#even the coaches and managers like i know they bought them in stock

[woahajimes]

dont rlly love the hype w/ bokuto being obsessed w/ owl things BUT i do know for a fact that every fukurodani member (from Bokuto's 3rd year) has matching "owl you need is love" frames with cartoon owls and it has a team picture.

[sunfish-studies]

Period Lecture

✄・・・ Crisp Leaves [Aoba Johsai Manager Series]

➜ Pairing: Aoba Johsai x Manager! Reader

➜ Warning: period, mentions of bleeding, mentions of cramps

➜ Notes: Manager in this story will be portrayed as a girl. She will be tall, around 170.5 cm.

↷ SUMMARY ↶

You’re kind of grateful and proud all of them for taking this… rather seriously?

As a manager, re-stocking the team’s needs is one of your duties–which means, when the school’s monthly allowance come it’s time for you to go on a short trip to the supermarket and sport’s supplies shop while bringing a grocery list.

This is also a way to unwind from the suffocating gym–slightly refreshing relief rather than just being cooped up in one place. Usually, there were you and another member tag along in case the groceries piled up and it was impossible being carried alone. Sometimes, Coach Irihata let the whole team tag along just so they didn’t get too bored.

Shopping trips were also a great moment for you to buy anything you need with your own allowance, of course. It’s like killing two birds with one stone.

“This is kind of the place men usually avoid as much as possible,” you commented, before snorting in amusement. “I’m surprised you tailed me here without hesitation.

All you said was true–your boys did follow you even until you stood in front of a high shelve filled with womanly needs. Yes, you’re talking about sanitary pads for monthly period routine.

“We kind of want to know somethings,” Matsukawa didn’t even pull out his punches. “And if we know maybe we can help you in some way.”

“True, true!” Oikawa agreed, pulling out a sanitary package of 12–eyeing it nervously. “Still, I didn’t know the brands are this many…”

“I thought you’re used to this from your previous girlfriends,” Iwaizumi deadpanned.

“Well, I’ll try to explain as easy as possible, so ask away,” you remarked, reaching out for your usual brand and dumping it into the grocery cart. Since the stock at home was already diminishing, you need to piled it up again, so you bought quite a many.

“Uhm, why are there wings and non-wings…?” Hanamaki frowned, staring at the packaging with bold letters ‘with wings’ on it. “What’s the difference?”

“The ‘wings’ means extra material right here,” you answered, pointing out to the sheets on the sides of the pad. “It will fold over the edges so the pad will stay securely in place. Extra prevention for possible leaks.”

“And the s-size are so many…” Kindaichi stuttered. It was true, though. A few packages were in 29 cm, and gradually the size increased from 35 cm even to 42 cm.

“We have heavy duty days,” you explained. “So, instead of wearing the short-regular ones, we opted for the long ones so we don’t to worry too much about leaking. Usually, the ones that extremely long are the night-pads.”

And there went you explaining many things to them in the end–about it would be better to wear pads which has no scent as precautions to allergies, about the ‘day’ and ‘night’ types, and possibly anything they had their curiosity on.

It’s kind of endearing on how they were eager to learn, good for their future significant other–they care enough to prepare for the future and not embarrassed themselves in some way from the lack of knowledge.

There were even girls and older women whispering about how precious your boys are for wanting to know. It made you proud in having such responsible people around.

“Do you have cramps at around the time of the month, senpai?” Kunimi questioned–once you got everything you need, he volunteered to help you in carrying the heavy plastic bags. Now, all of you were on your way back to school.

“I do,” you answered, sighing when you remembered the natural pain that always accompanying your period. “Remember when I don’t show up for at least a day or two every month? It’s because of cramps. It’s torturing, you literally had your insides being smushed together.”

Yahaba went pale in just a matter of seconds. “Just thinking about it already makes my stomach hurts…”

“How do you handle it, senpai?” Watari asked, which made you hummed in wonder.

“Most important will be having a nice hot compress.” You remarked. “It can either be anything as long as it’s warm. It lessened the pain, and if you couldn’t handle the pain even with hot compress you can drink pain relief medicine.”

“Tylenol, Paracetamol, Mefinal,” to your surprise, Kyotani was the one listing the pain relief medicine.

“You know a lot, Kyotani-kun!” you praised the blonde-haired boy. “I’m impressed!”

“My sister always kicked me out to buy one of those.” He replied gruffly.

“Does food really help?” Oikawa piped up. “My previous girlfriends always asked for snacks or drinks.”

“Sometimes, depending on the person,” you said, laughing nervously. “I’m not too eager to eat especially when I have cramps, but sometimes I craved chocolates, sweets, or even savory things just to indulge my hormone fluctuations.”

And that’s how your lecture went, and what surprised you the most was how it definitely being branded onto their mind. 

Amazingly, Iwaizumi had the period tracker app in his phone and even asked the date so he could prepare (this man is just truly impressive-). 

Oikawa would stop by in your class to drop small chocolate snacks or sweets just for you during your week of bleeding–wanting you to be comfortable as possible.

Your friend from another class almost went head over heels for Matsukawa because he had pads in his school bag when she’s desperately searching for one. Matsukawa mentioned that he wanted to be prepared because of their manager. 

Hanamaki didn’t even hesitate to do errands for you if you asked him–he’s just a call away he said, and wouldn’t shy away if you nervously asked if he could buy you your brand of pads in the supermarket.

Kyotani had his medicine ready anytime, if your cramps acted up he immediately shoved them to your hand along with warm lemon tea he fetched from the vending machine. 

Kindaichi and Kunimi constantly checked if you’re feeling well or not during practice, urging you to drink often and even pushing some sweets so you wouldn’t be too sluggish. 

Yahaba offered to bring you your bag or even taking over the duty of filling water bottles just so you could sit down and not moving too much. 

Meanwhile, Watari made sure to had at least one hot pack in his bag–if he noticed you wincing from pain, he instantly went to your side and gave you the hot pack to relief the pain.

When you’re out of duty because of intense cramps, the team stopped by at your house after practice–bringing along all of your favorite food, scented candles, or even anything that could lift your mood up.

Oh, you truly love your boys down to the very core.

[wesawbears]

This is a spiritual successor to this post, from literally five years ago, so you obviously don’t have to read it to get it, but for reference of how I get these random ideas.

Enjoy!

--

Retirement is a strange concept when you never expected to make it past twenty-five.

Thirty was a strange age for Andrew, thirty-five even more so. But he’d outlasted his expectations and had managed to carve out a life that was tolerable, and, despite his efforts, moderately enjoyable at times. 

It was merely incidental that Exy was a part of that life, but that chapter of it was nearing its end. He knew Neil would play until his body made it so he couldn’t any longer, but Andrew, unlike Neil, was committed to keeping his ligaments mostly intact, and hadn’t made a deal with the yakuza. So he was free to retire after a respectable career.

The trick of retiring, though, was finding what to do after. His degree had been a bad joke, and the idea of coaching was as horrific as it was hilarious. Theoretically, based on sponsorships, he had enough to live more than comfortably, but Andrew had never done well with money burning a hole in his pocket, or with free time. He’s been giving money to a few advocacy groups for foster children for years (not that anyone but Neil knows about it) so it’s a natural consequence that he’s able to get a position doing some behind the scenes work. He doesn’t have to interact with many people, and that’s how he likes it. With that taken care of, he just had one more piece of business to worry about.

So now, Andrew drives, with Neil alternating between looking out the window and at him.

“Staring,” he says, which only serves to make Neil chuckle and continue doing so. The years haven’t made him any less of a pushy brat, but at least he doesn’t ask Andrew where they’re going.

It’s about 3 hours of driving before Andrew parks the car on a long dirt road, overlooking a few spaced apart houses. He gets out, trusting Neil to follow, and sits on the hood, taking out a cigarette for him and flicking one towards Neil, for old time’s sake.

Neil takes it and they sit in the quiet for a minute or so before Neil breaks the silence. “Not that I’m not enjoying the suspense, but why did we drive three hours to sit here?”

Without a word, Andrew fishes something out of his pocket and hands it to Neil.

“This is a key.”

Andrew closes his eyes and breathes out some smoke. “Your ability to identify objects would be impressive if it wasn’t shared by infants.”

“Andrew. We’re standing in front of a house.”

“Technically we’re standing in front of a road.”

“I wanna play a round.”

Andrew turns his head and sees in Neil’s face the same expression he wore when Andrew handed him a car key. It’s not sentimentality, but Andrew has that moment burned into his brain, into his being, when Neil had said, quietly, “you gave me a key and called it home”.

He nods for Neil to go ahead.

“Why are you giving me a key?”

“It is just a key,” he says, the same as he did years and years ago.

“That’s not how this works.”

Andrew’s mouth twitches. He could keep this up, but he surprises himself by realizing he wants to see this through.

“I put an offer in on it.”

“You bought us a house.”

“Presumptuous. I could always make you sleep outside.”

Neil smiles and pushes off of the hood to stand in front of him. “You bought us a house.”

He pushes himself up slowly and reaches forward to settle his hands on Neil’s waist, who follows easily. He pulls him in and Neil breathes “yes” against his mouth before breaching the final space between them to kiss.

Just this once, it doesn’t feel like too much. It feels like not enough and it’s easy to catch Neil when he jumps up to get closer and to hold him steady against them, while Neil laughs against his lips. 

After a moment, he sets him down and Neil rests his forehead against Andrew’s. “It’s your turn.”

Andrew hums, unconcerned. “Don’t have to take it now.”

Neil smirks and leans back against the hood, looking out at their home. 

Andrew looks down at the key clutched between their hands. It digs into his skin, but it’s grounding instead of suffocating. He doesn’t put stock in possessions, not the way Neil does, but he can feel the beat of his heart, coming easier than it had in years, and knows he’s where he should be.

[himitsukki]

𝙩𝙨𝙪𝙠𝙞𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙢𝙖 𝙠𝙚𝙞 // 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙘𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣

warning: unedited <333 plith ignore if u see any plot holes, this has been sitting on my drafts for a couple of weeks </3

wc: 2,453

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ☼ ⋅.} ────── ⊰ 

“hitoka-chan! someone’s looking for you.“

surprised at the news of someone looking for their shy younger manager, the team collectively move their heads to look at the gym’s sliding doors and see a female student taking off her shoes just outside of it. one of her hands rests against the doorframe bent slightly at the elbows to stabilise her body as the other picks up her shoes by the back of it.

you step into the gym with only socks on, moving quickly to bow at the team members and approach the new manager. 

in the middle of the duo’s spiking practice, hinata and kageyama both stop and turn at the sound of your voice. the familiar sound of their usual bickers and running, jumping and whatnot go mute, and slowly, the normally loud and slightly deafening volume of karasuno high school’s second gymnasium goes quiet.

“are you guys okay?“ daichi asks as he approaches the first year duo. ”why’d you two stop?“ the captain didn’t get an answer from them; instead, they continued to stare at the guest by the front portion of the gym.

“is this...“ hinata murmurs, blinking every couple of seconds, his face is unmoving and stock-still. “...my chance?“

what? chance? daichi wonders. what chance is there for—

before his mind finishes the thought, hinata dashes towards the guest, and kageyama follows suit right after, sharing the same braincell thought with his partner. they both bow deeply and introduce themselves loudly before you.

“i’m hinata shouyou!“

“kageyama tobio!“

“please tutor us!“

ahh, must be an honor student. the team, who are all now just standing still, looks over to see what the commotion is about; they can’t hear the conversation from the other side of the gym, but they see you wave your hands in a rapid  dismissive manner, most likely overwhelmed with the sudden appearance (and, quite frankly, the sheer aura) of these two. 

“i’m tutoring a few students at the moment so i can’t right now, i’m sorry.“ hinata’s and kageyama’s shoulders droop dramatically, their disappointment clear to anybody with how the air around them seemingly became cold and depressing. “but... i’m free during breaks, so feel free to visit! oh, and i can give you copies of my reviewers for the upcoming exam!”

the two first years bowed deeper and thanked you profusely, sending you to another wave of overwhelmingness. the rest of the team, still in the same spots as they were before, only look at the scene with mixed reactions, staring in silence as they watch you try to make hinata and kageyama lift up their heads. 

“i think i’ve heard of her,” tanaka suddenly speaks up. the team turns to look at him. ”someone was talking about this really kind and angel-like first year, gives away reviewers, tutors other people, helps out with others’ homeworks, stuff like that. no one mentioned that she’s really pretty, though.”

“ryu!“ nishinoya shouts suddenly. “we can only focus on kiyoko-san!“

“but they’re different!“ tanaka argues. “kiyoko-san is cool and beautiful! obviously, we’ll follow her forever!”

daichi steps up to forcibly make hinata and kageyama stand up straight, apologizing for their actions as their captain. 

“it’s fine,“ you laugh slightly, bowing your head and thanking him for his hard work. “i’m hitoka-chan’s classmate! i’m here to return something to her, actually.“

“[name]-san!“ yamaguchi greets you as he jogs towards you, a smile on his face and his hand already up in the air in the form of a wave. he comes closer, and you jump up to reach his hand to high five it before he tries to heighten it further up where you can’t reach it anymore.

“i touched it!”

“i felt nothing, though~“

“yama-kun, that’s a lie!“

t.. they know each other? once again, the team is in a state of shock and silence as they see another usually shy teammate act differently. it’s rare to see yamaguchi being the initiator in teasing someone (as he’s always with tsukishima), much less being so... vocal and energetic and expressive.

“that makes it my third win this week!“

“sure thing, [name]-san~“

“say,“ asahi mumurs onto the rest of the team who never left their places. “is she... y’know... maybe... yamaguc—“

“oi,“ tanaka interrupts the small group of gossipers as he clamps a hand down sugawara’s shoulder, shaking it back and forth while keeping his eyes on the scene up front. “even tsukishima knows her, damn it!“

immediately, everyone looks back to see the most unlikely member of the team taking to someone else without glare on his face, not even a hint of irritation. in fact, whatever he says has you and yamaguchi giggling, while hinata and kageyama puff up with flames of petty anger.

well, daichi thinks to himself as he overhears tsukishima mock the other firstyear duo for begging you to tutor them in front of everyone else. guess we learn something new everyday.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ☼ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

you return a week later to the male volleyball club’s gym with a paper bag on one hand and a large plastic bag on the other.

“she told me to give this to you,“ the team overhears your conversation as you approach the tall blonde. “it’s strawberry shortcake, of course.“ 

damn, tsukishima has girls giving him gifts already? they collectively curse at him inside. lucky bastard...!

“ah— i’d like to give these for everyone!“ with an obvious perk of their ears, everyone gathers around you as you open the large, white plastic bag: it’s filled with various snacks and drinks, most likely bought from a nearby convenience store outside the school, which meant you walked out of the school premises, bought everything in this bag, then walked back to the campus just to give these for everyone.

an angel... she’s literally an angel! 

“THANK YOU VERY MUCH!“ hinata, kageyama, nishinoya and tanaka shout in happiness, grabbing their favorite snacks and drinks (yoghurt for kageyama and melonpan for tanaka, of couse) with twinkles in their eyes and a dust of pink on their cheeks. 

“you didn’t have to buy these for us,“ daichi steps up and accepts the bag with a small bow. 

“it’s fine, captain! thank you for working hard!“ 

daichi announces a break for everyone, telling them to grab a snack or a drink of their choice before passing the bag to the next person. in a matter of seconds, everyone’s seated on the floor, enjoying the snacks or drinks you bought for them. 

tsukishima, the only other person still standing besides yachi and kiyoko, converses with you just a few feet away from the group, but they’re all busy eating or drinking. the two female managers, though, listen in with a knowing look and the smallest smirk on their lips. 

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ☼ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

you return, one again, a week later. but instead of dropping by while they were in the middle of training, you opened the doors and greeted everyone with the dark sky of the night behind you.  

“ah [lastname]-san! what are you doing so late?“ sugawara steps in as the vice captain, daichi being away to talk with their coach and club advisor about the upcoming training camp in tokyo. 

“i’m waiting for—“

“we’re holding a study session later at my house,“ tsukishima speaks up right behind the grey haired third year, walking up to you after to say something before returning back to the court. 

e..eh? did i hear that correctly? it’s almost past 7pm though...

“[lastname]-san!“ hinata and kageyama approach you with a slight jog, passing their frozen vice captain by the side. “thanks for the notes you gave us yesterday, it really helped make me understand the topic better!“

“thank you for tutoring us yesterday, even though it was a break time and you were probably busy and had other people needing your help and—“

“i told you, i’m happy to help, kageyama-kun!“

ah, right. she’s just an angel doing her angel duties, sugawara sighs, his mind now clear and grounded. there’s no way someone like tsukishima would be in a relationship with an angel like her...

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ☼ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

...right?

the team, currently on their break, discusses about the possible reasons why you’ve been visiting them weekly for the past two months. you’ve never spoken up about it specifically, and there’s nothing really obvious that the team can focus on to hypothesize about the question at hand. 

ennoshita, having observed the times you’ve visited them and how you interact with the team, explained his insights on the situation. 

first, none of the second or third years have spoken up about having a significant other, nor has any of them heard or knew you before you first visited them, so clearly, they’re out of the picture,

second, your first visit was because you had to return something to yachi, but only yamaguchi and tsukishima had talked to you freely as a friend would. 

third, you once gave something to tsukishima, most probably a gift from one of her friends who liked him, and gave her gift through you. which means...

“i had a feeling yamaguchi was really close to her,“ asahi’s eyes light up in understanding. “it’s rare to see him be so talkative and cheerful.“

“no, but the air around them doesn’t seem like it,“ tanaka contributes to the discussion. “[name]-chan has this really light and air aura around her, you can really feel how angelic she is! it seems like there’s just a playful, friendly aura when she’s with yamaguchi.“

“that’s... a really detailed, creepy description, baldy,“ kinoshita strikes an arrow into tanaka’s body.

“first name basis? without asking her? invasion of privacy,“ asahi shivers.

“no wonder kiyoko-san keeps ignoring you.” narita finishes the blow.

“i did not— [name]-chan gave me permission!“ (”yeah, after scaring her into accepting it.” “stop being so brave for nothing, oi!”)

“it still seems off if tsukishima’s the reason,“ nishinoya pouts. ”our angel [name]-chan wouldn’t settle for a guy like tsukishima!” 

“i agree!“

“yeah, she’s too kind for that!”

with collective nods and hums of agreement, the team returns to their training, the summer training camps they had in tokyo and saitama still fresh in their minds despite a few weeks having passed by since. summer had just ended, and the second term for the current academic year has barely started, so they haven’t seen you since the last time you visit them before the month long break.

night approaches, and the day ends for the karasuno male volleyball club  without your prescence. eager to go home, they quickly changed and walked to sakanoshita market for their usual pork buns.

“a.. [name]-chan?!”

with a turn of your head, you greet the team with a smile and a small bow. “i figured you’d come here after training, so i went and bought you guys some pork buns before the get sold out.”

with a dramatic cry, hinata, tanaka and nishinoya fall to their knees and clasped their hands together as they thanked you profusely. after telling them that you had the worker keep the buns steamer to keep them warm, they immediately went to the counter; ukai, with impeccable timing, just entered from the back and immediately scolded them for being loud.

amidst the chaos, however, one person steps in and swiftly starts pulling you towards the exit.

“let’s go,“ tsukishima mumbles, his large hands easily caging your wrist in his grasp. “before the idiots notice—“

“tsukishima, what are you doing?!“

“how dare you steal our [name]-chan away from us!“

“give me a break,“ you hear him complain under his breath with a sigh. you giggle in response but try to hide your hands from the group, remembering that tsukishima had wanted to keep your relationship lowkey as much as possible. especially from the volleyball idiots, you remember him emphasizing. 

“sorry, but we have a project to discuss! yama-kun, let’s go!“ with a last wave goodbye, the three of you escape the team and disappear from their sights. 

as the team walks home while enjoying their warm pork buns, tanaka stops to a halt as he realizes something. “isn’t [name]-chan classmates with yachi and not those two...?”

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ☼ ⋅.} ────── ⊰ 

“were you able to study?“

“yeah, thanks for the jacket! library’s freezing, as always.“

the team eyes the two of you from the other side of the gym, suspicious and doubtful of their thoughts due to tanaka’s insightful realization last time. it doesn’t really seem like they’re in a relationship, right? they ask each other through knowing glints of eye contact. there’s no way they’re—

“oh, i heard from this guy that you’ll have the spring high tournament soon!“

“tsukishima got demoted to ‘this guy’, pfft.“

“pfft, ‘this guy’,“ hinata bursts out loud. “tsukishima doesn’t even get called by his name—“

yeah, there’s no way.

for the first time since you started visiting them three months ago, however, you stayed inside to watch the team train for the said competition with permission from daichi and the two adults beside door. 

it’s a change of pace from you and a change of scenery from the team: they’re not used to anyone who’s not a part of their club to watch them, nor did they ever expect that it’d be you, of all people.

“[name]-chan,“ tanaka jogs up to you when their practice officially ended and the time to clean and tidy up the gym has started. “are you waiting for tsukishima and yamaguchi again? to talk about your, uhm, project?“

“no, i’m just waiting for kei.“

“k-kei?“

“yes?“ tanaka turns around to see tsukishima standing behind him, his hands on his hips and bored look on his face, but if you look closely, you’ll notice a hint of mischief in his golden eyes and the slightest smirk on his lips. “do you need something, tanaka-san?“

“you’re kei? i thought your name was hotaru!“

“nope, it’s read as kei.“ 

“i thought you were over having people guess your name for you!“

“i’m too tired to put up with people asking how to read it.“

tanaka, in the middle of your bickering, can feel his brain explode and his heart shatter slightly. i can’t believe it. fuck you, tuskishima. nishinoya, noticing his best friend’s frozen form in between you and tsukishima, jogs up to tanaka with slight concern.

