the way she only ever looked at Kara. “That’s not—”

“—it’s fine, Astra,” Kara’s mother interrupted, her own smile still in place. “I’m sure she’ll figure it out eventually without our help. Kara’s a smart girl.”

Astra laughed and agreed, neither her nor Kara’s mother deigning to answer Kara’s repeated questions as to what was so funny.

(Later, Kara will find solace in the fact that though she was too young and too naïve to put her feelings into words, her aunt and mother had understood anyway. Even years later, it felt important that her family had known about what she felt for Lena—it was a big thing in her life, and she was glad she somehow shared it with her family.)

Lena did not get along with her adoptive mother.

Kara wasn’t sure why, Lena never quite explained or even acknowledged it except with soft sighs and resigned expressions. Alex told Kara that the Luthors were an old family—Kara didn’t really understand what that meant and Alex assured her once she was a teenager it’d make sense—and that Lillian Luthor was a stickler for tradition.

(The truth was that Eliza and Jeremiah had worriedly discussed a bruise Kara had mentioned to her parents offhandedly when telling them every detail about her day with Lena, and Alex had merely repeated phrases she’d heard her parents utter.

The truth was that ‘did not get along’ was an understatement, not at all an accurate description of what Lena dealt with everyday, and yet those in any position to offer help were rendered powerless against a name like Luthor and everything that entailed.)

Kara wasn’t a teenager like Alex, she wasn’t wise like Lena, but the same protective instinct she’d felt in elementary school made a raging comeback in middle school when Lena confided to her that she was afraid to go home, afraid to disappoint her mother somehow. And it was so different from Kara’s own experiences—her own desire to spend as much time as she could with her busy mother, looking forward to the days she wasn’t buried in cases, unbuttoning the top two buttons of her shirt as she finally walked through the door late at night, forcing the exhaustion from her face and smiling wide at Kara—that she took Lena by the hand and told her quite firmly that she didn’t have to go home at all.

When Lionel Luthor himself came by their home several hours later, he frowned at the protective way Kara stood in front of Lena, listened carefully to what Kara’s mother had to say, then knelt down and placed a hand on Kara’s shoulder.

“I’m very glad Lena has a friend like you, Kara,” he said, using his free hand to rub his bald head unconsciously, weariness tingeing his actions and words. “Do you mind if she spends more of her time here?”

“Of course not,” Kara answered, almost offended that he even felt the need to ask. Lena was her best friend. She didn’t think there was anything she wasn’t willing to do for Lena.

“I’ll take care of it,” Lionel Luthor said as he got back to his feet, looked over to Kara’s parents now. “Thank you for bringing it to my attention. Thank you for your daughter.” He grinned over at Kara, holding out a hand for Lena, seemingly unsurprised that Lena took great care to first squeeze Kara’s hand in thanks before reaching out for her father.

(When she was tucked in that night, Kara’s mother told her she was proud of her, that she did the right thing bringing Lena home with her.

And many years later, Lena will squeeze her hand much like she had that day, smiling as she said, “You saved me from the day I met you. But it wasn’t till that afternoon that I realized you were my hero.”)

She was thirteen when her parents died in that fire and her aunt and uncle were jailed for it.

Clark and the Danvers called it an explosion, the papers called it an attack by those who disagreed with her parents’ work, but Kara always referred to it as ‘that fire’ both in her head and out loud. It was ‘that fire that killed her parents,’ ‘that fire that ruined her life,’ ‘that fire that took everything from her.’ She didn’t want to give that fire legitimacy by giving it a proper name, a proper description. It was cruel and senseless and quick, and Kara could do nothing but hate that fire in the only way she knew how: by never dwelling on it, by never giving it a name.

(Calling it that fire rather than ‘murder’ or ‘crime’ or ‘loss of everything she once held sacred’ made her feel better, made her think that maybe one day she would hear the name Astra and not want to throw up, that she could think of her parents and not imagine the horror they must have felt when their own family stabbed them in the back.

Calling it that fire gave Kara distance and separation, two things she desperately needed unless she wanted images of a bright red flame tearing everything she held dear apart seared into the back of her eyelids, visible every time she closed her eyes.)

Only Lena had ever seemed to understand. Only Lena had never once brought it up, merely following Kara’s lead and referring to the explosion, the attack, the death of her parents, as nothing more than that fire.

And Kara was thirteen, she was heartbroken and alone, and Clark—the one her parents had named as her guardian in the event anything went wrong—packed his things and disappeared, leaving her with the Danvers.

(“I’m too young to be a parent,” he’d said, hugging her tightly. “I’m not good for you, Kara, please understand that.”

She didn’t, of course.)

And Kara was thirteen and she had Alex’s warm hugs at night, promising her that they were officially sisters and she’d always be there, and she had Lena’s tight grip on her hand at school, silently swearing she’d always lend her strength, the two of them spending every free moment together.

But Kara was thirteen, and she mistook the love she felt for Lena with the sort of love she felt for Alex, and that seemed enough at the time.

“What’re you doing?” Alex asked, chin on Kara’s shoulder, eye on the sketchbook placed on the desk in front of her. She grimaced a little when she noticed the graphite coating Kara’s fingers, and she reached out, plucking each individual digit, prying them from the pencil in Kara’s hand, rolling her eyes when Kara merely huffed and hunched her shoulders, attempting to ward off Alex’s lanky limbs.

“None of your business.”

“You’re in the middle of the living room, it’s my business when you’re in my line of sight.”

“How about I use that argument when you’re chatting with whatever her name is on the phone until three in the morning?”

As if the words were a jolt of electricity, Alex’s arms pulled away from Kara, her entire body floundering as she stumbled backwards, managing nothing more coherent than a series of half-hearted monosyllabic protests.

“That was a low blow, Kara,” Alex hissed once she got her head on straight, looking decidedly annoyed. “You promised not to bring it up if I bought you ice cream after school.”

“You got me a Popsicle, it wasn’t the same and the deal is off.”

“What’re you hiding?” Alex asked, eyes suddenly narrowing, much more interested in the sketchbook than Kara felt comfortable with. “You’re always more snarky when you’re hiding something.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, now if you don’t mind, I’ve got a lot of homework and I promised Eliza I’d help with dinner so—” She attempted to pick up the sketchbook and get up from her seat at the table, but Alex pushed her back down, tugging the sketchbook towards herself with only one finger, her movements exaggeratedly slow, as if daring Kara to stop her.

“Rambling and attempting to hide away?” She whistled, flipping the cover of the sketchbook open agonizingly slowly, one finger thumbing the bottom of the first page, drawing out the moment she’d finally turn it over. “It must be a big deal if you’re acting like this.”

“It’s really just a sketch, it’s nothing—”

Alex turned the page, and there, in graceful pencil strokes, was a sketch of their neighbor’s dog.

“Are you kidding? You were hiding this?” Alex demanded, sounding more disappointed than she had any right to.

“I told you it’s nothing, you didn’t believe me.” Kara held her breath, not daring to look away from Alex’s gaze, hoping that her adoptive sister saw nothing but sincerity and honesty. Unfortunately, Alex knew her better than Kara had imagined, because a moment later a wicked grin appeared on her face, and she flipped through the sketchbook, pausing when she reached the pages about halfway through, her eyes widening as she took in the drawings.

“This is so gross,” Alex finally commented, shutting the book and pushing it towards Kara. “You’re gross.”

“It’s not gross.”

“It is. It’s sappy and sickly sweet and it’s just gross.”

“Stop saying that, it’s not gross—”

“—you drew pictures of your best friend like a sap, Kara. Puppies and Lena. That’s what you spend your time drawing.”

“I like puppies and I like Lena. Maybe if you were nicer, I’d draw you too.”

“And be subjected to that cavity inducing mess? No way.” She huffed, collapsing over Kara, arms and legs splayed wide and their position terribly uncomfortable—both because Kara felt crushed and because she was sure the way Alex had thrown herself over Kara couldn’t have been good for her back. “When are you going to do things I can hold over your head for years to come? I mean, besides the getting caught on the roof thing.”

“I do things!” Kara insisted, shoving Alex to the floor when her adoptive sister’s only response was to laugh uproariously at the lie. It proved to be less of a fib much later in the week, after she tossed her paints at Alex, learning through a call from Lena that Alex had torn out one of the drawings and gifted it to the Luthor.

Alex fondly dubbed it the ‘Paint Incident’ and she brought it up every chance she got.

“Wait. Wait,” Kara said, holding up a hand and staring at Lena in confusion. “You want to…break into the art room…why exactly?”

“Look, taking art was your fault in the first place, Kara,” Lena said, wringing her hands together and staring determinedly at the floor as she paced feverishly up and down the length of Kara’s bedroom. “You said things like ‘oh take it it’ll be fun, we’ll be in class together’ fat load of fun it’s been to fail—”

“—you’re failing art? I didn’t realize that was even a thing—”

“—so the very least you can do is help me break in to steal back my final piece so that I can fix it before Mrs. Grendson grades it,” Lena continued, ignoring Kara entirely and looking terribly pleased about that fact. She ceased her pacing and turned to Kara desperately, hands now clenched at her sides. “Please, Kara. I can’t fail. Especially not in art.”

Kara stared at her best friend, open-mouthed, trying to think of a response other than flat out laughing at the distress on Lena’s face, the certainty that Mrs. Grendson was capable of failing anyone, let alone a Luthor.

(Lex was long gone, making a name for himself in every corner of the scientific community, but their high school still thought fondly of him—and all the trophies and awards he brought for them.

Sometimes, Kara wondered if it was hard for Lena to grow up with Lex towering over her as he did, casting a rather large shadow.)

“How do you know if your redone work will be better? Apparently you’re terrible at art.”

At this, Lena smirked.

(It did funny things to Kara’s chest.)

“Because you’re going to do it for me.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because you owe me,” Lena murmured, stepping over to where Kara sat on her bed, advancing rather slowly.

(It made Kara feel like her heart was attempting to pound straight out of her chest.)

“I don’t know if that’s true…” Kara said weakly, trailing off when Lena’s smirk just widened and she was standing so close to Kara that her legs brushed Kara’s knees, the heat of her skin practically burning Kara.

“Please, Kara?”

(She wasn’t sure if it was the please, the proximity, the heavy pulse, or even the pathetic groan she hoped that Lena hadn’t heard, but it didn’t matter. One minute Lena was looking down at her, asking her to break nearly a dozen school rules—and Kara was rather generally fond of rules—and the next Kara was nodding dumbly, unable to say no.

Later she’ll think about this moment, the look in Lena’s eyes as she stared down at Kara, and it’ll give her hope.)

For the most part, Kara was remarkably good at pretending she was fine. It’d been a little over three years since she lost her entire family in one fell swoop, and it was easy to fake a smile, to push away the sadness that threatened to creep up and envelop her whole, to take each day as it came and never allow anything to bog her down for long. There was something…easy…about the way she lost her family. It was clean and quick, a surgical cut, and while the pain and emptiness remained, she knew she’d manage to heal somewhat—hobble on despite the scars, keep moving despite the ache that shadowed her every movement.

(She had Alex and Eliza and Jeremiah to lean on too, analgesics during a time she felt overwhelmed by pain, soothing her and calming her, turning the angry, red wound into a neat scar that served as a constant reminder, with a twinge of pain she came to expect on rainy days.

Lena only had her.)

Lionel Luthor’s death was slow and cruel. Lena’s cuts were jagged and deep, never quite given the chance to heal, left festering and infected, scar tissue never forming. There was nothing to soothe her, nothing to do to take away the pain, because each time she even drifted close to the process of beginning to heal, her father’s health began to deteriorate—or even worse, would improve, giving her hope only to have that hope come crashing down.

Lex disappeared on her, unable to witness the slow pace with which the illness took his father, and Lillian…Lillian was never much of a mother anyway, and hoping she’d offer comfort to a teenage girl was too much to ask.

Kara, who’d experienced loss and everything that entailed (the memories that kept her awake at night, the lingering anger at the unfairness of the universe, the regret that she’d never share her artwork with her parents, never excitedly tell them about her day or her passions or her love), wasn’t quite sure how to stitch Lena together. After all, when Kara lost everything, she found herself still loved and still cared for, sure that at the end of the day she could get a hug and a chance to forget her pain. But Lena? Lena had shattered and putting her back together was too big a task for Kara alone. She shied away from hugs, refused to accept comfort, and it took weeks before Kara realized the best she could do was merely offer her presence, the silent promise that she would stay—something solid and real and permanent amongst everything that had changed in Lena’s life.

Because after Lionel Luthor died, Kara learned that sometimes love just wasn’t enough to help people heal.

It was two weeks before graduation that Kara…figured it out.

(It being her feelings for Lena, the very feelings her mother and aunt understood before her, feelings she was rather sure Lionel understood before her, feelings Alex understood before Kara even bothered to put a name to them.)

Then again, ‘figuring it out’ was putting it simply, as if she woke up one morning and the knots tangled in her chest somehow unwound and realization came crashing down. It wasn’t like that at all, though. It was slow and arduous, a long time coming and yet somehow mysteriously shocking and life-changing.

She figured that the unraveling of that knot in her chest began with Lionel’s death, when her heart would hammer away in her chest just at the sight of Lena’s smile, which came rarely and disappeared quickly. Or maybe it was when they went to their senior prom together, neither quite willing to put up with boys wearing too much of their father’s cologne and ill-fitting suits. Maybe even it was when Lena held her hand as they laid together in her bed watching a movie Kara had picked out and Lena quietly confided that she didn’t think she was very much into boys at all.

(Most likely, however, it was on a playground in third grade, after threatening a boy she didn’t know and getting the most dazzling smile in reward, a smile Kara would swear shone brighter than any star she spent hours gazing at with Alex.)

It was two weeks before graduation and she felt so stupid for not seeing it before, for not paying more attention, for mistaking the flutter and the swoop and the sense of rightness with the same sort of love she felt for Alex or the boy in her chemistry class who always managed to make her laugh with his antics. She’d allowed herself to pretend, to overlook, to be blissfully ignorant, and all the while her heart had been busy breaking apart piece by piece and reforming somewhere in the palm of Lena’s hands.

She was in love with Lena Luthor. It was such a relief to think, like her lungs had finally managed to fill with air for the first time in her life—as if a weight she hadn’t even been aware of finally was lifted off her shoulders, giving her a chance to stand up straight and tall.

(Every smile that took her breath away, every touch that made her heart race, every comment that had her feeling warm suddenly made sense. And she felt so…blind. How could she have looked Lena in the eye and thought anything other than god I love you and mistaken the promises to always be there and always protect her for anything other than proud declarations of her feelings?

How had she spent ten years around Lena and not realized that she’d fallen head over heels for her best friend?)

It was two weeks before graduation and Lena was lounging on the couch, arguing with Alex over advances in biomedical engineering, the movie Alex had put on long forgotten. At first, Kara had been content to follow along silently, not adding to the debate even when Alex scoffed at Lena’s mentions of Lex’s work, but then her focus had shifted from the words to the way Lena waved her hands around as she tried to get her point across, the way her eyes lit up, the way she impatiently tossed her hair over one shoulder. It was the animation in her voice and the grin on her lips and goddid Kara love her.

As soon as she thought it, she panicked, jumping a little and sending popcorn toppling over the edge of her bowl and onto the ground.

(The thought came so easily, as if it’d always been there in the back of her mind, biding its time until Kara was too distracted or too tired to tack on the just a friend as she tended to do mechanically.

Because of course Kara knew she loved Lena—she just hadn’t been brave enough or smart enough or just old enough to realize all loves weren’t the same.)

“Kara?” Alex asked, staring at her oddly, one eyebrow raised, her argument with Lena forgotten for a moment. “Are you okay?”

“Kara?” Lena prodded when Kara was silent a beat too long.

(And she was so beautiful. Kara wondered how she hadn’t noticed before—the smooth skin and dark hair and vivid eyes that seemed to change color—how she’d never been struck dumb when faced with Lena when she was least expecting it.)

“I—I’m fine. For a second I thought I forgot to do homework but then I realized hey! It’s graduation soon! What does it matter, right? Ignore me, honestly, I think it’s just that I haven’t been sleeping—”

“Up talking all night with Daniel again?” Alex asked with raised eyebrows, looking like she was about to approach Kara, about to attempt to needle information out of her, but Kara could only stare at Lena, watching as her best friend turned to look at the ground.

(It’s not what it sounds like, Kara wanted to yell. She didn’t like Daniel—not like that. But he was helping her with Lena’s surprise for graduation, something that had taken longer than Kara had expected.

But Lena wasn’t meeting her eyes and Alex was waggling her eyebrows suggestively and oh this was bad time for a life-altering realization.)

“Daniel’s helping me with something,” Kara said quickly, getting to her feet and crossing her arms, not at all amused by the way Alex kept grinning. “Besides you know I don’t like him.”

Alex laughed, shaking her head.

“Um no,” she said, turning to Lena as if to ask for support, eyebrows furrowing just slightly when she noticed Lena’s pinched expression and downcast eyes, “you’ve been super secretive these past few weeks. What’re you up to?”

“Can we just watch the movie please?” Kara begged, and something must’ve shown on her face because Alex’s eyes shifted from Lena (who was still staring rather determinedly at the floor) to Kara and then back, her mouth falling open in shock or excitement or confusion—or maybe a little of all three.

“You know what, the movie sounds nice,” Alex murmured, shooting Kara a look that screamed they’d be spending that night talking on the roof like they did when Kara was first taken in by the Danvers and everything was still so raw.

(Kara thought to just tell Lena right after graduation, blurt out the truth just like ripping off a Band-Aid. But when the day finally arrived, Kara could barely breathe when she looked out into the sea of parents and suddenly found herself longing for her family, an ache that wasn’t made easier even though Alex was screaming in the stands and Eliza and Jeremiah were clapping as loudly as they could.

And if Kara was struggling, how did Lena feel when no one showed up for her at all?

So instead Kara shoved her feelings down and gave Lena the bracelet she’d gone to Daniel and his family for help to make, deciding then and there she could wait.

She just ended up waiting a little longer than she expected.)

She always found an excuse to remain silent, utterly convinced by the lies she told herself, the I’ll tell her tomorrow and the it’s not a good time and the she looks so busy right now.

She stayed silent the entire summer before they went off to college (“Come on, Alex,” she’d defended when Alex gave her knowing looks and made pointed comments, “she’s not even here, she’s on vacation in France with Lex”) and then bit her tongue during the first several months of their first semester, nodding and forcing a smile whenever Lena spoke of her first real girlfriend (“She’s beautiful, Kara, and so smart, god I could listen to her talk all day”), shamefully relieved the day she learned that long-distance had been too much to handle for the other girl. In fact, the first time Kara came even close to admitting the truth was their first Christmas away from home, the two of them deciding to spend it with Alex and a girl she’d only introduce as ‘Sawyer’ with a strange expression on her face.

She came close to admitting the truth when Lena brushed by her and whispered that it was so easy to tell when someone was in love, grinning over at Alex and winking playfully, and Kara wanted to ask, if it truly was so easy, why Lena still hadn’t been able to tell Kara was in love.

She didn’t of course.

Lena looked terribly busy as she chatted away with Maggie, a smile gracing her lips.

It took Alex and Maggie another month to get their shit together and admit their feelings.

A month after that they went on their first date.

Near the end of Kara’s freshman year Alex had rushed over to Kara’s dorm, gushing about how she just admitted she loved Maggie and how great it felt and how Kara had to tell Lena now, she just had to.

And Kara…well, she tried.

“I think it’s beautiful,” Kara said with a grin, just finishing off her story about Alex for Lena, the two of them laying out on the grass outside the building where they had their last exam. She leaned back, staring up at the blue sky, hands pillowed behind her head. “It’s romantic and sweet and just…new love. How beautiful.” She was about to say more, wax poetic about how happy Alex was, maybe segue into her own feelings if she felt an opening, but Lena snorted slightly and Kara found herself turning to her best friend, shocked to see the distaste coloring Lena’s expression. “What?” Kara asked, rolling her eyes a little. “Is this too saccharine for you?”

“No, I’m happy for Alex.” When Kara just raised an eyebrow in response, Lena sighed and elaborated. “I am happy for Alex. It’s just…come on, Kara. Let’s be real. Love doesn’t exist.”

(If there was anything that could break Kara’s heart, it was that.

And god it was said so easily, so terribly sure and matter of fact, and Kara didn’t know why it was so hard to breathe suddenly.)

“W-what do you mean? Love is real. You’re my best friend and I love you.” (This was the closest she’d ever get to admitting the depth of her feelings for another nine years.)

“That’s not the same,” Lena answered, pink dusting her cheeks suddenly, looking awfully interested in the grass. “Love is…it’s a series of chemical reactions. And it’s temporary and fleeting and finicky.”

(Temporary? Fleeting? That wasn’t Kara’s experience. She’d been in love since she was eight, before she could recognize it for what it was, before she knew the feeling had a name.

But if Lena was right, which she often was, did that mean what Kara felt wasn’t love, was something different, something stronger and more lasting?)

“Lena, you can’t mean that. Love is, you know, love. It’s why we’re here. It’s why anyone does anything. Even if you don’t feel romantic love—”

“I don’t mean I don’t feel it, Kara. I mean it doesn’t last.” She swallowed hard, clenched and unclenched her hands, turning to Kara warily. “Look, can we just talk about something else?”

“Well no, now we can’t, now I want to know why you’re so anti-love.”

Lena stared at her, expression hard and lips pressed into a thin and angry line, then she turned away. Kara didn’t think she’d answer until she did, Lena seeming more surprised by her honesty than Kara felt.

“Because I asked my mother if she loved my father,” Lena admitted in a soft voice. “And she said love had nothing to do with it.”

“Your mom isn’t exactly the picture of—”

“I really don’t want to talk about it, Kara. Okay? I’m happy for Alex. I hope things work out for her.”

Kara wanted to argue, but Lena’s shoulders were tense and she knew if she said one more word on the topic, Lena would up and leave. So she just sighed.