“it’s true.” it’s the only think he can say before numbly looking at the two of you still bickering. 

“maybe i’ll call you hotaru instead of kei then—“ (”k-kei? who?”)

“fine, i’ll stop.“ (”him?!”)

“good. you’re no longer a middle schooler, loser.“

“with your height, you’re the middle schooler here.“

fuck you, tsukishima.

“rude!“

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ☼ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

m.list

[nefariouscryptid]

24 for the Valentinos, 34 for Dex and Jennifer, haha!

“Just because”

By the time they moved into their mansion in Los Angeles, the Valentinos had an estimated net worth of 10 million in combination. By 2015, it had jumped up to a hefty 25 million. All of this was spread over numerous credit cards with no pay balances, and little to no investments in cryptocurrency. At the time things like Bitcoin were in its beginning stages of value, so they had no interest in investing money that could only possibly blow up. By 2019, their net worth had blown up to 35 million. Instead of keeping their money digitally, they divided half into digital under layers of encryption spread over multiple high-profile banks and safes, while the other half existed in cash form divided in the same way, shipped out to different banking agencies via ship or plane, gaining interest over time. No investments in cryptocurrency were made even during its rocketing popularity, due to shifting values and public participation. Cassandra was adamantly against it, having seen crypto and stock investments backfire due to nefarious reasons and plain bad luck. No one argued against her.

Their money was spent on property and maintenance, however that doesn’t mean anyone skimped out on their own personal desires. Luxury brands such as Balenciaga and Louis Vuitton had captured Cassandra’s eye since she was a child, dreaming to be draped in designer logos and gold. Plethora was interested in cars, wanting to do restorations of old 58 Mustangs after watching his brother work on older cars. Brian… didn’t care for any of that stuff. Sure, he was infatuated with brands like Banana Republic and Coach, driving an electric car as well, he didn’t immerse himself with luxury materialism like his partners. So, Plethora was shocked when he saw a 1969 Chevrolet Camaro on their driveway, with some restoration needed, and Brian next to it. Brian walked over, plopped the keys into Plethora’s hand, and kissed him on the cheek.

“W-What?!”

“If it’s money you’re concerned about, it didn’t make a dent in our savings. No one called, either. I got it from a hedge fund manager who was looking to sell it for some quick change. It was his sons, but he passed a few months ago. I’m sure it’s not haunted.”

Plethora blinked. He looked down at the keys in his hand, back at Brian, then back at the car.

“…But why?”

Brian kissed his temple. “Just because.”

That was enough to send Plethora running towards the car, gleefully cheering.

Cassandra had been eyeing a Louis Vuitton bag for some time, and was disappointed when it sold out not even a week later. After years of circulating their website, she learned that bags come and go, and their prices only increase as time goes on. She could buy a used one off sites like Fashionphile, but something in her wants brand new in perfect condition. Brian sat with her one day scrolling through their site. He didn’t get it, but he adored her eyes lighting up at seeing a canvas bag for sale that she liked. He made a mental note of one that she took an enormous liking to but held off after seeing it’s price. He managed to convince her money wasn’t a problem for them, but she still felt bad. No worries, luckily, he knew how to work on a computer.

After getting home from work, she nearly screamed seeing the brown bag on her bed. Rushing over, Cassandra opened it, pulling out the box inside. Lifting the lid, she saw the Capucines MM bag that she had desperately wanted. Her mouth gaped open like a fish, before yanking her hands away and rushing to wash them. Can’t get oil on leather, her mind screamed.

“Oh good, you saw it. I thought that scream was from you dying.” Brian said, leaning against the doorway to their bedroom.

“Brian, do you know how much money that bag is?!” Cassandra yelled, frantically drying her hands, and rushing back to her bag, then darting back to the dresser to get her leather cleaner.

“Yes, I bought it. We have the money, Cassy. Plus, you rarely let yourself have nice things. Even though that’s all you want.”

Cassandra looked up at him, flushed. “Y-yeah… I guess. But why buy it for me anyway?”

He smiled. “Just because.”

Out of all of them, Brian spent the most money. But very few of those things went to him. He wasn’t into expensive things, but he loved spoiling his husband and wife with little “just because”s every now and then.

“That’s okay, I bought two”

“OH MY GOD LOOK OUT!” Dex screamed. Jen screamed back, jumping off the train tracks and tumbling down the rock hill into the soft grass. She was panting, heart racing in fear. Her precious sandwich was smashed under her, now one with the dirt. Instead of hearing a train blaring by however, she heard Dex cackling above her, still standing on the wooden tracks.

“I can’t believe that worked!” He squealed, hunching over, crying from laughing. Jen was less impressed, throwing the remaining bits of her delicious hummus and tofu sandwich with roasted tomatoes on sourdough at him. “You motherfucker!” She slowly stood back up and dusted some of the gravel off her. She picked up a large rock and chucked it at him.

Dex dodged the sandwich and rock, some food bits landing on his shoulder, and continued to heave and laugh, reaching his hands out to help her up the hill. Despite being at full will to yank him down with her, Jen didn’t. Instead, she wailed loudly in his ear. “You ruined my delicious sandwich you dickbag! I thought I was gonna die!! And instead of being the loving partner I THOUGHT you were-“ Dex began cackling again, “- you let me fall and RUIN THE LITTLE JOY LEFT IN LIFE!” Jen yelled. Dramatically she walked hunched next to him, making loud fake sobs.

“Relax baby girl, I bought two. You see, like the diabolical mastermind I am, I planned for this and bought you another sandwhich AND the greatest chips to exist.” Dex said proudly, bringing his backpack forward and unzipping it.

Jen sniffed and smiled comically. “… salt and vinegar…?”

“SALT AND VINEGAR BABY!!!”

“You’re forgiven!” Jen snatched the sandwich and bag of chips from her partner’s hands and unwrapped the sandwich wrapper like a ravenous animal. Dex dusted the dirt off her bag and back and slowly wrapped his arm around her waist. Nothing says romance like convincing your girlfriend that she’s going to get run over by a train just to give her a sandwich and chips.

[joezworld]

Fools in Love (3/10)

Worst Thieves Ever

The next week passed in a blur of emotions and happiness for both engines.

Henry was astonished that he'd managed to miss all of the now-obvious signs that he was romantically attracted to Bear, and was now fully in the throes of "happy sickness", and genuinely felt better when Bear was nearby.

Bear, meanwhile, was on top of the world. Acknowledging that he was now actually in love meant that all of the pent-up emotions from the past decade were coming out all at once. He was downright chipper when he was alone, and when Henry was nearby, he was so absurdly upbeat that the other engines were wondering if The Fat Controller had bought another Hymek and swapped the numbers again!

“So,” Bear asked Henry as they sat in the yard between trains. “What do we do, now that we’re together?”

“I don’t know,” Henry said thoughtfully. “I know that humans go on things called ‘dates’, where they go to dinner and then the cinema, but I don’t think we can do that...”

“We certainly wouldn’t fit into the building.”

“And I don’t think we could eat dinner without bothering our crews.”

“Unless you want to pull a Thomas and crash through the restaurant wall.”

“Hah! We could always save that for the holidays.”

-

“Henry’s getting awful chummy with the Hymek, isn’t he?” James muttered suspiciously from the coaling stage.  

“Goodness gracious me,” Duck said. “It’s almost like he’s known Bear for an extended period of time. What is it that happens when you spend a long time near somebody? I think you become friends with them.”

“You know what I mean. It’s like they’re different locomotives.”

“Perhaps their personalities contain more than one side. I hear that some engines can achieve that.”

“And what are you implying by that??”

“Your paint is dirty.”

“AAACK! Someone get a rag and some polish!”

-

46 040 smiled to herself as she watched the steam engines bicker. This was a funny little island, with so much more character than the Midlands.

Engines were nicer here, and they welcomed her as a friend on the first day she arrived - even if it had taken some time for their in-joke to be explained to her - she couldn’t believe that she’d rescued Spamcan’s rescuers. There was no in-fighting, no yard politics, just close-knit friends, even across class lines.

They also didn’t seem to give any mind to ‘how the railway should work’, as some of her classmates might say. As she backed down onto her train, she was acutely aware that the only engine newer than her was the laughing diesel-hydraulic in the yard. Everywhere else she looked, there was nothing but steam, steam, and more well-kept steam.

Modernization seems to have missed this island altogether. She thought as passengers bustled into the coaches. Even the rolling stock was antique - a bunch of ‘Big 4′ era corridor coaches, all nicely painted into a unified livery. On the mainland, the Mark 1s had displaced these old carriages from even maintenance trains, but Sodor was using them on top link services.

“Eurgh. Can you believe this, 40?” Oiled an unpleasant voice from alongside her.

She glared at the Class 56, annoyed by both his existence and his sudden appearance. From what she understood, the North Western Region often borrowed engines from other regions temporarily, which explained why she was still on the island and why the destable 56 was sullying this otherwise pleasant station. “What can I believe, 031?”

“This!” The diesel sniffed dismissively as 040 rolled her eyes. He had evidently decided that anything new to him was bad - a problem considering that he was barely two months old. “All of this outdated junk!  I feel like I’ve been driven into a black-and-white film! Steam engines here, teak coaches there! I don’t think these vans are even fitted with brakes!” He looked back at his train - a line of surly looking vans glared back, clearly insulted. The brakevan on the rear seemed to be resigned to a difficult run before the train left the station. “I am immeasurably pleased that this is my last train on this island.”

“I think it’s charming.” 040 said quietly.

“You would.” 031′s tone was cold.

“And what is that supposed to mean?”

“It means that you’d fit in here - you’re non-standard, just like they are.”

040 wanted to say something that would turn the air as blue as her paintwork, but before she could do so, a whistle blew, and 031′s driver began to drive the rude engine out of the station. “I don’t believe we shall meet again - your class’ time is coming sooner than you think.” 031 said with startling levels of nonchalance as he rumbled out of the station, his vans angrily trailing behind him.

“And good riddance to you too, you slag sucking shitstain.” 040 muttered to herself as the train rattled out of sight.

Shortly, her own guard blew his whistle, and she set off with the midday express.

-

Crovan's Gate Works - That night

"I didn’t think we'd be back here so soon." Henry whispered to Bear as they rolled into the Works yard.

"I didn’t either." Bear said, trying to disturb the rest of their train.

It was well past midnight, and both breakdown cranes, the support coach, and the battered Class 46 had nodded off on the slow ride from the accident site.

"Is she all right?" Henry asked quietly. He was leading the train, and couldn’t see.

"As well as she can be." Considering that the lightweight parcel vans had been reduced to so much kindling by the accident, it was amazing that the 46 was as uninjured as she was - just a few torn and warped panels, some gravel abrasions, and a broken nose.

If Bear was being honest, he thought that she'd gotten off better than the 56, who was physically intact, but had been subjected to one of the longest and angriest dressing-downs that The Fat Controller had ever given.

The poor engine had looked utterly shell-shocked as he took what remained of his train on to Barrow.

The two were silent as they pushed the sleeping 46 into the works proper, and then backed the breakdown train into its siding. Their crews were dead on their feet after eight hours plus overtime, and shuffled off to the works' bunkhouse for some well needed rest.

Henry and Bear watched them leave, not even remotely tired. Since their mutual revelation last week, neither engine had been able to sleep for very long, their minds spinning with thoughts of each other.

Even after a week, they had run out of all possible conversation, but could still spend hours without a word between them.

"D'ya think that this counts as a date?" Bear said after many minutes of comfortable silence.

"I think an argument could be made." Henry said thoughtfully. "We did something together, but from what I understand, usually there's supposed to be 'romance', and 'courting', not smashed vans and breakdown cranes. Also, I assume that, on a date, we should be enjoying ourselves and not wondering if someone is hurt."

Bear considered that for a long moment. It had been a pretty terrible date, considering they were clearing up a train crash. "Do you want me to court you?"

"I think that's supposed to happen before you fall in love, and I already have."

"Oh. Then what do we do if we're already..."

"Madly in love with each other?"

"Yes."

"I don't know."

"Well," Bear said finally. "Then we'll have to figure that out together."

------

Three Days Later

Henry didn’t see the 46 after he and Bear left in the morning - the massive service disruption caused by the accident meant that he spent most of the weekend shuttling ballast wagons back and forth between Cronk and Arlesburgh, as well as soothing Gordon’s temper over having to ‘dilly-dally in work zones all day’.

Fortunately, there wasn’t a great deal of damage on the main line, and after three days of frantic work, the maintenance of way crews had put everything back to normal. Henry was the first train through the rebuilt section with a massively-delayed Flying Kipper, and was surprised at how much damage the men had managed to reverse - the only remaining signs of the accident was the torn up lineside vegetation.

 Arriving at Barrow, he found the yard in disarray - three days worth of goods trains were clogging the small yard, and the diesel shunter was so overworked that he forgot to be rude to Henry as he took away the fish vans.   

The yard was so crowded that Henry couldn’t even get into the sheds to rest before his next train, and was forced to sit in the middle of the yard while his crew went for their tea break. 

He wanted to get some rest as well, but the shunter was moving around the yard at such a rate that it was impossible to get more than a few minutes of rest before the Class 03 scuttled by with more vans.  

After one large rake of hoppers were shoved out of the way, another engine became visible a few roads over - it was the 46. 

Henry was surprised to see her - there hadn’t been enough time to fix any of her panels in the last three days, and indeed, she was just as battered and bruised as she was when he and Bear left her in the works. The only indication that anyone had done anything at all to her was the existence of a splint that had been taped over her broken nose to re-set it. 

More worryingly, she looked almost haunted. Her eyes were wide, with a thousand yard stare, and she was mumbling something to herself over and over again. 

“they don’t want me they don’t want me they don’t want me they don’t want me”

Henry wanted to ask her what was wrong, but before he could, a shout arose from deeper into the yard. The shunter had split a switch with some wagons and was now trapped in a dead-end siding. Men began rushing out with tools to re-rail the cars, but it was obvious that it would take some time. The yard master, seeing this incident, didn’t go over to the shunter, but instead made a beeline for Henry, his crew trailing behind. 

“If he’s done for, then we need someone to organize this mess!” The man called, clearly not giving Henry a choice in the matter. “And you’re it!”

---

After 35 minutes of careful shunting, Henry was on his final shunting move before he could enter the sheds and rest, while the men seemed to be turning the corner on freeing the 03.

“Right, then there’s this Peak!” Called the yardmaster, who was riding on Henry’s footplate with a sheet of train orders in his hand. “It’s the 0Z59 for tonight, just put it somewhere out of the way.”

He scanned the yard. “Track 33 looks clear. let’s leave it there and be done.”

“Zero-Zed?” Henry asked. “You’re not going to move her, are you?” A zero headcode was intended for light engine moves, while a Z prefix meant that the train was to be handled specially by the dispatcher. The 46 was battered enough to require special treatment, but her unrepaired condition meant that she should not be moving under her own power. 

“Nah, they’re gonna send an engine for ‘er later,” The yardmaster replied. “She’s going right to Derby.”

Henry sighed as he buffered up to the still-catatonic diesel. Sometimes life was easier if you didn’t ask questions. 

“they don’t want me they don’t want me they don’t want me they don’t want me”  The diesel said, her voice thick with horror. Her eyes looked at Henry’s face but saw nothing. It was obvious that she was off in her own little nightmarish world.

Then again, Henry had never had an “easy” life.

“What are they going to do to her at Derby?” He asked slowly, afraid of the answer he’d be given. 

After flipping through his papers, the yard master gave a one word answer: “Scrap”

Henry stared morosely at the 46. She didn’t deserve this at all. 

It took only a few minutes to move the 46 to an isolated siding near the sheds. As his driver uncoupled her from him, the 46 abruptly jerked out of her trance. She looked at Henry and his driver, her eyes suddenly clear and full of understanding.

“Save me. Please.” She said quietly. “They’re going to kill me.”

Henry was struck dumb by her request. The 46 had put more emotion in one sentence than some locomotives did in their entire lives. He wasn’t the quickest of thinkers to begin with, and now he had no idea of what to even say, let alone how he could help. 

Fortunately, Sean - his driver - was much faster on the uptake. “Do you still work?” He asked her conspiratorially. 

Both engines looked down at him. “Yes.” The 46 said after a moment. “They tested my motor and it works fine but they still said I wasn’t good enough to fix and oh god I’m going to die...” She trailed off in horror. 

Sean turned an interesting shade of pale as he set the diesel’s handbrake. “We’ll do something. Just you wait.” 

With that, he clambered back into Henry’s cab and set off for the sheds. 

“We have to do something and I have no idea how we’re going to do it.” He said as soon as they were out of earshot of the diesel. 

So concerned was Henry that he barely noticed Bear sitting in the shed as he pulled in. 

“Is everything all right?” Bear asked as he saw the look on Henry’s face.

“They’re going to kill that 46.” Henry said without prompting. “She’s barely damaged and they’re going to take her to Derby and cut her up.”

“Right.” said Bear, looking like he just took a sack of bricks to the face. “Let’s figure out how we’re going to fix that.”

-------------

The harried yardmaster burst into the sheds. “Alright, up you get! The Hymek’s failed and we need you to drag his sorry carcass to the works!” 

Henry, who had been pretending to be sleeping, set off at once.

Entering the yard proper, he found Bear at the head end of a train of cement tankers.

"Ah! Henry!" Bear called out in the least convincing voice anyone had ever heard. "As you can see, my complicated and unreliable gearbox has failed, rendering me immobile. Can you please pull me to the works?"

"Of course Bear!" Henry said in the same way that one would discuss the weather. "I will tow you to the works so they can fix your complicated and unreliable gearbox!"

The yardmaster watched in confusion as Henry backed down onto Bear's train. It was obvious that they were planning something, but what? This was about on par for a steam engine's level of deception, but diesels were usually craftier than this.

After a few minutes, Henry set off - or rather, he didn’t.

As he set off, his wheels slipped suddenly, his driver immediately closed the regulator, and both engines disappeared into a cloud of steam as Henry wheeshed in faux pain.

"Oh dear! He called from within the cloud. "I seem to have suffered a mechanical malfunction of some kind! Whatever will I do?"

"Who gives a toss about you!" Wailed the Class 03. "What about my work? You just blocked off half the yard!"

It was true - Bear had failed just before the switch to the main line, and when Henry had backed down onto him, he had completely covered the points. Now that he had failed as well, a large portion of the yard was inaccessible.

"I am terribly sorry." Henry didn't sound like he meant it. "Another engine will have to move us, as we cannot possibly move ourselves."

To his credit, the Class 03 tried, but with Henry and Bear's combined weight (and Henry holding the brakes on when nobody was looking), his little wheels just slipped on the tracks. "Super Rescue my buffers!" He scowled as the yard master started pulling his hair out. The yard was in a worse state than before, and there were no other engines that could reach the failed train.

Unless...

"Does that 46 work? The man yelled at his underlings, in the process missing the elated looks that flashed across Henry and Bear's faces.

"I think so!" Said one of the men. "They drove it here last night."

"Right!" He said with no small amount of relief. "Get that thing going - it'll be Crovan's problem and they can deal with it."

It took a few minutes for a crew to be found and for the 46 to be started, but soon enough she was being backed down onto the increasingly long train.

Henry and his crew watched with anticipation. Instead of damping his fire, Tim the fireman had been shoveling more and more coal into Henry’s firebox, while Sean had been nonchalantly walking around both engines and putting large amounts of sand under each driving wheel. As 46 040 was backed down onto the train, he gave a signal to Bear and his crew before climbing back into Henry’s cab.

The yard crew quickly coupled 040 to Henry, and waved to the signalman, who lined the points and dropped the signal arm.

The arm dropped. Henry and Bear's eyes followed it as it fell into the 'clear' position.

"Now!" Henry bellowed, and Bedlam ensued.

Sean hauled back on Henry’s whistle cord while shoving the throttle into the wide open position, sending sparks into the air as Henry’s wheels spun on the rails for a moment.

At Henry’s whistle, Bear's driver shoved the diesel's throttle to its furthest stop.

Black smoke belched out of both engines as they surged ahead. Henry slammed into the back of 040, shoving her along as his wheels found purchase on the sand covered rails.

Bear, his engine roaring, lurched ahead as he followed Henry, taking the tankers with him. The cement wagons yelled as the slack in their couplings was let out all at once, banging against each other as they were yanked into motion. A ripple of shock whipped all the way down the train, and the coupling in the last tanker was almost ripped out of its buffer beam from the violent departure.

040's crew were shoved forward in their seats by the sudden impact. Her driver had the throttle lever in his hand, and as he flew forward against the control column, he inadvertently shoved her throttle ahead to its furthest stop. The diesel shrieked in surprise as her motor revved to full power and she surged ahead with the rest of the train. 040 was a powerful express diesel, and she quickly began to pull the rest of the train along behind her as her engine reached its highest power setting.

"Go go go!" Henry yelled as the train accelerated away.

The yardmaster and the Class 03 watched in shock as the train thundered out of the yard. In just moments, it had cleared the yard boundary, and in just a few moments more, the last cement tanker was rattling over the lift bridge and onto Sudrian metals.

"What was that?!" The man said as Henry's triumphant whistle faded into the distance.

"More Sodor shite, I'd imagine." Said the little diesel as he rolled back into the yard - as much as he wanted to, he didn’t have time to speculate on what went on in the smokeboxes of those nutcases. "They're always up to some bollocks or another."