“So. About the writing class I want to take…when do you think you can fit it into your schedule?”

(She didn’t need Lena’s relieved smile to know she’d made the right choice.)

She met Mike through Winn at the end of her junior year, and she cursed him everyday for it.

“For the tenth time, no Mike, I don’t want to go out with you,” Kara hissed the moment Mike stepped into her space, his eyes widening slightly behind his glasses. He looked surprised by her anger, which only served to piss her off more.

She came out to drink with her sister and friends, not spend an hour trying to shrug off Mike.

“Whoa, I wasn’t going to ask you out,” he defended, holding up his hands. He smiled at her and she hated—hated—that he seemed vaguely charming in that moment. Then he opened his mouth. “Look, I’m a prick. I know it. You know it. But I’m a prick that knows a lost cause when I see one. I give up.”

“It took you ten tries to realize it was a lost cause?” she huffed out sarcastically.

“Nope,” he told her, drawing out the pop. “It took meeting Lena Luthor once. So?”

“So what?”

“Ah, avoidance strategies. I know them well.” He grinned and motioned at the seat next to her, actually waiting until she made a vague sign that he could sit. “I know all about unrequited love Kara Danvers, and if that’s what’s holding you back, you shouldn’t worry.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Kara bit out, not at all in the mood to carry on a conversation anymore. Mike didn’t seem at all bothered by her annoyance. If anything, he seemed strangely…fond? Endeared at the very least, something that made Kara’s stomach churn uncomfortably.

“I’m not going to sit here and tell you what you already know,” he began, giving her a look and a wink when Kara couldn’t help but briefly glance at where she knew Lena was standing, deep in conversation with Winn about one of their classes. “But I do want to offer my help.”

“Your help? Why would I need your help?”

“I know a few things about love,” Mike said, wiggling his eyebrows and making Kara want to gag. “And I know for a fact that nothing makes you more attractive than when people think you’re…forbidden fruit, shall I say.”

“That sounds stupid,” Kara said flatly, rolling her eyes and refocusing on her drink. Mike, however, didn’t seem to recognize her body language as the dismissal it was.

“Trust me, Kara. Make her jealous, make her think she can’t have you, and she’ll be running right into the palm of your hands.”

“And let me guess, you volunteer to pretend to date me.”

Mike missed her deadpan.

“It would be my honor, Kara,” he said, aiming for gallant and charming but coming off as more than a little creepy.

Kara sighed, shifting in her seat to face Mike and motioning for him to lean closer.

“Mike,” she began slowly, watching as the beginnings of a smile formed on Mike’s lips, “that is absolutely, undeniably the worst idea I’ve ever heard. It also sounds predatory.” Her hands clenched and she knew her eyes had hardened because Mike’s smile was gone, replaced by a wide-eyed look, as if he couldn’t understand her anger. “Lena’s my best friend, not some prey to be baited into dating me. So if you don’t mind, keep yourself and your lousy ideas away from me and Lena.” She gave him a harsh smile, watching in satisfaction as he nearly stumbled in his rush to get away.

It was only a minute later when Alex took the seat Mike had abandoned, a questioning look on her face.

“You look like you’re ready to punch someone,” Alex said cheerfully, attempting to defuse the tension, make Kara smile. It worked.

“He says he’s given up, that’s something.”

“Oh? Finally realized it was a lost cause?”

“Apparently Lena is too much competition for him.” It was the first time Kara ever tacitly admitted her feelings for Lena, the first time she acknowledged it aloud, and admitting it now to her sister felt a little like a rush of fresh air, clean and crisp and carefree. Alex smiled, thankfully not making a big deal of it, reaching out to squeeze Kara’s shoulder gently.

“Come on,” she said. “Maggie beat me once at pool and she’s become insufferable. You have to beat her, deflate a bit of that ego.”

“You can’t beat your own girlfriend?”

“Honestly? I think the competitiveness is cute. And she looks so happy.”

“But you want me to beat her?”

“If you do it, she won’t be upset with me.”

Kara stared at her sister for a moment, grateful and a little jealous all at once, then laughed, not for the first time, ridiculously glad for Alex Danvers.

Amongst their friends it was a well-known fact that Kara and Lena did not fight.

This was strange for several reasons. For one, not fighting did not mean there was any shortage of disagreements. In fact, Kara and Lena disagreed on a great deal (“No, Lena, you can’t just write off someone because of something he’s done in the past. People can change, they can choose to be better”) and were often seen in the middle of quiet, measured, and passionate debates (“I understand your position, Kara, but I can’t just ask my brother to give someone a job, it’s unethical and she’s not even in a STEM field”). For another, as their majors and hobbies and interests drew them further apart, it was always assumed that distance would crop up in their relationship, adding pressure to an already precarious situation (“Come on, Kara, how long are you just going to pine after Lena before you realize something’s got to give?”).

And yet they did not fight.

Their disagreements were just that: disagreements. More than once, Maggie commented on how easy it was for Lena and Kara to resolve their conflicts, talking through their issues within the hour it cropped up, nipping it in the bud expertly and efficiently.

(When Winn asked for their secret, Kara had laughed. “It’s simple,” she’d said, patting Winn on the shoulder. “There’s two rules: never lie and never allow issues to fester.”

“Kara, you make it sound like that’s easy,” he’d said, rolling his eyes. Lena, who was arguing with Maggie over the choice in wine—not quite willing to go another night with the cheap brand Maggie bought from the supermarket, ignoring Maggie’s protests that they all tasted the same anyway—took the time to grin over at Winn and Kara, shaking her head fondly.

“It’s not easy,” she’d informed Winn. “But it’s worth it.”

“Totally worth it,” Kara had echoed, not hearing Maggie’s mumbled get a room.)

Thus, no one was more surprised by their fight the week before Christmas than Kara and Lena.

“What do you mean you go home for Christmas?” Kara demanded, arms crossed over her chest, unable to help the hitch in her voice.

(She was angry. Never lie, she’d told Winn, turning out to be a joke.

Except no, she was hurt, and she wasn’t used to that when it came to Lena, had never looked at her and thought, ouch.)

“Come on, Kara. It’s not that big of a deal—”

“—you’ve been going home these past two years, to your mom, and you’ve been telling me you spend Christmas with Lex. Why would you lie?” Kara’s interruption didn’t go over well. Rather than respond, Lena’s lips twisted, her eyes narrowed. Kara hadn’t seen her this displeased since she’d made a B in an inorganic chemistry class.

“I don’t have to discuss every single little thing I do with you, Kara,” she finally said, and by the way her eyes widened—the way she immediately stepped forward, as if to take what she said back—she regretted her words as soon as they came out of her mouth.

(Later, Kara will wonder why the comment felt like something piercing her between the ribs, why it felt like a blow to the middle, leaving her breathless and heaving for air. She’ll wonder why it hurt so much when logically she understood that Lena didn’t need to share every detail of her life—Kara certainly didn’t, hadn’t told Lena about that balloon of emotion in her chest every time she even looked at Lena.

Later, Kara will wonder if this was what being heartbroken felt like.)

“I see,” she muttered, raising her chin and stepping back when Lena looked like she was about to reach out. “You’re right.” (She was. After all, Kara hadn’t told Lena about her feelings, feelings she shoved away, torn between it never being the right time to confess and the certainty that a confession would only serve to break them apart.) “I shouldn’t have pried.”

“Kara—”

But for the first time, Kara didn’t listen.

They didn’t talk again until they both returned to campus, at which point they both pretended the argument never happened.

(Never allow issues to fester, she’d told Winn.

Well that turned out to be a joke too.)

“As far as electives go, it’s not the worst,” Lena graciously conceded, attempting and failing to wink over at Kara from across the table. Alex—visiting for the weekend—snickered before pretending to choke on a potsticker when Kara glared at her. “I’ve actually learned a lot.”

“The humanities are boring, Luthor, admit it. You crave labs and the thrill of discovery and late nights with nothing but coffee, microscopes, and Jack’s suffocating cologne.”

(Kara turned her head, suddenly overly interested in the baseball game on the television, not wanting Lena—or worse, Alex—seeing her grimace.

Pfft Jack. He was…annoyingly decent and frustratingly kind. Jack was Jack and Kara didn’t question it when Lena said he’d asked her out on a date after long months spent working in the same lab, didn’t mention her late night confession back in high school, didn’t ask Lena if she was sure when she said she wanted to give him a chance.

Because Jack…he made Lena smile.)

“Go back to your formaldehyde soaked apartment, Alex,” Kara scoffed when she realized she’d been silent too long—long enough that Alex was looking at her knowingly and Lena seemed a little bit concerned. “Don’t you have slides to study?”

“I take a break from studying for you and this is how I’m treated?” Alex said in mock offense, leaning back exaggeratedly and placing a hand over her heart. “I’ll have you know, medical school is no joke.”

“Then go back, I’m sure all your professors are missing you,” Kara muttered, dragging her finger through the condensation that had gathered on her glass. She flicked the water over at Alex, narrowing her eyes when it just made her sister grin.

“You could’ve stuck with physics, you know. No one forced you to change your major.” Except, judging from Alex’s eyes and the uptick of her right eyebrow, that wasn’t what she was saying at all. It was more like you could tell Lena and put yourself out of your misery or maybe something like stop moping already and eat the last potsticker.

“I like my major,” Kara said, leaning back in her chair. And judging from Alex’s resigned expression, she’d read that to mean stop meddling in my life.

“I hate it when the two of you have your silent conversations,” Lena said suddenly, pulling Kara and Alex out of their stare off. “You’re not as sneaky as you like to think. There’s too much eyebrow wiggling and sighing.”

“You sound jealous, Luthor,” Alex said cheerfully. “Don’t worry, Kara likes you too.”

“That wasn’t what I—”

“—speaking of electives,” Kara interrupted, already tired of Lena and Alex’s faux arguing, a habit they’d formed since Alex went off to medical school and Lena asked Lex to push LuthorCorp towards investing more in biomedical engineering. “I have to go rewrite my story.”

“Yeah, I still don’t get that. Why are you rewriting your assignment?”

“Kara decided our professor was wrong in assigning the prompt in the first place. But with the threat of a failing grade looming over her head, she’s finally willing to see reason,” Lena explained, smiling over at Kara fondly, apparently terribly amused by Kara’s show of protest.

Alex, clearly deciding that today was the day she wanted to settle once and for all who knew Kara best, just raised an eyebrow and looked steadily at Kara.

“What was the prompt?” she asked softly, like she knew, without having any of the details, exactly what was twisting in Kara’s chest and why she was willing to nearly fail—why she’d rather fail.

“We’re supposed to write something that ends tragically. It’s supposed to be a homage to naturalism.”

“That’s not quite the prompt, Kara, you’re—”

“—so we weren’t supposed to have a unhappy ending for our characters?” Kara said, cutting Lena off more harshly than she intended. She turned away from Lena’s hurt expression and focused on Alex, unable to meet her sister’s eyes.

“Oh, Kara,” she said after a moment. “It’s just a story.”

“That’s not the point, Alex,” Kara said, arms crossed over her chest. She knew Alex was getting so much more from that one comment, reading in-between the lines and understanding just how deep it went.

“I know,” Alex said, and it broke Kara’s heart because Lena just seemed confused—when normally, she was the first to notice something was wrong.

James Olsen was…gosh, he was James Olsen.

He was kind and generous and brave and he dragged Clark right back into her life, and when he spoke Kara thought her knees would give way because gosh he was James Olsen.

He was sweet and passionate and could make her laugh with ease, and he was late for work the day they met because apparently she made the bestcoffee he’d ever had and he couldn’t believe his best friend’s cousin worked at the café down the street for nearly a month without his knowing.

“It’s fate,” he said, grinning as he tossed several twenties into the tip jar, much to the glee of Kara’s coworkers. “I’ll see you later, Kara,” he added and made it sound charming and not creepy like Kara was used to (because it was a question, a request, made confidently and kindly, with all the promise of respecting her wishes and boundaries).

(And Clark was grinning next to him, his eyes sad as he looked at her but the hint of a promise on his lips, a whisper of things changing as he murmured a quick and awkward goodbye.

Clark, who left her. Clark, who was back again thanks to James Olsen.)

James Olsen…James Olsen made her heart flutter, made her stomach fill with butterflies, made her feel heard and respected and important. He took her around Metropolis, on his daily attempts to snap a quick picture of whatever caught his interest, telling her all about what it was like working with Clark and Lois and Perry White—telling her about the Daily Planet and finding a home behind the lens of his camera. He spoke of his father, of his admiration for all those who gave everything to help others, his hope that one day he could do the same.

And Kara…she told him about Alex, about missing Clark sometimes even if she was still furious that he left her behind, she told him about her parents and the lab her father worked in, the cases her mother poured over at nights pausing long enough only to make sure to tuck her in. She told him about how she’d wanted to follow her parents’ footsteps, wanted to help people, wanted to do something important with her life.

She told him about her Aunt Astra—how she wanted to see her again, wanted to find out why she did what she did, if she regretted her actions, if she felt guilty that she ruined Kara’s life.

She told him about Eliza and Jeremiah and how much she loved them.

She told him about moving to Metropolis and how she’d imagined it would be the next big adventure, that coming here would change everything—help her find her place.

She did not tell him about Lena.

She couldn’t. She couldn’t admit that Lena had a permanent place next to Alex in her heart, couldn’t tell James that Lena was a constant before and after her parents—a grounding point, an anchor. She couldn’t confess that Lena held her hand throughout all her anger at Clark, all her mixed feelings over her Aunt Astra, didn’t even know how to say that Lena was her family as much as Eliza and Jeremiah.

She didn’t even say that the move to Metropolis was for Lena, for them to remain together in some way even while she was off rising in the ranks in her brother’s company. She…she couldn’t even begin to verbalize what it felt like to watch Lena slip away, for their daily lunches and texts to dwindle down to nothing in weeks, for Kara to hear Lena apologetically say she just didn’t have the time to come to game night, even if Alex had gone out of her way to visit.

Kara told James about every big thing in her life, but she couldn’t talk about the biggest, and when she kissed him for the first time—the night he brought her Chinese and ice cream to cheer her up after she’d texted him to say that she hadn’t gotten the job at the Daily Planet like she wanted—she couldn’t help but think that it wouldn’t be right if she fell for him because she was rather sure Lena’s shadow would always hang over her.

But James was James, and when he kissed her back, she fell anyway.

It took months before Lena met James.

(It wasn’t weird that her best friend didn’t seem all that interested in meeting her boyfriend. It wasn’t strange that Winn took more interest in her love life than Lena, her best friend. It didn’t bother Kara at all that Alex flew in and spent a day with Kara and James before Lena even acknowledged that Kara had a boyfriend.

She was busy. Kara understood.)

Her tiny apartment—that she was barely able to afford with her meager salary from the café and the few random freelance articles she’d written—was full to the brim with only a handful of people. James was busy grabbing plates and glasses from the cupboard, chatting with Winn as he did so, discussing an article Clark had written with Lois. Lena and Alex were on the couch, arguing over bioethics concerns coupled with the rapid advancement in medicine. Kara leaned against the doorway, watching them for a moment, smiling at Alex’s impassioned speech for more regulation as well as Lena’s counterpoints that innovation could never be curbed.

It was nice, this moment. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d gotten to witness Lena and Alex’s arguing, both of them throwing around words that eventually went over Kara’s head—even if she’d studied the sciences in college. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d gotten to see Lena’s wide smile.

Kara stiffened at the thought, at the longing she felt, and with a guilty glance back at James, she shuffled over to the window, opening it as far as it would go, and climbing through it, dropping down onto the metal fire escape. The cool night air calmed her somewhat, but not as much as the sounds of honking cars and indecipherable voices, the rattle of a train somewhere in the distance, the sound of music coming from one of the lower apartments.

“Oh, there you are,” James said, sticking his head out of the window and smiling. It was charming and cute and he was so perfect for her. She loved him so much. “I was wondering where you went off to, and there aren’t a lot of hiding placing in your apartment.” He smiled wider at his little joke, joining her on the fire escape, looking down at her like he always did: like she was the most important thing he’d ever seen. And Kara wondered if she was somehow broken, because she deserved this, she did. She deserved someone who would always be with her and always take her needs and wants into account. And yet…yet all she could think about was how James deserved better than her—that he offered more than she ever could, and she’d dragged him far enough behind her for it to be cruel and wrong.

“James, I—” She stopped when he shook his head, still smiling and still looking at her like she was the most important thing he’d ever seen, even as his eyes filled with understanding and his shoulders slumped with resignation.

“It’s Lena, isn’t it?” he asked, no real bitterness in his tone, just quiet acceptance. “I guessed, you know? From the start,” he explained, chuckling mirthlessly at her look of shock, leaning against the railing and turning to look up at the sky. “You avoided talking about her so much I knew you either hated her or loved her, and I don’t think you’re capable of hate. But I was sure when I saw you look at her tonight.”

“She’s my best friend,” Kara said haltingly, wanting to hug James or lean into his warmth or use his shoulder to steady herself, knowing that none of those things were appropriate anymore. “I thought I just needed—I thought if I…I don’t know what I thought.” She was quiet for a moment, choosing to look through the window and watch Winn join Alex and Lena’s debate, Winn saying something that made them all laugh. “Is it really so obvious?”

“For someone who’s looking for it? Yeah, it’s pretty obvious,” James told her, knocking his shoulder lightly with hers, prompting her to look at him. “You know, she feels the same way.”

No, Kara didn’t know, barely considered the possibility. But her heart thumped at the very thought.

“Even if she did, she’s…I don’t think she has the time for a relationship.”

“She’s your best friend, Kara,” James said, accepting her point easily. “If anyone knows her it’s you.”

She nodded, but boy, Kara didn’t think that was true anymore.

“Do you think that job in National City is still open?” she asked suddenly, avoiding his eyes when she noticed concern begin to flood his features.

“Kara,” he began, “I don’t know if running away is the answer.”

“It’s not running away. I’m—I thought I’d find something here. I thought being closer to Clark, being in Metropolis would help me find what I’m looking for. But it wasn’t. And Alex is in National City,” she tacked on at the end, as if it would settle the issue. In many ways it did though, and James knew it.

“It’s still running away,” he told her softly, not really arguing but just pointing out a truth. “If she’s your best friend, what are you so afraid of?”

(And oh leave it to James to get to the heart of the issue, to look at her and understand and not let her get away with deflections and excuses like Alex tended to. She was afraid. Of what, Kara wasn’t quite sure. Maybe that Lena wouldn’t feel the same way. Maybe that it would change something between them. Maybe that it would be the straw that broke the camel’s back and Lena’s flimsy presence in her life would disappear entirely.

Maybe it was just that every time Kara wanted to confess, she thought about how Lena didn’t believe in love at all and it broke her heart.)

“Are you upset with me?” Kara asked weakly instead of answering James, and though he gave her a look that clearly said he knew what she was doing, he indulged her anyway.

“No,” he answered, having paused long enough that Kara knew he’d put real thought into it, had searched his feelings for any hint of anger or bitterness, a slight tinge of surprise in his voice when he found none. “No, I knew what I was getting into, even if I hoped I was wrong. So it’s not like you led me on or anything.”

“I’m so sorry, James.”

“Don’t be,” he said, waving her off, his voice slightly gruff—like he was holding back some sort of emotion. “Can I just—would it be weird to ask one thing?” When she shook her head, James cleared his throat and averted his eyes. “If you met me before her, if you’d never met her at all—” He stopped, crossed his arms over his chest, and gave a firm shake of his head. “It doesn’t matter,” he said after a moment. “What ifs don’t matter.”

Kara studied him sadly, from the stiffness of his shoulders to the fixed smile on his lips, and she felt something in her break.

“Can we—can we just stay out here for a while?” she asked in a low voice, knowing that returning inside would make this all real, all permanent, would mean that there would never be any going back. And James—soft, kind, generous, and gentle—gave her a real smile before wrapping and arm around her shoulders and tugging her closer to him, his warmth shielding her from the nip of the night air, his presence as sturdy and strong as ever.

“However long you need, Kara,” he whispered into her hair.

And they stayed out there for what felt like ages before Alex came to collect them, brows furrowed and expression concerned.

She was still on her phone as she sat down across from Kara at the café she’d chosen—a fancy place Kara normally would never have stepped in under her own volition—but before Kara had the chance to feel annoyed, she shoved the phone away and smiled brilliantly at her, and things were fine again.

Until she spoke, at least.

“Kara! It’s been so long, I am so sorry, things at work just got—”

“I know, Lena. Lex put you in charge of R&D, that’s huge.”

(She tried not to sound bitter, but she was rather sure she mostly failed because Lena was looking at her oddly, hurt at Kara’s tone. But the thing was, Kara was furious. She only found out about Lena’s promotion through Clark and an article he’d written about LuthorCorp. Even worse, when he’d asked if she could get into contact with Lena and see if she would be willing to sit down for an interview—something that might’ve made Perry White see reason and give her another chance for an entry-level job at the Daily Planet—she’d gotten nothing in reply. Not even a text back.

She remembered a time when they couldn’t go two days without talking. Now they were going months without a single word between them.)

“Kara, are you—”

“I have news of my own,” Kara interrupted, smiling wide and knowing it likely seemed forced, knowing because it felt forced. “It’s why I was so insistent we get coffee.”

“Oh?” Lena asked, giving Kara that smirk she loved so much. “Did you get that job at the Tribune you wanted?”

Kara blinked.

“No. No, they turned me down nearly a year ago.” It had been one of the first jobs she’d applied to upon arriving at Metropolis. And though she’d thought Lena had been the one to bring her potstickers to cheer her up, she now realized that had been Clark and Lois, the two of them cheerfully tearing down everyone at the Tribune just to make her laugh.

(Had she just inserted Lena into her memory? Imagined her there to offer comfort because Lena had always been there before? Was she sick? She was rather sure there was an entire season of Grey’s Anatomy devoted to Izzie seeing things.)

“Oh,” Lena muttered, looking as shocked as Kara felt.

“It’s not a big deal,” Kara hastened to say, both not liking the look on Lena’s face or the dark path her thoughts were winding down.

“Isn’t it though? The next thing you’ll tell me is you married James.”

She was going for a joke, Kara knew that. But boy, did the comment hit her like a truck. For a moment, she could barely breathe.

“Actually,” she struggled to say, “we broke up a few months ago.”

“Kara,” Lena said, eyes now so wide that it was comical. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Kara let out a loud and undignified laugh, but it was better than letting out the sob that threatened to break free.

“Alex said she thought you weren’t listening to your voicemails. Guess she was right.”

“I-I’ve been in the lab,” Lena stuttered through her shock. “I didn’t realize—I’ve been—Kara, I’m so—”

“It’s fine,” Kara stressed, waving off Lena’s pleas and smiling at her. “That’s not why I asked you to coffee either. You see, I did get a better job—”

“—that’s amazing, Kara, I had every confidence you would, you’ll make a wonderful reporter—”

“—as Cat Grant’s personal assistant,” Kara finished, speaking over Lena.

“Sorry, what?”

“Apparently Ms. Grant has gone through four assistants in four months. Clark and James think that if I can hold the job for a few years, I could move up. Get a job as a writer for Ms. Grant’s magazine.”

“That’s hardly hard-hitting journalism, Kara, it’s not what you wanted—”

“—no, but I have to be realistic. Perry White was never going to give me a job. CatCo might.”

“It’s in National City,” Lena pointed out suddenly, as if this would put an end to whatever argument they were having.

“I know. That was my second bit of news, actually.” She paused for effect. “I’m moving!”

Lena didn’t look as thrilled as Kara hoped she’d be.

“You’re what? When?”

“I’m moving,” Kara repeated, checking her watch surreptitiously. “Alex and I are making a road trip out of it. She flew in last night and we’re leaving in a few hours. She likes to drive at night.”

“You’re leaving? Tonight?” She looked hurt by that and Kara felt guilty for only a moment before her anger and frustration returned. (Never lie, never let issues fester—that was how they managed to never fight, for their arguments to get settled quickly and efficiently, without much hurt on either side. But Lena was lying and Kara was allowing issues to fester and she was rather sure the resulting implosion was inevitable. Needed, even.) “Why didn’t you say something sooner?”

“Why don’t you ever call me back?” Kara returned flatly, getting to her feet. “You’re my best friend, Lena. You always will be. But I’m unhappy here, moving to National City is a good choice for me.”

(It felt like they were breaking up. But that was ridiculous. They hadn’t been dating in the first place.

She idly wondered why no one had ever mentioned that losing your best friend hurt worse than losing a boyfriend.

She idly wondered if her position was unique because she was losing Lena.)

Lena got to her feet as well, and for a glorious moment Kara imagined a scenario in which Lena kissed her senseless, in which she grabbed Kara’s hands and fought to make her stay, in which she swore she’d stop being so distant, so faraway even in the moments they were together. But the moment passed quickly and Kara crashed down to reality when Lena only offered her a weak smile.

“Don’t lose touch, okay?” Lena said, playing with her watch and staring at the table. She made an awkward movement, almost like she wanted to pull Kara into a hug, but stopped halfway and just remained motionless. It would almost be funny if it wasn’t just so sad.

Kara ignored the question, gathered all her courage, and placed a soft and brief kiss on Lena’s cheek.

“Bye, Lena.”

(Lena didn’t chase her down as she left the coffee shop, didn’t find her huddled in an alleyway, wiping her cheeks furiously, didn’t even come by hours later, as Kara found every excuse to delay their trip National City and Alex continued to give her pitying looks.

And by the time they were on the highway, Kara staring out her window without speaking, that goodbye felt rather permanent.)

She rather thought that National City was good for the soul.

It was sunny in National City, the people seemed livelier, kinder, warmer. And even if Cat Grant was in one of her terrible moods—which she was in at least once a day, usually because someone from photography and layout had messed something up—Kara could always count on sticky buns from Noonan’s to cheer her right up. (Not Cat, obviously. Cat wouldn’t touch one of those buns with a ten-foot pole. No, the sweet was for Kara.)

She had Sister Night in National City, a job she usually adored and a goal she was determined to reach, an apartment she loved, and wonderful new friends.

Kara was happy.

Really.

“Kara, I’m watching that. Stop changing the channel.”

“Why do you need to watch the news, don’t you get enough of it from Maggie?”

(Another thing National City had? A chance for Kara to witness her sister’s happiness. She’d broken things off with Maggie sometime during medical school, but had run into the newly minted detective and things had apparently just…worked out. Alex was smiling all the time, and it was beautiful.)

“Just because you avoid everything that has to do with Lena—”

“—I don’t do that,” Kara denied, shaking her head quickly and vehemently.

“—doesn’t mean I shouldn’t do my research so that I can destroy her when she visits. She’s got to know her brother’s company does more harm than good.”

“Do you talk to her?” Kara found herself asking despite herself. It was stupid. She knew it would just hurt if Alex said yes and bum her out if Alex said no. It was a no-win situation and she hated herself for it.

“Only when she visits. And you know she always wants to see you too, but you keep acting surly.”

“Sorry if I expect my best friend to care about me more often than only when she’s in National City to oversee something at a branch of LuthorCorp.”

“You’re both ridiculous, I hope you know that,” Alex said happily, turning the television off once she noticed Kara’s grimace. “She’s your best friend.”

“She didn’t come after me.”

“You know she can’t run in heels,” Alex joked, and Kara struggled to keep her impassive expression, “that’s not her fault.”

“She hasn’t tried reaching out.”

“Because you’ve shut her out,” Alex countered, referring to the almost weekly trips Lena made to National City the first month after Kara moved. Each time, Kara had said she was busy with work and couldn’t get away, and Lena would leave with only a text goodbye.

And then those had stopped too, the visits. The calls and the texts became rare enough that it was almost as if they had stopped.

At times, Kara thought if it weren’t for the occasional press conferences Lena gave in her brother’s place, she wouldn’t have even known Lena was healthy and happy.

“Come on, Kara,” Alex continued, “you’re older than her, you’ve got to be the mature one.”

“I’m only older by three months!” Kara huffed, throwing herself onto the couch and staring hard at the ceiling. “Besides, distance is good. Great, even. More than necessary. We were too dependent on each other.”

“Right, and my hair is green,” Alex deadpanned, leaning over Kara and shaking her hair in Kara’s face, as if to show off her auburn locks. “For two smart people, you’re both being really stupid.”

“You’re being really mean. Like Ms. Grant mean, and that’s just sad, Alex.”

“Shut up and move over, if you’re not going to let me watch the news, you might as well put on a movie.”

Kara did as she was told, only half-heartedly listening to Alex’s running commentary on the film she’d put on, finally breaking after half an hour—much to Alex’s very obvious amusement.

“I miss her,” Kara admitted in a soft voice.

Alex’s expression fell, and she pulled Kara into a hug.

“Yeah, I know,” she said, voice full of something Kara couldn’t quite pinpoint. “Have you tried drawing her and puppies to feel better?”

“No ice cream for you,” Kara muttered while Alex apologized for her joke, but she was hiding a smile in Alex’s shoulder, so she supposed her sister wasn’t very sorry at all.

She’d begun to think something might be wrong when the name ‘Luthor’ appeared in the news more often than normal.

The family was always in some way making news. Whether it was funding research for a cure to a rare disease or a shady business deal with a foreign company, LuthorCorp and by extension the three Luthors in charge, was consistently in the public eye. It wasn’t always good, but it was never obviously bad, either.

Until, however, Lex seemed to go off the rails entirely.

It started slow, slow enough that at first Kara didn’t even notice in between watching news clips while waiting for Ms. Grant’s coffee. There was an odd article about abnormal contracts with weapon manufacturers. Then, there was a report or two about odd—if not outright strange—transactions with certain individuals that any wise businessman wouldn’t touch.

About a year after Kara moved to National City, the Daily Planet published an explosive article that LuthorCorp was secretly funding a weapon production program and selling said weapons to various third parties.

Six months after that, Lex was arrested on a vast array of charges, Lillian Luthor stepped away from the company, and Lena was named CEO and took on the brunt of the backlash as LuthorCorp basically went up in flames.

And for the first time in about eight months, Kara heard from Lena:

Clark did all the legwork for the article.

And well, Kara was quite familiar with the sensation of her family members destroying things she loved, and it didn’t come as a shock at all.

Kara eyed her new office apprehensively, leaning against the far wall and staring at her empty desk with her arms crossed tightly against her chest. She was thrilled, she was, she’d been eyeing a job like this since she arrived in National City, but now that she had it….

It was a little anticlimactic. She’d called Alex and her sister had been appropriately overjoyed for her, as were Eliza and Jeremiah, and yet something felt missing. Something felt wrong.

(She stared at her phone, at the news notifications about LuthorCorp’s move to National City and their planned rebranding, and she tried to pretend that had nothing to do with how she felt at this moment.

She tried and she failed.)

“Ready for lunch?” Alex asked from behind her, eyes kindly averted, choosing to stare at her nails instead of the look of panic that quickly took over Kara’s expression when she continued scrolling through the articles and stopped at what must have been the most recent photo of Lena, looked ragged and annoyed as she shoved her way past reporters to get into her building here in National City.

The caption below the photo wasn’t flattering.

“Have you seen her yet?” Kara asked, knowing Maggie was waiting for them at some vegan restaurant, wanting to celebrate Kara’s promotion. Alex continued to stare at her nails and Kara continued to think that was rather kind of her.

“Why? Will my answer change what you plan on doing?”

“What do you think I’m planning on doing?”

“Honestly?” Alex asked, finally looking up and eyeing Kara critically. “I think you’re going to keep pretending you’re not missing her.” She hooked her arm through Kara’s and dragged her out of the empty office, pulling her towards the elevators. “When you wanted to leave Metropolis, I was glad. I hated seeing you waste your life away in a coffee shop just because you wanted to be near Lena.” As the elevator doors slid shut, Alex leaned heavily into Kara’s side, head resting on her shoulder. “You were right. You did need to learn to live your own separate life from Lena, but now that you have, just go see your best friend. She needs you.”

“What about the vegan restaurant? Maggie is waiting,” Kara protested, resisting weakly when Alex tugged her into CatCo’s lobby and then out into the street. “We were going to celebrate.”

“Don’t act like you’re not excited to miss out on this restaurant,” Alex said with a laugh, pressing a quick kiss to Kara’s cheek, a halfhearted attempt to make sure there were no hard feelings between them. “Go home, Kara. Think about what you’re planning. Then go see Lena.” Then, without giving Kara a chance to argue, Alex shoved her lightly in the direction of her apartment and then turned on her heel, walking briskly away in the opposite direction.

And Kara went home, fully intending to drown all her doubts and sorrows in a pint (or two) of ice cream.

Or at least, what was what she intended. She never really got the chance; by the time she’d changed into her comfort pajamas, a thick blanket thrown over her shoulders, and was digging through her freezer for that ‘rainy day’ ice cream, there was a knock on her door. Grumbling and annoyed, because of course Alex wouldn’t trust her enough to believe she would actually listen to her sister’s advice (for good reason, she supposed, considering her current state), Kara practically stalked towards her door, throwing it open with more force than necessary, eyes pressed tightly shut.

“Alex, you need to let me have my night to mope, can’t your lecture wait until tomorrow?”

“I’m sorry,” said someone with a voice that decidedly didn’t belong to Alex. “It’s a bad time, this was a bad idea, I shouldn’t have come.”

Kara’s eyes flew open, and before her visitor had the chance to step back, Kara had reached out for a hug—it was instinct, it was habit, it was just what she did. And when she got her hug back, mismatched edges seemed to finally slot into place, and Kara felt like she could breathe again.

“It’s always a good time for you,” Kara said into Lena’s ear, unable to help her wide grin.

“Come on, Lena. Feel the burn! Enjoy the burn! If it hurts, that’s how you know it’s working!” Kara called over to Lena, watching her struggle with mild amusement. She’d suggested morning jogs as a joke initially, but Lena had taken to the idea with surprising eagerness, something Kara was rather sure she regretted now, in between all the heaving breaths and the sweaty hair. She wondered if Lena still thought it was a good way for them to rebuild their friendship.

“I…can’t…believe…” Lena managed to say between gasps, bending over with her hands on her knees and head practically in her chest. “…people…do this for…fun.”

“I could carry you on the way back if you like.”

“This isn’t a joke, Kara,” Lena said, looking over at her with narrowed eyes. “You killed me. I’m dead. Say goodbye to the last sane Luthor, please don’t let my obituary be too embarrassing.” She straightened as she spoke, stretching out her back and arms and Kara was a little bit distracted to immediately respond.

“Don’t say that,” she finally found the voice to admonish. “Of course your obituary will be embarrassing. I’ll write about the time we snuck into the art room to fix an assignment you’d already made a perfect on.”

“I didn’t know it’d already been graded, Kara,” Lena said, not looking particularly glad that this had been brought up. Kara wondered if she remembered the way they’d giggled as they escaped the school building, tangling pinkies and swearing they’d never bring it up again. “It was ugly, what sort of person gives perfect marks on something so ugly?”

“Well, I thought you were adorable,” Kara said without thinking, grimacing as she registered her own words, “I mean—not adorable, but um, adorably criminal.”

“It was my Luthor genes shining through,” Lena joked, winking when Kara rolled her eyes. “I’m ready to go now, you don’t have to go so slow because of me,” she added when Kara jogged in place, staring out into the park—looking at the couple walking their dog and the old woman sitting on a bench reading the newspaper. Kara laughed, listening to Lena’s heavy breathing, and shook her head.

“Oh shucks, look at that, my shoes are untied,” Kara said in mock surprise, leaning down and untying her shoelaces before taking her time to tie them up again. She took extra care in making sure everything was tight, going as far as to untie and retie her right shoe—just in case. And when she looked back up, Lena was staring at her with a mix of fondness and confusion.

“Back in Metropolis,” she began.

“Lena, I don’t—”

“—I avoided you. I wasn’t working all the time, I could’ve seen you more often but I…” she trailed off, frowning. “And I didn’t realize how much that could hurt until you avoided me. When you left. And I’m sorry.”

“Why were you avoiding me?”

Lena blinked, looking like she hadn’t expected the question, but surely she should have. She’d brought it up, she made it a point to apologize. Of course Kara would want more explanation.

“How about a race?” Lena suggested, ignoring Kara’s question completely. “First one to the gate gets to choose breakfast?”

Kara’s grin was her only reply.

(Needless to say, she won the race. They ended up with sticky buns and coffee from Noonan’s, Kara regaling Lena with horror stories about needing pick-me-ups at all hours, depending on Cat Grant’s mood.

And the entire time her thoughts were a million miles away, wondering what would make Lena avoid her in the first place.)

“You know,” Lena said in between mouthfuls of pizza, “I never thought I’d say this, but reporters aren’t so bad.” She took a sip of her wine—the charm and sophistication of the action lost on Kara as Lena was drinking her wine out of a plastic cup—and smiled benignly. “There’s even one reporter I’d go as far as to say I like.”

“Oh really? Let me guess. She’s a dazzling cub reporter at CatCo. Golden hair, dazzling blue eyes, impeccable fashion taste?” Kara asked, grinning and pointing at herself exaggeratedly, not quite appreciating Alex’s snort or Maggie’s not-so-subtle shake of her head. She opened her mouth to tell off her sister and her sister’s girlfriend, but before she could, Lena smiled softly and derailed all of Kara’s thought processes.

“Well, I was going to say Lois Lane, but yes, you’re a close second.”

“A—a close second? To Lois?” Kara spluttered indignantly, mouth falling open in offense. “Was she the one to write stories about the phoenix-like rebirth of L-Corp and the CEO that spearheaded its rise? No. That was me. All me.”

“But that corruption article—” Lena said, not even bothering to hide her laughter as Kara stared at her in betrayal. “I’m joking,” she said when Kara went as far as to push her plate of pizza away, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms over her chest. Alex snorted again. “Your articles are wonderful, I’m so grateful for them, Kara.”

“I didn’t write them as a favor,” Kara mumbled, turning her head and glaring at Alex, daring her to let out another snort. “I wrote them because it’s the truth. You rebuilt LuthorCorp from the ground up. You should be proud of yourself.”

“Ugh,” Alex cried, throwing her hands up in the air. “Come on, Maggie, that’s our cue to leave. They’re going to be gross again. Compliments thrown back and forth, no you hang up first,” she tacked on in an affected voice.

“You don’t give me any compliments,” Maggie said, almost petulantly, while Kara found herself unable to do much more than open and close her mouth repeatedly, no response ready on her lips.

“Shh, Maggie, it’s okay. It’s their foreplay.” Alex grabbed her girlfriend’s hand and dragged her out of the apartment, leaving Kara and Lena alone at the table.

“So,” Lena said, sipping calmly from her plastic cup of wine, “when do you think Alex will remember this is her apartment?”

“Doesn’t matter, I’m going to steal all her vinyls.” She paused her plotting and stared at Lena thoughtfully. “Is Lois really your favorite reporter?”

“Of course not,” Lena scoffed, waving a hand, as charming, clever, and confident at twenty-eight as she’d been at eight years old, merely amplified by the years that had passed, still managing to leave Kara in awe with nothing but a smile. “You’re always my favorite, Kara. In everything.” The words brought her heart to a thudding stop. Her eyes were fixed on Lena’s lips.

(She was going to do it. She was going to stand and lean in, she was going to settle that voice in her head and that thrumming in her chest once and for all. She would know, know for sure how Lena felt, all she had to do was be brave in this single moment—gather all her courage and ask onesimple question, hope to whatever was out there that Lena would nod, would say yes, would dispel of words entirely and close the distance between them.

She was going to do it, she was going to do it.)

The door swung back open and Kara was rooted to her seat.

“Can you believe Alex forgot this was her apartment?” Maggie laughed as she approached the table, frowning as she took in Kara’s face and then Lena’s. “Are you two okay? You both look like you saw a ghost.”

“F-fine,” Kara stammered, tearing her eyes away from Lena’s lips and forcing a smile. “I just said I was going to steal all of Alex’s vinyls.”

“I heard that!” Alex called from the door, letting it swing shut behind her. “But you know, if you do manage to pull it off, it might even outdo the roof thing. But nothing can top the Paint Incident,” she tacked on dreamily.

Maggie and Lena laughed, familiar with both stories, and Kara sighed, unable to help it when her gaze flicked briefly over to Lena.

She felt her courage fade, felt the moment slip past her fingertips, and she couldn’t help but sigh. But when she did, it wasn’t Alex who looked at her quizzically and in worry. She was too busy rolling her eyes at something Maggie was saying. Instead, it was Lena who looked at her in concern, eyes wide and pleading—wordlessly asking if she was okay, back in sync for the first time in years.

(At the very thought, Kara felt much of that courage race right back.)

It was very late or very early, Kara wasn’t quite sure which, and she and Lena were lounging on the couch in Lena’s office, leaning heavily on each other, Lena’s work long forgotten. It’d been quite some time that they’d had nights (mornings?) like this, Lena calling her because she felt her world spiraling, and Kara the only one who could stop the spinning for even a moment. Sometimes there were tears, more often there was total silence, Lena tightly grasping her hand until Kara couldn’t feel her fingers anymore.

This morning (last night?), Lena had just buried her face in Kara’s shoulder, not saying a word for hours as Kara rubbed her back and muttered nonsense under her breath just hoping to ease whatever Lena was dealing with this time.

“Do you remember Jack?” Lena asked suddenly, bringing up her ill-fated whirlwind romance from their last year in college without prompting. Kara nodded hesitantly, wincing a little internally as she thought about all the anger she’d directed towards such a perfectly decent guy, wondering if she should call him up one day and apologize—admit she’d been jealous and she’d really had nothing against him. Then again, to admit that to Jack would mean she’d first have to admit those feelings to Lena, and she wasn’t quite sure if that would ever happen—at least, if her track record was any indication. “I really wanted things to work out with him. Thought if I could focus on him and my studies, I could forget about everything else.”

Kara’s breath hitched and she swallowed hard. Admittedly, it hurt to hear Lena say something like that. Because around that same time, Kara was feeling lost, had needed her best friend, and had been left unmoored and aimlessly floating away from shore in Lena’s absence. It hurt to hear that Lena’s distance had been intentional.

“Okay.”

“Are you going to ask why?”

“Would you answer?”

“I don’t know,” Lena admitted softly, tucking her head more comfortably under Kara’s chin.

“Why did you lie about where you were going for Christmas?” Kara asked instead, voice barely a whisper, unsure even now if she should bring it up. Lena stiffened slightly, then inhaled deeply, relaxing just as suddenly.

“My mother told me she wanted to make up, start over. She told me she knew she strained our relationship and wanted to fix it.”

“Did she?”

“No. As it turned out, she just wanted me to spy on Lex for her.” Lena cleared her throat and pulled away from Kara, shifting so that she was sitting on the very edge of the couch. “Besides, after working at LuthorCorp for a few months after graduation, it was obvious Lex was up to something, and it was obvious she was trying to hide his mess for him. She was just trying to use me as a pawn—I was disposable, you see.”

“You’re not disposable,” Kara immediately argued, not sure if she liked the way Lena laughed in response—like she found the comment inherently flawed, but couldn’t bring herself to explain just how wrong Kara was.

“I’m not sad, Kara,” Lena explained gently, shrugging when Kara looked at her in disbelief. “I’m not.” She shrugged again, seemingly not caring that Kara had been rendered speechless. “I’ve known what my mother is my whole life.” Her head tilted to the side, and she studied Kara so intently for a moment that Kara was sure she was reading every single secret Kara had buried away deep in her heart for safekeeping. “But then you just waltzed in one afternoon and forced my dad to take a stand.” She reached out and took Kara’s hand, squeezing tightly, eyes showing no hint of melancholy. And it was a beautiful sight. “I’m not sad, because whatever my mom has done, I’ve always known I had you.” She smiled then, something changing in her expression, something Kara sometimes saw in her own reflection. “You saved me from the day I met you. But it wasn’t till that afternoon that I realized you were my hero.”