-----------

Henry and Bear yelled in triumph as they raced though Vicarstown and into Sodor proper.

"We did it!" Bear shouted.

"We did!" Henry chimed in. "You see that, 46?" He called up to 040. "That’s Sodor! You're safe!"

040 was astonished to the point of tears. "Thank you!" She said, her voice choked with emotion.

--------

Crovan’s Gate

Charles Hatt stared at the trio of unapologetic engines in front of him, unsure of whether he should be proud or upset. 

“If I told you three that you damaged several of those cement tankers, the yard switches in Barrow, and exceeded the legal speed limit for a train of that configuration, would you be sorry in the slightest?” 

“No sir / I’d do it again / Not at all” came the responses from Henry, Bear, and 040.

The Fat Controller hung his head in his hands. They didn’t even have the good graces to look sorry. The Peak was beaming from buffer to buffer, Bear looked sheepish but unconcerned, and Henry looked positively defiant. 

“And you did this...?” He trailed off.

“Because otherwise they were going to kill her.” Henry said with a surprising undercurrent of steel to his voice. 

“Yes. That...” Charles said again. “They truly told you that you were to be cut up?” He asked 040, slowly. 

“Yes sir.”

“They did sir. There were train orders for it.” Bear said quickly. “She was supposed to be the 0Z59.”

“I see...” He turned to the 46 directly. “Who told you this?”

“Mister Stevens. He came down from the Midlands region to inspect me.”

“I see...” Charles mulled this over. He was vaguely aware of the nasty rumours surrounding the supposed railwaymen that the Midland Region was now employing, and this 'Mister Stevens' seemed like he fit the bill perfectly. “And you two did this... to help out your fellow engine?”

“Yes sir” Henry and Bear said in unison. 

One hand came up to pinch the bridge of his nose. 

On one hand, these two had just damaged a significant amount of railway property and stolen an engine from a different region.

On the other... he did have a motive power shortage, and 46 040 was a class 4 - exactly what he needed. 

And she clearly wasn’t needed by her region any more. 

And stealing engines from the scrap heap was practically a Sodor tradition by now. 

And he had acquired Bear in an almost equally brazen manner. 

Sir Charles Topham Hatt II was many things, but a hypocrite was not one of them. “I must make a phone call. Talk amongst yourselves.”

The engines watched as he retreated to the foreman’s office. The phone was mounted on the outer wall, and his end of the conversation was very audible. 

“This is Hatt, get me the London Midland Region please.”

“Yes, can you please inform Director Macready that Charles Hatt needs to speak with him regar- oh hello Lachlan.”

“Why yes, this is about 46 040.”

“I will have you know that we did not ‘brazenly make off with your property.’”

“To begin with, she was needed because the engines pulling the train ha- yes I understand that they didn’t actually fail, but-”

“Now there’s no need for that tone of voice-”

“Lachlan - Lachlan - Damnit Lachlan! That engine has only minor damage to it! You -”

“You clearly do not  need it if - Spares? Lachlan, you just said that they were ‘going to the chop soon enough’, what could you possibly need spares for?”

“Now that’s just inappropriate.”

Whatever was said next was obviously deeply impolite, as the Fat Controller lost all patience with the Director of the Midland Region. “Now you listen here you limp-wristed disgrace of a Scotsman. That locomotive is mine now and will be forever more,  you understand? If you ever try to come down from the ivory tower that has lodged itself in your rear end and do something about it, I will personally beat you to death with an Adze! Am I understood!”

After a brief silence, he spoke again. “I expect the transfer to be sent over at once. If they aren’t, I will forge your signature myself and I won’t stop with just those papers. Goodbye Lachlan.”

With that he hung up the phone and turned around to face the trio, who could barely contain themselves, and most of the works’ staff, who were surprised to see their controller use such harsh language. 

“Don’t just stand there!” He said after a long moment. “Get to work! We have a new engine to repair!” 

The noise from the locomotives was deafening. 

[scapegrace74-blog]

Now or Never Now

A/N  Really more of a PSA: drunkenness and unrequited (or unacknowledged) feelings for your roommate aren’t the best of bed fellows.

All other parts of the Metric Universe are available on my AO3 page.

The song by Metric that inspired the title and a few lines is here.

May 1, 2018, The Pride of Spitalfields, London, England

If he were forced to account for his twenty-eight years of life, he reckoned he’d made a decent start of things.  It helped to have been born into a loving, boisterous family, cradled in the bucolic nursery garden of the Scottish Highlands.  A good education, good values, a strong sense of duty: these he owed to his parents.  

Since moving to London at twenty-two, he’d begun to weave the advantages of youth into the intentions of adulthood, with varied results.  Failed relationships, the struggles of establishing a career in his uncle’s shadow and the cataclysm of his accident were setbacks, to be sure, but they forged his character in the blast furnace of adversity.  He enjoyed the comradeship of a tight-knit group of colleagues and friends.  Only three months ago, he’d been promoted to Crew Manager at the Bethnal Green station, and he had his eye on a Station Officer post before he turned thirty-five, his ambition to finally break free of Dougal’s influence.  And Claire.  He couldn’t count his blessings without numbering his Sassenach among them.

He performed this annual stock-taking as he walked to his local pub.  It was his birthday, and he was meeting some friends for a celebratory drink.  To absolutely no-one’s surprise except her own, Claire had finished her first year of medical school at the top of her class, and he’d convinced her to join them.

The air was warm and sweet with blossoms as he entered the pub to a rowdy cheer.  His mates had secured two tables near the tiny stage where a three-piece band were setting up.  The party was well underway, and a pint of lager was thrust into his hand before he’d even taken his seat.

He thought he’d been rather surreptitious in checking the door each time it opened, but Hamish slapped him hard on the back and commented in a voice the whole table could hear.

“Yer Sassenach missus willna get here any faster wi’ yer eyes glued tae the door, lad.  Christ, has she got ye whipped!”

He felt the tips of his ears grow warm as the rest of the table laughed and joined in on the good-natured ribbing.  When he looked back up, Claire was standing there shedding her coat.  He momentarily forgot to breathe.  She was wearing black tights and the jean mini-skirt from their first meeting in this very pub, along with a sleeveless, cropped, ruffled confection that he’d definitely never seen before.  She was, quite simply, stunning.  The momentary lull from the rest of the table told him he wasn’t the only one who thought so.  He stood and hastened to greet her with a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Jamie!” she cried.  “Happy birthday!”  Her arms wrapped around his neck and she leaned in to return his kiss, barely missing his lips.  He could smell whisky on her breath.

“Did ye get a headstart on yer celebratin’, Sassenach?” he asked, both amused and confounded.  Claire hadn’t mentioned any other plans, and it wasn’t like her to drink alone at their flat.

“Aye, I have,” she giggled. “I had a partner in crime.  Look who’s here!”

Claire gestured towards the coat check, where a familiar redhead was flirting with the attendant.  His wame plummeted towards his shoes.

“Geillis,” he greeted as she approached.  “Welcome back tae London.  I didna realize ye were visiting.”

“Aye, we just arrived yesterday.  Happy birthday, fox cub.  Ye look well,” she commented with a smirk.

“As do ye,” he replied politely, glancing quickly at Claire to gauge her reaction, but she was observing the band, who had just begun to play.

“Och, mince,” Geillis replied.  “My arse needed its own baggage allowance, but at least my tits are huge.  Ferget about the bairns, I hadta pry Juan Carlos off ‘em so I could join in yer wee festivities!”

It was comforting to see motherhood hadn’t dampened Geillis’ spirit in the slightest.

“I see the lads are all here,” Claire segued quickly.  “What are we drinking?”

Jamie slid his chair over to make room for the two newcomers.  Before she’d even sat down, Geillis bought a round of shots for the table, to the general delight of his mates.  It was going to be an interesting night.

***

“Com’ dance wit’ me!” Claire yelled in his ear louder than was absolutely necessary.  Several hours had passed, and he’d lost track of the number of pints and shots she’d consumed.  Realizing one of them would need to stay relatively sober, he’d been nursing the same ale for the past hour.

“Claire, I really dinna dance o’ermuch,” he stalled as she dragged him towards the small area between tables where a few other couples were rocking together to a slow ballad.

“Neveryouworry, lad.  I’ll lead.”  Of course you will, he thought fondly.

Instead of leading, Claire literally fell against his chest, allowing his bulk to catch her.  Chilly hands met behind his neck and began teasing his curls where they lay against his nape.  He couldn’t’ help it.  He shuddered.  Drunk, he reminded himself.  She is drunk, she is yer roommate, and she trusts ye.

“Are y’ havin’ a good birthday, Jamie?” she murmured into his clavicle, where her forehead was resting.  He couldn’t help smiling.  He’d once compared her to a lioness, but right now she was doing a fair impression of a dozy kitten, allowing him to sway their bodies side-to-side in complete contradiction to the music’s rhythm.

“Aye.  Aye, I am.  And ye, Sassenach?  Did I mention how proud I am of ye fer acing yer exams?”

The moist air of her chuckle seeped through his shirt.  “Only a dozen times.  Thanks for keepin’ me fed and caffeinated whilst I studied.  I couldinit have done it wi’out you.”

“Twas my pleasure, Sassenach.  We make a braw team.”

He said it offhandedly, but Claire stilled in his arms, leaning back to peer up into his face.  There was something there, behind her slightly glazed eyes, that he’d given up hope of ever seeing.

“We do, don’t we?” she whispered, gaze flitting between his eyes and his lips, before skittering away.  The humid air of the pub seemed to press in on him from all sides, making it difficult to draw a solid breath.  A warning bell began to peel somewhere in his mind, alerting him to the fact he was in very grave danger of making an ass of himself.

She’s no’ yours, lad, he coached himself.  No’ unless she wills it, and she canna know her own mind when she’s hammered.  He tried to divert the conversation to safer territory.

“Tis good tae see Geillis again.  Ye must have missed her somethin’ fierce.”

“Mmmm,” Claire hummed noncommittally.  One of the hands that had been resting behind his neck began to thread through his hair, fingernails scraping lines of pleasure into his scalp.  Christ, that wasn’t helping his cause at all.

“Claire...” he entreated into the scant space between them.  Her long legs had somehow become entangled with his own.  She was practically riding his thigh.  Another few inches, and she was going to come into contact with the only part of him that was enthusiastic about dancing with a beautiful lass.

“I think iz time y’ take me home, James Fraser,” the limpet formerly known as his roommate purred in his ear.  Thank Christ.  Another few minutes of that sultry upright writhing, and he might have taken her right there on the beer-stained table in front of the darts board.

Navigating Claire’s increasingly pliant body towards the door and the salvation of the cool night air, Jamie ran directly into the diminutive roadblock of her best friend.  Pulling him aside, she grabbed him by the shoulder and dragged his head down to her level.

“I ken she’s yer roommate and ye look at her as though she’s the sun after a thousand days o’ rain, but she’s my best friend an’ I love her.  She’s scared, but she trusts ye.  Dinna fuck it up.”

Without awaiting a reply, Geillis spun around and returned to their table.  When he turned towards Claire, she was giving him a peculiar look.  He shrugged it off as nothing more than inebriation, and started the short three-legged stumble back to their flat.

“Ye know, Sassenach, this is twa times I’ve had tae practically carry ye home from tha’ pub.  Ye’re a verra predictable drunk.”  They were navigating Brick Lane with a heavy list to starboard, where Claire leaned heavily into his side.

“First of all, milad, I am. Not. Drunk.  You canned be drunk if y’ can shtill walk upright.  Thas your rule, may I remind you.”  Mid-lecture, the heel of her boot caught between two cobbles. She would have gone down in a heap were he not already bearing most of her weight.  “Ooops!”

“An’ second of all,” she continued undaunted, “when didyu carry me again? Since? Fuck!  Before?”

He chuckled.  If nothing else, Claire was a very amusing drunk.

“Twas the first night we met, actually.  Ye were shipping out tae Afghanistan the verra next day.”

They’d reached their front door.  He was fumbling for his keys when he noticed Claire had gone remarkably silent.  Even in the yellow glow of the hallway, her face was incredibly pale.

“Are ye alright, Sassenach?  Are ye gonna be sick?”

What came out of her mouth next was even worse.

“You fucked Geillis.  That night.  In our shower.”

Golden eyes interrogated him, tearing away any hope of evasion.  Gone was the cuddly kitten, and the lioness was on the hunt for blood.  Christ, he was going to kill Geillis for sharing intimate details of their one-night stand.  Assuming he lived to see tomorrow.

She trusts ye.  Dinna fuck it up.

His father had an aphorism he was fond of repeating.  Being an adult has little to do with your actions, he would say, and everything to do with living with the consequences of those actions.   Any callow lad could stick his cock in a lass, but it took a man to live up to his responsibilities thereafter.

“Aye.  I did. Twasn’t planned, nor somethin’ I’m particularly proud of, but thas’ the truth of it.  It didna mean anything, Sassenach.  Twas jus’ sex.”

They were inside the flat now.  He was mentally trying to evaluate whether it was safe for Claire to shower, or if he should simply tuck her into bed with a basin and some Gatorade.  She wasn’t moving, though.   She stood in the streetlight that illuminated their living space, a disheveled, beautiful mess.

“It’s my turn.”  She sounded sober, all of a sudden.  He poured a tall glass of cold water from the sink for her, regardless.

“Yer turn fer what, Sassenach?”

“My turn for you to fuck me.”

There was a hollow thunk and the cool splash of water against the cuffs of his trousers as the glass he had been holding hit the floor.  His chest felt like he was trying to suck cake batter through a straw.  To make matters worse, while he was in the kitchen she had shed her top and was standing in a sheer black bra, the peaks of her nipples cast in silvered shadow.

“Claire...” he breathed out.

She approached slowly, extending a hand to lay over his sprinting heart.

“Don’t you want me?”  Asked by any other woman, the question would be coy, but he heard the truth behind her query.  She really didn’t know.  Either he was a better actor than he gave himself credit for, or she was still seeing him through the filter of her past mistreatment.

“So much tha’ it hurts tae breath, lass.  But ye dinna want this, Claire.  No’ now.” His body was already protesting his declaration, a pulsing ache centered in his balls, but rooted in his heart.

“It’s now or never now, Jamie.  This is all that I have to give.  Isn’t it enough?”

She took his hand and placed it over the scalloped seam of her breasts.  Without volition, his fingers curled, testing the pliant firmness beneath them.  His muscles ached from holding himself in check.

“Tis far more than I deserve, Sassenach.  But the answer is no.” He pulled his hand away, his fingertips still tingling from the velvet of her skin.  “Ye should get some sleep.”

Her glass face showed every emotion, each more painful to witness than the last: hurt, anger, embarrassment, spite, and finally betrayal.  Mumbling a hasty goodnight, she practically ran to her own room.  He could hear her there now, sobs muffled by the wall he placed between them.

Dinna fuck it up.

He cradled his throbbing head in his hands.  How could doing the right thing turn out so horribly, spectacularly wrong?

***

May 21, 2018, Spitalfields, London, England

It has been twenty days since Claire’s drunken proposition, and they’d barely spoken a word to each other in that time.  As much as he was prepared for  awkwardness to descend upon their once-easy relationship, he was shocked by how much her avoidance pained him.  Couldn’t she see that he’d acted out of affection, and as her friend, ignoring the very great temptation she’d lain at his feet?

His first strategy had been to give her space.  He snatched at any excuse to be out of the flat: long runs, a pint after work with the lads, and even a long weekend with his family at Lallybroch.  Each day his phone was a constant weight in his hand, waiting for the moment she would text him about something bizarre she’d read, or call to ask where he’d hidden the olive oil.  She never rang.

Next he tried haunting their flat, planning to bump into her and force that first, clumsy conversation.  He was certain that once they got past that hurdle, they could begin to rebuild their rapport.  Almost certain.  Desperately certain.  She didn’t come home, working double shifts at the hospital and timing her visits for a shower, nap and change of clothes to coincide with his work shifts.  One night he fell asleep on the couch listening for the sound of her key in the door.  He woke the next morning covered in the plaid from his bed, but once again alone.

He sat in an outdoor cafe, watching London unfold under the warming sun like a rose, and considered what he knew about Claire that would help mend the breach.  She was stubborn.  The past twenty days were testimony of that.  She was proud.  She would sooner suffer than accept help.  She held herself to incredibly high standards, and hated to fail at anything.  She would have taken his rejection in the worst possible light.  She’d been badly hurt and deceived.  Their relationship had been one cautious step after another across the tightrope of trust strung between them.  Fueled by drunken emotion, she’d leapt forward, and he had not been there to catch her.

He opened his phone and stared at her photo in his contacts.  She’d been furious with him the day he snapped it.  He’d dragged her to a park on her day off to play rugby, only to find out the match had been cancelled on account of the heavy rain.  Heavy ringlets hung over a soaking jersey, and her glowing eyes promised swift revenge.

A dozen flowery or flippant texts were considered and abandoned before he opted for the simple and true.

I’m sorry.  I know I hurt you, and I want to make it better.  Please tell me how.

He pocketed his phone and crossed the road to the fire station for his evening shift.  If she hadn’t answered by the morning, he’d try again, and keep trying until she finally responded.

Twelve hours later, dawn was just cracking the sky as he prepared to walk home.  The station alarm rang out, but the day crew would take the call.  Even now, they were throwing on their gear and firing up the engine.  

“Corbet Place.  Isn’t that your neighbourhood, Fraser?” the driver commented as he hastened past.

Ice water flushed into his veins.  There were exactly two buildings on Corbet Place, and one of them contained a flat where a beautiful Sassenach was currently sleeping off a double shift.  A beautiful Sassenach who could sleep through a fire alarm.

He hoisted himself into the cab of a departing engine.

“Hey lad, this isn’t a taxi!” one of old hands joked, but sobered when he saw Jamie’s face.

The streets were empty.  They made the trip in record time that felt like an eternity to his racing heart.  As they drew near, the reek of a burning structure filled the air.  A half dozen other engines were parked haphazardly in the adjacent lot, their booms extending like insect antennae towards a cruelly familiar five-story brick building.  Flames licked the corner of one of the lower levels, punctuated by the pop of shattering glass and the skeletal groan of old beams giving way.

Grabbing a spare coat, hat and respirator, he ran towards his building, ignoring every professional protocol and ounce of common sense he possessed.  Claire was in their flat, and there wasn’t a power under the sun that would keep him from getting to her.

“Jamie!”

He spun towards her voice, thinking he might be hallucinating.  But no, sitting on a picnic table, wrapped in his Fraser plaid, was his beautiful Sassenach.   His knees turned to water and he sank to the bitumen at her feet.

“Claire...” he wheezed, adrenaline still coursing through his limbs.

“Were you on your...”

“How did ye...”

They both spoke, then lapsed back into stunned silence.

“Ye’re safe.” He said it as much to himself as to her.  “Ye’re here.  I thought.. when I heard the call... Christ, Sassenach.  I’ve never been sae scared in my entire life.  How did ye get out?”

“I got your text.  I was dozing on the couch, waiting for you to come home so we could talk.  The fire alarm woke me.  There was already so much smoke.  I used your plaid to cover my nose and mouth and ran down the fire escape.  Oh Jamie, I’m so sorry.”

Claire’s chin fell towards her chest, a lone tear streaking through the soot that marked her cheek.  He ran a shaking hand through her unbound hair.

“Why are ye sorry, Sassenach?”

“All your things.  Your memories.  They were all in that flat.”

He tilted her up by the chin.

“Claire, look at me.  There isn’t a feckin thing in tha’ flat that I care about that isna sitting in front of me right now.  Jesus, woman, do ye no’ ken the thought of losing ye tears out my guts?”

She looked deeply into his eyes, peering into his very soul.  For once, he did not think to hide behind a mask.  Let her see how she utterly destroyed and remade him.  All around them, the world faded to smoke.

“You... you love me?”

Nownownow.

“Aye.  I do.”

[daisukissed]

hey there! I love your writing aaah, I read your manager headcanons and they were so so good omggg may I please request a part 2 for karasuno, fukurodani and nekoma? 🥺💗

a/n: you give me too much credits pls 😔 but thank you!! and i'm sorry this took so long sidjsojd

you can read pt.1 here!

Karasuno High

- okay so remember that one time when kags and hinata accidentally slammed a volleyball into the vice principal's face?

- well y'all did it AGAIN

- it happened when the team was resting, they had just finished their usual serving practice and you really wanted to give yourself a go at it too

- so you're here trying to position your hands correctly, ready to serve with kageyama beside you for guidance

- and of course, the vice principal JUST HAD TO check up on y'all rn

- being a beginner and all, your hand slipped doing the overhand serve, the ball curving towards the left where the principal was standing

- all the other members felt déjà vu as the ball met his face, the wig he constantly used dismantled from his head

- they could've avoid laughing at the situation, really but the sight of you and kageyama with that horrified expression was just too good to ignore

- even yachi and kiyoko were muffling out their chuckles

- y'all be stressing the principal too much smh, no wonder he's balding!!!

- getting hit by a volleyball was enough, but to be a laughing stock for the SECOND time? homeboi was fuming

- none of y'all were safe from the punishment given

- so here you guys are, cleaning the school's pool after dismissal

- the vice principal really thought he was punishing y'all good when hinata, noya and tanaka were having the time of their lives running around and sweeping their brooms

- hinata somehow accidentally pushed tsukishima into the pool in between his playful antics

- which turned into a wholeass broom/water fight, the two of them poking each other with brooms until one of them falls

- don't tell anybody but you pushed daichi into the bed of water as well, giving asahi all the blame afterwards

- which kinda led to the whole team getting involved into it, half of them already drenched

- it was a big wreck honestly, takeda sensei had to personally stop each one of you

- of course, he got wet in the process too

- you guys finally stopped when the sun set, leaving the pool with damp clothes and even dirtier than before

- your punishment turned into five written apologies to the dean

Nekoma High

- horror movie marathons together!!!!