“I’m not a hero. I’m just…me.”

“You’re my hero,” Lena said, grinning when Kara gave her another disbelieving look, finding it difficult to ignore the pounding of her heart, though she was giving it a valiant attempt. “Can I ask a question now?”

“Of course.”

“Why did you leave Metropolis?”

(And oh Kara felt her courage fail her at this critical moment. She felt it escape her in a flood, a mass exodus of bravery in the face of such overwhelmingly terrifying prospects. Because an admission could lead to reciprocation. It could lead to a moment she’d imagined again and again and again. Or it could lead to horrifying and awkward rejection, a friendship she treasured and missed dearly when it was out of reach—when it felt shattered beyond repair—becoming lost forever.

And oh Kara stared at Lena and she found she’d brave any enemy, any storm, any short, grubby, sniffling bully if only it meant she’d have a chance to keep Lena in her life.)

“It’s hard to get over someone when they’re in the same city as you,” she found herself saying, a non-answer that she thought said entirely too much. (Be brave, she thought. Be brave.)

“You and James were really good for each other,” Lena nodded, and it was the way she looked at the ground, the way she released Kara’s hand, the way she swallowed, the way her eyes grew sad that Kara finally, finally, saw what Alex had seen, what James had seen, what even gross Mike had seen. “It makes sense that he’s hard to get over,” Lena added, a pinched expression on her face, one that Kara caught even if most of Lena head was turned away.

(Be brave, she thought. Be brave.)

“Actually, Lena,” Kara began slowly, heart racing, “I wasn’t talking about James.” Lena turned to her in shock, eyes wide, and of course Kara began to ramble, stomach swooping up and down and feeling as if the blood rushing through her veins was on fire. “He was wonderful. He is wonderful, I mean. But he’s not wonderful for me. Does that make sense? I mean, he’s perfect. But it’s really hard to love someone the right way when you’re in love with someone else and I—”

“I was jealous of James!” Lena blurted, apparently quite surprised by her own interruption. “I couldn’t—I didn’t want to hear about him. I’d be jealous of anyone you were with. So I avoided you, because I didn’t know what else to do, I didn’t know if I could hide how I felt—”

“—I hated Jack,” Kara confessed. “And that girl from France, the one you met before we started college, I hated her on principle, and James told me I’m not capable of hate, but they had you and I hated them and—”

Lena interrupted her again, this time by grabbing her face and pulling her forward, her lips on Kara’s making it quite difficult to talk at all. It was awkward and needy and full of a pent-up sort of want and it made Kara’s head spin, it fried all her nerves, it left her permanently incapable of any sort of rational thought. Because Lena—her best friend, Lena—was kissing her.

“Wait, wait,” Kara said suddenly, pulling away from Lena’s kisses, unable to help her smile at Lena’s groan, “so are you anti-love?” Lena’s eyes, which had been closed, opened lazily, and she blinked at Kara in confusion, seemingly unsure what they were talking about. “You said you didn’t believe in love,” Kara elaborated, feeling her ears heat up because as far as she knew, she’d admitted she loved Lena, but Lena had just admitted feelings, and what if she was making a fool of herself, reading too much into one kiss—even if said kiss was as singularly mind-blowing as Lena’s?

“I was nineteen,” Lena admitted softly, and she reached out with a hesitant hand, brushing a stray lock of hair out of Kara’s face and then cupping her cheek, thumb rubbing idle patterns into her skin. Kara felt rather than directed her eyes to flutter shut, felt rather than directed her head to lean into Lena’s hand. “I was bitter because I’d fallen for my best friend and I didn’t think she’d ever feel the same way.”

“So not temporary and finicky?”

“Not in my experience, no.”

“You know, if you hadn’t said that, if you’d just waited ten seconds, I was going to tell you how I felt that day.”

Lena didn’t answer for so long that Kara opened her eyes, only to be met with impossibly soft eyes.

“That’s okay,” Lena said finally, leaning forward to press her forehead against Kara’s. “I sort of like how our story ended up anyway.” And when Lena closed the last of the distance between them, pulling Kara into another kiss (being brave never felt so good), Kara couldn’t help but agree.

The next time they all got together, Kara and Lena were holding hands and sneaking not-so-sneaky kisses and gazing adoringly at each other, and upon seeing it, Alex first pretended to gag before she laughed uproariously, demanded champagne in celebration, and told anyone who’d listen that she’d called it from the day she found out that Kara alternated her time between drawing puppies and Lena.

#supergirl #supercorp #kara danvers #lena luthor #old

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ezrasarm · 4 years

Text

Which Of Your Fics... Tag Game

Thanks so much for tagging me @din-damn-djarin and @mndalorians!!! I’ve seen this going around and it was a lot of fun!

Which fic did you think would get a bigger reaction/audience than it got?

Come Back To Me In Waking Dream was one of the angstageddon fics I wrote, I will admit it deals with some pretty dark themes that might not be everyone’s cup of tea but I liked exploring the Prospect universe more and was pretty proud of it when I wrote it 🤷‍♀️

Got a better reaction than you expected?

Just As You Are (Roommate AU) it was one of those fics I threw out really quick and didn’t put too much thought into but it blew up faster than any of my other fics ever have and I may or may not be working on a part 2 👀 Tripod also got a really unexpected reaction! Y’all just eat up the Frankie fics don’t you? 😂

Is your funniest?

Electrostatic Attraction is probably one of my goofier fics. Playing with Cee and Ezra’s dynamics and the way the bicker was definitely a highlight

Is your darkest/angstiest?

Although there is possibly main character death in Inconsequential I think Come Back To Me In Waking Dream is worse in terms of angst and just generally more painful.

Is your absolute favorite?

Possibly Ori’jagyc, I have recently realized my love of writing for Paz although Funeral Suit will always be a close second. It may not be the best written but I still love storyline and the strength of their relationship... now that I think of that, it’s probably why I like Ori’jagyc too 🤔

Is your least favorite?

Tug Of War It was rushed and certainly isn’t my best work and I kinda hate it.

Was the easiest to write?

Either I’ll Be You, Be Me or Cooks Don’t Clean. They both flowed super easily and just let my imagination run without too much pressure

Was the hardest to write?

Loving You Too Late!!! The first half was alright but the second was such a mess. I took multiple runs, I kept running into walls, I’m pretty sure I dropped it for almost a month before I picked it back up and finished it but now I’m really glad I stuck with it because I think the end product was worth it.

Has your favorite line/exchange/paragraph? (share it)

I love being able to end fics on a lighter note and this extract from Stood Up is sort of a classic example of that. I’m not sure it’s my favourite exchange per se but it’s pretty far up on the list and it was the first to come to mind.

“You sure you’ve never done this whole undercover thing before?” He asks rather hoarsely, his gaze lingering on your mouth as he tries his best to compose himself again. “You’re a natural.” He said and you feel a strange sense of pride in yourself that you were able to throw such a suave looking guy off his balance like that. However, the feeling is cut short when you notice something over his shoulder.

“Isn’t that your guy?” You ask, watching the man disappear down the staircase that led to the exit.

“Hmm?” He hummed, turning nonchalantly in the direction you had nodded. “Yeah, that’s okay. My partners downstairs. He’ll get him.” He shrugged and you’re ready to slap him for how unfazed he is given how urgent he’d made the whole thing seem earlier. “But it’s absolutely imperative to the mission that you do that thing you just did to me again.” He interjects, flashing you a cheeky grin and you can’t help but laugh.

Have you re-read the most?

Probably Burnt Brownies, it was one of my earlier fics it’s kind of a classic by now and every once in a while I find myself being drawn back to it.

Would you recommend to someone reading your work for the first time?

Stood Up is probably my most popular fic and it was also one of my earlier fics and I think it’s a pretty accurate first impression of my writing 🤷‍♀️

Are you most proud of?

Either Surrender or Ori’jagyc and I’m not really sure why aside from maybe being able to take liberties with my interpretation of the characters and interweave some core themes into my work for once.

Tagging (but hey, no pressure): @thewayofthemandalorian @corrupt-fvcker @alwaysbethewest @hdlynnslibrary @agirllovespancakes

#tag game

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takadasaiko · 4 years

Text

Compromises (a Veronica Mars one shot)

FFN II AO3

Summary: Logan has been in limbo since returning from deployment, spending every night at Veronica's, but never actually moving in. When he starts looking at buying a place of his own, both he and Veronica find themselves having to answer the tough question: what do they really want?

This particular story was requested via a prompt from @elby3000 : "I want to take a shower so you should probably join me. It’ll save water."

Yeah.... it kind grew beyond that, but there are definitely shower shenanigans involved :P

Compromises

The sun was streaming in through the bedroom window, pulling Veronica reluctantly from the ease of sleep. It was Saturday. And early. Too early for the sun to be peeking in and waking her up. She rolled over with a frustrated sound, fully intending on putting her back to the offending ball of light, wrapping an arm around her boyfriend, and falling immediately back to sleep.

Only she found an empty space where Logan had slept the night before. That's right. She forgot. Apparently the Navy has managed to train his ability to sleep the day away right out of him. He'd likely already been up for hours if the cool sheets on his side of the bed were anything to go by. Awake and productive like a real, functioning adult. It was still a concept she was wrapping her mind around some days.

Veronica yawned and stretched as long as her body could reach. She supposed she should try being a functioning adult too, even if she was getting a later start. She should go get curtains. That would keep that sun out.

After another few moments of procrastination she finally rolled off the bed, bare feet hitting the carpet of the bedroom floor and she sauntered tiredly towards what smelled like breakfast. Okay. She could get used to Adult Logan. Especially if Adult Logan was cooking breakfast for her.

"I smell bacon!" she announced over the sizzling as she rounded out of the bedroom and into the hall.

She found him leaning on the counter opposite the stove and scrolling through something on his laptop. He turned at the sound of her voice, that lopsided smile of his tugging into place. "Did it call to you?"

"It did. Loudly and flavourfully."

He quirked an eyebrow at that. "It called flavourfully, huh?"

She smacked him on the arm playfully and his grin returned. "Tell me there's coffee already made. Then I'll start making sense."

He twisted around to flip the bacon. "It's been in the pot for a couple of —" She grabbed the pot and poured the dark coffee into a fresh mug. "Okay. Don't say I didn't warn you," he finished.

Veronica made a face at the burnt coffee, but he didn't seem to notice, his attention re-focused on his laptop. She poured the remains out into the sink and started a new pot. "What's got your attention this morning?"

"Looking at apartments," he said, turning the computer so she could see.

"For that price tag, we call those condos," Veronica answered as she peered at the very nice layout with an address not too far from there. Funny what a few miles up the beach changed. Gotta love Neptune.

Logan huffed a laugh and turned back to the bacon. He fished it out of the grease and onto a paper towel to pat it dry, then dumped a couple of eggs in the scramble.

"You thinking about having some lady friends over that you don't want me to know about?" she teased as she stole one of the barely-cooling pieces of bacon.

"Oh yeah. Definitely. Rave parties every night, wild bingers. Like college all over again."

"Or high school."

He made a noncommittal sound as he stirred the eggs and shrugged. "I need to get my stuff out of Dick's place."

"Why?" Right after Logan had gotten home from deployment Dick had told him that he needed the guest house that he rented from him for another friend coming into town. Logan had talked about getting a place then, but Veronica had just signed the lease where she was and had roped him into helping her move in. One night led to the next and it wasn't like he would have been sleeping at his old place anyway. Somewhere along the way he'd moved anything that would have gotten in Dick's buddy's way into one of Dick's many guest rooms in the main house and still used that as his home address for any official paperwork.

He dumped the eggs out onto a plate for her. "Apparently his dad's selling the place."

"Did you ever have a lease when you were in the guesthouse? If so, he can't just kick you out, even if he sells it."

"We don't. It's not a big deal. I should have done this after I got back. I've just been putting it off."

It was strange. Logan hadn't moved in, per se, and she wasn't sure she even wanted to start in on what it would take to contemplate it officially being their place versus her place that he slept over at, but she did know that she liked having him there. It was nice - comforting, even - to have him so close after they'd been away from each other so long. She'd gotten used to it faster than she ever thought she could. It was one thing if he just had a room or a guest house he rented from his best friend - a crash pad, really, for between deployments - but if he had his own place, what was that going to do? Would he suddenly want to start sleeping over there rather than here, remembering how much more he enjoyed his million dollar condo on the beach lifestyle versus her rent controlled three story walk-up on the beach? He'd have room for his weights and his surfboards, and all the other things still stored at Dick's place. Then what? Veronica's little apartment would gather dust while his neighbors gave her that look 09'ers gave to the riffraff that stumbled in where they didn't belong. That was his world, not hers and she —

"Veronica?"

The spiraling slammed to a halt as Logan's voice cut through. She blinked hard.

"Coffee's ready."

"Yep," she answered automatically.

"You okay?"

"Yep."

"So do you want to?"

Oh. He'd asked her a question. Shit. "Want to….?" she prompted hesitantly as she poured the fresh coffee into the mug. That smelled glorious. She might actually be able string coherent sentences together with that stuff.

"Go with me to check a few out today," he said in a tone that clearly meant he was repeating the question.

"Oh," Veronica manages, finding that clever gaze of his fixed on her expectantly. She took a long sip of scalding coffee and a deep breath. "What I want-" she set it down on the counter and moved forward, her fingers dancing around the hem of his pajama bottoms and up under his t-shirt, nails scraping lightly against bare skin and she saw him draw in a sharp breath - "is to take a shower. You should probably join me. You know, save water?"

"I think I could get behind that," he answered, his voice low and amusement dancing in his eyes as he ducked down, catching her in a kiss. Veronica felt his arms go around her waist and a muffled laugh escaped her as he hauled her off her feet. She shifted, arms around his neck and legs around his middle as he started back towards the bathroom, the list of available condos left forgotten on his laptop.

------

Several weeks later Logan finally managed to convince her to go with him to check out what he was still determined to call an apartment rather than a condo. The building wasn't technically a high-rise building, sitting at five stories tall with a separate garage rather than street parking. You needed a fob to get past the gates and there was an elevator up to the floor with the specific unit he was looking at. Logan was not nearly as amused as Veronica was with herself when she asked - in a quality 09'er impression that she had perfected years before - where the doorman was and why they'd have to fob themselves in. What if her hands were full of all the clothes that daddy's money had bought her? She thought she saw Logan roll his eyes at that one.

The condo was beautiful, even if she wouldn't admit it. The floor-to-ceiling windows reminded her of the guesthouse at Dick's that he'd stayed at, but this one looked down over the ocean instead of on level with it. There were two and a half bedrooms, two bathrooms - the one attached to the master bedroom making her just a little bit jealous with its deep soaking tub - a massive kitchen, and a deck that looked out on the ocean as well.

"Do I even want to know how much something like this costs?" she asked, joining him on the deck where he was leaned against the railing, taking in the view. He liked it. She could tell he liked it.

"Do you?"

Veronica loosed a long, loud, dramatic sigh. "Yeah. Hit me."

"Just under two."

"Two what?"

"Million."

She nearly choked on her own breath. "A month?"

That finally broke the love affair gaze he had going on with the waves rolling in and he turned to look at her, laughing. "A month? Seriously? I know I threw money around when we were younger, but hell, Veronica." He turned back to the view. "No, overall. Might be over with taxes."

"Oh," she managed. "You want to buy it."

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"Why not? It's an investment. I'm not going anywhere permanently and there are a few other perks." When she crossed her arms to wait on what those were, she saw him give her a quick glance, almost like he was trying to make adjustments for his example. "Next spring you won't have to deal with the idiot AirBnB renters you know will be in the complex raging all night. You can just come crash over here."

"What if I like my idiot AirBnB renters?" Veronica snapped, the question sounding absurd even as it left her lips. She'd grown up in Neptune. She and everyone else knew spring breakers were what they were. No one liked them.

Logan quirked an eyebrow at that. "You spent a Skype session that took me three days to secure last March to bitch about spring breakers in general. That was before you rented a place right on the beach."

"So's this place. What's the difference other than the price tag?"

Logan loosed a long breath, frustration clear even if he looked like he was desperately trying to keep a lid on it. "Okay, what is it you hate?"

"What do you mean?"

"You obviously hate something about it, but you hated the last three places too. I thought you would've liked this one."

"Why does it matter if I like it? You're the one buying it."

"Not yet," he popped back, his tone increasingly more strained and he watched her expression carefully. He was looking for whatever she wasn't saying. Damn him. "What's going on, Veronica?"

"Nothing."

"Something is."

She felt her temper flare, even if there was no reason for it to. She knew that. Logically she knew that, but it was like she couldn't stop herself. "You know what, buy it or don't. It's your money, it's your place. If the ritzy, multi million dollar condo is where you feel at home, I say go for it."

And then she was storming out, something in the back of her mind screaming at her that it wasn't fair to do that to him without even trying to figure out why she was reacting this way. It didn't seem to matter, even if it did. She couldn't stop herself.

----------

Logan had been left standing alone on the balcony of an apartment that he wasn't even sure that he wanted to own as Veronica had stormed out. Distant chatter below on the beach joined the sound of the waves and the eventual awkward question if he was done viewing the unit from the realtor that had made herself scarce during the abrupt argument that he'd been blindsided with. He thought he had been asking her opinion. He thought he'd been including her in a life decision. He wasn't sure where he'd gone wrong.

Veronica's phone rolled straight to voicemail when he called. Not once, not twice, but three times over the next hour, and Logan had taken the next several to vent his frustrations with the top down on his convertible, hitting breakneck speeds down the PCH to try to work through some of the confusion he had and give both of them time to breathe. He didn't know what she wanted and Veronica sure as hell wasn't telling him. Every night she wanted him to stay, but she never actually asked him to move in. He'd been left in a sort of limbo, even after he'd explained that he was being moved out of his apartment at Dick's. He had thought maybe he misread her signals and so he'd started looking for a new place. Apparently that had been the wrong move too.

The sun was setting by the time he pulled up to park the BMW along the street outside her apartment and killed the engine. It took another five minutes to convince himself to get out and start up the stairs. He had a key. It wasn't that he couldn't get in, but suddenly in the wake of a fight in which he still wasn't sure how it'd been started, he wasn't sure if he should knock or just walk in. It wasn't like it was his place too. There had been a few brief times that she had referred to the apartment as theirs in some form or fashion. It always caught him by surprise in the best of ways and he had thought she'd follow it up with something that indicated that he actually belonged there permanently, not that it had just been a slip of the tongue, but she never did.

Finally, he dug the key out of his pocket and stuck it in the lock, turned, and pushed the door open.

Veronica was sitting on the couch with a bowl of ice cream balanced on one knee and some show that he didn't recognize playing on the TV. He closed the door behind him, locked it, and circled the couch. "I need you to give me a hint."

"About what?" Veronica asked around the spoon in her mouth.

"What the hell that was."

"I don't know. You're the one that took forever to get home."

The word struck a nerve and Logan felt his temper flare dangerously. "This isn't my home, Veronica," he snapped. "This is your home. Your name's on the lease, you pay the rent, you have all of your shit here. I just sleep over."

"If you need your space go buy your condo," Veronica popped back and it felt like a slap to the face, even if somewhere under the sting he recognized that particular brand of venom in her voice as the type she used when she was trying to hide something else.

"Don't give me that!" he shouted, finally drawing her gaze around. "You want me over here, but I'm still living out of a bag like when I'm deployed. I try to go get my own place and you storm out like I just threw something in your face. I don't know what you want from me!"

"You!" she shouted back, suddenly on her feet, the bowl somehow deposited on the coffee table. "I want you!"

They stood there staring at each other for a long moment after the outburst, her words hanging between them. "I don't know what that means," he confessed softly and without warning she covered the space between them. Her hands reached up to his face, dragging him down to hers and he felt her pull him into a kiss that he was powerless to stop. Suddenly her fingers were pulling at his belt and he was tugging at her shirt. They were moving together and it was sort of an answer to his question. A piece of the answer. He wasn't sure, but in that moment, he just needed to be close to her in any way that he could.

----------

Sex was a good distraction. Sex with Veronica was the best distraction, but when the distraction ended and they were left breathless in bed, pillows thrown to the floor and the sheets crumpled at the foot of it, the questions started to seap back into his mind. Dangerous and loud and swirling, threatening to drag him under and drown him. Sex was good, but if this was going to work - and Logan wanted this to work with Veronica more than he wanted anything else in his life - it had to be more. They had to figure this out.

He rolled over in bed, finding her tugging the sheets up to wrap around herself and he laced one arm around her middle to curl into her, pressing a kiss against her shoulder. In turn, Veronica shifted onto her side so that she could wrap an arm around him and she ran one bare foot up his calf. He shivered, tightening his hold. "Hey."

"Hey yourself," she answered, her voice relaxed.

"I need to know what I did wrong."

And just like that he felt her tense, but he refused to let go. Finally, she turned those clear blue eyes on him. "Do we have to talk about this now?"

"No," he breathed out, "but I want to. Please."

She sighed deeply and nuzzled in, sending a rush of relief through him. "Talk," she huffed and he had to stop himself from chuckling. Instead he kissed the top of her head and felt her nails scrape along the skin over his spine, threatening distraction if he'd let it.

"I just need to know what you want."

There was a long moment before she loosed another breath. "I don't want things to change."

"Veronica, Dick's selling the house and, crazy thing, for all the places that the Navy sends me, they kinda want a home address. I get that it's too soon for that to be here, but -"

"I never said that."

That stopped him. "You never said it… should be either."

There was a lot of sighing coming from her tonight. She moved, nudging him so that he rolled to his back and she eased herself up on her elbows so that she was looking down on him, her expression tight as she worked through what she wanted to say. She started several times, but the words seemed to get stuck somewhere between where they formed up in her mind and when they actually rolled off her tongue. She would open her mouth, close it, and those pretty blonde brows of hers would draw together as her lips tipped down in a frown.

"Veronica," he coaxed, "I just need to know what you want."

"I don't know," she confessed softly. "It was easier when you had a place but just…. chose to stay with me."

"I'm always choosing to stay with you."

"Are you?" she huffed. "Because you've never really lived with me. You're the man that lives in mansions and suites and -"

"Tiny quarters on the USS Truman," he offered the alternative.

That stopped her. "What?"

"Well, you seemed to be really focused on all the crazy nice places I've lived, but you've never seen what the ships we deploy on look like. There's something like five thousand men and women on my ship. I may not have to share my bunk with a dozen other guys, but it's tiny. Makes this place look like a castle."

"I like this place," she said softly.

"Me too."

"But you also like the condo, and if you bought it, someday…. you'd want me to move there."

"I'm gonna tell you something crazy. You listening?" He waited until she nodded and he couldn't stop the small smirk that tugged his lips. "Just because you buy a condo doesn't mean you have it for life. You can sell it. Rent it out even. Not signing my soul over to it."

Veronica snorted a laugh and nudged him hard in the ribs with her elbow. "Asshole."

"Yeah, but you knew that getting into this." He leaned up and pecked a quick kiss against her lips before falling back down against the pillow. "Here's the thing, Veronica: I want to be with you. Where doesn't matter."

"Even if it's a box on the street."

"Okay, I'm going to redirect you back to my earlier statement about the US Navy wanting a permanent address."

"So give them this one."

The statement hit him hard. "You want me to move in?"

"I don't want you to go."

"Getting my own place doesn't mean leaving you."

"But you won't be here."

"And you want me here?"

"I do."

"Okay," he breathed. "Here are my terms."

She cracked a smile at that. "I'm listening."

"I need more than a drawer."

"We might be able to swing that."

"And I need to pay half the rent and utilities."

And just like that he saw her expression darken. "I can pay my own rent and utilities, Logan."

"I'm not asking to pay them for you. If I live here, I'm asking to pay my half."

"And when you're deployed?"

"We'll cross that bridge next time we get there."

She considered that for a long moment. "Done."

"And I want my name on the lease."

Veronica sighed loudly. "You drive a hard bargain, Echolls."

"It's all about compromises, Mars. So I hear."

"Fine."

"Okay," he murmured with a grin, catching another kiss. "Hey, you know what I need?"

"To stop while you're ahead?"

"A shower. Since I'm gonna pay half the water bill, I think it's only reasonable to conserve water."

"Yeah?"

"Absolutely. For the environment."

She choked on a laugh with that one and leaned down to kiss him again before rolling, taking the sheets with her as she started for the bathroom. She turned back to watch him as he stretched out on the bed, grinning at her before finally moving to join her.

-----------

Notes: Have I mentioned that I love the idea of them learning to communicate as adults? Because I love the idea of them having to communicate as adults. Their wants, their fears, and everything in between. Honestly, I just love them.

#Veronica Mars #Logan Echolls #VMfanfic #VeronicaMarsFanfic

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resident-of-storybrooke · 5 years

Text

Under the Mistletoe

Rated: We’ll go with M for language

9.6k words...apparently I was making up for lost time this year lol

Read: AO3 or fanfic or wattpad

Summary: Killian is Emma’s favorite barista. Emma is Killian’s favorite customer. But what if Killian wants more and Emma needs a date to take home for the holidays? Will they get burnt, or will they be brewing in love?

AN: I am excited to finally share, @nevertothethird, tis I your Secret Santa!!! It has been an absolute joy getting to talk to you these last few weeks. I hope you have an epic road trip, and I hope that you enjoy your gift. This the first proper thing I’ve written all year and boy does it feel good to write again. Thank you @cssecretsanta2k19 for putting this all together, blessed to be a part of the event for the third year now. And MASSIVE thank you to @kymbersmith-90 for beta-ing the hell out of this bad boy for me, couldn’t have done this without you, my friend!

tagging some of the fam squad (I don’t have a tag list, please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed): @kymbersmith-90 @let-it-raines @artistic-writer @hollyethecurious @hookedonapirate @carpedzem @nowforruin @kmomof4 @wellhellotragic @thesschesthair @doodlelolly0910 @welllpthisishappening @flslp87

Please enjoy and ALL THE LOVE!!!

Killian would rip the bloody chimes down if he knew that Belle wouldn't be pissed about it. Every time someone comes in or out of the coffee shop, the light tinkling sounds acts as a reminder. A reminder that he lost Liam eleven years ago. A reminder that he fled England the year after spiraling without his brother. He doesn't hate his job; honestly, it's not a bad gig; he’s thankful that Belle took pity on a fellow expat and gave him the opportunity. It just that sometimes listening to peoples' ridiculous coffee orders annoys him - hence why he spends most of his time in the back baking. Well, that was until she walked in a few weeks ago.

He didn't know much, only that her name was Emma and she liked to order the same drink every time, never once considering anything else. Sometimes she splurged on a baked good that always seemed to align with the days that Killian had spent baking. He always took pride in his work, but ever since Emma walked in, he had upped his game.

Killian didn't believe in love at first sight, but there was something there he couldn't deny it. She was a ray of sunshine in his otherwise dull rainy days. The first time Emma had stopped in all those months ago, Killian swore his heart had skipped a beat. That Tuesday had felt like any other day, until she’d stepped through the door. The shop wasn’t overly crowded or loud that day, but there seemed to be this peace she brought into the room with her. Killian might have been too distracted by his haze of admiration to actually listen to her order. It wasn't until he’d heard her laugh that he realized she was laughing at him.

"Uh...um, wow...yeah, sorry, love. What can I get for you?"

She stepped closer to the counter, acting like he couldn't hear her giving him an out. "Can I have a large hot chocolate with whipped cream and cinnamon on top, please?"

"Cinnamon? Really?" Killian usually didn't care much to interact with his customers. Still, he knew this was a fleeting moment and he was going to do everything in his power to enjoy every second of it.

"Yeah, it adds a nice little kick.."

"Ah, well, perhaps I'll have to give it a try myself, love." Killian knew he could be charming, but he also knew he laying it on a little thick at that moment. However, that didn't seem to bother Emma as her cheeks soon had the loveliest shade of blush gracing them.

"Name?"

"If I tell you mine, you have to tell me yours. Deal?"

Killian couldn't help the grin that overtook his face. "Aye, we have an accord."

"Emma. My name is Emma."

"Emma...beautiful." Then he heard her laugh again and realized like a git he’d said her name aloud. "Uh, sorry about that. I didn't mean -"

"No worries…"

It took him a moment to remember side of the deal. "Killian, the name is Killian Jones." He reached out his hand, and thankfully Emma gave him hers, but instead of shaking it like a normal man would have, Killian brought her hand to his lips, and placed a gentle kiss on the back of it.

They only interacted briefly. Killian made sure to take her order and that he was the one to serve her as well. He didn't normally do that for anyone else. The moment Belle caught on, she teased him relentlessly; however, she never got in the way of Killian's fleeting moments with Emma. Belle was a good boss and an event better friend for that.

He wished that one day he would grow a pair and actually talk to Emma, beyond taking her order, maybe one day. And perhaps that day was coming soon....

Emma entered with a huff and went right to her seat. Somehow, it was always empty whenever she came in. Killian grabbed her usual and a chocolate cinnamon cookie because she seemed to need something sweet. But as he walked over, he realized she was on the phone.

"Yeah...no...of course...I'll be home. Yeah yeah yeah, I know, Ruth. I'll make sure to bring him too. I know you're excited to meet him. He's excited to meet you all."

Killian felt his heart fall. She was with another man. The fantasy of a future with Emma finally came crashing down. He almost dropped the cup of hot chocolate and ran off, but managed to hold himself together long enough to set it down on her table. Right before he could make an escape for the backroom, Emma grabbed his arm.

"Killian, here, let me pay you for this." As she reached into her purse, Killian tried to ignore the spark that ignited inside of him at the feel of her hand on his arm.

"It's on the house, love." She looked up, thankful, to say the least.

"But Killian, are you sure?"

"Aye, you're here enough; you've earned a free treat. Besides, it sounds like you have a lot going on. It’s the least I could do."

Emma's face fell in confusion and then she seemed to realize what he meant. "Oh, the phone call? Yeah, my mom is expecting me to bring my boyfriend home."

Killian tried not to let that crush him; obviously, she was distressed and needed to share her burdens with someone. He just didn't understand why it needed to be him. "What seems to be the problem? Does he not want to meet your family?”

"Ha, God, I wish. No, um, you see I - oh God, it's gonna sound so stupid - I lied about having a boyfriend." Killian stood there in shock. "Ruth, my mother, is great and everything, but she’s been begging me to bring home a guy for a while now. I skipped out on Thanksgiving for a case, in favor of going home. And instead of telling her that, I may have lied and said I was staying here with my boyfriend."

"The boyfriend that doesn't exist, right?"

"Yeah, way to keep up there, Jones. So...I don't have a boyfriend and apparently, Ruth is organizing some massive holiday party where I am expected to make a debut with him. And I'm slowly realizing that this was probably the stupidest thing I could have ever come up with. I mean, I'm a grown woman. I should've just told her the truth. And now I have to go back home - without a boyfriend - and deal with -"

"I can go."

"What did you just say?

Killian realized that his brain must no longer be connected to his mouth, because only an idiot would have said he would go. But then he saw the look on Emma’s face. There was something in her eyes - maybe it was hope - or maybe it was desperation. He hoped it was the former.

“I said,” he sat down next to her, “I would be more than willing to go home with you, Emma.” Her eyes immediately met his, and she could tell he was serious about his offer.

“Killian, that’s sweet but we barely know each other. My brother is going to be there. He’s a cop. Actually - a detective. He’s good at sniffing out the truth so he’ll through the charade the moment we step through the door.”

“I know, love. But maybe I’ve been waiting for an opportunity to learn more about you.” Emma looked away as she blushed. “I’m serious about my offer. I’d be more than happy to accompany you home and make this the best Christmas for you.”

“You’d really do that for me?”

Killian could see the tears in her eyes, barely held back. “Aye, love. I think you’ll find I’d do anything to make you smile.” He brought his thumb to her cheek and gently wiped the stray droplets away. “So, just who are you, Emma?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” she said, chuckling as she tried to defuse the tension.

“Perhaps I would, love.”

Emma gave him a disarming smile - and that was when Killian knew he was in trouble.

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Killian had two weeks to learn everything possible about Emma Swan. The first thing he learned was that her last name was Swan, and he found that it fit her well. He’d also learned that she was a bail bonds person, she liked dogs and cats (but dogs more) and she looked up to David (her brother) more than anyone else. Killian had shared that he had been in the Royal Navy with his brother; and that he missed home (but he preferred the weather here in Boston). And, of course, that he enjoyed a glass of rum every now and then.

The drive from Boston to Storybrooke, Maine wasn’t long per se, but nonetheless, Emma was a bit on edge. Killian tried his best to keep her calm during the six-hour car ride. Seeing Emma at ease, without a care in the world, was sublime. He could tell it was something she rarely got to experience, and now it was his mission in life to give her the moments more often.

After their rousing version of carpool karaoke that would put James Cordon to shame, they decided to finalize their cover story once more.

“We met at a Fourth of July party where-”

“Where you just found me too irresistible and-”

“You wish.”

Killian took his eyes off the road for a moment to gaze upon Emma. “Aye, love,” he agreed, and added a wink for good measure.

Emma rolled her eyes and continued their fib of a love story. “You just happened to work at the local coffee shop around the corner from my place...”

“And eventually you realized I’m a dashing rapscallion that you couldn’t live without.” Emma gave another of her non-infamous eye rolls and Killian added, “Scoundrel?” He could see Emma tense up suddenly, and Killian realized that perhaps he had made her uncomfortable. “Love, I’m sorry if I crossed a line. I was merely jesting.”

He peeked over to see she was looking out the window, lost in thought. Four songs, not that Killian counted, played before she spoke. “It’s not that, Killian. It’s just...do you think we can do this? We have to make my family believe that we’re halfway in love with one another for the next week. Are you really ready to commit to that?”

Little did she know, Killian thought, he was more than halfway in love - if not already there himself. But he still took a moment to consider the consequences of their silly little plot, and how they would be greater for Emma than for himself. He pulled off to the side of the road and said, “Emma, I swear to you I wouldn’t have agreed to this if I didn’t believe in us. I promise I will do everything in my power to make you feel comfortable these next few days, and to be the best date you could ever bring home.”

Killian held his breath as Emma stared at him. He could see the caution in her eyes, the weariness of the whole nefarious scheme. But then he saw it. There was hope in her eyes. Maybe it was reflected from his, but he swore at this moment, Emma believed they could do this.

She didn’t say a word, merely nodded her head, and Killian got the car back onto the road. The rest of the drive went without a hitch. In fact, they were a little ahead of schedule when they arrived in Storybrooke.

“Would you, um...like to see where I grew up?” Emma said, a bit unsure of how to act now that they had arrived.

“I would be honored to learn more about your beginnings, love.” Emma gave him the same tentative smile from earlier and directed him around the small town.

Killian felt an odd sense of familiarity, as they explored the town. Storybrooke reminded him of the village he grew up in back in England. As they drove around, Emma pointed out some of her favorite places. The first being Granny’s, a diner that apparently had the best grilled cheese and onion rings Emma had ever tasted. She also showed him the sheriff’s station, where she may or may not have spent some “time” after being caught with a boy underneath the bleachers in the wee hours of the night. Emma shared the story of how Ruth had let her off easy after being left in the cell for ten minutes. Emma had been worried Ruth would kick her out, but apparently, she had just laughed, and suggested Emma find a different venue - and better yet, a different boy. Killian chuckled at that. He already owed a debt to Ruth for finding his Swan and giving her a home, but he could see this woman had changed Emma’s life in many different ways, and for that, he could never repay her.

As their little tour came to an end, Killian pulled up to Ruth’s house, and Emma began to fidget in her seat once more. “Swan, it’ll be okay,” he promised. She simply stared at the house in silence. “Emma, I promise it’ll be the best week of your life. I’ll do everything in my power to make it so.”

Just as Killian made a move to unbuckle his seatbelt, Emma leaned over and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek. Both instantly turned red at the display of affection, and Killian realized they needed to get this out of their system if they were going to convince everyone they’d been dating for months.

After climbing out of the car, Killian moved confidently around the trunk to grab their suitcases. When Emma began to protest, Killian told her it was what a good boyfriend would do before he shot her a cheeky wink and then headed for the door.

They didn’t get the chance to ring the doorbell. Ruth had already opened the door and pulled Emma in for a hug when Killian made it to the doorstep. He took a moment to enjoy seeing Emma with someone who cared so deeply for her, and whom she cared for as well.

“Ah, well, don’t you think you should introduce me to your man here, Beans?”

Killian swore he heard Emma grumble at the embarrassing nickname, and he very much looked forward to hearing the story behind it. “Ruth, this is Killian Jones. Killian, this is my mother, Ruth.” As Killian reached his hand out, Ruth completely bypassed it and went right for a hug. Killian had lost his mother when he was a lad, so the maternal display of affection was unfamiliar but not unwanted.

“M’lady, it is a pleasure to finally meet you,” he said as he reached for her hand once more and placed a kiss on her knuckles.

“Oh, now I see why Emma’s been hiding you away. You are far too charming for your own good.”

Killian was unsure if the woman meant it as a jest or was somehow already seeing through their facade. He stood there with a nervous smile.

“Speaking of charming, where’s David and Mary Margaret?” Killian was thankful for Emma’s quick thinking. He needed to chill out if they were ever going to make this work.

“Oh, they’re already inside. Come on in, you two!”

As Killian stepped inside the old Victorian home, he couldn’t help but feel that this was a loving home full of special memories. When he made his way out of the foyer, he saw the wall - practically a shrine - full of photographs of Emma and David. The pictures of Emma only started in her teens after Ruth adopted her, but there were just as many of her as there were of David.

Killian only got to enjoy those for a moment, as Emma tugged on his arm to continue into the living room. Inside there was there he saw a man around his height with sandy brown hair and to his left, a much smaller woman with a pixie haircut dancing around. Killian recognized David instantly from the pictures in the hallway, and he knew that the woman dancing was Mary Margaret - David’s very pregnant wife. The two seemed to be lost in their own world as he entered the room, but the moment. As soon as Mary Margaret caught a glimpse of them, she ran over to Emma, nearly tackling her with the force of her hug.

“Oh, jeez, M’s! I didn’t know that baby bump was part bulldozer! A little warning next time.”

Mary Margaret laughed at Emma’s comment. “Well, you see Emma, it has many perks. The best being a table for when I’m sitting.”

The two women started to gab about the pregnancy and life in Storybrooke, which left Killian awkwardly standing there. Ruth handed him a drink, which he believed it was eggnog (he’d never had it before). While he sipped his drink, Killian stood there watching Emma enjoy reuniting with her family. Though he had always been able to tell that she had a kind heart, Emma definitely kept it hidden from most of the world. Killian relished the thought of being the one to put her heart out there, and hoped that she wouldn’t feel the need to hide from him.

He was interrupted from his musings when David stood from his seat to approach the newcomer.

“David Nolan, Emma’s big brother. It’s nice to meet you.”

Killian reached his hand out. “Killian Jones. It’s nice to meet you as well, mate.”

“So, Killian, how long have you been with my sister?”

Killian tried to keep his composure, as this was the first real test to see if he and Emma could make it through the week without an incident.

“Well, you know your sister, mate. It can take her a minute to trust someone. I recently moved to the area-”

“From England?”

“Ah, though the accent may say otherwise, I have lived in the States for nearly a decade now. But I’ve, I just moved to Boston to work at my friend’s coffee shop. I’m the baker. Emma’s actually frequent flyer there, and we just started chatting a bit. She was kind enough to show me around the city, and I help her with her perps sometimes. Realized we were practically dating-”

“And I realized that I’d found a good one, and I should hold onto him for a bit. Maybe, haha.” Emma had come from nowhere and wrapped her arms around him. For a moment, Killian wished this was more than pretend, that Emma wanted to be with him and wasn’t just doing this for show. However, he knew he needed to get it together if they were ever going to make it through this week, and have some form of friendship after it was over.

As if on instinct, Killian leaned down slightly and placed a gentle kiss on the top of her head. He heard Emma’s breath hitch and tried not to take it personally.

The answer seemed to appease David enough for the moment.

“Oh, I forgot to show you to your room! Sorry about that, Killian. Follow me and we can get your things up to Emma’s old room.” Ruth seemed excited to show Killian the rest of the home.

“Oh, I can show him the room, Ruth. There’s no need for you to go up there for that!”

Emma grabbed his arm and practically dragged Killian, up the stairs to the bedroom. That’s when he realized why she was so insistent on showing him his room alone. It was their room. They would be forced to share Emma’s childhood bed for the week.

“Swan, I can take-”

“I’ll take the floor.”

“Love, it’s more than fine. What kind of gentleman would I be if I made you sleep on the floor? That’s not an option.”

“Killian, you’re already doing all of this. The least I could do is sleep on the ground.”

Before Emma could get another word out, David barged into the room, almost as if he anticipated interrupting something. “What do you want, David?”

“Mom just wanted me to grab you, dinner is ready,” he was silent for a beat before he turned his attention towards an extremely nervous Killian. “I’m watching you, Jones,” was all he said, before he left the room.

“Sorry about that. They really don’t believe in personal space in this house.”

“Ah, which is why, and only why, I suggest we may have to share the bed.” Emma immediately opened her mouth to argue with him when Killian stopped her. “Love, you just said they don’t respect boundaries, even in the bedroom. What are they to believe when they see you in the bed and me on the floor? That’s only going to lead to more lies and headaches. I promise, Swan, I’ll completely respect your boundaries if that’s what you’re concerned about.”

“It’s not that, it’s just...I don’t trust myself…”

“Afraid you won’t be able to keep your hands off me?”

“Actually, yes.”

Killian looked at Emma, as she stood on the opposite side of the bed. The distance felt much further. He could tell that she had instantly regretted saying that, but he wouldn’t let her for another moment.

“Emma, I won’t deny my nerves as well, but I believe that we can both be adults here. As I said, I would never put you in a situation that made you feel anything less than comfortable. If you’re truly unsure, I’m willing to sleep on the floor and set an alarm to get into bed just in case they barge in.”

“No, no, that’s silly. Like you said, we’re both adults. We can share. Now come on, it’s time for dinner.”

“As you wish.”

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The rest of the first night continued without a hitch, most of the attention on Mary Margaret given that she was nearly the end of her pregnancy, as the baby was due in February. David remained silent throughout most of the dinner, continuously eyeing Killian, but he tried to ignore the other man’s suspicion.

The first night in bed, however, was anything but comfortable. Both tried to act as though the other was not there and continue with their normal bedtime rituals. But the silence was unnerving, and neither of them knew how to relieve the tension. Killian didn’t help when he removed his Henley, and Emma saw him shirtless for the first time. He hadn’t thought that through because when he turned around to face her, Emma couldn’t hide her gaping mouth and wide eyes. He wouldn’t lie, it felt good to have an affect on her. Killian knew he was a handsome man, but he hadn’t been concerned about female attention in a long time now - not until Emma had walked into his life. He saw the blush rise in her cheeks and though he wished he could see how far that blush went, he decided it was probably best that he put a shirt on.

Emma was the first to break the silence. “Um, what side of the bed would you like?”

“Whichever side you do not prefer, love. I have no qualms, either way, I assure you.”

“Do you always talk like that?”

“Like what, Swan?”

“Like you’re much older than you actually are. Like you’ve just stepped out of some Jane Austen novel?” Emma finally made her way into the bed, and Killian slide in next to her.