- y'all always fight on which movies to watch so now you guys just take turns picking

- except yaku tho cause his taste sucks

- can't help it when all he recommends is the insidious series

- you, yamamoto and yaku always stick together in a group

- there's even an unspoken seating arrangement, you being in the middle, yaku towards your left and yamamoto towards your right

- you guys would always end up huddled together by the end of the movie, your trembling arms linked against one another

- kuroo calls y'all the three scaredy cats now

- SPEAKING OF CATS, Y'ALL ALMOST ADOPTED ONE

- so kenma was on his way to school and all, scrolling on his phone until he heard a small meow near him

- when he looked back, he saw this small fragile kitten, it's white and orange fur covered in dirt

- being kenma and all, you know he can't just ignore it

- so here he was, carrying the small feline on his hand as he entered the school's gym

- everyone literally stopped whatever they were doing right there and ran to kenma

- half of the practice was wasted on coddling and worshipping the kitten

- even the two coaches couldn't resist it's cuteness

- "yea, i don't think it has a home. i saw it hiding in the bushes on the way here."

- cues you and lev tearing up

- "COACH, WE GOTTA KEEP THIS CAT!!!!!"

- honestly y'all did a great job in persuading the coach but rules are rules

- you guys all went home with solemn faces and a gloomy atmosphere

- that's when you stepped in cause you really couldn't handle all these bad vibes

- "you know,,, , if we can't adopt the cat,,, maybe i can adopt it alone instead???"

- the boys seriously thought you were an angel then and there

- ever since you brought the small kitten home, the members visit your house more often now, accompanying you and cat

- they really had the audacity to name it kuroo the second and tuna-eater when it was YOUR cat

- y'all probably decided on a generic name like tiger or something

- ANYWAYS, THEY BOUGHT A CUSTOMED JERSEY FOR THE CAT THAT MATCHES THEIRS SHUT UP I'M SOFT AT THE THOUGHT

- it even has the number zero and nekoma written on it 🥺

- safe to say that tiger is now officially a part of the team

Fukurodani Academy

- bokuto asked you to join the club on a whim tbh

- the two of you had occasionally talked before you joined and y'all vibed so hard

- which led to him wanting to spend more time with you

- but since he's busy with practice and all, it'll be hard to find some spare time to hang out

- so what better way than to make you present in his practices instead?

- "y/n, you should apply to be our manager!!!!"

- you, not seeing a reason to decline, accepted offhandedly to which he gave a satisfied smile before running off somewhere

- akaashi was told the whole thing and he's like ????? ???

- "why did you invite y/n????"

- " cause why not!!!"

- "cause we already have 2 managers."

- bitch really just forgot his other two managers sojxkandksx

- akaashi suggested him to take back the invitation but bokuto was not having that so he opted to beg the coaches instead

- a few days later, you're at the school's volleyball gym, ready for your first day!!!

- you had it really tough on the first day, especially since BOTH of the managers were somehow gone

- apparently yukie called in sick and kaori had some extra lessons to do idk

- "y/n, please help me set up the net."

- "y/n, did you take that down?"

- "towel please, y/n!"

- you were this 👌 close to breaking down

- akaashi and washio saw how troubled and stressed you were and felt bad

- especially akaashi since he knowed his idiot of a friend, bokuto caused this

- so they helped you subtlety by taking the towels and refilling their bottles themselves

- akaashi even told the other members to do so as well

- you were close to breaking down again but this time in grateful tears cause fuck??? who let them be this kind and caring????

- to express your gratitude to them, you made some homemade rice balls and sneakily approached the two, hoping the other members don't notice

- "you guys helped me a lot today so here's a thank you gift! i know it's not much, but i hope you like it <3"

- ngl their heart kinda skipped a beat at that

- bokuto saw what was going on and RIOTED, wanting one as well

- you ended up making more for the whole team

[lovesnightwriter]

Monica and Darren - Epilogue

Epilogue 

Monica closed the last box of dishes that lay open on the kitchen floor. The sun shined brightly across her slim brown face as she looked up from sliding the final strip of packing tape across the box marked “kitchen”. She could feel the beads of sweat forming on her hairline as she finished her work and silently cursed herself for not remembering to tie her hair down before she started packing. As she moved about the small kitchen floor she couldn’t help but feel a sense of accomplishment from the scattered mini mountains of small boxes. All of these boxes meant a move was finally coming.  

She got a job offer four weeks after finishing grad school and was leaving Columbus for the Chocolate City and all of the adventures it would bring. Not only was she starting her dream job but her finance, Darren, agreed to make the move with her. The timing couldn’t be better since he just finished law school and they were waiting on  bar exam results to be released any day now. The paces of moving was a welcome distraction for both of them. Monica smiled with pride thinking about how Darren managed long nights in the library studying for the bar exam, working a part time job as a youth football couch and helping her maintain a sense of sanity through grad school. 

“It’s all coming together,” Monica beamed and said to no one in particular. 

For years she dreamed of having a career as a high powered lobbyist, a fine husband and beautiful babies. All of the boxes were getting checked and while things weren’t always fireworks with Darren she knew he was a solid guy. He was hardworking and committed. Dutiful and loyal to his family, friends and teammates. His loyalty was chief among the traits Monica loved about him. 

Darren being a football phenom in the midwest regularly had ESPN pundits discussing his performance on the field. It helped that he was likeable with a magnetic personality and didn’t indulge in off-the-field antics like other high profile players in the Big 10 division. While he excelled on the field and earned notoriety for his powerful arm, off the field he laid low. He attended the occasional campus party and participated in program sponsored events, but other than that he was unusually focused on being a student athlete with hopes of playing in the NFL. That was the dream and the ultimate goal. And nothing came between him and the dream. Many of the other players, accustomed to the attention and privileges that being a star football player offered would secretly tease Darren about his straight and narrow ways when he wasn’t around. Nobody teased him or dared to bully him to his face because as a leader on the squad and one of the few students held in high regard with the coaching staff, being on his good side meant more playing time. He attended classes, never asked for any extraperks with professors and stayed away from the temptations that plagued other athletes. For years he planned on his ticket out of Ohio getting punched on draft day and he navigated the collegiate landmines with precision to ensure that it happened. 

Tall and handsome Darren was the star quarterback at Ohio State but a career ending knee injury against Penn State ended his football dreams his junior year weeks before he was to declare for the NFL. Monica was in the stands for the powerful blindside that ended his football career and wanted to run to the field when she saw him laid out on the turf surrounded by coaches and team doctors. He had to be taken off the field in the medical cart since he was unable to walk. With a towel draped over his face to hide his tears of pain and knowledge of what had just happened,  he didn’t need x-rays or doctors to tell him he was done playing football. The silence of the stadium was unlike anything either of them had ever experienced. Thousands of fans watching their star player’s career ending and all Darren had to hide his fear and tears was a small white towel. 

Monica was there to help him figure out what life after the game looked like. After several late nights spent crying from shame and depression to Monica, he bought into her dream of them being a high-powered couple moving and making deals. Him as a lawyer and her as a savvy lobbyist. Thankfully his diligence in his course work would allow him to easily get into the University’s law school. With Monica’s masterminding, he released a statement officially retiring from football but remaining an active member on campus with hopes of graduation from the prestigious law school once he finished undergrad. He said he hoped to bring pride to the school in a different way and that he would need the support of the entire campus to help him get through these next few years as he transitioned from player to fan. University administrators ate it up and all but ensured his entrance into the law program. 

That wasn’t so long ago, but seemed like a lifetime. Classes, hustling to keep money in their pockets, landing internships and graduating from their respective programs kept them busy. Over the years they’d had their fair share of disagreements when times were tense, but always came back together, literally and figuratively. 

Speaking of coming back together,  Monica could see his muscular frame just on the other side of their one bedroom apartment. He looked like a giant in the small one bedroom apartment and was making quick work of moving all of their boxes from inside to the moving truck two floors below. She wanted to go to him and make-up after this morning's dust up over misplaced toiletries but figured it best to wait until all of the packing was done. 

While he wouldn’t say it, Monica knew he was excited about this move also. The days leading up to today had been strained, but Monica remained laser focused, avoiding potential arguments like active landmines and ensuring she kept Darren in a good mood or else they would start one of the countless “discussions” on why he should stay in Columbus for a little while longer until he was able to save money and “figure things out”. Any discussion with Darren, was the equivalent of arguing a case to Monica. He was always ready with a rebuttal and while his LSAT days were long behind him, Monica felt like she was the one having the logic games played on her whenever they had a difference of opinion. In retrospect, his constant need to defend his logic made her laugh often because he initially questioned a career in law. Monica always saw the qualities of a great lawyer in him, even if he couldn’t. To her, there wasn’t much to figure out. The odds of finding a law position were much higher in D.C. than Ohio, plus the experience would be invaluable to the trajectory of his career. He could always come back to Ohio after he stacked his resume with high profile D.C. positions. She had enough money from her bar waitressing gig to get them through the month it would take for her first payroll check to come through from her new job. The plan was already in motion and like a true mastermind Monica just needed Darren to move as she instructed.

Once the kitchen was packed, Monica walked out through the french doors and across the living room. All that remained was a small brown loveseat that was being left for her little sister, and two duffle bags of clothes with odds and ends to get them through the five hour drive comfortably. 

“We had some good times in this place”, said Monica looking around the 800 square foot space. 

“Oh, now you want to get all nostalgic on me,” Darren said back to Monica rolling his eyes. 

“When we first moved in here you hated this place. You used to put toilet paper down to pee in your own apartment, no matter how many times I cleaned it” Darren stated not wanting to participate in her stroll down memory lane. 

Monica chuckled, “Wow I forgot all about that, I just had to get comfortable in the space. You know how picky I can be about my space.”

Darren’s response was a simple passing glance and “hmph” as he lifted two boxes from the kitchen and made a beeline for the front door. 

He was right. Monica hated the apartment when he first showed it to her online and even more when they looked at it in person. It was small and had very little natural light. The building smelled old and the place was a magnet for dust since there was no forced air ventilation system. But it was close to school and within their modest budget.

“Is this the last of it?,” Darren asked, doing a sweeping glance of the empty space of what used to be their home.

“Yep, that’s it” Monica replied with an eager smile. 

The place felt barren, and while it was small Monica had worked hard to make it feel more grander than the humble bare bones apartment that it was when they moved in. All of the framed posters featuring replicas of fine art by Bernie Casey and Lois Mailou Jones had been taken down and gently wrapped for the journey to D.C.

To Monica the place didn’t even smell the same. The candles she left on warmers in various areas of the apartment were also packed, taking with them the familiar scents of warm spicy clove and mandarin orange. Darren used to complain about all of the different smells but eventually he let it go. He never said much about the effort Monica put in to decorate or make the space feel cozy. Monica often walked into their bedroom in the mornings to find the throw pillows on the floor or the duvet scrunched up at the foot of the bed with him long gone in the shower or getting ready for the day with little thought to put things back in order. The thought made Monica roll her eyes as she took stock of what little was left to pack. They were leaving this place as they found it. It was time for someone else to put their mark on the space. Monica felt hunger pain and snapped out of her thoughts of leaving the space. 

“I was gonna go to Fernando’s to grab a pizza for dinner, figured we would end this how we started. A nice romantic dinner of pizza on the floor”, Monica said with a chuckle as she grabbed her keys and gave Darren a quick peck and walked out their apartment door. 

As she walked out of the two-story building she realized she would miss this place. It was nothing fancy, and needed a lot of love but it was the start of she and Darren’s adult relationship. A place and space all their own.

*****

When Monica returned she smelled Darron’s body wash in the air and heard the stream of the shower.  She set the pizza down in the kitchen and quietly walked to the bathroom where she found a naked Darron covered in soapy suds. 

Thankful for her stop at the local beauty store to get a new bonnet and scarf on her way back from grabbing dinner she would need them sooner than she thought. Quietly she undressed, wrapped up her hair and covered it with the bonnet. It wasn’t the sexiest look but Darren grew accustomed to the site years ago and dared not ask her to remove it and potentially mess up her silk pressed tresses. 

Monica slowly entered the shower behind Darron and caressed his back, making a mmmmm sound as she worked her hands over his broad shoulders. 

He jumped briefly then realized it was Monica, “you can’t be walking up on people like that,” Darron said, only half joking. 

“Well, I wanted to wash your back. May I?” Monica extended her hand for his soapy rag. 

Monica scrubbed in an exaggerated fashion at first, earning her a low laugh and “alright now” from Darren. Then she turned him around so their bodies were front to front. She saw Darron’s gaze fall to her 34C breast and knew he wanted  to touch them. 

Darron was a body man. Most men had a preference between breast or butt on a woman. He liked to say he preferred ample amounts of TNA, tits and ass. Thankfully Monica’s 5’6 , 140 build gave him just enough of both to be satisfied. 

Before Darron could reach out and begin fondling her, Monica dropped into a squat balancing on her toes, careful to keep Darron’s body in front of the hot stream of the shower head and to avoid getting her hair wet.  She took Darren’s semi erect penis in her mouth and groaned in pleasure. Within seconds Darren was fully erect and Monica could taste a small trickle of pre-cum in the back of her throat. 

Monica loved how Darren tasted, loved how the head of his dick would fill the back of her throat as she sucked him off. Slowly, Monica started to take Darren further into her mouth, while she sucked she made sure to use one hand to massage his sack and the other to stroke his dick as she sucked. Monica could feel Darren’s body relax. That was the goal, she knew he was stressed about the move and wanted to take his mind off of things. All of the “what if’s” and questions about how it would all come together. Once Darren was nice and hard Monica looked up and asked Darren, “What do you want to do?” 

“How would you like to cum.”

The words dripped off of Monica’s lips like thick syrup. Eyes locked in on Darren she smacked his dick on her outstretched tongue and let a pool of saliva sit on her tongue creating the perfect “splash” so spittl would land around her mouth as she softly bobbed him up and down on her tongue. 

Hearing no request she decided for him, pearl necklace it is. 

Monica went from a squatting position to a full two-point kneeling position. It was tricky in the tight shower but she made it work. 

She started to suck harder, using both hands to massage Darren as she sucked, being mindful to put on a show as her head bobbed up and down his hard shaft. Monica gagged and her eyeliner began to run as she massaged and sucked. Monica secretly relished being on her knees, or back or any other position that allowed her to have his hard dick in her face. Several times she wondered if she was obsessed with him but chalked it up to him being the person she’d ever been with. She didn’t know anyone or anything else. 

As the saliva gathered in the corners of her mouth, Monica continued to suck until she could feel Darren’s body tense.

“Ugh, I’m not done yet”, Monica thought to herself. 

Down on the floor of the shower she was an ameature pornstar, staring in her own dirty flick. She wasn’t a polished and buttoned up co-Ed. No, in these moments she wanted to be his fantasy. She wanted to go further, get nastier. In her mind, Darren would grab her face and fuck her mouth making her gag and hold the shower wall to keep from falling as he rammed himself into her hungry mouth. Or maybe rub his hard dick all over her face asking her if she deserved a taste—make a mess of her minimal makeup while cum and gag tears ran down her chin from the act. Any form of him taking control of her, showing her how he wanted to meet his release. But none of that happened. 

Monica massaged and sucked until she felt the hot stream of cum in the back of her throat. Darren quickly pulled himself from the warmth of Monica mouth and emptied himself into the stream of water at the bottom of the tub. 

“What a waste,” said Monica. “ I was hoping for a new pearl necklace.” She quipped with a naughty smile. 

After Monica stood she washed herself, dressed in a nightgown from one of the two duffle bags and made a picnic style set-up  while Darren blew up the air mattress they would sleep on in their last night in Ohio. While Darron wasn’t looking ,Monica pulled out a bottle of Darren’s favorite wine from her duffle bag, and two paper cups. While she wasn’t particularly fond of the bold red wine, it was his favorite. His taste in fine wine was compliments of many of the University Boosters. It seemed a crime they were drinking such a fine blend out of paper cups but this was a moment to celebrate. 

“To us!” Monica proclaimed as she thrust a cup into Darren’s direction just as he finished working with the mattress.

“What’s this?” , Darren asked with a curious look. 

Monica showed Darren the bottle of Catena Zapata Nicasia Malbec. The look she received took some of the wind out of her celebration. 

“Monica, I really hope that fell off the back of a truck and you didn’t spend unnecessary money on this wine.”

Monica didn’t let the question bother her, she told a little white lie to avoid it. “Well I purchased it when you first passed the bar and forgot I hid it. I found it when we were  packing and thought it was a great time to open it.”

“So what do you say? Cheers to new beginnings.”

[sunmontuewrites]

Tale Feather (Kurtofsky fanfic)

So I wrote a fic, and then I wrote some more of it, and now it’s complete. I don’t even know what I’m doing with my writing anymore... Apparently 3.3K of Kurtofsky smut is where we’re going this weekend.

Based on this mood board that @team-lionheart7 made for @blueorchids (I don’t know if I should apologise for writing fic or not? Sorry if I stepped on toes - I am not sure if this is a done thing or not...?)

I will post this on AO3 once I have got my lycra and lowboys in order (i.e. corrected the spelling to ‘American’ English and if you catch any blatant non-American turns-of-phrase which are confusing let me know!)

SUMMARY:  David Karofsky runs a successful bar in the city, into which one Kurt Hummel stumbles, complete with startlingly high heels.

TALE FEATHER

               The music is loud enough that Dave can feel it in his chest as he mixes and pours drinks, feet shuffling to the beat occasionally. It’s not like he doesn’t trust his staff but he loves the buzz of a busy Saturday night, people moving on the dance floor, the energy is electrifying and he never gets bored of it. They’d bought the entire ramshackle building when it was barely compliant ten years ago in a forclosure sale and now it’s this. Offices on the first floor, apartments on the second and third, on the ground floor a café-restaurant, a couple of boutique shops and his bar. The entire building is special to him, but Tale Feather has been his special project for the last five years and he has poured his life and soul into it, the returns have been a thousand fold. It had started as a high end cocktail bar with a dance floor on Saturdays and it had been his baby. Then it had grown and matured, his cocktails somehow catching the eyes of several people, and then… it is the place to be.

               Dave owns it. Mostly. He has two investors with a 30% interest each, Wayne and Tam, but they trust him and it’s not like he would screw himself over with bad business decisions. He got his business degree and then didn’t know what the fuck to do with it so had just kept making drinks, his part-time job that had helped put him through college. He’s lucked out on having Wayne as a boss who coached him, acted as a mentor, invested and got him through the first couple of years. He obviously had self-interests but Dave knows his life wouldn’t be anywhere as good as it is without his help and is lucky enough to count him a good friend now.

               A bump to his hip from Lee has him looking up and Lee’s jerking his chin to the door and he tenses, wonders if he’s going to need to act as an additional bouncer, because he’s done that before, except no… it’s just a bunch of new people and okay, they’re all young and hot, but Dave is on the other side of thirty and all he’ll really do is enjoy looking. He lets his eyes run over them, appreciates the toned flesh on display and clothes chosen specifically to show their bodies and then notes that they’re all in heels, even the guys. His eyes skitter back, because there was…

               “Oh shit…” he says under his breath, and Lee is cackling like he’s just heard the best joke ever and Dave shakes his head.

               He recognises him of course, because he still looks the same, his body larger, more muscular, a man’s body rather than a teenagers, older than most of the other people’s he with but… Dave would bet money he’s a dancer. That they’re all dancers. He’s dressed in tight black pants and he can’t tell whether they’re leggings or jeans without getting his hands on them. The top is a simple white dress shirt, meant to be too big and tied at his waist to accentuate the hips. He doesn’t know if Kurt will recognise him but he’s approaching the bar fast and Dave lets his eyes travel up Kurt’s body. Heels. Four inch stilettos and Kurt is moving like he’s wearing regular shoes. Definitely a dancer then and the way his hips snap has him swallowing and wondering if he can maybe beat a hasty retreat to his apartment on the top floor. Instead his second of indecision has him faced with Kurt who isn’t even looking at him, which okay, he can work with that.

               “What can I get for you?”

               Kurt’s head snaps around at that and there is definitely recognition there. He’s not sure if that’s a good thing.

               “David!”

               “Kurt. Hi. What can I get you?”

               “A bottle of water to start would be great thanks,” Kurt says, and his eyes are travelling over Dave and he’s pretty sure he’s being checked out. Dave quirks an eyebrow as he cracks open a new bottle and slides it toward Kurt. He’d return the not-so-subtle once-over except he already did that when Kurt was approaching the bar and he doesn’t know if it was really Kurt checking him out or assessing how much he’s changed since school.

               “So, what’s good here?”

               “To drink?” Dave asks, and he didn’t mean to add any innuendo to that, but it’s too late now and Kurt’s lip is curling and okay… he was being checked out. His lips twitch in amusement.

               “Are there other things on offer?”

               He freezes, looks at Kurt and there’s almost a challenge in his eyes. Fuck, that was definitely a proposition. He hasn’t done casual sex in years, not since college really, and his last boyfriend and him broke up four months back. But he knows Kurt. Obviously not well, because it’s been nearly twenty years since high school, but his teenage self is hyperventilating somewhere in his chest and he’s glad that at least he’s in control. It’s not the first time he’s been propositioned in his bar, it is the first time he wants to take them up on it.