“I’ve talked this way since I was a wee lad. I guess it stuck with me. Does it make you uncomfortable? Would you rather me say ‘Psh, you can pick whatever side you want, boo?’”

Emma lost it at his horrible American accent and rolled over to laugh in his face - but froze when she saw how close they were. “No, um, no, it doesn’t make me uncomfortable. It’s just...I...I’ve never met anyone like you, Killian Jones.”

Emma locked eyes with him, and he saw it again, that hope was back from earlier in the day. “Aye, love, I’m one of a kind.” Killian could still sense her nerves so he suggested, “Perhaps we should get some shut-eye? I think I heard that we’re going Christmas tree shopping in the morning. David said he was going to put my muscles to the test, whatever that means.”

“Oh, he’s gonna see if you can carry the tree by yourself - which you won’t be able to. And neither can he. I’m sorry he’s coming off like such a-”

“Like a big brother? It’s nothing to fret over love; my brother was the same way.”

“Wait, you have a brother?”

Killian cursed himself for letting that slip out. “I had a brother. Liam, he passed away about a decade ago.”

Emma fell silent for a moment before she said, “You told David you moved here ten years ago.”

It wasn’t a question, but Killian knew what she meant, “Aye. I left England after his death. I couldn’t be there anymore. He was the only family I had left, and it was just too much being there without him. I made my escape and never looked back.”

“Do you miss it?”

Killian took a deep breath in, “I miss him. I miss the trouble we got into as lads and the pub that was on the corner of our street,” that got a laugh from Emma. But I do not wish to move back. I’ve found a home here, and some people I truly care for.”

“I’m sorry about Liam. if you ever want to talk about him, I hope you know I’m here for you.”

“Thank you, Emma. I appreciate that greatly, perhaps one day I’ll share a tale or two with you.”

“I look forward to it. Sleep well, Killian.”

“You as well, love.”

He’d never meant to share that part of his life with Emma. Not right now. However, he couldn’t help but feel relieved that she’d welcomed him to share his stories. It was almost like she genuinely cared for him. So, Killian fell asleep with a smile on his face and a heart full of hope that perhaps this wasn’t going to be a big mistake.

The mistake, in this case, happened when Killian woke up. Emma was using him as a pillow and their legs were intertwined. He finally had her in his arms and Killian relished that moment. She looked so at ease and comfortable, almost like she was meant to be there and he was meant to hold her.

Then she awoke.

Emma’s peaceful smile quickly fled, and panic took over her, the blush rising once more, as she stuttered an apology.

“I assure you love, I have no issues with being a body pillow. Perhaps though, I should wear a shirt where your drool-”

“I do not drool!”

“The stain on my shirt proves otherwise, my dear.”

“Well, I...uh...shit, sorry I’ll just go get ready.”

Killian quickly reached for her hand to diffuse any concerns she had. “I promise, love, it’s not anything to fuse over. I was merely making a joke.” He held onto her hand as she nodded, and then bent forward to place a gentle kiss on her hand, just as he’d done the first time they met. Emma, still in some form of shock or panic, freed her hand and then hurried from the room to get ready for the day.

Killian fell back onto the bed moaning, thankful she’d missed the part of his body that also seemed to enjoy her close proximity. He needed to take care of that at some point, but perhaps not in her childhood bed. Killian decided to make his way downstairs, and he would bring Emma some hot chocolate as a peace offering. Peace from what, though? From him? He continued to war with himself until he heard a voice.

“What do we know about him? I mean really, she didn’t tell you his name until a week ago!”

“David, that’s enough! He seems to be a charming young man who cares about your sister.”

“So did the last one, and look how that ended! I don’t trust him. Something’s going on between the two of them and I don’t like it.”

“Exactly, David, something is going on between them and it’s something serious. I know she’s your sister but she’s also a grown woman. She can make her own choices and Killian seems to be a good one. Did you see how he was looking at her? It’s the same way you look at me, David. He loves your sister that much is obvious. And I don’t think it’s one-sided.”

“What do you mean, Mary Margaret? You think she, that she…”

“You can say it, David. I think your sister loves Killian - if not yet, then she’s getting there. I’ve known her for a long time, and I’ve never seen her like this. Not with Walsh, August, or even Neal.”

Killian was torn on what to do at that moment. Obviously, this was a conversation not intended for his ears. He couldn’t help but wonder what Mary Margaret was hinting on about with Emma’s ex-lovers, but now was not the time for him to ask.

A lull in their conversation finally gave him the proper time to make his presence known.

“Good morning everyone.” Killian tried to act normally and not as if that conversation was going to replay in his mind for the remainder of the day.

“Oh, good morning, Killian. How did you sleep?”

“Like a rock, love. And you? I hope the babe is letting you get some rest before he makes their grand entrance.”

“Ah, he was kicking up a storm last night so not too much sleep. Would you like some coffee?”

“Actually, I was coming down to make Emma some hot chocolate. Do you happen to have some chocolate in the house?”

“Are you going to make it from scratch?”

“Aye, I never give her the premade stuff. I know better than to get in the way of Emma and her sweets.”

“Smart man,” David said, finally acknowledging Killian’s presence. Mary Margaret grabbed everything he would need without question, Killian went to work quickly on the hot chocolate. He made sure to add her cinnamon on top, and everyone in the room seemed impressed that he’d remembered it.

Just as he was finishing, Emma came into the kitchen and went right for the cup without a second thought, she pushed herself onto her toes and kissed Killian on the cheek. The group made breakfast together, except for Emma who was a well-known disaster in the kitchen. Killian enjoyed his time with Mary Margaret and Ruth. He’d always had a knack for cooking and baking, so Killian felt at ease for the first time all day.

As they finished their meal and put away the leftovers, David and Emma started prepping the living room for the tree. They bickered back and forth on what size they wanted versus what would work in the room.

“Yes, they’ve always been like this.” Ruth said as she came from upstairs.

Killian was caught off guard by the comment, “Seems as though they love each other, regardless of their differences opinions on Christmas trees.”

“This is nothing. You should’ve seen them when they were younger, lord, there were days that I questioned if I could handle two teens.”

“Though my opinion may not mean much on the matter, you obviously did an amazing job with the two of them. I know I’m biased when it comes to Emma, and I don’t know David well, but they both seem lucky to have had a mother such as yourself.”

“Thank you for saying that, Killian. Will I get a chance to meet your parents soon. They must be proud of having such a wonderful young man for a son.”

Emma and her family really had a knack for hitting on sensitive subjects, it seemed. “Unfortunately, my mother passed when I was eight and my father became overwhelmed by everything. He left my brother and me one night. Luckily, my brother was eighteen at the time and was able to gain custody of me. We lived together for about a decade until a drunk driver took his life.”

Ruth didn’t say anything and although Emma was not hers biologically, he could see the same look upon her face as when Killian had told Emma his story. “Well, please know you are always welcome to join our family. I’m happy that Emma’s found you. I think you’ll both be good for each other.”

“Aye,” Killian was overwhelmed by the woman’s kindness. “she’s the best thing I have in my life, if I’m honest.”

Thankfully, Emma came over and seemed to sense the tension, as when Killian reached his arm out for her, she instinctively curled into his side. Ruth smiled at the couple, truly delighted that her Emma found someone as wonderful as Killian.

Everyone gathered their coats and gloves and made their way to the van to head for the Christmas tree farm. David and Emma continued their conversation on which tree was the best and what size they were looking for. Killian enjoyed witnessing the small family moments and desperately wished he could have done the same with his mother and Liam.

When they arrived at the farm and had climbed out the van Emma reached for Killian’s hand. Even through the gloves he could still feel that spark. “Everything okay?” Emma asked.

“Aye, love. Why wouldn’t it be?”

“It’s just, you’ve been really quiet since we left the house. Is it because of what happened this morning, cause-”

“Oh, no, love, it’s nothing like that. It’s just, I mean, I told you a bit about my past. But I’ve just never had a real Christmas tree before. It wasn’t something Liam and I felt was important when we lived together. And seeing you with your brother, arguing over which one to get, reminds me of what I’ve been missing out on for some time now.”

“Well, for this week, you’re a part of this family. So you can argue about the tree if you want.”

“Funny, your mother said the same thing.”

Emma pulled away for a moment. “My mother said what to you?”

“That I was a part of the family, or I could be, if I wanted to.”

“Do you?”

Killian paused for a moment, not because he needed to give it any thought but because he knew his answer could make Emma run. “Aye, love, I would be honored to be a part of anything with you.” He looked down at her and saw a single tear running down her face. When he reached out to wipe it away Emma grabbed onto his hand. He didn’t know why, but he had the urge to kiss her at that moment, and she didn’t look too opposed to the idea when he saw her eyes linger over his lips. Just as he started to move towards her, they were interrupted.

“You guys, you better hurry otherwise David will - oops sorry! I didn’t mean to ruin the moment. Maybe I can come back after you’ve had your...uh...moment?”

Killian sighed in defeat, “Perhaps we should get a move on, Swan? Don’t wanna hear you complaining about the tree not being perfect when we get back home.” Emma laughed and lightly shoved his chest.

The hunt for ‘The Great Christmas Tree of 2019’ was on, and Killian did everything in his power to ensure David wouldn’t hate him by the end of the day.

The two men bickered often, but it reminded him of the way he and Liam used to act. As the day went on, David eased up on him, and even offered to help carry the tree the van instead of making Killian hike it back himself.

It was when they’d finally gotten the tree home and started work on decorating it that Killian began to feel like this was where he was meant to be. That him offering to be Emma’s fake date was not a horrible idea but, in fact, the start of something great for them both.

Ruth announced that she was calling it an early night, and the couples decided to have a little movie marathon. David and Mary Margaret claimed the sofa so she could spread out, which left Emma and Killian with the love seat. It sat two comfortably, but only if the two were comfortable sitting close to one another. Killian tried to keep his composure as Emma laid the blanket over both of them their legs and snuggled. He draped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her in a little closer - just to keep up the ruse.

Killian had no idea what movie they watched, all he was concerned with was Emma’s hand, which had been drawing nonsensical patterns on his stomach. He truly believed she had no idea what she was doing and when he looked at her, she stopped - but for a moment. When Killian kissed the crown of her head, her hand continued it’s patterns.

After the third or fourth movie, Killian realized that Emma was fast asleep at his side. David and Mary Margaret talked about putting on the next film, but Killian told them he was going to take Emma to bed. While he knew the logical idea was to wake her up, he didn’t want to disturb her peace. So, Killian carried her up the stairs and into their bedroom. When he gently placed her down on the bed, he saw her scrunch up her nose and put her hands out, as if she were looking for someone.

Killian quickly changed and go into bed. It only took a moment for Emma to curl into his side once more and when she did, Killian welcomed her into his arms.

When he woke the next morning, Killian found himself in a different position. Emma’s back was towards him and he, for all intents and purposes, was spooning her. One hand was wrapped around Emma (because apparently, he liked to cling to her possessively in his sleep) and the other was tucked under his head. It didn’t take long for Killian’s body to react to Emma’s close proximity. He tried to keep his thoughts pure; to think about literally anything else. But nothing seemed to distract him from the goddess in his arms.

Killian truly though he had slipped into some sort of alternate universe when he felt Emma move. It wasn’t to wake up; she was slowly grinding her body against his. He knew he was playing with fire, so he quickly detached himself from Emma, and decided that he would need a cold shower to try and diffuse the situation.

He tried to clear his head, but the feeling of Emma’s body against his was enough to lose his mind. Killian refused to find release in her bathroom. He wasn’t sure how much longer his body was going to handle the pent up tension. They had only arrived Saturday night, Christmas was Wednesday, and he needed to survive until after Ruth’s big Christmas party Friday evening.

When he finally regained his composure, Killian finished his shower and shut the water off. Just before he could reach for the towel, the door opened, and Killian slid the curtain back to hide from whoever had entered.

“Hello? Killian?” It was Emma, thank god, he thought.

“Aye, I was taking a shower.”

“Oh, shit, sorry! I didn’t hear the water and was confused about where you went.”

Killian poked his head out from behind the curtain. Emma was still in the bathroom, despite his current state of undress. “I just finished up, I’ll be out in a moment. I can make you some hot chocolate if you want, love?”

“I, uh...no...I’m good. I’ll, shit, I’ll just let you get dressed in peace. See you downstairs!”

Emma ran into the wall, and Killian chuckled until he realized why she was so discombobulated. He had apparently revealed more of himself than he thought, luckily his most private part was covered, but not much of anything else was.

CSCSCSCSCS

As the next two days went on, Killian and Emma continued to blur the lines, neither one shied away from affection in front of others, but they were also not afraid to remain close when they were alone. After the third night, Emma said she didn’t mind waking up in Killian’s arms. It wasn’t the most romantic phrasing, but Killian took it in stride. Hearing Emma admit that she was enjoying being close to him made him feel as though he wasn’t the only one who felt that connection between them.

Before they fell asleep on Christmas Eve, Killian heard Emma murmuring something to herself. He couldn’t make it out and decided it would be best not to ask her. He figured she would share whenever she was ready.

Christmas Day was overwhelming, to say the least. The house woke early, not to open gifts, but to drive to the town over and volunteer at a homeless shelter. Killian knew the family were good souls, and to see it in action reminded him that there was still goodness in the world.

After spending most of the early afternoon at the shelter, the group returned home and opened their gifts. Emma and Killian had given David and Mary Margaret some items off their baby registry that they hadn’t been gifted at the baby shower. Killian had gotten them an extra gift, much to Emma’s surprise, of a little pirate stuffed toy. At the looks of confusion over the small pirate, Killian explained how back home, everyone would gift a new baby a doll. He told the couple that an old wives’ tale said that the dolls were protect the child, and while people found it silly, David and Margaret seemed to appreciate the sentiment.

David and Mary Margaret had gotten Emma an Easy Bake Oven and a cookbook for dummies, everyone thought it was hysterical, even Emma. And since the couple did not know Killian well, they went off the basic knowledge that he was a baker and got him an apron that said: “This is my pretend I can bake apron.”

While everyone scattered to make cookies, Emma and Killian stayed by the tree.

“Oh, before I forget, I got you something, Killian.”

“Emma...you didn’t have to get me anything.”

She rolled her eyes at his protests, “I know I didn’t have to, but I wanted to.” She handed him the small box wrapped perfectly neat with a bow on top. Killian was surprised to find a Christmas ornament shaped like the hook Captain hook would wear inside of it. “I remember you saying how much you loved that story and that he was your favorite.” Killian looked at the hook. He was in awe of the thoughtfulness of Emma’s gift. He didn’t know when she’d had time to find such a gift; as he’d only told her that story during their car ride to Storybrooke.

Emma sat there waiting for his response, he could see her fidgeting in anticipation. Without a second thought, Killian placed the gift back in the box and leaned forward for a kiss.

It was soft and sweet. Her lips felt just as he’d always imagined they would when pressed against his own. He pulled back, much too soon in his opinion, but Killian remembered where they were and why they were there. Emma still seemed to be in shock, but it only lasted for a moment and then she was leaning back in for another kiss. This time, Killian placed his hand on the back of her head, gently holding onto her golden locks. The kiss deepened slightly and was only stopped by some obnoxious coughing obviously coming from David.

The spell was broken, but Killian swore at that moment nothing had ever felt so right. The two got up and joined the others back in the kitchen to help with the cookies.

Killian was placed in charge as he was a baker by trade. The group followed his directions but decided to make it more interesting by doing a decoration competition, where Ruth would be the judge.

In the end, everyone presented their plates to Ruth. David had attempted to create a dog, like the one that was at the shelter he worked at, but it more so looked like a blob. Mary Margaret had decorated hers to be in the shape of a onesie for a baby. Killian had to admit he was rather impressed with her natural skill. Emma merely threw on every sprinkle and candy she could get her hands on. It was a mess, and Ruth was a bit concerned about the taste, but let it slide since it was Emma. Killian’s creation was the most realistic of the bunch. He designed his cookie to look like a mug filled with hot chocolate. But the design inside of the cup is what grabbed everyone’s attention. It was a swan.

Emma recognized it instantly, Killian had made a similar creation back in Boston. She looked up at him and found that he was blushing while scratching behind his ear. It was a nervous tick Emma recognized instantly. Killian won the design off, and by doing so was able to choose their dinner, Chinese food.

For the rest of the night, Killian was surprised to find Emma nearly glued to his side, it was not unwelcomed, and Killian decided to make the most of this gift.

CSCSCSCSCS

As the week progressed, Killian knew that at the end of all this madness, he was going to sit Emma down and explain his intentions. He loved her. It was that simple. He wanted to live a life where Emma was not just a part of it, but the star of it all. He had grown accustomed to waking up with her hair in his mouth and his arms wrapped around her. He loved how she was so thoughtful and kind to others. He had known for a while she was someone special, but this trip put in perspective that she was the most special person in his life, and he would do anything for her to see that.

Still, Killian was nervous that she only saw him as a friend. It terrified him that at the end of this, there was a possibility she could walk away without a second thought. He tried to keep those doubts buried, as there was no need to stress over something he couldn’t control. But that was easier said than done.

Tonight, was the town’s Christmas party, although gala was perhaps the more appropriate word. Everyone was there to help set up for the event. Killian was pleased when Emma introduced him to some of her high school friends. He found her group to be a mishmash of personalities and yet, they all fit perfectly together. There was Elsa, who was probably personality-wise the closest to Emma. Jasmine, who had also transferred in late like Emma, and then there was Ruby. Ruby was loud and her mind seemed to live in the gutter. Killian knew that if given a chance, they’d probably be great friends too.

At one point, David asked for Killian’s assistance on a task that clearly needed one person. Which suggested that the other man had an ulterior motive in asking for help.

“So, Killian, I think it’s time you and I have a little talk. What exactly are your intentions with my sister?”

Killian knew it was coming, but he was still caught a bit off guard at how abrasive David was being. He thought he had grown on the man throughout the week, but David’s stance demanded an answer from him. “My intentions are to make her happy, by whatever means necessary. I don’t need to tell you that she’s been through a lot. Her trusts means the world to me. Her heart is precious, and I intend to care for it as if it were my own. Your sister is the most important person in my life, and I wish to stay around for as long as she lets me.”

David’s features were neutral throughout Killian’s little speech, and then finally, he let a small smile slip. “Welcome to the family then, Killian.”

Killian offered him a smile of his own. He was thankful that David finally seemed to trust him with his sister’s heart. The two men spent the rest of the day helping one another, laughing, and finally being at ease.

Killian was on his way to grab some chairs from the closest when he once again walked in a conversation not meant for his ears.

“Spill. Now.”

“Ruby, I don’t know what you want me to say!”

“How about the truth, Emma Marie Swan! No texts, no calls, not so much a word. And then you show up here with Killian? Emma, I know you’re reserved but you would’ve told me if you were dating someone. Shit, you’ve told me about one-nightstands before! What’s the deal with you and Killian?”

Emma sighed in defeat, “We’re not really dating. It’s all pretend.”

“Emma, are you serious?”

Killian didn’t hear her reply, he assumed she nodded her head.

“Yeah, okay? It was all for pretend. He just offered out of pity, I think. He’s my barista from back home, and he overheard me telling Ruth I was bringing a guy home. And now? Ha! Everything has gone to hell...He’s just a fake date.”

Killian had heard enough. His heart felt as though someone had reached into his chest and crushed it. He walked away, not daring to listen to any more of how she actually saw him. Just some guy. Some fake date that’s gone too far. Killian stormed out of the building and went for a walk to clear his head.

Emma watched as he left but unfortunately, Ruby still had her corned. “So?”

“So what, Rubes?”

“Are your feelings for him fake as well? Cause honey, I can tell you his most definitely are not.”

Emma knew that deep down, Killian was no longer acting. And somewhere along the line, she had stopped too. Ruby seemed to take her silence as her answer, smirking at her friend as she walked away.

“Oh, and Emma? I would tell him sooner rather than later the truth because otherwise, you’ll be under that mistletoe alone.” Ruby knew when to drop the mic and walk away, which always impressed Emma. She just never liked being on the other end of those moments.

Emma tried to find Killian, but he seemed to have disappeared from the building. When she went home to change for the party, he kept his distance and never stayed in the same room with her for more than a moment. It didn’t take her long to realize something must have been bothering him, but she chalked it up to him feeling overwhelmed with his current situation.

Ruth stayed at the venue and changed there, so the two couples decided to ride together. Mary Margaret was wearing an elegant white long dress, and David was dressed in a navy-blue suit. They looked like royalty together.

Emma had decided on a black dress that was laced with beautiful patterns and hugged every curve. Killian was in awe of her beauty but tried to hide his emotions. He had decided during his walk, that it would be best for him not to think of Emma as anything more than a friend.

“You clean up well, Mr. Jones.” Killian had trimmed his scruff and wore a black suit, coordinating perfectly with Emma.

“Thank you, Swan. You look lovely as well. Shall we go then?” No one else seemed to notice that Killian was off except for Emma. In recent days, he’d been calling her love, darling, and most recently mo ghra. Emma still hadn’t looked up what it meant, she knew his mother was from Ireland and had assumed it was an Irish term of endearment.

The entire car ride there Killian didn’t so much look at Emma. He couldn’t, he was weak and would not be able to stop himself from falling more in love with her every second that passed. He needed to be strong and realize this facade of a relationship would be over the moment they returned to Boston.

As they entered the building, Killian spotted the mistletoe that had been hung above everywhere. He knew that had not been the original plan. Damn, now he would have to avoid walking through a doorway with her.

The party continued without any incidents. Emma had asked to dance with her on a number of different occasions, but he always found an excuse to avoid it. He felt terrible. He could see she was upset by his rejection, but he figured it was for the best. They’d nearly been caught under the mistletoe four times now, and it was starting to feel like Emma was deliberately trying to catch him.