               “They aren’t printed on the menu…”

               “Maybe you can tell me about them?”

               Dave swallows and licks his lips, watches Kurt watch him and yeah okay, he’s going to do this.

               “Lee! I’m out!”

               “Sure thing!” Lee calls back, eyebrows wiggling and Dave rolls his eyes, because he’s never going to live this down. Fucked if he even cares right now. He isn’t even needed behind the bar and he comes around the side, lifting the divide to stand beside Kurt.

               “I have to check, you’re sober right?”

               “One hundred percent…” Kurt says, and his eyes are intense and Dave can feel his heart rate picking up.

               “Good. That’s good…”

               “Where are you taking me?”

               “The office, I can lock it behind me…”

               The grin Kurt gives him is filthy and he lets out a bark of laughter, fingers circling Kurt’s wrist to urge him to follow, his other hand going into his pocket to fetch the keys, and he’s impressed he doesn’t even fumble as he swipes the security fob that takes them out the back. There’s the stock room and staff bathrooms and then the little office where Dave tries to do all his business related work… Getting the key in the lock proves more difficult, especially when Kurt presses his chest against his back and lets his hips undulate.

               “Fuck, you’re hotter than you were in high school…”

               “Uh, thanks?” Dave says, a little surprised because he’s pretty sure he was never on Kurt’s radar in high school, not in that particular way anyway. He manages to get the key in and turn, pushing the office door open and pulls Kurt in, shuts the door and presses Kurt back against it, presses a knee between Kurt’s and lets his hands run up his thighs, can feel the muscles and knows the fabric is that weird stretchy-hybrid made to look like denim but which will, in fact, be conveniently easy to peel off… He runs his hand over Kurt’s cock, gets a little thrill that he can already feel it plumping up before he lets both hands rest on Kurt’s hips. Kurt’s own hands have been skating over his arms and shoulders, all covered by the leather of his jacket and he realises he should probably take it off. He shrugs out of it, tosses it toward his desk chair and ignores the fact he missed. The floor is still preferable than getting come stains.

               He’s not sure what they going to do, it’s not like he keeps supplies in his office when his apartment is five floors away. Part of him doesn’t want to take Kurt there, wants to either blow him right here, or a hand job or… He feels the fingers in his hair, curling and pulling his head down and then they’re kissing, Kurt’s body is arching away from the door to press toward him and he leans into it, pulls Kurt’s hips tighter and swallows their moans. It feels like they kiss forever, his lips become swollen and sensitive, his hands moving over Kurt’s body trying to touch everywhere the same way his tongue is trying to learn Kurt’s mouth.

               He finds the tiny patch Kurt missed when he shaved, his hands ghost under his shirt, brushes over a nipple that pebbles into hardness under a flick of his thumb and he wants to get his mouth on it. Kurt’s hands move over his shoulders, finger tips raking down his back before gripping his hips and pulling him closer into a grind before they move back up, skirting under his t-shirt. Dave focusses for a few moments on undoing the fucking buttons on Kurt’s shirt, pulling at the knot in the fabric, patience wearing thin.

               His lips have moved across Kurt’s face, teeth nipping at his throat and then Kurt’s hands are helping, stripping the shirt off and tossing it in the same direction as Dave’s jacket. There’s a fucking tank underneath but before he can swear about it Kurt’s stripping it off as well and yeah… Dave lowers his head to a tan nipple, gives it a broad swipe with his tongue before circling is a couple of times with the tip before grazing across it with his cheek, knows his facial hair isn’t short enough to hurt, but will still hopefully elicit a positive response. Kurt’s gasping moan is gratifying and he moves back up, trailing kisses and scraping his teeth across his collar bone before sucking gently at the juncture in his neck.

               “David… fuck…”

               He captures Kurt’s lips with his own again, moving his hand to stroke Kurt through his ridiculous pants, which he has to be thankful for right now because they hide absolutely fucking nothing and Kurt is scrabbling to push them down and Dave just murmurs I got you under his breath and slips both his hands down the waist band and cups Kurt’s ass cheeks in his hands, grinds them together as he feels Kurt pant warm breath against his neck before he’s sucking and biting as well. He grunts, hooks his thumbs and pulls, knows it can’t be comfortable because the fabric is tighter across the front now, not that Kurt can probably tell with how hard he’s riding Dave’s thigh. Then he’s rolling the pants down, bunching them under the crease of Kurt’s ass, can feel Kurt squirming to roll his pants down and Dave is suddenly appreciative of the easy access fly on his jeans. He slide his hands around, moves back slightly to make room and pulls both underwear and pants down so they’re around Kurt’s well muscles thighs; flushed cock straining upwards and he had absolutely zero regrets about deciding to go with this decision tonight.

               He circles his fingers around Kurt’s cock, firm but not too tight. He doesn’t know what Kurt likes and this is why he doesn’t usually do casual. Kurt isn’t complaining though and Dave watches Kurt’s cock move in his fist a couple of times while also watching Kurt’s hands lower his zipper and then Kurt’s hand is pressing against his erection and Dave groans, pushing against Kurt’s hand and shifting so his own jeans and underwear are now halfway down his thighs. Kurt shifts then, and he’s not sure how, but their cocks seem almost perfectly aligned, Kurt’s hand circling them both and Dave lets him, squeezing his own hand over Kurt’s. Fuck.

               They move that way for a while, one hand on their cocks, hips grinding a little, their free hands scraping across exposed nipples and Dave is still wearing his t-shirt but he doesn’t care, because Kurt is letting that stop him from biting at the fabric covered skin.

               “Can I blow you?” Dave asks, whispering the words after licking up Kurt’s neck, stopping and nibbling and sucking and it’s all slick heat between them. Kurt’s entire body surges toward him.

               “Fuck yes… please…”

               He kisses his way down Kurt’s chest, paying attention to each nipple before moving lower, enjoys the feel of Kurt’s ribs moving as they suck in fast breaths under his fingers and he grasps Kurt’s ass again, runs his nose up along the length of Kurt’s erection, watches Kurt as he throws his head back to only hit the door with a thunk. He runs his hands down Kurt’s legs then and… he’s still wearing the fucking heels. He groans, grips Kurt’s ankles and then runs his hand back up, hope Kurt’s aware of just how much he turn him on, how much he likes feeling the firm muscle beneath his fingers.

               His lips and tongue have been butterfly soft on Kurt’s cock, passing time while his hands explored and he lets himself press firm licks and then, lips wet, he sucks the head of Kurt’s cock into his mouth, cheeks hollowing and moves his hands to grip Kurt’s hips and ass, fingers spreading wide to hold him still while he gets a feel, Kurt’s cock dragging across his tongue, moving his head back and forward, lips and tongue moving in unison to provide as much pleasure as he knows how. Kurt’s hands flutter, seemingly undecided on where they should stay. One settles on one of his own hands, pressing it harder into Kurt’s hip and he can feel the tiny prick of nails digging into skin. The other hand combs through his hair, scraping over his scalp which makes his skin prickle, move to dig into his shoulder before running through his own hair.

               The noises they’re making sound loud over the distant bass of the music, Kurt muttering under his breath and Dave hears his name enough, it makes him suck a little harder each time, move a little faster. He lets his hand not covered by Kurt’s drop to his own cock and he just grips, focussing on Kurt’s pleasure for now. He can feel the small aborted flexes of his hips beneath his hand, against his tongue and he lets his hand holding Kurt still relax a little, urges him into a little motion; feels smug at the gasping shudders and he shifts his knees, raises his head and so he’s just got the head in his mouth. Wraps his hand around the base of Kurt’s cock and jerks hard and fast, continuing the sucking, head bobbing in synch with his hand; ignores Kurt’s scrambling fingers trying to warn him because he’s not new to this, he can tell Kurt’s close and he isn’t taken by surprise when he feels his mouth fill and he swallows, throat working and it always reminds him of oysters.

               Kurt’s finger grip his t-shirt and he lets Kurt drag him upwards, then he’s being thoroughly kissed, glad Kurt doesn’t have any hesitation about kissing him when his mouth still tastes of come. It clearly isn’t a turn off at all and it suddenly feels like Kurt has grown an additional pair of hands, they’re moving over Dave’s body like he can’t get enough of him. One hand seems to stay on his cock, he’s not sure if Kurt is trying to keep it in time with the beat of the bass but that’s what it feels like. Kurt’s teeth scrape down his neck and Dave groans, hips jerking and he lets his hands hold onto Kurt’s ass, think about what it might feel like if they ever did this properly.

               “Fuck Kurt…”

               He moves a hand to cradle the back of Kurt’s head, kisses forcefully, rougher than before, more teeth and biting and his cock is starting to ache with the need to come and he knows the space between them isn’t giving Kurt any room to move his hand, not really, but he knows what he wants; braces an arm on the door, wraps his hand around Kurt’s hand on his cock and jerks off, hard and fast while his lips, teeth and beard absolutely wreck Kurt’s pale skin. When he comes it spurts between them and he can barely breathe with watching, feels a little hysterical as it runs down Kurt’s chest and he resists the urge to run his hands through it, rub it all over him.

               He sucks in a few lungfuls of air in between some softer kisses, tries to force his heart rate to slow and ensure he’s steady on his feet before he steps back. He pulls his t-shirt over his head uses it to wipe Kurt’s chest. It won’t be the first time he’s had to go to his apartment with no shirt on, but it’s always been spilled drinks to blame before. He doesn’t miss the look Kurt gives the ink on his upper arms and chest; now that they’ve gotten off Dave has no idea what to say. He picks up Kurt’s clothes and passes it to him and watches as he dresses. The skin on Kurt’s face and neck is red-raw and Dave would feel bad if he hadn’t just had Kurt gasping against him. Beard burn is a thing he can’t avoid giving his partners, however there are probably a few bite marks which he maybe should have avoided, because he hadn’t really meant to leave those. Not that Kurt was complaining.

               “I’ll, um, see you…” Kurt says, waving a hand back in the direction they had come and Dave nods, leans forward for a final kiss and lets him go.

---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ----

               “Boss! There’s some guy peering in the window. You want me to go tell him to go away?”

               “I can do it…” Dave says, stretching out his neck and back from where he’s been crouching to count stock. It’s only just past lunch and they don’t open on a Sunday anyway, so he’s hoping it’s just someone being nosey. Or after lost property, which is pretty common. He walks to the front, slows when he sees Kurt and then speeds up again, unlocking and opening the door to the street quickly.

               “Kurt. Hi…”

               “Ooohhh… so this is Kurt huh?”

               Dave pulls a face at Andreas because he hasn’t said anything about anyone, but of course Kurt is now looking at him with one eyebrow raised and Dave just shakes his head

               “You can go and continue the stock take…” Dave says, shoving the tablet into Andreas’ hand and shooing him back to the stock room, watching him go with a pointed look that he hopes tells him to not fucking eavesdrop.

               “Sorry about that. How can I help?” Dave asks, and he smirks at the little flush of pink in Kurt’s cheeks.

               “I didn’t get your number.”

               “I didn’t think you wanted my number…” Dave says honestly, because it hadn’t really occurred to him that Kurt might want… more.

               “I waited at the bar but you never came back to work… I worried that you maybe got fired. The whole sex in the office…”

               Dave laughs, shakes his head slightly. Kurt doesn’t know he can’t get fired and he’s not sure what to tell him.

               “Why do you want my number Kurt?”

               “Honestly?”

               “Always.”

               “I’m interested in more than… just last night.”

               “Okay…”

               He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his wallet, flicking through to the fancy business cards shaped like a feather that he had made that have all his details. Passes it to Kurt and feels a little smug as Kurt takes in the logo on the frosted glass, the business card that has David Karofsky – Owner/Operator on it and then Kurt is laughing, shaking his head.

               “You have any other surprises you want to tell me about?”

               “That would be telling. You’ll just have to find them out the old fashioned way.”

               “I look forward to it.”

[spacesnail3000]

Brooklyn’s Sweetheart Chapter 2: Diamonds Are Forever, Those Boys Ain’t

Pairing: Stucky x Reader

Chapter Summary: They say diamonds are a girl’s best friend, but can diamonds keep her company all summer at Martha’s Vineyard? She didn’t think so. 

Word Count: 4,336

Warnings: Language, drinking, eventual smut

Masterlist / AO3

The next morning, Y/N sat at the kitchen table, eating the Eggs Benedict their chef, Rita, had made, when her father walked in.

Obadiah sat down at the kitchen table and stared at his daughter. “Good morning.”

“Morning, Daddy,” she greeted him, her voice light.

“What do you want?”

It was his way of apologizing for the night before. They’d been through this enough times that it was now a routine.

When he yelled at her during her celebratory end-of-eighth-grade-sleepover, she got a brand-new MacBook out of it. When he screamed at her homecoming date in sophomore year, he gave her a St. Bernard puppy. When he cursed out her coach at her state qualifiers swim meet the year before, he bought her a white gold and diamond tennis bracelet. 

She wore the bracelet now, and the dog, a Sweet Good Boy named Hermes, sat at her feet, looking warily up at her father. Hermes and Obadiah had quite the hateful relationship.

Hermes was just a good judge of character.

“I want Steve and Bucky to come with me this summer.”

She had thought about it all last night, knowing her father would come to her this morning with a peace offering—more like a way of buying her forgiveness. And she knew what she wanted, which was to spend the summer with her two closest friends since childhood.

Every summer, her father sent her off to their vacation houses. The cabin in the Adirondacks, the beach house in the Hamptons, the cottage at Martha’s Vineyard. Each time, she was accompanied by a small entourage—people to keep her safe and to keep her from being bored, because of course her parents weren’t about to spend the entire summer with their daughter.

Steve and Bucky had gone with her on several of these trips but had made no plans to be with her for this summer, which was outrageous to her because they were the perfect pair to keep her both safe and entertained. 

She was headed to the cottage in a week and she wanted her favorite boys to be there, no matter if one was not speaking to her and the other had forced a very interesting kiss on her the night before.

So maybe the kiss she shared with Bucky had prompted this whole idea, but she sure as hell couldn’t ask her father for only Bucky to come. That would be suspicious. And she did miss Steve, so she hoped this would give her the chance to smooth things over with him.

Even if he was a big dumb blond hunk of meat.

“That’s all you want?” her father asked suspiciously, expecting the other shoe to drop.

“Yes,” she nodded. 

“Really?” he stole a piece of toast from her plate, and she glared at him. As he chewed, he said, “You know, diamonds are forever, those boys ain’t.”

Simpering, she quipped, “Whoever said diamonds are a girl’s best friend hasn’t met Steve and Bucky.” Then, “A new Balenciaga bag would sweeten the deal. But mostly I just want them with me for the whole summer.”

“Sure thing, sweetie, whatever you want.”

As their weekly mob meeting later that night finished up, Obadiah broke the news to Steve and Bucky. It worked out well for Obadiah. He hadn’t known who he was going to send with his daughter to protect her until she made the decision for him. Stark had taken an interest in the Rogers kid for some reason, had big plans for him over the summer, but he had managed to talk Stark into letting him go at least for a little while.

 “You two will be accompanying Y/N this summer,” Obadiah said with an air of finality, “Your job is to keep her safe and happy.”

That had always been their job. To anybody remotely concerned, that was Bucky’s and Steve’s sole purpose for being alive.

They hadn’t been doing that good of a job of it for the last few months—at least not the “keeping her happy” part.

The boys didn’t argue—not to Obadiah’s face. They didn’t have a death wish. 

“You’re leaving in a week for Martha’s Vineyard.”

Tony sent them a look that told them he approved of this and they had no choice in the matter, before he exited behind Obadiah.

Sam waggled his eyebrows at them. “Make sure to pack your swim trunks, boys. Oh, and you’ll have to find a guard-dog-friendly beach. Pets allowed, and all that.” He snickered as Bucky flipped him off before he exited the room. 

As the last two in the meeting room, Bucky and Steve looked at each other. Bucky’s gaze was pleading—Steve had barely spoken to him the entire day, and when he had, it had been clipped statements that simmered with an angry undertone. Steve’s gaze now was even angrier.

“What the fuck, Bucky?”

That was all Steve said before leaving.

Bucky had no idea why Steve was so mad—aside from the obvious fact that he kissed Y/N. Even then, Bucky thought it was hypocritical of Steve to be mad over such a thing considering he had also kissed Y/N last year. Bucky had told Steve as much earlier, and Steve only responded by getting even angrier.

Bucky made his way into the kitchen, where everyone was gathered for the big family dinner they always had every Sunday, right after the official weekly meeting. Tonight, Tony’s chefs had prepared a variety of Indian cuisine for them.

He spotted Y/N on the other side of the kitchen. She had just come in from the backyard with Peter Parker, Tony’s boy, and she was barefoot. Bucky started to make his way over to her but Steve got there before he did. Peter scurried away when Steve made eye contact with him.

“So,” Steve said, sidling up to her right by the kitchen table, effectively trapping her between him and the table. “Martha’s Vineyard, huh?” His voice was hard, slightly annoyed.

She looked up at him with that sweet smile. Her lips were glossy with lip balm and she smelled like the sun. “Yeah, I thought it would be fun. Are you excited?” 

He sighed her name, exasperated.

“Hey,” she said before he could say anything else, “I’m wearing the necklace you got me. Thank you, it’s perfect. I love it.” She hooked her thumb around the chain and showed him the gift he got for her birthday. It was a silver locket, an engraving of the sun on the front.

His eyes softened when he saw that, and he smiled at her genuinely for the first time in a year. “I’m glad you like it.”

“I’m not sure what pictures I should put in it, yet,” she said, fingers opening and closing the latch of the locket with a little snap. “Maybe we’ll take some good photos at Martha’s Vineyard.”

He hesitated before asking, “Why did you want us there this summer?”

“I miss you guys,” she answered earnestly. “You never spend time with me anymore. And next semester, I’ll probably be at NYU, maybe. And then I’ll never be around and I’ll never see either of you.”

“Sweetheart—”

“I just want one summer with you guys. Is that too much to ask for?” Her puppy dog eyes hit him in just the right spot.

“No,” he sighed, giving her a small smile, “No, it’s not too much… It’ll be fun. We’re excited.”

Y/N parted from him then, squeezing past him to make her way into the living room to talk to Wanda and Pietro Maximoff before dinner started.

Bucky came over to Steve and Steve sighed. “I couldn’t stay mad at her.”

“You don’t really have a reason to be mad at her,” Bucky pointed out, “Not really.”

“I know…” he turned to Bucky, eyeing him. “Do I have a reason to be mad at you, Buck?”

Bucky shrugged. “I told you, the kiss was an accident. Doesn’t mean anything.”

 “Yeah… Okay… Sorry for bein’ an ass.”

“S’okay,” Bucky clapped him on the back. “I’m used to it by now.”

Steve laughed and punched at Bucky’s shoulder, and then dinner was called.

A week later, Steve and Bucky were packing their suitcases into the SUV for them to get ready to go on the six-hour trip to Martha’s Vineyard. They had gotten a late start and probably wouldn’t be there until it was dark. 

Steve drove and Bucky rode shotgun, dictating the music the entire drive—much to Steve’s and Y/N’s chagrin. She sat in the back with Hermes and chattered with them both about nothing for the first half of the drive.

They were already behind schedule, and it was only made worse when Bucky and Y/N demanded they stop for a bathroom break about three times each—Steve was seething by the last time. He calmed down when she came back from the gas station convenience store with a bag of M&M’s for him—his favorite candy.

They had stopped for a late lunch at a pizza place in Boston—and had gone 40 minutes out of their way for it. Between the three of them, they had devoured three pizzas and a whole basket of garlic knots. It had sent Y/N into a food-induced stupor. By the time they were pulling up to the Stanes’ cottage, she was fast asleep, using the dog as a pillow.

He and Steve carried all the luggage in before they contemplated waking her up. 

“Let her sleep,” Bucky said, “She’ll probably be out for the rest of the night.”

“I’ll carry her in,” Steve said as Hermes jumped out, “Can you get the dog?”

Bucky obliged. He let the dog go into the fenced-in backyard.

The cottage at Martha’s Vineyard wasn’t so much a cottage as a 6-bedroom converted-barn-turned-luxury-mansion overlooking the water, complete with a big fancy backyard and a pool and access to the beachside and a private dock. Bucky was always blown away every time they visited and this time was no different.

He stood in the backyard admiring the black waters while Hermes did his business.

“I set her on the couch,” Steve said, startling Bucky.

Bucky looked back to see Steve on the porch, taking a seat on the porch swing that faced the ocean. He walked over, taking a seat next to him. Their arms brushed together as they settled in.

“Here,” Steve said, handing him a bottle of whiskey. “They’ve got this place stocked with liquor but no food. We’ll have to make a grocery run tomorrow.”

Bucky grunted in response as he took a long drink. It had been a long day, and truthfully, all he could think of doing right now was going to bed. Instead, he stayed up with Steve, ready to relax on their vacation after the last stressful few months. 

Tony had taken Steve under his wing, mentoring him into a more important place in the mob. It was the start of something big, Steve kept saying. Bucky was excited for his friend, if not a little jealous. But Steve deserved it, he knew; Steve was always the more determined of the two of them, always the more ruthless one.

So tonight, Bucky welcomed the respite. As they chatted and ribbed each other over the bottle of whiskey, it was like nothing had changed.

The conversation had turned to Steve and Peggy, and Steve was saying, “Yeah, Peg’s great, but I dunno. She doesn’t really get it.”

“Get what?” But Bucky had a feeling he knew what Steve was talking about. He took another swig of whiskey before passing the bottle to Steve.

“The mob, the life we live. She doesn’t know the half of it, and if she did… She wouldn’t stick with me through it.”

“You need someone who already knows our life, Stevie. Someone who understands.”

Steve was quiet for a moment before saying, “Someone like Y/N?”

Bucky stiffened. That hadn’t been what he was going for, but Y/N was on the back of his mind when he said it. She had been on his mind since last week. He laughed it off. “C’mon, Stevie, you think Stane would let you have her?”

“Stane’s been thinking of who to marry her off to,” Steve said after a long drink. “Only reason he’s letting her go to NYU is ‘cause he hasn’t had any good contenders yet.”

“And you think you’re gonna put in an offer?”

Steve scoffed. “No. I’m dating Peggy, Buck. C’mon.”

“But if you weren’t?”

Steve looked beside him to find Bucky already staring at him intently. They made eye contact, the air between them tense. Finally, Steve shrugged. “I’m not sure, Buck. Maybe I should be askin’ you the same thing.”

“Does it look like I’m ready to settle down and take a bride?” he asked, giving Steve and incredulous look. Steve laughed and looked down at his lap, shaking his head, doing that bashful thing even when Bucky knew he wasn’t bashful at all. “Besides, I wouldn’t do that to her.”

Steve knew what he meant. Tying her to the mob, for as long as they both shall live. Mob wives were much more involved than the children of the mob, and they both knew Y/N was too sweet and innocent for that.

Steve’s smile fell away and he nodded, thinking it over. “Yeah. I wouldn’t want to either.”

They had both had quite a bit of whiskey by now, and Bucky was feeling brave. “Tell me about when you kissed her, Stevie.”

Steve’s eyes widened and he looked at Bucky with a shocked expression. “You know about that?”

“Yeah, she told me the other night,” Bucky answered, taking the bottle from Steve as he was about to take a drink. “’Fess up, punk. Don’t avoid the question.”

He let out a long sigh, his shoulders drooping, hands braced on his knees. “Fine. But you can’t tell anyone.”

“Who the fuck would I tell?”

Steve swatted at his knee. “I don’t fucking know, just keep your mouth shut about it. Got it?” When Bucky nodded, Steve continued. “It was the end of last summer when we were all in Southampton. She snuck out with some of her friends to a party one night, and I caught her coming back late. I was just startin’ to lay into her about it when she started crying—and not her usual crying when she’s bein’ a brat, you know?”

Bucky knew. She got real teary eyed sometimes when they caught her doing something she shouldn’t have been, specifically when Steve started yelling at her. But usually she took his scolding with a stiff upper lip, unless he was being really unfair.

“She starts sobbing, and I can tell something’s really wrong. So I hug her and coddle her and eventually she tells me that some guys at the party were makin’ fun of her because she’s a virgin.” Steve clenched his jaw, remembering the way she blushed when she told him, the way she looked down and whispered it like she was ashamed of it. “And so I’m trying to tell her there’s nothing wrong with that, and she tells me she’s never even kissed anyone, and how is any guy ever gonna like her if she doesn’t even have any experience.”

“So you kissed her?” Bucky asked, remembering Y/N had said that he had offered.

Steve shook his head, laughing a little. “I don’t know what came over me. She was just so sad, and you know I have a soft spot for girls when they cry.”

Bucky knew very well about Steve’s weakness for people when they cried—not just girls. He and Steve had experimented in bed plenty of times and if there was one thing they had found out, it was that Steve loved it when Bucky cried. It really got him going for some reason.

“I wouldn’t call it a soft spot…” Bucky muttered, earning a punch on the arm. Steve still laughed about it good-naturedly.

“She was lookin’ up at me, all doe-eyed, and red, and sad. Kinda like how you used to look at me, Buck.”

Bucky looks at him, surprised, and memories of their times together flash through Bucky’s mind. They were each other’s firsts, stumbling their way through puberty and coming-of-age and the discovery of teenaged sexuality together. It wasn’t until after he experimented thoroughly with Steve in many different ways that he became the Lothario he is today. He feels his cheeks heat up at the images his brain conjures of them together in bed, touching and kissing, dry-humping each other until Bucky came in his pants.

“Yeah, like that,” Steve said, looking at him with a fond smile, something dark gleaming in his eyes. And truly, Steve thinks Bucky looks wonderful right now, all flushed and shocked and exactly like he did when Steve fucked him for the first time when they were 16.

So maybe Steve has a type for innocent young things who blush a lot. That’s why he was trying to stay away from Y/N. Maybe that’s why Steve had always felt like Peggy was wrong for him but staying with Peggy was such a great distraction for now.

“So I couldn’t help myself,” Steve shrugged. “I asked. I didn’t just force myself on her.” Part of Bucky feels sheepish at that, because that was exactly how he kissed her the night of her birthday, forcefully, predatorily. The other part remembers how nice it was every time Steve forced himself on Bucky in the heat of the moment. “I asked if she wanted me to kiss her just to see how it felt. And she said yes. So I kissed her.”

“Did you like it?” Bucky asked. He couldn’t help it.

The blush on Steve’s cheeks surprised Bucky. “Yeah, I guess I did. But don’t you ever tell anyone that.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. As if he would. “If you liked it, why’d you ignore her afterwards?”

“What? I didn’t!”

“Don’t bullshit me, Steve. You can’t bullshit me, I see right through you, pal.”

 Steve looked down. The red hadn’t faded from his cheeks. “I dunno. I liked it too much, maybe. Stane would kill me if anything happened between us.”

Bucky got it, then. Steve liked it, and he needed to put distance between them to stop himself from taking things further.

“And then I found Peggy, and I just got too busy with Tony. So Y/N and I stopped talking as much.”

Bucky thought about this, but in his tipsiness, his dazed mind kept wandering back to how he kissed her. He kissed her like Steve used to kiss him, and he wondered if Steve kissed her the same way.

“How was it, Stevie?” he asked, a question that had been on his mind for a week now. “How was the kiss?”

Steve smirked knowingly. “Nothing like how I used to kiss you, that’s for sure.”

Bucky remembered their first few times together, sweet and tentative, innocent explorations. Steve had kissed him kindly then, but they had both quickly found out they liked it when Steve took charge. When Steve was rough with him, showed him no mercy.

But Bucky only liked it when Steve did that to him. None of the other men or women he had been with were the same in that regard. He only trusted Steve to take that power away from him, knowing Steve would never hurt him.

He supposed Steve liked the control aspect of it. As for Bucky, he needed that control whenever he was with anybody else.

“Guys?” they heard from the doorway after a brief silence. Hermes, who had been lying at their feet dozing, immediately got up and trotted over to where Y/N was standing, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

“Hey, sweetie,” Steve said, “You just wake up?”

She nodded and padded over to them, Hermes following her loyally. Her feet were bare and she was still wearing her clothes from earlier, leggings and an oversized sweatshirt with her high school’s mascot on the front. Bucky thought the sweatshirt had belonged to Steve once, or maybe him—or maybe both, he couldn’t recall.

She took a seat between them and slumped down onto Bucky’s shoulder. “I’m tired,” There was a little pout on her lips, puffy and sleep-swollen.

“Then go back to bed,” Bucky told her, draping his right arm around the back of the bench, letting her rest her head on his chest.

“Can’t fall back asleep.”

“Are you hungry?” Steve asked, ever the doting mother hen. “There’s not food in the kitchen, but maybe we could go pick something up.”

She shook her head. “I’m still full from the pizza.” 

“Well, we’ll go for an early breakfast tomorrow,” Steve said, “Any place you want.”

“Okay, Stevie,” she said, smiling up at him sleepily. 

Steve couldn’t help himself when he swung an arm around her shoulders, pulling her to rest on his chest instead. She went willingly, cuddling into him. Bucky sent him a look, and Steve raised an eyebrow back—a little like a challenge, one that Bucky did not accept. Instead, he yielded to Steve, resting his right hand lightly on Steve’s shoulder, feeling the need to be close. Her legs came up to rest on Bucky’s lap and she just sat there with them, enjoying the night. 

Just like old times.

“Are you guys staying with me for the whole summer?” she asked, her voice muffled into Steve’s unusually large peck.

“I dunno, doll, is that what you asked your dad for?” Steve asked knowingly.

She shrugged and buried her face deeper. “Maybe. Doesn’t mean he’ll keep his word.”

“We’re here until further notice,” Bucky said. “Steve might get called away occasionally.”

“Because of Tony?” she asked, her voice small.

“Yeah,” Steve said, pressing his lips to the crown of her head in a kiss, “But you don’t need to worry your pretty head about that.”

“Okay.”

“Now, doll,” Bucky started, placing his left hand on her calf. She glanced at him from Steve’s chest. “Are you gonna behave with us this summer?”

She blushed, but a smirk fell across her face. “Of course I will, Bucky,” she said in a tone that implied the exact opposite.

His hand slid up to her knee. “Not gonna go getting into any trouble with all the teenage hooligans on the island?”

She rolled her eyes. “Why would I want to get in trouble with them when I could get in trouble with you guys, instead?”

Steve’s arm tightened around her shoulders in a way that was just a little bit threatening. “Now, Y/N, listen to me,” he said, using his serious voice, “Your dad wanted us to keep you safe. You’re not gonna go around making trouble for us. Got it?”

“I guess,” she whined. Steve didn’t like that.

His hand came up and cupped her jaw, tilting her head up forcefully so she looked at him. “Don’t be a brat,” he said, a warning in his tone, “You’re gonna be a good girl for us or there’ll be consequences.”

“Steve,” she pouted, the whine still in her voice.

He grit his teeth, and his fingers squeezed her jaw just hard enough for her to get the message. “No complaining, baby girl. Now you say ‘Yes, Steve’, so I know you understand.”

“…Yes, Steve.”

He let her go, and she tried to pull away from him but his arm around her shoulders anchored her against him. Bucky’s hand moved from Steve’s shoulder to her head, stroking his fingers through her soft hair to sooth and reassure her.

They were all silent then, like they often were after Steve scolded her. It was a familiar dance for them. When she got bratty or if she did something wrong, Steve would reprimand her sternly, while Bucky sat by and watched. Then, both Bucky and Steve would calm her down so she knew they forgave her. It worked to correct her misbehavior every time, but it took all three of them.

With Steve rocking them gently on the porch swing and Bucky running his fingers through her hair, it didn’t take long to lull her back to sleep.

Steve carried her upstairs to put her to bed, and Bucky followed, turning down the covers and tucking her in. Hermes curled up on the bed at her feet, settling down and dozing off right next to her. 

Steve had already placed their luggage in the rooms they would be staying in, all their rooms side by side in the same hall.

Bucky followed Steve to their respective bedrooms, and they lingered in the doorways.

“Do you think I was too hard on her?” Steve asked. They spoke quietly in the mellow darkness of the night. Bucky could hear the waves crashing on the beach out back.

“Nah,” Bucky reassured him, “She can take it. Plus, it’d be nice if she didn’t act up during this trip.” He could hope she wouldn’t, at least.

Steve nodded. “She gets so ballsy on these vacations when her dad’s not here.”

“Well,” Bucky said, clapping him on the shoulder, “If she gets like that this summer, you’re here to put her in her place.”

Steve looked at him, dark eyes glinting. “Damn right,” he said, voice low. Bucky couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but Steve’s tone of voice sent a shudder through him. “We should get to bed,” Steve said finally, breaking up the tense atmosphere. “I’m waking you both up early tomorrow.”

Bucky groaned, “Ugh, c’mon Stevie. Let us sleep in.”

Steve grinned, “No chance, Buck. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” Bucky said, his voice soft as he watched Steve retreat into his bedroom, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

He let out a deep breath, rubbing a hand over his face. It was going to be a long, intense summer, he could already tell.

[truestory1929]

April 9th 2020

Final Blog 1979 to 1983 Emerson and Mary leaving the nest. After 1983 our house just went along just like everybody else!

Left to right back, Jamie, Me, Dad, Rita, front left, Emerson and Dorothy. This pic was just after we met our Father for the first time in 15 years!

THE FINAL BLOG! April 9th 2020

1979 to 1983

Emerson's leaving and Mary is moving in!

     Well here we are January 1979, my oldest son brother Emerson is halfway through grade 12 and wondering what to do in June when he graduates. Emerson took Motor Mechanics in High School this trade is still with him today, saved him tons of money, but he never took it up as a career. We had  rules in our house about education. First; education was more important than sports, two; you can live with us as long as you continue your education as long as you are progressing, this does not mean spending three years in grade 12, third and last; when the education is over, you live with us rent free for one year, get a job, save money for an apartment and move out. Otherwise we believe without these rules [ and we saw enough of it]  your parents will charge you a small rental fee,then you will take your excess money and buy a fancy sport's car with big payments,and a big insurance  bill and now go no where fast. This might be called tough love today. Especially because the average age of moving out is about 27 years old if you are lucky.

    David joined T-ball last year, and Jason joined this year. Sports was not at the top of our list for raising kids. I only played back yard sports. We had a ball field out by the Saint John airport where the car rental company is now. We played a lot of flys and grounders, scrub etc. Pat Riley and Jim Daly both hitch hiked to the south end of Saint John and played Little League. We played pond hockey on Treadwell Lake. I really did love sports but because of my situation I just did not get there. I am not feeling sorry for myself, its just the way it was.The first year I was at my foster home, the boys in Johnson's road talked me into joining school boy hockey. I had no equipment and The Wood's [ my foster parents] where not interested in helping me. I bought old time hockey equipment from the Merzetti's.[ who owned Mutal Jobbing on Douglas avenue] You could use google today and find this hockey equipment from the 50's. Leather helmet, leather pants and size 10 skates when I was a size 8. I loved it, but hitchhiking to Simonds Centennial Arena in the dead of winter was brutal. I played about 10 games. I did not even know what an off side was and I would be standing down in front of the other teams net waiting for the puck before my team mate was across the blue line. After a couple of games I caught on after all the the screaming and yelling from the coach and the players. Its funny now to think back on this stuff. Murray Sewell was responsible for my kids getting into sports. Murray had his t-ball team practicing in the Glen Falls play ground [which was next door to our house]so David went over to see what was going on. He got David throwing the ball and Murray was impressed. Like in the Chevy movie "BING0" this guy could throw a ball voila sports was born into the Reynolds Family.Jean was a good athlete, basically a tom boy until she was 16 years old, then yahoo, the most beautiful girl I ever met, a real lady, dainty, sweet, kind, loving, supportive [ and I mean supportive, I had a lot of crazy ideas and she went along with them eventually]. She was always being picked to be on someone's team at he Allison grounds in Rockwood Court. So its in [watch for the pun] the Jeans! lol

 Now lets go back to the Merzetti's. In my first year with my foster parents, Marion and Fred Woods, Jim Merzetti asked me if I wanted to make some extra money stocking shelves at Mutal Jobbing. Well sure I was always looking for ways to make money. I use to walk the ditches with Jimmy Daly for pop and beer bottles and we we an empty 50 lb burlap bag. We would take them Berry's store across from the airport and cash them in. Pile winter wood for neighbours, run errants for the neighbors, fish trout through the ice and sell them and even cut trees down from other people's land and sell them for christmas trees. We just got inside the door and this elderly gentleman walked in. MR. Merzetti who own the business introduced him to me, his name was Havelock Lane. Tall slim man very nice. Three years later after Jean and I started dating, she introduced me to her grandparents Havelock and Genavieve Lane! Yep, same guy!

    Emerson graduated yahoo, big milestone for any Reynolds to graduate.You know I never said this before,I hated our last name, I swore I was going to change my name when I grew up. We used to get "ren-hole" because we we so dirty and so poor, an I'm sure we were stinky. How do you bath in the winter and wash clothes when I filled the washer up every morning to supply water for Mom for the day out of Treadwell Lake? I remember when I graduated I thought I died and went to heaven! Emerson decided to go to NBCC and Take the one year plumbing course. We were very proud of him  wanting to continue his education. This will make the fourth Reynolds to go to NBCC. Myself, Dorothy and Jamie also graduated from NBCC. He passed in flying colors. He never took up Motor mechanics or plumbing as a career trade, but has saved himself lots of money doing both. Who really knows what you want to do for a living for the rest of your life? Every person I know [and I know a lot of people] are not doing what they thought they might do after the education is over with one exception, My son David, he knew he wanted to be a Doctor in grade 6. Emerson had done many jobs, each jog shaping his skills and shaping his well being. He has found his niche in Ventilation, he is at the top of his game, he  is in upper managment, he creates multi-million dollar bids for his company, he is well respected in his company and his field of expertise! Emerson never took us up on the offer to stay rent free for a year. NBCC let him graduate early as he had a job with Bob Duplussis Plumbing company. Moved out and into his own apartment on Michael Crescent all by the time of his 21st birthday on June 5th 1980. Emerson lived with us for 7 years. He is my oldest son, he is a big brother to my three sons. It was a hell of a run Em!

     Ben now has got into the sports world He joined t-ball this year. Jean is trying to get her drivers licence. Jean is very nervous about theses things. She is now 30 years old. I work shift work so I am not around to drive the kids to their sports for every game. We are going nuts, we have friends and neighbours helping us with driving to and from ball and hockey venues. Kudos to the Sewell's, Goguens, Allaby's, Carson's, White's, Mclaughlin's, Hutchinson's, Doiron's, Stevens, and many more for helping with picking up and delivering our kids to and from the rinks and ball fields. I was driving a 1974 Pontiac Lemans at the time. Big car, Jean failed two road tests up to this point. The car was too big for parallel parking , combine that  with Jean's nerves it was useless. Okay new plan, I called rent-a-wreck to see if I could rent a small car for her to take road test. They said no [remember no speaker phone] as their insurance only covers the driver. I said okay, [I never told Jean the whole conversation] come on Jean we are going to get a small car for you. I told her she could  sit in our the car until I got the rental car, I was not making any mistakes about blowing my scam. I rented an AMC pacer, nice and small, easy to parallel park etc. I left my car in the parking lot and drove home, we already had the appointment made. Jean said she would need to take a valium to calm her nerves just before we leave. The road test was in the West Side Motor vehicle. Now the examiner always asked for the permit and car registation. The registration was just a photo copy. In these AMC pacers they hasd  a tray that ran the entire width of the car under the dash. So I told Jean that it was just laying under the glove box where he could see it, praying that he would not pick it up. Remember Jean has no idea that this whole thing is illegal. Well she took the test and passed in flying colors. Yahoo Jean has her licence, I told Jean the whole story after we got home. The colr drained from her face.

    Okay, we are starting to finish chapters and start a new one. David finally gets his own room at 9 years old after Emerson moved out. We asked him how he wanted his room done. He wanted wallpaper with the old vintage airplanes, De Havilland's etc. We bought him a Captains bed and painted the room. That was one happy kid yahoo! Well the yahoo did not last long. Around Christmas time we got a call from Jean's mother who was living in Montreal at the time. We had just got settled in bed for the night, its was around midnight when the phone rang. We turned on the bedroom lights and Jean proceeded to talk to her mother. No speaker phone then, but I gathered it was Vera. Jean hung up and said her mother was crying and broken hearted. I asked her what was the matter and she said that Mary needed a place to stay until she graduated from high school.[ Quebec passed a new law that year requiring all students to finish their education in French only. Mary was taking hairdressing. Bill 101 was enacted on August 26, 1977. The bill basically was  made to ensure the Province of Quebec became totally French speaking only. The top jobs at the time were held by English speaking Canadians. Bill 101 was to make schooling in French only up to high school. All signages were to be in French only. Then in 1980 they decided that the high schools were to be French only too. Mary needed to move back to Saint John to finish high school.]  Jean said her mom wanted us to talk it over and call her back tommorrow. I told Jean call your mom back right now. You were the one who decided to take in Emerson for me. If you said no it was no. Now it is my turn, we are taking her in. Jean called Vera back and told her we would take care of Mary, and that was that. Now we have to tell David that he will have to move back in the laundry room for at least three years. Poor David, as sad as he was he never complained, he went about his business as usual. He might have said something to his brothers but not us? Mary was in grade eleven and will be going to Saint John Vocational School. Something I forgot to say about Emerson, he did a lot of babysitting, he made his own money as he was a member of the Miltia since he was 16 years old, and bought us very nice gifts [Thanks Em] Okay now, Mary was the same, she helped Jean around the house, she baby sat and made life for us as easy as possible. Mary was 17 years old when she moved in.

   Well Mary graduated in flying colors in June 1982. Mary decided that she really did not want to be a hairdresser. Jean was working at the Top of the Town restaurant. This was located on Main st. on the roof of Keddys Hotel. I talked to the superviser of the down stairs coffee shop and dining room off the main hotel lobby and was able to talk her into hiring Mary as a cashier. She eventually became a waittress. Jean introduced Tony Kane to Mary. Tony was working in the banquet department. The next year I got her an apartment in east Saint John and her and Tony moved in together. Mary moved out the end of September 1983. Before she moved out I got Mary to teach me how to cut hair.[ I just cut Jeans hair yesterday as we are quarantined]. David is now 12, Jason is 11 and Ben is 6. cutting their hair became another job for me for years to come. Emerson was getting married on Oct 8 1983. I was the best man at the wedding. It was a blast. When we got home we found our house was in  shambles. Some one broke into our home and ransacked the place, stole our stereo system and all my 8mm home movies from 1979 to 1983, Christmases, birthday, sporting events etc. We were heart broken. You never really get over something like that. It was like somebody tearing your heart out.