As the night wore on and couples began to take their leave, the DJ announced it was time for the last song, and invited everyone onto the dancefloor. Killian saw Emma standing off to the side. She looked deflated and he couldn’t stand seeing her that way. Without care for his heart, he stood and offered Emma his hand.

There it was again. That hope had returned to her eyes once more.

As they began to dance to an old Christmas song Killian wrapped his arms around Emma’s waist, and her own came up to settle over his shoulders so her hands could play with his hair, like she had done for most of the trip.

“Killian, I just want to thank you. If you hadn’t offered-”

“It was the right thing to do, love.”

“Why did you do it? Why did you offer to come with me?”

Killian felt his resolve breaking, he wanted so desperately to say it was because he loved her, but he bit his tongue. “All I know, Emma, was that you deserved to have a special Christmas. One filled with precious memories, not concerns regarding your dating life. And I, uh, I couldn’t imagine you going home with anyone else. The thought of that was unsettling.”

“You didn’t want me to go home with someone else?”

“Truth be told, love when I heard you on the phone and you mentioned you were with another, my heart sank. I thought I had lost my chance.”

The two of them danced in silence, as Killian prayed that he hadn’t crossed a line.

“I know you heard me make my wish, you know?”

Killian gave her an odd look, confused by what she meant.

“On Christmas Eve. I know you weren’t asleep.”

“Oh, that? I was confused by what you were saying. It’d been a long day and I thought you were mumbling something in your sleep.”

“No, um...it’s a silly thing I’ve done since I was a kid. Christmas Eve, before I fall asleep, I make a wish. The first year I did it, I wished for a home; two months later, Ruth found me. It’s silly and usually nothing happens, but-”

“It’s charming, Swan. We all could use a little hope every now and again.” The irony wasn’t lost on Killian at that moment. He hoped so desperately that Emma would see him as more than her fake date.

“Aren’t you going to ask me what I wished for?”

“Isn’t that bad luck, love? I wouldn’t want your wish not coming true because of me.”

“There’s only one way to find out,” she whispered, but Killian still caught it over the music.

“What did you wish for, mo ghra?”

Emma smiled brightly. During the night, she’d looked up what that phrase meant. “Love. I wished for the man I love to love me back.”

“Emma?” Killian stopped dancing. He stood still and prayed he’d heard her correctly. “Are you...do you...please say it. Please tell me I’m not dreaming.”

Emma stepped further into his space and held his gaze.

“I love you, Killian Jones.”

Killian kissed her as though his life depended on it. And at that moment, felt like it did.

“I love you, Emma Swan. More than you’ll ever know.”

The two barely made it home before they could express their love in a physical way. They didn’t tell anyone that it was fake at the beginning, until the night before their wedding. Emma finally confessed to her family when Ruby inadvertently mentioned it. David had a field day with the news, but Mary Margaret was amazed at their acting. Ruth simply told them that they had never really been faking it. They were merely hiding the truth from each other.

She wasn’t wrong.

#captain swan #cs #emma swan #killian jones #csss19 #my gift #captain swan ff #cs ff #david nolan #mary margaret blanchard #ruby #BED SHARING #FAKE DATING #until it isn't ;)

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onepiecefeatstuff · 5 years

Text

Touch | Sanami week 2020

Sanji had never been the touchy-feely type, despite what one might think at first sight. He wasn’t really comfortable with physical contact. It was something he lacked as a child, and childhood scarcities lead to adult traumas.

Well, it wasn’t a trauma per se. It truly wasn’t that deep. Something about the act of touching made him feel a bit uncomfortable, sometimes. He didn’t know how to act, and he was constantly second-guessing. It wasn’t like his masculinity stepped into his way to affection, rather a question of his brain playing tricks on him that often made him want to crawl back to his upright posture. He would still catch anyone who was thrown into his arms, stop someone from getting into danger, and of course, kiss the hands of any beautiful lady he came across. He didn’t have any problems with that. But his hands were made for cooking, and he didn’t have the same skills with human interaction.

Nami liked touching. She liked smacking people, obviously. But she also like holding on to them, and on few occasions, hugging them. She was a caring person, beneath that cold exterior. And he liked to be touched by her. He loved it, he dreamed about it. But any time their hands grazed, he kept obsessing about it to the point where his hands were sweaty and didn’t want to hold hers anymore. He felt paranoid, but couldn’t avoid it. It was superior to him.

That day, his break took longer than usual. By the time he came back to the kitchen, the frying pan was heating on the stove, and a curvy figure was wearing his apron. Her long orange locks were tied up in a high bun, and she only turned around when she heard the door closing.

“Sorry, I was just making myself a snack.” She apologized with a smile. “You don’t mind, do you?”

She might have been preparing a snack, but she sure looked like a five course meal.

“Just five?”

For a moment, Sanji thought that his long-time theory had been proven and she really was a mind reader. Then he realized that his mouth was open, and that he probably muttered it without even knowing.

“I have good hearing.”

She was dangerously close to him now. Her eyes shone with maliciousness and she had a hungry smile on her face. Sanji gulped, both fearing and wishing that moment would never end. He felt the want to touch her, the urge to touch her, and he couldn’t contain himself. He was about to give in to his desires when she turned around and grabbed the oil bottle.

She poured a bit of oil into the pan, and the liquid dripping slowly drove him crazy. He went over to see what she was doing, and he only found two slices of bread frying in the pan. On the counter, there were egg shells and the cream was out. He could smell cinnamon, and a hint of butter.

“French toast?” he asked, although he already knew the answer.

Nami faced him, with the spatula in her right hand, and smirked before turning around again. The heat from the pan was starting to get to him, or maybe it was the close distance there was between them. To his surprise, she grabbed his hand, and her touch burnt like he had stepped into lava. He felt the instinct to pull away, but his body wouldn’t respond.

“I’ve been thinking about your hands lately.” Her voice, reduced to a whisper because of the kitchen noise, sounded like honey. She examined his hand, caressing every single part of his palm. “They’re rough, but smooth at the same time. No cuts whatsoever.”

Hers were clearly soft. Her fingers were tickling around his, like she was spreading butter onto them. It was hypnotizing to watch her doing so, and the feeling of her touch was electrifying. She only stopped to turn around her toasts, then looked at him with that hungry expression of a predator.

“You have great hands.” She lifted them up, then placed them on her face. “It’s true what they say about cooks.”

“What do they say?” He said with a heavy breathing, trying to remain calm. He didn’t want to appear desperate.

She placed his hand around her waist, and her cheek to his neck. He felt the saliva in his mouth and had to gulp.

“They’re skilled.”

He didn’t dare contradict her, not when they were standing so close to touch. He could feel her agitated breathing, and he couldn’t believe the situation he was in. Nami seemed to have tangled a spider-web around him, because he couldn’t move. He was frozen into place, as she played with his body like her newest toy. That said, he couldn’t say he wasn’t enjoying it. And he was calm, calmer than he could ever imagine. Her commanding made him nervous, but at least he didn’t have to worry of where he was placing his hands or what to do with them. It was almost liberating, although his heartbeat said otherwise.

Looking down and facing her was not a decision made by instinct, but pure curiosity. He needed to see what her true intentions were in her eyes. He was starting to believe that his hopes were too high, and he needed to crush them with her look of indifference. He didn’t find that. Instead, her eyes posed a lingering question. A question she dared not to make with words, but that he understood anyway.

He nodded. She kissed him.

She kissed him and kissed him and kissed him, with her body twisting around his, both desperate for physical contact. She was clinging on to him, or he was clinging on to her, and their hands seemed to always be in perfect position despite where they were at. She sat on the kitchen table, and started tingling with his tie.

“But the french toasts…” he managed to say, out of breath.

Nami stopped and let out a full-on laugh, throwing her head back like a little kid. That made him smile, nervously, and hoping that he didn’t ruin the moment.

“Mind over matter.” She shushed him, with her index finger touching his lips.

Author’s note: I think this is a nice change from the kind of stuff I usually write. These guys needed a bit of action. Also, if anyone recognizes the song that I streamed on repeat while writing it, please let me know! Thank you for all the likes and reblogs ♥

#sannami week 2020 #sanami week #sanami #sannami #sanji x nami #sanji #nami #op fanfic

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ilitws · 5 years

Text

𝑰𝑭 i just lay here.

summary. sequel to all that i ever was. “pick me, choose me, love me.” bryce isn’t the type to beg. mc. dr. george mccarthy. determined / resolute / stubborn / hard-headed. pairing. bryce/m!mc. mentions of ethan/m!mc and rafael/m!mc. word count. 992. a/n. day 21 / flatline + hope for @choicesmarchchallenge.

george is a fighter. it’s what you love about him. and with every day, he gets stronger. he isn’t conscious yet, but there’s no longer sweat marring his brow for hours on end and the bruises across his face are just starting to fade. as far as patients go, he’s by far one of the best. responsive to his procedures and quiet and manageable. soon, he won’t even be surgery’s responsibility anymore, and you’ll just have to visit him during regular hours just like everybody else.

no more lingering around the foot of his bed, pretending to squint at his chart so you have an excuse to be near him. tanaka almost called you out for this yesterday, asking why george’s new meds were so interesting. no more curling up beside him after your shift ends, careful not to rip out his central line. you wonder if he heard anything you told him those nights and early mornings.

you wonder if he heard you tell him that you love him.

it’s not at all surprising you’re in some sort of nebulous three-way competition with an attending and a paramedic. none of you have made any moves to stake a claim, per se —— if anything, the other two seemed to have backed off. but you’re still not certain what it means for you and george. you hope that it means he’s yours. but more than anything, you want him to be here.

if george suddenly wakes up and has decided, from his near death experience, that he’d like to risk it all for ethan ramsey, who are you to stop him? you’re an optimist, but you’re not stupid. you know hope has its limits.

funny how your internal monologue chooses this exact moment to bite you.

while you were staring wistfully at george’s room from the nurse’s station, chin in hand, he was busy dying. the moment the steady tone of asystole reaches your ears, you can only hope to god that it isn’t too late.

you sprint across the floor faster than you’ve ever run in your life, skidding to a stop by his side. chest compressions, chest compressions, chest compressions. it’s a steady enough mantra to ground him as you push and try to keep your voice from wavering as you call for help. “c’mon, baby,” you mutter. “don’t do this to me, george.” the nurses who stumble in with the crash cart have the decency not to throw you an odd look for the pet name.

they push one of epi. nothing happens. you bark at them to do it again. still nothing. your arms are getting tired and a droplet of sweat travels down your nose to splash onto george’s gown. somebody places a hand on your shoulder, says, “lahela, stop it,” and tries to steer you away. you don’t move. you may have been talking shit about hope seven minutes ago, but it’s all you have left.

you hear a sigh. “one more of epi. if it doesn’t work, get him out of here.” it’s cute how harper emery thinks she could possible drag you out of this room, head of neuro or otherwise. anything else she says is drowned out by the litany of “please”s that fall out of your mouth. you didn’t even realize you were speaking, elbows locking up as you continue to push.

“george, you listen to me, you’re gonna come back from this. you don’t get to leave me hanging, all right?” the room starts to clear out. to you, it had always just been you and him. it still is. “i told you that i fucking love you, and i would like an answer. even a ‘hey, bryce, not really feeling it, sorry’ is enough but i need you to say it, okay?”

a hand hovers near your shoulder again. “i’m not done, damn it!” you don’t turn back to look at the bridge you’ve probably burnt. “i need you to wake up and say it because if you don’t, i’m gonna keep mooning over you because that’s what love is. i’d prefer it if you actually said, ‘hey, bryce, i love you too! you’re perfect and handsome and everything i’ve ever wanted!’ but in order for that to happen, you have to have a heartbeat.”

beep. two seconds of silence. and then a slow, and steady string of blips. maybe you should start speaking things into the universe more often, if the activation speed is this fast.

you stumble into your usual chair, still parked right next to george’s bed, arms as heavy as lead. this was an awful workout, one you would definitely not like to do ever again. the most strength you can muster is barely enough to put a hand on top of george’s. it flexes under your fingers as his brows twitch. you squeeze gently. it’s too early to ask the forces that be to wake him up, though the thought is tempting.

dr. emery sighs again. she crosses her arms as she leans against the doorway, moving slightly to let the crash cart through. “if you pull something like this again, you won’t be anywhere within 20 feet of this room ---- or this program, for that matter.”

“can’t make any promises, ma’am.”

“it was a good save,” she begrudgingly admits. she respected your persistence, once. the logical part of you hates that you allowed yourself to fall apart in front of her. but her tone isn’t as unkind as it could be. “ but it was also a once-in-a-lifetime one. you better hope he gets better and gets the hell out of there.”

you do ---- for that and more.

as you reach over to take his hand with your other, unoccupied one, his fingers curl ever so slightly around your palm.

it sure looks like you’ve already got the that part down. who’s to say an ‘i love you’ isn’t the and more?

#choicesmarchchallenge #playchoices #bryce x mc #oph #this got . way longer than i wanted to it to bUT #every now and then i write something that i don't hate.#this is not one of those days

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kiwi-bitchez · 5 years

Text

Permafrost

Chapter 3: Business-Casual

Chapters 1 and 2, also on my AO3

Summary/AN: After leaving Peter at Stark Tower with no way to contact you, the two of you can't keep each other off your minds. However, fate (or Tony Stark) has it that you meet again on a boat heading towards Antarctica. Mostly just expositional plot for what's to come ;)

Also! Please leave messages/asks/let me know if I should start a taglist for this series!

Warnings: mentions of alcohol I guess, NO smut for once (sorry folks), finally some plot

Weeks had passed since the night of the party, yet you still couldn’t seem to get Peter out of your head. You tried your best to push him into a deep corner of your brain, but memories of that night kept tugging at the edge of your consciousness, slipping in when your concentration faded or when you found your mind otherwise unoccupied.

You constantly talked yourself out of thinking of him, explaining to yourself that he’s a full-time superhero and probably wouldn’t have the time or energy to see you again even if he wanted to. If he had wanted you to stay he could have asked, and you were sure he had access to technology to find you if he really wanted. So you resigned to constantly pushing him back into that corner of your brain, hoping that the memory of him would soon fizzle into nothing.

But then again, did you really want that? There was a reason you had replayed that night over and over in your head, remembering the way he grabbed your hand, the way his eyes crinkled shut when he laughed, the way his eyes rolled back when he… Push it down, stop idealizing, and move on with your life y/n, you thought.

Keeping yourself busy at work helped. Constantly helping prep for upcoming trips and programs, paperwork and maps to sort, gear to be ordered. You hadn’t been promoted per se, but you had definitely started taking on some more responsibility.

“Knock knock,” your boss Stephen strolls into the back room where you found yourself surrounded by endless papers, “got a minute?”

“For you? Not sure…,” you joke with him, swiveling around in your chair to give him your full attention. He was a good boss, treating everyone like equals rather than subordinates, and he had a sarcastic sense of humor, appreciating that you could dish it right back.

“I’ve got some mail for you, and something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about,” he sits down on the desk across from you.

“Shoot,” you gesture towards him, taking the short but thick stack of mail rubber-banded together from him.

“Well, we have been in contact with our partners over at Stark Industries,” he starts, “and in our last debrief with Mr. Stark he mentioned that there’s some room in the budget for another guide for the Antarctica trip. Now, nothing against you or your ability, but I did suggest Scott or Matt to join the team, but he explained that he had met you at the party and was impressed with you. He also said something about wanting a smaller climber on the team, said there might be some tight squeezes and having you might be an asset. I told him that I had no doubt in your ability if he really wanted to hire you for the team, so, it's up to you but the plane ticket and all the paperwork is right there.”

You sat there a little dumbfounded, not yet processing what your boss had just clearly explained. Feeling like an idiot with your mouth open like a flytrap you swivel back around and put all the paperwork into your desk.

“Umm, yeah, wow,” you look back at him, “you’re sure that you don’t want to tell him to take someone else? Someone more experienced? I’m not really sure if I deserve this.”

“I don’t know kid, he was pretty adamant about you coming. I would take the opportunity and run with it if I were you. It will be great experience for someone as young as you, and even though you probably wouldn’t have been the company’s first choice I trust in your ability, you are a good worker and an even better climber.”

You had never had a conversation this honest with Stephen, who was kind of like an older brother figure to you. Ever since moving far away from home he had kept an eye out for you both at work and in your personal life.

“Shit, yeah I guess I can’t really say no,” you say, bringing your hand to your forehead, trying to help this all sink in.

“Don’t act too excited,” he rolls his eyes at you and leaves you to your work.

“Fuck,” you mumble to yourself, “what the fuck.”

You sat there in disbelief, sifting through the stack of plane tickets, boarding passes, and travel information you had just been given. When the concept of traveling to Antarctica to climb mountains and getting paid for it started to hit you, an even bigger train slammed right into your stomach, Peter.

Fuck, you certainly couldn’t keep pushing thoughts of him away if you were going to have to see him every day for three months. But you couldn’t see him like that, he was going to be at work, doing Avenger things, superhero things, not you things.

You convinced yourself that you probably wouldn’t even have to see him that much, you would probably be in two totally different places doing two totally different things. Is that what you wanted? Maybe? No. Definitely no. But this was work and you were just going to treat it like you would any other job. Hopefully.

At Stark Tower

“I don’t know!!!” Peter groans as he flips his grilled cheese, “I’m just bad at stuff like that!”

“Dude,” Sam replies from across the kitchen, “it’s not hard. She definitely really liked you.”

“Yeah, we could all hear how much she really liked you that night…” Bucky teases.

“But, like, what if she didn’t even want to give me her number though? Like what if she wanted it to be just like a one-time thing? She totally could have left it if she wanted to.”

“You can't expect her to do all the work though, kid,” Sam tries to reason with Peter, “you have to show her you are interested, vocalize things, ask, don’t assume.”

“You know what happens when you assume,” Bucky retorts, unable to hide the snark in his voice.

“Yeah, yeah, an ass out of you and me, fuck off, I didn’t ask you metalman,” Peter was trying to keep up with the constant back and forth of insults and high context between Sam and Bucky that they also fired at everyone around them.

“Ughhhh, I just liked her so much! And I never get the chance to meet girls, and she just like, fell into my lap, and then poof,” Peter raises his hands to his face in exasperation, hoping that getting this off his chest would help the heavy feeling that had been lurking there ever since he woke up to find you gone from his bed.

“I don’t know what else to tell you kid,” Sam tries to be empathetic without ragging on the kid too hard, “you could just ask Stark to track her down.”

“That’s so creepy though, I don’t want her to think I’m a creep,” Peter pouts, now eating his burnt grilled cheese.

Natasha enters the kitchen, filling up a bottle of water and leaning back onto the counter.

“What’s he moping about now?” she asks Sam.

“He’s pissed that he scared off that nice girl from the party.”

“I did not-,” Peter starts, but then flops his head down to the counter, pressing his cheek against the cold marble.

“Aw, sweetie, she didn’t leave her number?” Natasha asks, with some genuine concern, but also playing Sam and Bucky’s game of tormenting you.

“No,” he grumbles, not lifting his head from the counter.

“Maybe she just wanted to wait to see you again until the trip, I’m sure she’s really busy just like you are,” Nat says, now with only comfort in her voice.

“She’s not coming, she just got an invite to the party, but she’s not coming,” Peter responds, finally peeling his cheek from the counter.

“Not sure what she told you, but her name is on the roster of tickets. We sent over three packets of travel info to the mountain guide company, one with her name on it just the other day,” she says to a much more attentive Peter, who knew Nat has much more inside intel than he does around here.

“Don’t fuck with me,” Peter says with an annoyed look on his face, “you’re just as bad as them now.” He gestures to Sam and Bucky who were still snickering at him, laughing at his misery.

“Go talk to Stark if you don’t believe me, I’m sure he would looove to hear all about your girl problems.”

Peter was used to taking jabs, being the youngest and most gullible, but he didn’t think Nat would mess with him like this. Bucky or Sam? Definitely. But Nat? She had a soft spot for him.

Peter had been genuinely upset that you decided to slip away that night. He worried that he did or said something wrong, maybe he shouldn’t have been so forward. Or maybe he should have been more forward? He didn’t know. All he knew was that he felt like an idiot and he worried that everything Bucky and Sam said was true, that he had scared you off.

Now he was grappling with this new information, the idea of seeing you again on the mission. What if you didn’t want to see him? He didn’t want to throw himself at you and look desperate, but he couldn’t stop thinking about you and how your hair felt tangled in his hands, how his name sounded coming from your lips.

Later that afternoon Peter found himself pacing outside of the lab, debating whether to ask Tony about you, to ask if what Nat had told him was true. He didn’t want this to be a big joke, but he also had to know, the question had been burning his brain.

“Hey Mr. Stark, sorry to bother you, I was just-”

“Yes Peter, she’s coming, I sent over an extra ticket.”

“Really? I-”

“Nat told me you would be bugging me about this. I believe the words you’re looking for are Thank You.”

“Umm, thank you? Thank you.”

“I met her after she was leaving your room after the party, she seems like a good kid. I wanted another climber, someone small to squeeze through tight spaces. Plus, having a pretty girl around will keep you out of my hair. Now shoo.”

Tony tried to stay stern with Peter, constantly wanting to teach him lessons, but he also wanted to make the kid happy. With all the hard work Peter had been putting in the past few months, he deserved to have a little fun, to enjoy something for once. Tony knew what it was like to get too concentrated on work, the toll being an Avenger could take, and Peter was too young to feel like that all the time.

Shuffling out of the room with a string of mumbled “thank yous” Peter rushed back to his room at the compound, flopping back onto his bed. He didn’t know how to feel, but he knew he was excited and nervous to see you again.

You peer across the rows of seats on the plane, searching for a familiar face. A specific familiar face. You assumed that everyone on the mission would be flying together, but your business class tickets suggested otherwise. Stephen was scheduled to fly with Stark and the Avengers, to manage the loading and transportation of all the gear. You and Eric, the other guide, flew commercial to Argentina and would meet up with everyone at the site of the boat you would be taking down to Antarctica.