     Well David gets his room back again, he is now 12 years old. You are a good man David.We have been married now for 13 years Dec 12, 1983. We started this journey moving people into our home in 1973, two and half years after we were married. We were married December 12 1970. We will be married 50 years this December. We were going to go on a cruise, but we think in lieu of what is happening right now with the coronavirus that cruising is out for a long time for us. We have no desire to even fly overseas. We will stick to North America thank you very much!

   This will be my last blog, hope you guys found something that interested you. I can't sign out before I mention the foster parents. May of 1967 I went to Fred and Marion Wood on Johnson Road, where I grew up with  their youngest son Gerald. He introduced me to motorcycles, he would let me ride all of them, he had 4 different bikes in my time there. I never had an older brother so now I do. Gerald or Woody which he prefer, we still bike around today.  Dorothy and Emerson went to the Donnie and Jean Armstrong's, god bless them they 7 kids of their own. Jamie went to the Baxters Len and Mertle, who had at least 8 kids of their own.[The Baxters and the Armstrongs lived across from each other on the Loch Lomond road beside the Norris road.] Then Emerson went to the Morris's, and Dorothy went to the Websters. Then Emerson went back to the Armstrongs and then to me and Jean May 9th 1973. So from May 1967 to May 1973 Emerson moved 4 times in 6 years. Dorothy then went to Godin's and then to our place on Cooks Lake road off the Norris Road in August 1975 to attend NBCC. We lived in a small house we were renting from Dawn and Vince Dempsey. They were our Landlord and Landlady for our first 7 years of our marriage. After Dorothy graduated she and her boyfriend, John Sullivan, got an apartment on the Loch Lomond Road. People can say all they want about foster parents, some good stuff and some bad stuff. Without them, where would we be today. Mr amd Mrs. Wood taught me every thing I know. learned manners, building, [ I used all the tools to build an addition on the back of their house. which launched me into the Oil Refinery], I learned how to plAy chess, learned how to play a guitar etc. We had three square meals a day, we were warm, were clothed, we had it all. Yes we were separated, yes the love was not the same as we got from mom. But man, these people took us into their homes and took care of us. We were backward, dirty, angry, at times just plain bad, neglected, dressed in rags, if you can think of it that was us, but they took us in anyway, GOD BLESS YOU ALL!

    I wanted my grandchildren to have some history about their grandparents and their parents. I knew nothing about my grandparents, little about my aunts and uncles, cousins etc. They all lived in Nova Scotia. The only relatives that came to see us was Mom's parents Fred and Margie Hayter, they came in 1961 a year after Dad left, just for the day, and my Aunt Goldie in the late 70's at Todd Street in Glen falls. I started this project in the fall of 2013, I do not know where the time goes.I was going to quit a few times, I stopped writing for a while, but my grandkids urged me to finish. At times it seemed that I was just whining or feeling sorry for myself or sometimes it just made me sad. Thanks you for urging me on, it was good therapy for me, it made me realize how lucky we are, to have the family we have and all the good people I have met and all the things we have done! I am a lucky man to be so rich with LOVE!

    I never thought I would live long enough to receive an old age check, we have been getting it three years now. Its great to be a Canadian. After living in USA for the last several winters you know how lucky you are. They do not have free health care [ I know what you are thinking its not free , we paid high income tax compared to the Americans but that was a good thing, just ask an American.] and we have the Old Age check. They do not have this. They have social security, which is based the same as our Canada Pension Plan, a working persons pension. [ notice I did not say working man's pension lol]. Our old age check is an  awesome bonus. Canadians do not contribute financially to it, you only need to be 65 years old,and be a Canadian citizen for 5 years. Yahoo. I hope you all get to collect it someday.

      We will continue to quarantine ourselves after our mandatory quarantine on April 15th. We may be carriers so we do not want to pass anything on to you. We will continue the 6 feet or 2 meters social distancing,and we will wear a mask when we are out. We will visit out in the yards at your place or ours for the good of all of us! We love you all very much!    

    Your grandparents Nana and Papa! oxoxoxoxoxoxoxo see you soon!

[http-ribbon-blog]

Top 5 Myths About Tax Audits

An audit is arguably the foremost fearful outcome of the tax filing method, and therefore the scenario carries with it some unsettling air. the quality nightmare has tax income Service agents with badges showing on your step, or the agency—seizing smorgasbord-style—the bulk of your personal assets. consultants within the field, however, say audits distinction greatly from their thriving myths.

“Audits square measure one thing the majority shouldn't be fearful of,” says Sandy Zinman, tax committee chairman for the National Conference of comptroller Practitioners. “A ton of times the govt. simply doesn’t need to try to to these audits.”

In fact, Zinman says, one amongst the foremost enduring tax audit myths holds that AN audit may be a common prevalence. He says audits square measure typically “a lose-lose situation” for the agency as a result of they need a great deal of resources and since of the negative image audits project onto the agency.

“Historically, solely concerning one p.c of filers get audited. That’s a true tiny proportion,” same monetary consultant Thomas Jensen, owner and managing partner of Vaerdi LLC in Portland, Oregon. The agency didn't answer queries relating to specific details of its auditing method, as well as its total variety of audits.

Jensen same the agency uses a system known as the discriminate info operate to see what returns square measure price AN audit. The DIF may be a classification system that compares returns of peer teams, supported similar factors like job and financial gain. If a person’s monetary information differs considerably from those established by his peers, the system provides that come back a high DIF score. A high DIF score raises the possibilities that the filer are audited, Jensen same.

Although the agency audits solely alittle proportion of filed returns, there's an opportunity the agency can audit your own. The myths concerning United Nations agency or United Nations agency doesn't get audited—and why—run the gamut.

"There’s the parable that if a paper comes from the agency you ought to forced the lock a chilly sweat. You shouldn’t."

Myth: Be terribly fearful of AN audit

The looming story out there suggests the audit method are some things to be urgently feared. The truth, Zinman says, is that almost all folks solely ought to answer a number of agency queries.

“There’s the parable that if a paper comes from the agency you ought to forced the lock a chilly sweat. You shouldn’t,” Zinman same. “More typically than not it’s a scenario of, ‘Our records show this. Is that right?’ a great deal of times it’s a really easy downside to resolve. You send the knowledge or a check for the extra cash, no penalties, and therefore the case is closed.”

This "correspondence audit" is that the additional common of the 2 agency audits. Zinman same the correspondence audit is thus delicate some folks might not even understand it's AN audit. the opposite is that the in-person audit. AN agency agent can request a meeting with you to review bound monetary info.

“A ton of times it’s a really easy downside to resolve,” Zinman same. “What we’ll see is somebody sold  some stock throughout the year and forgot concerning it (when filing taxes) or didn’t even grasp what the stock was price. in order that they will get a letter posing for info and truly get a refund as a result of they lost cash on the sale.”

Myth: Professionally filed returns square measure audit-proof

Tim Clegg, a budget software system developer and retired monetary coach, says paying AN financial gain preparer won't protect you from AN audit. Clegg, United Nations agency provided tax filing steerage in Volunteer revenue enhancement help programs for quite a decade, says he has encountered many folks United Nations agency thought that counting on a tax service warranted a solid, mistake-free come back.

“The easiest method for these places to contend is to advertise they’re planning to get you the largest refund and that’s what it says within the window,” horsefly same. “The downside is, the girl down the road or the chain (preparer)—they get manner too smitten by obtaining you the foremost a reimbursement on your come back and that they screw up.”

In several neighborhoods, significantly in low-income areas, “fly-by-night” tax preparation operations interact in purposeful fraud, Clegg said. The taxpayers typically don't perceive what they're claiming on their returns.

“Among the less scrupulous preparers, they’ll do family rending to optimize the earned  revenue enhancement Credit, like, ‘You take these youngsters and you are taking these youngsters, that manner you’ll get $8,000 instead of the $6,000 you'd have gotten,’” horsefly same.

Such steps will trigger AN audit, interest and stiff penalties, he said.

Myth: Those with low to moderate incomes aren't getting audited

Jensen same the agency has ramped up the quantity of audits it will in response to the country's economic woes. which means folks shouldn't suppose they are within the clear if they are doing not earn a great deal of cash.

“(The IRS) is doing audits across the board, for all incomes,” same Jensen. “Over the previous few years they’ve been hiring additional folks for that.”

Still, he reiterates that although the agency has hyperbolic its level of auditing, the quantity may be a terribly tiny proportion of the returns filed.

Myth: Filing certainly deductions or credits will increase the prospect of AN audit Many people avoid taking bound credits ANd deductions—denying themselves tax blessings to that they're entitled—because they believe or have detected that taking them can build them additional prone to an audit, says Clegg.

“I saw several thousands of individuals United Nations agency same, ‘No, I don’t need to assert my girl as a result of she lived with my ex,’ or wouldn't claim bound education credits out of worry," horsefly same. "Fear of AN audit would cause folks to simply hand cash over (to the government), cash they were entitled to.”

Home office deductions square measure an enormous galvanizer of audit fears, says Jensen.

“I hear a great deal of individuals say, ‘If you are taking a business office deduction you’re planning to get audited.’ lately, most or a great deal of individuals have home offices,” Jensen same. “For years, I’ve had a business office, taken the deductions ANd I’ve ne'er had an audit.”

Zinman same there {are no|are not ANy|aren't any} automatic triggers for an audit. only if the monetary image painted within the legal document stands out as atypical or on the far side wisdom ought to somebody {be concerned|worry|be ANxious|fret|be troubled|agonize} concerning an audit. He cited the instance of a recent consumer. The individual had tough monetary hardship, dropping from a $350,000-salary job to a $7,000-a-year financial gain and, later on, lost his home.

“He is troubled concerning obtaining audited,” same Zinman. “I told him to not worry concerning it. There’s nothing to worry. the knowledge is true, and it might return right down to simply explaining things to the agency.”

Myth: Audits square measure done directly

The agency abides by a statute of limitations of 3 years when the maturity of the come back, says Clegg. For “substantial errors,” the agency maintains it will return six years and recommends you retain most records a minimum of that long. The consultants agree: If AN audit goes to happen, it'll occur within the latter 1/2 the three-year time-frame.

“Audits typically perpetually happen 2 years when you file,” Zinman same. “You’ve need to perceive all of the many voluminous those who board this country and (who) file returns, to not mention companies. It takes a short time for all of those filings to urge done and therefore the pc to urge through this method.”

A deeper understanding

Although these square measure a number of the foremost common myths, consultants say lots of different misguided beliefs concerning audits run rampant, some even with their own regional flavor. the lowest line, says Zinman, is to grasp what the method is all concerning.

“You know, the yankee manner is to figure laborious and pay the smallest {amount} amount of taxes that you just will. It’s an equivalent even for the those who work on the agency,” Zinman same. “With filing taxes, you’re creating AN assertion on your come back. You’re primarily telling a story. You’re putt forth your story and if you’re questioned, the agency is voice communication, ‘We scan your story and that we need you to point out USA wherever you bought this data.’

“But folks shouldn’t worry,” he said. “They’re not planning to simply return take all of your cash. they need a protracted method to travel through before that. you've got a great deal of rights. If you owe the cash, they’ll eventually grasp, however as long as you confer with them, you don’t need to worry that one thing goes to happen to you while not your management.”

[wheezyeds]

Burn it to the Ground

Finally! Here is my gift for @hanscom as part of the fic exchange! Thank you for being a sweetheart and giving me some more time to work on this. I hope it was worth the wait. Also, thank you to @jannuaryembers for being a fantastic beta and working on this with me!

Warning for moderate violence, closeted sexuality, acts of arson and a controlling relationship. No gore, but a permanent injury resulting in disability in the end.

(Prompt #1 - an AU based off of your favourite movie. My favourite movie is IT so it wouldn’t exactly work, but another film that I like definitely would so here we go)

Eddie couldn’t take it anymore. He had been living a lie for so long that even he himself was beginning to forget who he really was. See, Eddie Kaspbrak was married to a woman, Myra, who was exactly like his mother in personality and in size. Myra Kaspbrak was huge, though she’d only been big when Eddie had married her. He always figured she would achieve hugeness eventually. She worried about him, took care of him and made sure that the medicine cabinet was always stocked with everything that he needed; Anacin, Excedrin, Excedrin PM, Contac, Gelusil, Tylenol, a large jar of Vicks. Vivarian, Serutan, Milk of Magnesia - the chalk flavoured one - Rolaids, Tums, Di-Gel, all of the vitamins a person could think of and then some more, calcium, cod liver oil, One-A-Day multivitamins too. She even makes sure to keep a bottle of Geritol on the top of the cabinet itself just for good measure.

Eddie was tired of it all - the sterile smell that made his own home smell like a hospital despite looking as though an eighty-something couple lived there. He was tired of the old Barry Manilow records that seemed to be the only thing they listened to, and the old TV set that Myra refused to let him upgrade. Actually, he wasn’t tired. He was exhausted, and he needed to get out. Thankfully, during the night Myra slept like the dead and snored loud enough to wake them, too. Eddie managed to slip out of their shared bed silently without being noticed, and he packed his black leather bag that he usually saved for business trips. He filled it with socks, boxers, pants, shirts, belts and shoes. Next was his toiletries, and as he began packing what he might need from the medicine cabinet he decided that he didn’t need any of that stuff, and tossed every little pill into the water in the toilet where they floated like little bodies. The old Eddie Kaspbrak needed mounds of pills to keep him healthy, but the new Eddie certainly did not.

When he was finished, Eddie crept downstairs, avoiding every creaky floorboard to make sure he didn’t wake his wife when he was so close to being free. He used to do the same thing when he snuck downstairs as a child to have a tasty snack so that his mother wouldn’t notice. He used the phone to call his own company, hiring one of his drivers to take him down to the bus station. He couldn’t just take one of his cars anywhere, they all had trackers and Myra would absolutely use that to find him. He needed an easy, clean escape and a bus ticket would give him that.

While he waited, Eddie used the notepad that they kept by the phone to write a message to his wife. He couldn’t find the words for what he was doing, he couldn’t explain to her on paper that he was running from her to live the life he really wanted. So, he settled on ‘sorry… x’, and just as he set down his pen, he heard the car pull up outside and he grabbed his bag, practically hurrying out of the house before he could stop himself and go back to the comforting routine of the past six years. He jumped into the back of the car and as they pulled away, he looked up at the house just as the bedroom light flickered on. He was out, he was free, but only just by the skin of his teeth.

****

At the bus station, Eddie didn’t use any of his credit cards, he used cash that he’d taken from his personal account a few weeks ago when he came up with his plan to leave. He bought a one way ticket on the first greyhound out of town, with no destination in his mind. He planned to jump off at the first place he liked that was far enough away nobody would find him.

He stayed awake for the first three hours of the ride, head resting in his hand as he watched the world to whizzing by in a beautiful blur as the sun began to rise. By dawn, he was too tired to stay awake any longer, his eyes grew heavy and he drifted into a dreamless sleep, for which he was thankful. That afternoon, the bus was making a stop to refuel and all of the passengers had an opportunity to stretch their legs and pick up some supplies. Eddie needed to use the restroom, and he could use a sandwich if he was being honest, so he grabbed his bag and walked off of the coach.

He didn’t know where he was, but it was beautiful. They were in a small town somewhere by the water, it was peaceful and beautiful. Eddie wasn’t sure he’d ever been drawn to something so quickly, and in his gut he knew that he needed to stay. This was his new home.

****

The Denbrough brothers, Bill and Georgie, own the general store in town by the waterfront. During the summer months, they make enough money to keep them going through the rest of the year. Every day, coach loads of tourists pass through and buy some novelty garbage that they sell as well as food and supplies for the rest of their journey. Nobody ever stays in town for more than a few hours unless they have someone worth staying for, but today was different for everyone.

Three coaches had all arrived within a few minutes of each other, and Bill spent the better part of the next hour serving customers until the place was practically empty again. There were still a few locals picking up some groceries and his friend, Stan through the back working on their books. Bill stayed standing behind the counter, adjusting the gum by the register when something outside caught his eye. A short man, standing by the coach stop with a bag slung over his shoulder. He looked lost, and Bill stepped outside to help him.

“Excuse me?” Bill spoke up as he walked through the door. “Did you miss your ride?”

The other man turned around when he heard Bill’s voice, looking startled for a second before he relaxed a little and held his bag a little higher on his shoulder.

“No, actually, I, uh, decided this was my stop.” The other man answered with a nervous laugh bubbling up in his throat.

Bill was honestly surprised. By the sounds of things, this guy hadn’t expected to stay here anymore than Bill ever expected a tourist to hang around.

“You’ve got somewhere to stay?” Bill asked, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.

“No, I hadn’t actually thought that far ahead.”

The look on the poor guys face made Bill feel kind of sorry for him. Surely someone must be in a tough spot if they’ve made a last minute decision like this - showing up in the middle of nowhere with no place to stay and no friends.

“Why don’t you come inside? I can give you an address, somewhere to get your head down for a few hours, at least.”

“You… really? You’d do something like that for someone you don’t even know?”

“Well, you don’t know me either and you’re considering taking me up on my offer.”

The other man stuck out his hand to Bill, which he took and the two of them gave each other a friendly shake.

“I’m Eddie.” The newcomer introduced himself.

“Bill.”

“I’m Georgie!”

Bill whirled around to look at his brother, a playful glare across his face as he watched his brother attend to the gas pumps for a second.

“Get your ass back to work before I kick it, kid!” Bill threatened, despite Georgie and Eddie waving politely to one another before the young kid rushed off back to work.

“So, this address?”

Bill helped Eddie back into the store with his bag and used the landline phone to call his friend, Ben, about the cabin he owned and occasionally rented out to anyone who needed it.

Eddie walked around the store, making sure he hadn’t forgotten to get anything, he could hear Bill on the phone across the room.

“Ben, hey buddy. Yeah, yeah.. everything is great over here, but I’ve got someone- yes..”

Eddie couldn’t hear the other side of the conversation but he assumed this Ben was nice enough from the exasperated smile on Bill’s face.

“Last minute decision, by the sounds of it. He’s sticking around for a while.. how much? Really? Alright, you’re the best. Give Bev a kiss for me, I’ll see you guys tomorrow. Bye.”

Eddie was pretending not to have eavesdropped as he checked out the display of reading glasses when Bill approached him with the address written down on a folded up piece of paper.

“It’s about a ten minute walk from here, pretty easy to get there. Ben, my friend, he thinks it’s best if you take the weekend to make sure you like the place enough to stay before you put down any payment.”

Eddie was surprised by that. Surely nobody was actually that nice, but apparently Bill was being serious.

“This is perfect, Bill. Thank you.” Eddie said sincerely, a thankful smile on his face that lit up his eyes. Bill figured this guy was pretty cute, but there was something going on with him.

Bill hoped Eddie would stay around long enough that they could get to know each other.

****

*one month later*

Eddie worked his way among the tables, the breeze across the water whipped through his hair. He carried five plates in total, three on one arm and two on the other. His old button-up shirts had been replaced with a thin, cotton T-shirt that read Ivan’s: Try the Fish Just for the Halibut. He served the food to a group of women all dressed in tennis gear; the one closest to the window caught his eye and smiled. She seemed to be trying too hard to just be friendly, he knew that she watched him as he walked away. Richie, Eddie’s coworker had mentioned the women that come in from out of town before, how they tipped bigger when they were made to feel extra special.

Eddie fetched a pitcher of iced tea, refilled their glasses and returned to the waitress station. He took a moment to glance at the view, it was late April and the temperature was so close to perfect he could almost taste it.

“Eddie - can you take another table?”

Eddie was stirring up some sweet tea when Richie spoke him. Eddie looked out across the diner, counting how many of his tables were already filled.

“Sure.” He nodded.

Bill had told Eddie about this job opening. Much sooner than he expected, Eddie had been running out of money. One Tuesday, he and Bill were having some lunch together in the sun, Bill pointed out the ‘Now Hiring’ sign on the window and admitted to being good friends with the owners, assuring Eddie that he could put in a good word. Eddie hadn’t wanted to cry in front of him, so he managed to wait until he was home before breaking down. He wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but by that point he was already broke and hadn’t eaten anything for two days.

After finishing with the tea, Eddie headed to the kitchen where Patty, one of the cooks winked at him as she always did.

“Doesn’t look like it’s going to slow down today,” Patty commented. She was beautiful, a head of dark curls and only a year or two older than Eddie himself. She lived with Stan, Bill’s friend. “Every time we start catching up, we’re slammed with more customers.”

“It’s beautiful out.”

“Exactly, so why are they here? On a day like this, I’d have thought they’d be at the beach or fishing. That’s exactly what I’m doing when I finish up here later.”

“That sounds like a nice idea.”

“You need a ride home later?”

Patty always offered to drive him, at least two days a week. “No, thank you. You know I don’t live that far.”

“No problem,” she persisted. “I’d be more than happy to do it.”

“Walking keeps me fit.”

He handed her his stack of tickets and Patty pinned them on the wheel and located another order, taking it to her section and dropping it off at the right table.

On his way home that evening, Eddie stopped in at the store for some fresh milk just in time before Bill closed up for the night.

“Is that everything?” Bill asked politely as he rung Eddie up, putting the chilled carton in a brown paper bag.

“I just need one more thing,” Eddie admitted, glancing down nervously. “What are you doing this weekend?”

“I’m off Saturday. Why?”

“I was wondering if, maybe, you’d want to come and have some dinner with me. Just the two of us, no kid brother.”

To Eddie, this point of their friendship felt like one of those defining moments. The two of them had been tip-toeing around their situation for a while, neither realising that they both had more than friendly feelings for one another. They’d spent a few nights having dinner together, but they always ate with Georgie, too.