It was an eleven-hour flight and you were quick to grow restless. In-flight movies and complimentary snacks couldn’t quiet your buzzing nerves. You needed to figure out a way to occupy your brain for the flight, because thinking about Peter for eleven hours didn’t seem healthy.

You did spend about three of those hours trying to think of what you would say to him if or when you saw him. Should you apologize? Play it cool? Run into his arms? Definitely not that last one. It was probably best to keep everything professional, treat him like you would anyone else.

After an in-flight G and T you managed to doze off for the next few hours of the flight, drooling onto the pull-out tray. Eric shakes you awake, mocking your open-mouthed sleeping face, telling you it’s time to buckle up and get ready to land.

You nervously start to rub the skin on the inside of your thumb, a bad habit that sometimes left you with raw and puffy skin. An outsider may have guessed that you were afraid of flying, but it was quite the opposite, you were afraid of landing.

A private car picks you up and drives a short distance to the waterfront. It’s a private dock specifically for boats traveling long distances. You had never spent more than a few hours on a boat, and certainly never one this big. You were quickly ushered onto the top deck and then down into what looked like a conference room.

It appeared that you two were the last to arrive, and the boat would be departing soon. Quietly placing your bags in a corner and finding a place to stand, you direct your attention to Mr. Stark who stood at the front of the room, naturally.

“I’m sure you all want to get to your bunks, it’s been a long day of travel for everyone. I just wanted to relay some basic info from the captains before giving you all your room keys. This trip can take anywhere between 10 days and 3 weeks, all depending on the weather. There is an intercom so you know you’ll be hearing from me if we all need to congregate again, but otherwise, I suggest we take this time to prepare for the mission and rest up. Thanks , everyone.”

There was a lot of shuffling around and you constantly felt like you were in someone’s way. Eric, Stephen, and yourself step aside into the hallway to debrief quickly on the transportation of the gear. Everything had gone as planned and you decided to meet back up in the morning.

“Your room is down the stairs, third door on the right,” Tony says to you in passing, “should be unlocked.”

Taking two trips down to carry your belongings, you find the door to your room cracked open.

“Hello?” you sense a presence already in the room.

“Oh, hey, sorry, I was just-,” Peter steps out of the bathroom that’s connected to your small room, containing two small beds and a desk.

Your eyes grow wide, not expecting to see him so soon. The three hours of Peter-prep you had done on the plane suddenly vanished from your brain. You stand there, bags still in your grip.

“Mr. Stark says that you and I are “young and spry” and that we don’t count as full adult people so we have to share a room,” Peter says quickly and nervously, using air quotes, “but I can totally go ask someone to switch, or I think there is a couch somewhere if-”

“No,” you cut him off, meeting his eyes for the first time, “don’t worry about it, this is okay with me if it’s okay with you.”

“I’m sorry if this is weird,” Peter says, surprisingly honest.

“It doesn’t have to be,” you say, finally placing your bags down. Okay, so you guess you are deciding to play it cool, “We can just…start over?”

“Yes. Yes ok, Um, my name is Peter Parker and I’m Spiderman,” he says, semi-jokingly, extending his hand to you.

“And my name is Helga and I am an assassin sent here to take you out,” you make finger guns at him and attempt a bad German accent, causing you both to giggle.

Your lame attempt at humor had somehow brought the two of you right back to the way you had been that night three months ago. It felt easy and comfortable, but you had to force yourself not to stare at him as he started unpacking his clothes, not to notice the way his arms looked in that white t-shirt…

“I honestly think this is some kind of weird test that Mr. Stark is putting me through,” Peter turns to you, offering to help you with your bags.

“He told me about how he drove you home after the party, after-” Peter cut himself short, “anyways, I’m glad you’re here, but I just can't help but think that Stark has some sort of sneaky ulterior motive.”

“Damn, paranoid much?” you try to ease the tension, “Maybe he just learned that I’m the best goddamn ice climber east of the Mississippi and he wanted to hire me for my tremendous skill.”

“Are you really?”

“No,” you laugh, “he probably does have an ulterior motive though, and this is totally a test. We are actually plotting together against you.”

His eyes grow wide for a second before realizing you are messing with him. He playfully hits your arm with his pillow.

“Don’t do that! Everyone here is always fucking with me, I don’t need another bully!” he says with a laugh, hitting you with his pillow again.

“Sorry, I’ll be nice I promise,” you dramatically bat your eyelashes at him, deciding that if you couldn’t fuck him you’d just have to resort to constant humor.

“But I’m serious, I think we should just be friends on this trip, co-workers,” you let off your chest, as much as you wanted to attack his mouth with yours, you didn’t want to jeopardize any part of this trip, any part of your job. Even though it was going to be fucking difficult sharing a room with him.

“Yeah, yeah, professionals,” Peter nods, a noticeable disappointment flashed across his face though.

“It’s just that…I’m getting paid to be here, and this boat isn’t huge, and I just wouldn’t want my boss, or your boss to think-”

“Yeah, no, I totally understand. I totally get you. 100% Couldn’t agree more.”

He talks a lot when he’s nervous, and he always tries to find something to do with his hands, tug at the hem of his shirt or fix the bedsheets that were already perfectly made. A quiet settles around the two of you, a dead air making the awkwardness more and more apparent with every passing second.

You both get your things settled in, unsure of who was going to say something first. You flop back on the bed, genuinely exhausted from the day.

“Hey y/n?” Peter says, also laying flat on his back on the bed parallel to yours.

“Yeah?”

“I really am glad you’re here though.”

You close your eyes as a big smile spreads across your cheeks. This was going to be a long fucking trip.

#peter parker fanfic #peter parker #tom holland fic #tom holland fanfiction #peter parker fic #marvel fanfiction #permafrost #fanfiction #finally some plot #no smut sorry folks

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thehopefuldandelion · 5 years

Text

Not Him

part 2

part 1 is here on ao3. here on fanfiction.net

thanks to all who supported me in part 1 specifically @lovely-tothe-bone and @tindomrl

everlark.

I do not own any of these characters:)

***

A day later and I still hadn’t process the fact that just yesterday, Gale and his “intern”, Madge, were in my bed. Gale cheated on me. So what, maybe I had some erotic thoughts about Peeta. I hadn’t actually gone through with them. He’s my boss anyway. I can’t think like that.

Shaking that thought away, I focus on getting ready for the day. Another day ignoring Peeta, another day without Gale. I get dressed quickly in a pencil skirt and button up shirt with a black suit jacket. The more conservative today, the better.

The apartment seems, empty, without another soul here. The tv which used to drown out the blaring noise of honking cars is silent, no dents in the couch to be seen. I don’t have to cook breakfast for two people, instead just for me. One singular person. I suck in a breath and release it. In all honesty, the apartment might seem empty, lonely even, but I don’t miss Gale. As our relationship dwindled and tottered over the edge, we became more like roommates. I can’t even remember the last time he touched me romantically. Pass by pecks and simple questions with simple answers is the only interaction we really had near the end. No wonder he cheated on me.

I should probably be making a bigger deal out of this but I’m too exhausted to care. Gale seemed done with me so why should I still keep rekindling the tiny fire we had? I push all these thoughts that have haunted me since last night far back into my overwhelmed brain and hope that today goes smoothly.

Shit. There goes the milk spilling all over the floor. Yeah today is not gonna be smooth. I don’t have time for this. Shit. Shit. Shit. I hear the toaster pop! meaning the toast is done, burnt, of course. And as I spread butter a chunk slides down my freshly ironed shirt. Fuck. On my way to the bedroom, pretty much jogging, I bump my hip into the chair, hard, (that will leave a bruise) causing me to stub my toe on the door post.

“Aghhhhhhhhh,” I scream in pain and frustration.

I guess this is the world punishing me for some odd reason. Dang. I’m late. I mean I do need this job, but I won’t have to see Peeta anymore so it’s kinda a win-win. Not really, in the end it would be a hard loss and a joyful win. Stop thinking, Katniss. You need to get to work. Yikes. This day sucks.

***

“Good Morning, Katniss,” Peeta greets me while sipping a cup of coffee. Black.

“Hello, Peeta. How was your night?”

“Wonderful. Isn’t it such a lovely day?” He says looking straight at me. I noticed he didn’t even glance out the clear windows. “And how are you on this beautiful day?”

“Uh, it’s great...I’m great,”I respond while gritting my teeth. I can’t stand his kindness. He peered at me, his face in disbelief, turning his head slightly.

He almost scoffs and then says, “Ok, Katniss. Whatever you say.”

What is he? A psychopath? Telekinetic? Wouldn't be surprised.

“Oh, and Katniss? You have a stain on your shirt.”

Fuck.

Over the past week of working at this hell-hole, I observed Peeta giving me looks, unsettling but not in a vicious way. I almost want to relish in the tingling feeling they bring from head to toe. What is wrong with me. My brain and heart are sending two very different signals to my body. I need to throw all thoughts of Peeta in the sudden absent trashcan in my baffled brain. Can anyone find that missing trashcan?

“Katniss?” I hear someone call from behind me.

My chair swivels around and I see a jubilantly smiling Peeta fixated on me, or more particularly the stain. Ugh, that freakin stain. He pulls a hand from behind his back and I see he’s holding a shirt. I give him a befuddled look and he quickly stammers to explain what it’s for.

“Uh, I always have an extra button up with me and was wondering if...well if...if you wanted to wear it until tomorrow. I mean, obviously, you can change when you get home. You don’t actually have to wear it until tomorrow.” He rubs the back of his neck with his hand and blushes a deep shade of red. “So, if you’d be interested, I uh-”

I save him the embarrassment by grabbing the shirt out of his hands and running to the bathroom. He gives me a bewildered look and I almost want to laugh. But I don’t. Because I hate him. Right? Right. Lie. And me borrowing his shirt is just because I have no other option. Right. Lie.

Slowly unbuttoning my shirt, I imagine what this would feel like if it was a different situation with Peeta unbuttoning it for me. Oh god. A shoot of pleasure settles in my lower half. What is this man doing to me?

The white button up smells of dill and almost, if I’m not mistaken, cinnamon. The sweet smell wafts into my nose making me hungry. As expected, I am engulfed in the shirt, enveloping me in warmth and...love? That’s bizarre. I never associated Peeta and love. Those two never intermingled in my mind. With the shirt tucked into my skirt and having splashed frigid water on my face, I walk, no, speed-walk towards my desk.

Peeta pops his head out from his office and is about to say something when he looks at me. His mouth opens a few times but no words form. Ok then. “K...Katniss, uh, um, I, uh, can you-

The phone rings distracting me momentarily from his stammering.

“This is she.”

“Yes, he is here.”

“I’ll transfer you now.”

I turn to Peeta, seeing him still utterly flabbergasted, and say, “Katie’s Cakes on line 1, Mr. Mellark.”

Recovered, he answers, “Thank...Thanks, Katniss.” In a blink of an eye he is back in his office with the door safely closed.

I snort to myself and wonder where else the day will lead.

***

My head is throbbing. Countless phone calls and a trip to the coffee shop down the street later and its 6pm, and I’m still at work. Honestly, a pint of Ben and Jerry’s and Netflix are calling my name. Ugh, I can’t wait to go home. I should've brought some Advil. Mentally adding that reminder for next time.

A quick glance around the office assures me I’m the only one here. Hallelujah. I’m starving. Maybe there's something in the break room. As I open the fridge and bend down to reach some leftover cookies form a party, I hear a gasp and someone run out of the room. Huh. That’s odd. My head hurts and I’m hungry so I guess I’m hallucinating. Eh, it happens.

Oh my God. These cookies are heaven on earth. I moan as I take a bite. Another gasp. What the hell. It can't be me...can it? I start to investigate. My thought process is that if it is a demon or ghost, at least I can die and never have to come here again. The only lights on are from my cubicle and...wait that's weird, why are Peeta’s office lights on. Hmm.

As I turn the corner to get to his office, I bump into a something hard.

“Oof.”

“Are you ok, I’m so sorry Katniss.”

It takes me a second to regain my bearings. “Peeta? What the fuck?”

“Ah, I didn’t mean to bump into you,” he says with a slight blush on his cheeks. He then offers his hand for me to take and helps me up. I brush the dust from the ground of my skirt.

Ok, then.

“It’s fine Peeta. I’ll survive.”

“CanIbuyyoudinner?”

“What?”

“Uh, can I take you out?” he says.

“As a date?” I inquire him. There is no way in hell I would go on a date with Peeta Mellark. Right?

“Um,” he rubs the back of his neck, the blush spreading from his cheeks to his ears, then neck. “I guess. I was thinking more of an apology. For bumping into you, that is.”

“Ok,” I say slowly, reminding myself this is not a date. Yes, definitely not a date. “When?”

“Now?”

“Uh, um, sure. Yes, now is fine.” I say quickly trying to cover up my stammering.

I walk over to grab my purse and put on my jacket. “So where, were you thinking?”

“I have something in mind,” he tells me with a glimmer of mischief in his eyes.

***

We end up at a bakery about 2 miles outside of city limits. I was confused at first, until Peeta told me he grew up around here and worked at this bakery until taking over Mellark Enterprises from his dad. The bakery is small and homey, wood tables slightly worn down from years of use. The counters are stained, each stain telling a story. It seemed like a nice place to grow up, full of love and laughter, something I never understood.

Peeta lets me try a variety of pastries, all delicious and mouth watering.

“I actually own this bakery.” Peeta tells me.

“So that’s why we are in here safe and sound and not arrested for breaking and entering.” I tease him.

He laughs and looks me in the eyes. “I don’t come here often enough, being CEO of a company and all,” he says while stabbing his fork into a muffin. “It’s peaceful out here. Almost like, everyone has taken time to reflect on their lives and go about their days how they want too.”

“So, what I’m picking up on is you didn't want to be a CEO of a multi-million dollar company.”

“Honestly, no.” He breathes out. “I wanted to be a famous painter and if that didn't work out I’d just stay here, spending the rest of my days baking.”

“Makes, sense. Painter you say? Just how good are you?” I laugh.

Peeta shrugs his shoulders. “I’m not terrible.” One of his curls has fallen over his eyes and it takes all my restraint to not reach my hand over and brush it back.

Hours later we were still talking and laughing. I was having a great time.

“No, way. You actually said you were the doctor and flew around in the TARDIS. I can’t believe she considered that that was true.”

“Oh, yeah. She was mortified. Best blind date I’ve ever been on.”

“Well, I wouldn't have run off,” I blush.

“Good to know,” Peeta says in return, giving me a look of hope.

We both just peer at each other, lost in thoughts of our own. The silence isn't awkward per se, it’s almost satiated.

“Well, I should get home. I do have work after all.”

“Of course, Katniss. Thanks for joining me. I hope this evening was apology enough,” he says kindly.

“It will suffice,” I tease.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” he asks, almost sad to see me go.

“Tomorrow. Good Night, Peeta.”

“’Night, Katniss.”

I drive away feeling strange. Do I like my boss? More importantly, do I like Peeta Mellark?

***

After hanging up my coat and setting down my purse, I shimmy of my skirt, keeping Peeta’s button up on, I jump into bed and spread out like a starfish. This day is over. Finally. As my eyes become heavy and I drift off into a deep slumber, my phone pings!

From: Unknown 11:46

Hey Katniss, this is Peeta. I just wanted to know if you got home safe.

From: Katniss 11:47

Hi Peeta. I did thank you for your concern. Sleep Well.

From: Peeta Mellark 11:49

Sweet Dreams, Katniss.

I turn off my phone, not even considering what the message implies. It’s been a long day and the last thing I need to worry about is Peeta and I’s relationship.

I remembered to set my alarm last night, luckily, so I won't be late for work. I am still wearing Peeta’s button up. Slowly, but surely, I get out of bed, shower, and eat breakfast. I turn on the tv, because I need some distraction. Opening the window next to the fire exit, allows for some much needed air into the apartment. A familiar voice draws me out of my mental to do list for today.

Holy Shit.

Peeta is on tv. Why didn't I know about this? I’m his secretary for god’s sake. Caesar Flickerman who hosts Good Morning Panem is asking him questions about everything, from his favorite food to his love life.

“So, Peeta. What's it like being the CEO if such a profitable company?”

“Uh, it’s great. Hard work, but it’s good,” Peeta says with a somber look on his face. I think back to our conversations last night. He never asked to be CEO, but it was thrust upon him like a teacher giving homework.

“That’s awesome, Peeta.” Caesar leans back in his chair preparing to ask the next question. “Tell me, you were just added on “Forbes Top 10″ and given the title of “Panem’s Most Eligible Bachelor”. Anyone out there who catches your eye?”

Peeta has a slight hesitation in his voice before looking the camera in the eye and saying, “No, not really anyone at the moment.”

“Aw, c’mon Peeta. There must be one special someone. You can tell us.” Caesar inquires.

I see Peeta gulp nervously and blink a couple times. “Well, there is this one girl. I’ve loved her since forever, really.”

The audience, including Caesar, perk up at this. “Here’s what you do, buy her some flowers and chocolates and win her heart.”

“She’s not really that type of girl, plus I think she hates me.”

“Ah, well that's too bad,” Caesar shrugs. “Her loss. Am I right folks?”

The audience abounds in laughter and claps. Who is this mystery girl? I mean I hate Peeta, or used too, but it can't be me. Can it? Shaking those thoughts away, I turn off the tv, and grab my jacket and purse. Time to start the day.

***

Peeta’s office is still locked. I’m assuming he is still at Good Morning Panem. These past few days have been, strange. From breaking up with Gale, realizing I don't hate Peeta, and finding out he loves this mystery girl, I just don't know what to expect from this job anymore. My mind can’t process this abundance of, in a way, drama. Hey, I’m anti-social. What can I say?

Sticky notes with phone numbers and lists can be found on almost every surface of my workspace. I try to eliminate the countless number of them as the day drags on. No sign of Peeta. It’s boring without his tacky humor and clever remarks.

I decide to call Annie to get me out of this slump.

“Hey Katniss! What’s up?” Annie asks. “Peeta likes, no, loves someone and I think it's me. What do I do?” I say shakily, unsure of what to think of all these conflicting emotions.

I hear Annie giggle and then regain her composure. “Hi to you too. And I don’t know, Katniss. Just ask him on a date and if he says yes then he likes you.”

“But, every time I even consider doing something like that with him, I’m brought back to all the times in our childhood when he was just rude and infuriating.”

“Sounds to me that you might like him back, Katniss. You do know, that when a guy teases you it usually means he likes you. That could explain why he was how he was in middle school and high school,” Annie explains.

It makes sense, but I can’t justify that for his true feelings. The only way to figure this out is to confront him. Crap.

“You have a lot of thinking to do Everdeen. I’ll see you tomorrow for zen, yeah?”

“Yup, thanks Annie for the much needed clarification,” I say gratefully.

“Of course. Anytime, my friend. See ya.”

“Bye,” I hang up.

I go to the closest cafe for my lunch break, needing to get out of the office, and forgo an afternoon pick me up for a sandwich. It’s not as delicious as the sandwiches at Peeta’s bakery, but it does the job of filling my stomach. The bread isn't fresh and the meat was probably cut a week ago, then frozen, and don't even get me started- wait, when did I become a food connoisseur?

I throw away the trash and walk back to Mellark Enterprises, hit the elevator button for the 8th floor, and continue in my secretary duties. I see Peeta’s office door open and something compels me to talk to him.

“Hey, so I saw you on tv this morning,” I say to a slightly surprised Peeta.

“Uh, yeah,” There he goes rubbing the back of his neck again. “What did you think?”

“You did great, I mean, you always do,” he blushes at this. “Mystery girl, eh? Caesar Flickerman had to bite tooth and nail to get that out of you.”

“She’s something special, indeed. I don’t think she knows I like her,” At this, Peeta gives me puppy dog eyes.

Clearing my throat, I respond, “I was wondering if you were free, possibly tonight? There’s this movie that came out that I’ve been dying to see and wanted to go with a friend.”

“Yeah, I would love to, Katniss.”

“O-Ok cool,” I say as I shoot finger guns at him. Finger guns...really Katniss?

Flustered and slightly embarrassed, I leave the office and sit down at my desk.

***

We meet up at the theatre and head straight for concessions. My stomach grumbles at the savory smell of popcorn and melted butter, salty pretzels and bubbly soda.

“What do you like Peeta?” I ask him curiously.

“Oh, I myself love a classic bucket of buttered popcorn and M&Ms,” he says confidently.

“Mmm, sound delicious.”

“Do-Do you want to share Katniss?” Peeta inquires me nervously.

“It is a large bucket of popcorn; I don't think I could finish it on my own. Sure, we can share.” I have to remind myself this is not a date. I kinda wish it was though.

Before I even have a chance to get my credit card out, Peeta is already paying for our snacks.

“Peeta!” I scold while hitting his arm jokingly. “I should pay. I invited you, after all.”

“Too late, Katniss,” He says as he taps my nose.

We both look away nervously, embarrassed by our intimate actions.

About halfway through the movie, we stop passing the popcorn bucket and I feel drowsy. I wake up by someone softly calling my name.

“Katniss, Katniss. Time to wake up.”

Quickly, I realize my head is on Peeta’s shoulder and my arms are wrapped around his. How did that happen.

“I didn't want to wake you. Your slumber looked peaceful, sleeping beauty.”

“I’m so sorry, Peeta. I swear I didn't mean to fall asleep on your arm,” I apologize.

“It’s ok. You can fall asleep on me any time you need to,” He tells me smiling without a care in the world.

I gasp. “U-Uh, o-ok Peeta. Thank you for the offer.”

On our way out, I turn to him and give him a peck on the cheek. Then, like a cheetah, I dash to my car, leaving Peeta speechless. What is happening to me?!

***

3249 words later and this is the product. Hope you enjoyed!

#nothim #everlark #The Hunger Games #au #fic #thehopefuldandelion

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