“Yes,” Bill answered, holding Eddie’s gaze. “I’d love dinner.”

“Great!” Eddie beamed. “Saturday, my place, six?”

“That sounds perfect.”

When Saturday night rolled around, Eddie took a second shower that day, he moisturized with his favourite lotion and put on one of his new outfits, including new shoes. He blow dried his hair and combed it into place, happy that he looked good enough for tonight. As he turned one way and the other in front of the mirror one last time, he heard an engine approach outside. Eddie took a deep breath, trying to stay calm. Then, after walking across the room and opening the door, he stepped outside onto the porch.

Getting out of his truck, there was Bill, dressed in jeans, a blue shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows. He was standing against the driver’s side door, leaning inside of the car seemingly reaching for something.

Bill brought out a bottle of wine and turned. Seeing Eddie, Bill almost froze, his expression one of surprise. Eddie was standing in the last rays of the setting sun, perfectly radiant and for a moment all Bill could do was stare.

“You made it,” He said.

The sound of Eddie’s voice was enough to break the spell he had on Bill, but he continued to stare. He knew that he should say something witty, something to charm Eddie and break the tension the way someone like Richie would but Bill couldn’t think anything other than ‘I’m in serious trouble.’

They spent the next couple of hours eating and having a few glasses of wine. With his filter a little looser than normal, Bill finally had the confidence to ask the question that had weighed on his mind since he first met Eddie.

“What happened?” He asked bluntly, confusing Eddie.

“What are you talking about?”

“You were married. What happened?”

“Who told you that?” Eddie asked defensively.

“Nobody had to tell me anything, but you have a tan line on your ring finger where I’m assuming a wedding ring used to be.”

Eddie set down his wine glass and looked at his hands as they trembled, noticing that he did indeed have a little line of pale skin wrapped around his finger.

“Technically… I’m still married.” He admitted.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t pry. You don’t have to tell me anything.” Bill apologised but Eddie shook his head.

“No, I want to tell you. I want to tell you all of it.”

That was how Bill ended up staying at the cabin with Eddie until after midnight. Eddie cried, but he told Bill everything starting from his mother right up to the night he left Myra and ran from his sham marriage.

“You did the right thing by leaving.” Bill assured him.

“She’s looking for me, though.”

“How do you know?”

“My business partners emailed me. Apparently she’s been botheriering as many people at my company as she can, trying to get any information they might have.”

“So, she’s actually a psychopath?”

“No..” Eddie sighed sadly, pinching the pride of his nose. “She, well, she just doesn’t understand. I didn’t tell her that I wanted a divorce, I didn’t tell her that I wanted to leave and I definitely didn’t tell her that I’m gay. As far as she’s aware, her husband just up and left in the middle of the night for no reason.”

Bill took Eddie’s hand in his, stroking his thumb across the bumps of Eddie’s knuckles.

“But you have a reason, a legitimate one and you don’t have to explain anything to her if you don’t want to.”

Eddie felt himself well up with emotions that he’d been swallowing for so long. Nobody had ever told him that he didn’t have to do something before, and it felt so good.

“Thank you, Bill. I-“ his eyes raised to look at Bill’s face, but he choked when he realised how close they were, and how amazingly blue Bill’s eyes are.

“Can I… can I kiss you?”

Eddie nodded so fast he almost gave himself whiplash, but the touch of Bill’s large hand cupping his jaw was enough to calm him down and flip his stomach all at the same time. Before either of them could think too much of it, their lips met in a tender, delicate kiss that said everything they couldn’t put into words.

****

Exactly one week after their date, Eddie was still floating. It had been a busy week and tonight would be the first chance to spend some real time together again, and Eddie was secretly hoping for more than just a kiss.

Eddie was unloading some laundry from the washing machine into the dryer when there was a knock at the door. Strange, because Bill wasn’t due to arrive for another hour yet.

Leaving the laundry, Eddie walked through the cabin and answered the front door. The polite, expectant smile dropping from his face when he saw the woman standing on the other side of the door casting a large, dooming shadow over the threshold.

“Myra, what.. what are you doing here?” He asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

“I’m here to take you home, Eddie-Bear. You ran away, you didn’t tell me where you were going and you forgot all of your pills, baby.”

Eddie started to argue but she pushed him out of the way as she stepped inside, the old floorboards creaking under her obscene weight.

“Now, Eddie. We don’t have time for your apologies, you can explain everything on the bus ride home. We have to get going, or we’ll miss the departure time.”

Eddie watched in shock for a few minutes as Myra found the bedroom and began to pack Eddie’s belongings back up into his bag.

“I’m not going anywhere with you, Myra. I’m sorry.”

She ignored him, not even acknowledging that he’d said anything. She only continued to pack, humming a song Eddie had heard a thousand times under her breath.

“Myra. I’m staying here.” Again he was ignored. “I want a divorce.”

When Mrs. Kaspbrak turned around to look at her husband, the waterworks were turned on and fat tears rolled down her fat, flushed cheeks.

“Eddieeeeee!” She sobbed. “Don’t be like this! Come home, so that we can fix everything!”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I have to do this to you, but I don’t have another choice. I don’t love you, Myra. I never have. You deserve better.”

“But I want you, Eddie-Bear. Come home.”

Eddie shook his head and walked to his wife, standing only an inch taller than her. He kissed her forehead and wiped her tears.

“Listen to me, okay?” He pleaded, holding her hands in his. “I’m gay, Myra. I’m sexually attracted to men, not women. Not you.”

****

Bill arrived at Eddie’s with a picnic basket, planning to take Eddie out into the woodland surrounding the cabin for a late night bite to eat before back inside for desert. However, he wasn’t expecting a woman to put a spanner in the works when he arrived and found Eddie helplessly trying to console a crying woman. His wife, Bill assumed.

Eddie looked at Bill with apologetic eyes and a pleading look, Bill just nodded. Whatever Eddie needed, he would do.

“You have to understand, dear.” Eddie spoke so softly and calmly to a woman he didn’t love, reaching for Bill’s hand. “This man, Bill, is my boyfriend. I’m planning to move in with him soon. Do you understand me?”

Myra looked between the two of them, seeing that they were both handsome men and there was a clear chemistry between them. They both seemed somewhat uncomfortable, but she assumed that was just because she was there.

“Okay,” She croaked, voice hoarse from all of her crying. “I understand.” She stood, clutching her purse to her chest. “I’ll have my lawyer contact you when I decide what I want to keep.”

Myra left and Eddie let go of a huge sigh of relief, slumping into Bill.

“Thank you.” He whispered, wrapping around the other man. “For going along with that, I mean.”

“No problem,” Bill assured him, kissing the top of his head. “You’re a saint, being married to that woman.”

Eddie laughed and immediately the tension was broken, the air between them returning to normal.

****

Eddie didn’t think that anything else would come from Myra. He expected a few phone calls maybe, and the divorce papers when she made it home but what he didn’t realise, was that she didn’t go home.

Myra stayed in town, hidden for the next two days. She watched Eddie make his trips to the store and to work, then back home again. He kept a new routine in his new life and she was happy to find vitamin bottles, empty, in the trash. At least he was keeping himself healthy while he was without her.

Tonight, the whole town was having a firework display to celebrate the beginning of summer. Myra would take her chance then, ruining Bill Denbrough’s life so that he had nothing to offer Eddie.

As the boats made their way out onto the water, loaded with fireworks for the display, Myra took her chance and snuck into the empty store with gas canisters full of petroleum. As she walked up and down the aisles, she poured the liquid all over, covering everything she could reach. Back at the door, she stepped outside and lit a match, tossing it into the building which was immediately consumed in flames.

Eddie was sat on the pier, waiting for Bill and Georgie - Bill was grabbing beers from the cooler out back, and Georgie was getting a blanket for the three of them from his apartment above the store.

The fire started, and the whole world stopped. Eddie’s blood ran cold and he got to his feet, watching for a moment that felt like a lifetime as Bill’s livelihood began burning to the ground.

“HELP!”

Eddie looked up when he heard the scream, and he saw Georgie on the tiny balcony up on the second floor.

“GEORGIE!” Bill screamed, running to the entrance, but he couldn’t get inside.

Everyone was rushing to help with hoses and buckets of water but it wasn’t enough. The flames were too strong and taking over too fast, they had to get Georgie down. Eddie went to fetch a ladder from a nearby garden, but he was grabbed from behind and thrown to the ground. When he looked up, he saw Myra.

“Eddie-Bear. I told you to come home with me.” Her tone was so calm that it was terrifying. The woman had lost her mind.

“No! Why are you doing this?! You’re going to kill him!”

“Nobody will want you, baby. Bill won’t want you, knowing that he lost everything because of you.”

Eddie tried to fight Myra off, but she was too big and she had her sausage fingers wrapped tightly around his throat. Just as the edge of his vision began to blur, Myra fell off of the top of Eddie. She’d been hit in the head, by Stan who stood wielding a broken pipe.

“Crazy bitch.” He panted, helping Eddie up off of the ground.

“We have to help Bill and Georgie.”

The two men ran back to the store to help, Bill was desperately trying to get in while a few neighbours and Richie tried to convince Georgie to jump and that they would catch him, but he was too scared.

“I can get in.” Eddie spoke up. There was a small gap that the others were much too big for. “I’ll go up, push him out and you catch him.”

Before Bill could stop him, Eddie was off. He climbed up the gap in the edge of the building, through a window and then he was up on the balcony with Georgie.

“Eddie?! What the hell are you doing up here?!” Georgie cried, his words followed by a fit of coughing. He’d already inhaled so much smoke.

“I’m getting you down, okay? Just look at me. Look into my eyes.” Eddie stayed as calm as he could manage, holding the kid by the shoulders, forcing him to keep stilL and look at him. “Count with me, so you can calm down and breathe, okay?”

Georgie nodded and Eddie began to count. He got to four, and pushed him from the balcony.

****

Eddie couldn’t remember what happened after that. It was all heat and smoke and pain, but he was coming around. The constant beeping from a heart monitor was irritating him, and his arm itched like crazy.

“Eddie?” Asked a familiar voice. “Are you awake?”

“Hm?” He grunted in response, trying to will his heavy eyes open.

“Come on, tough guy. Let me see those pretty eyes.”

Eddie blinked a few times until he could see, and as his vision cleared, he saw Bill sitting by his side.

“Bill? What are you doing here?”

“Like I was going to leave you after you were blown up.” Bill scoffed. “Just… don’t panic, okay?” He pleaded, nodding down to Eddie’s arm.

Eddie looked down, and let out a cry of shock when he realised that his left arm was missing.

It wasn’t the end of the world, after all a missing limb was bearable if it meant living his new life as his true self with his wonderful boyfriend and his new family.

[lokisgame]

A Case Of You

First date. Excerpt from Aprons And Scrubs. THE SONG

Thank God it wasn't exactly Valentine's. Initially the plan was to take her out on the 14th, but that kiss ruined his plans in the best way possible. He thought about the crowds, the tacky hearts and forced romance and decided it wasn't them. The place he chose was small but had no problem with his last minute reservation and he was confident the food would be great. Mulder debating what to wear, decided to go with fun, with a dark shirt and suit as a backdrop for the vibrant tie. At 6:30 he knocked at her door, a bunch of red carnations in hand. Roses weren't him either, pretty at the florist, dead two days after. Carnations lasted for weeks, if taken care of, a girl in college told him once, and he lived by it. Not Phoebe, damn her blackened soul, she cared nothing for hearts and flowers. Especially not his.

Scully had the rare weekend off. She took the time to get ready glad that a dress was no problem at least. A slim fitting little black dress, she went for simple elegance with only her gold cross and diamond earrings, a gift from her father, after she graduated from med school, chosen as a nod to his memory. Hair pinned up, with a few strands framing her face, she knew that if by any chance... no, too soon to think about that, she scolded herself trying to suppress a smile. It's just dinner, just a night out... With Mulder... who kissed like a god. How did he know what she liked? Most guys fumbled around, missed the spot, too much grabby hands too soon, she hated that. She didn't like to hurry because it was different each time and small steps meant the guy was in for the long haul. And that kiss, how did that happen? The very thought of the slow languid strokes of his tongue in her mouth defeated the purpose of applying blush. Yes, they have kissed before, but it was always sweet and tender, filled with promises. The kiss last night was like a first of those promises being kept, and she kissed him first no less! So far things that started like that ended bad for her, usually because she wanted someone whom she couldn't have, but this was Mulder so she made an effort to believe things will be different this time. She brushed the mascara over her eyelashes, lips slightly parted so her eyelid wouldn't flutter, because her hand did shake with excitement. Excitement and fear, that tonight she might gain a lover of lose a friend. She was fairly certain the chance of the latter were slim, but she tried to plan for the worst as she hoped for the best, even if she had no idea where even begin to look for a plan B. A wool coat and stockings, who said Dana Scully didn't know how to go crazy! The moment she zipped up her high heeled boots she heard a knock.

"Hi," Mulder greeted her, taking in the low square neckline of her dress and the magic thing it did to reveal only hints of what might be the most perfect pair of breasts he's ever seen. "Hi," Scully turned to shut the door and gave him a precious second to gather his jaw off the floor. And he thought she looked gorgeous at the New Year's Eve party. How silly was he. "These are for you," he handed her the flowers and she brought them to her nose, breathing in the subtle fragrance. "They're beautiful, thank you," she said turning and heading for the kitchen to put them in water. Mulder stood corrected, her ass looked even better in that dress, the high heels making her hips sway gently as she walked away. That woman will be the end of him, if she looked this good dressed he didn't dare to imagine show she looked naked. He felt warm instantly and had to unbutton his coat for a moment. She looked back to him and noticed his tie and shirt, managing not to laugh because after all, he was wearing her gift. "Mulder, you look like a high school basketball coach trying to look fun chaperoning the prom." "Heeeyyyy..." he shifted uncomfortably because that kind of hurt his feelings, but only until she stepped around the table and came closer. Standing on her tiptoes she kissed him sweetly and reached to pull the tie from around his neck and unbuttoned the top button of his shirt. With the smile her kiss caused him, he once again looked like a picture of confidence framed in casual nonchalance she knew and loved, only more drop-dead handsome, if that was even possible. She folded the tie in half and draped it over the back of the couch. "You'll get it back." Mulder was going to make sure of that, because this was quickly becoming his favorite tie. "Come on," he took her coat, helped her put it on and offered his arm which she took, "the cab is waiting."

The restaurant was small, just a few tables, two waiters and, to her delight, a young man playing piano in the corner of the room, probably son of the owner. The kid had talent and imagination, Scully appreciated that. Somewhere between main course and desert Mulder moved from the chair to the plush seat beside her. He continued to conquer her personal space, his arm on the back of the seat, casually draped around her, as if unaware of the intimacy it projected. Scully herself only realized it, because of the warmth that he brought with him. It felt almost as natural as breathing, to touch him, to be touched, to keep him in. With other men it took months to get here, if it ever did. She felt very relaxed around him, as if all the small touches and kisses they shared before had no other purpose than say "I'm here." "Mulder, what made you open up a bar?" "Hmmm?" Mulder seemed fascinated by the cut of her earring. "I mean, you left the FBI, but you're still a psychologist, why not open a practice, live comfortably doing nothing but listening to congressmen complain about wives and mistresses?" He chuckled. "That's just it, I wasn't that good at listening to other people's problems and fears. A real therapist knows what to do with it, not me. I'd suck up all their angst and sooner or later I would come across some lost soul that would drag me down with him. I can't, I care too much sometimes for it to be healthy. And I was a profiler, I lived for the puzzle, not confessions of others." "But why a bar? Why not grocery store or a book store or heck, go crazy, a hair salon!" Mulder laughed. "Yeah, grocery store seems safest, but can you imagine?" He took up a mock french accent playing with a strand of hair that fell down her cheek. "Oh Miss Scoolly, so good to see you again so soon, what will we do today? It's too early for color, you look marvelous, how do you do it, with more customers like you I'd be out of business, how about a little trim, half an inch from the sides, it will transform your life, I guarantee!" She ducked her head and laughed, a loud belly laugh hat made his night, just like that. "I could see the ladies lining up for three blocks. We need a name for that, let me think," she giggled, "Mulder's Coiffeurs or better Fox's Curls and Tresses." "No, not that," he groaned rolling his eyes, "I hate my first name." "Why? It's so original, and graphic, no wait, I know, you could sell hats! Your store sign would have a pretty girl with a fox's tail falling down her shoulder from the brim of her hat." "Yeah, animal lovers would love that," he snorted. "Oh, right, haven't thought of that," she noticed the line between silly and honest approaching and backed down. "I can't sleep," Mulder's tone indeed turned honest. "It's as simple as that. Insomnia had me staying up all night since I was twelve," with a bit of sadness in his eyes he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and brushed the back of his hand over her sensitive spot, making a shiver run down her spine. She ignored it for now, this was more important. "Before I left the bureau, I spent a year going through old X-files. And most of that time, my day consisted of getting up, going to work, sitting alone in the basement and reading, then going home to an empty apartment, not sleep for hours, insomnia in full swing at that time, eventually crash for maybe two hours, nightmares waiting the moment I closed my eyes." Scully took care to listen and remember every word he said, so he wouldn't have to go through this story again. "Profiling did horrible things to me before that, and I was alone, week in week out. The most significant human interaction I would get, was an occasional night out with the Gunmen and "99 cents" from a dead tired clerk at the kiosk where I bought sunflower seeds every day." She felt bad for asking, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't ask." "No," Mulder took her hand, squeezing reassuringly, "it's okay, because that was the moment I decided that I needed a change. X-files were going nowhere, and by that time I read enough, that I could fill my own Library Of Congress section on paranormal and unexplained. Cases that landed on FBI's lap reached as far as the 2nd World War, and Roswell. Cold war must have been a real page turner, judging by the number of censored files, and no one was doing anything about it, and no one planed to." He was no longer sad, the fire was back in his eyes. "That was when I realized our government doesn't care about the people, only his own twisted agenda and I couldn't support that. I crossed the the F and the B, and focused on I in the FBI. You know I write for "The Lone Gunman", under a pseudonym naturally, but it's something I could never do if I worked for the bureau. I travel sometimes, talk to people, write down their stories and give them voice, so others would know, that they are not alone, there are people with similar experiences and the fact that I can do something for them, gave me the strength to keep going, to keep looking. For Sam, to know what happened the night she disappeared." Pure conviction in his voice took her breath away. "The truth is out there. And it won't stay hidden in their basements forever." "And the bar?" "It's a way to keep me sane," Mulder chuckled, "to keep that human connection alive and well. That year in the basement, it was bad, to be that disconnected made my mind fester. I realized I needed to be around people, and like you said, there's a bit of a therapist in every bartender," he smiled and reached for the bottle of wine to fill her glass. "I pour drinks, I listen. The difference is that I have a fancy diploma to back it up. 'The Believer' is always open for people with strange stories and memories to share, and besides," he smiled at her broadly, back to here and now from the depths of his past, "I'm not sure I would ever meet you, if I'd still carry a badge." Scully listened, truly amazed. Once again Mulder's story was not what she expected to hear, not on a first date anyway. She had no words to begin describing the feeling his journey evoked in her, so she cupped his cheek and kissed him. This man so remarkable she wouldn't believe he was real. He saw it, too much awe, too much pride. He didn't want it, he knew he never deserved it, so he kissed her back, resting one hand on the curve of her waist, parting her lips with his tongue, deepening the kiss for two heartbeats, barely decent, bold enough to kick down that pedestal he saw in her eyes. "Mulder," she had to squeeze in the warning between arousal and want in her tone. If they were at the bar, this thing might escalate pretty quickly. "What? Desert?" He kissed her again, quick, deep and hot, "I think you're right, what would you like." "You," she whispered pressing her lips, chastely this time, to the corner of his mouth. "You've got that," he teased, "but I feel like I need to redeem myself after dumping my past on you, so tell me." she leaned back, her hand back in his while he made due with kissing her knuckles, happy he managed to wake her desire. He wanted her to know and still want him, not worship or admire. "What would you like?" "Ice cream sundae," she said without skipping a beat, "and we share, it's a Valentine's Day date requirement." Two spoons, a ton of chocolate and Scully's giggles saved the moment.

They took a cab back to her place, the night was cold. Mulder got out to help her and she took his hand as her feet touched the pavement. It was a moment of silent agreement, her hand squeezed his, she took a step without letting go, and he knew to pay the driver and let her take him upstairs to her apartment.

Scully's heart pounded in her chest, as she searched for keys in her small purse, Mulder less than an inch behind her. She found it, let them in, and turned to find his warm soft lips. He took her face in his hands, warming her cold cheeks, as she unbuttoned his coat to slip her arms around him. He kissed her slowly, thoroughly, as his hands traveled down her shoulders to the buttons on her coat. He helped her slip out of it, tossing it to the back of the couch, then pulled on her scarf. Blue silk freed her perfume, and again he felt dizzy from it, compelled to bury his face in her neck, this time by way of kisses. His coat landed next to hers, mouths searching, missing targets, sloppy but increasingly more fun with each step that brought them farther inside the apartment. He stepped out of his shoes as she peeled of his jacket. Scully bumped into the back of the couch, walking backwards, and he knelled to unzip her boots and pull them off her small feet for her. She looked stunning, as she pulled one pin from her chignon and her hair fell down in soft waves down her shoulders. Without looking away from her eyes, Mulder ran his hands up the back of her calves and stood up, towering over her for the briefest moment, before he picked her off the floor, hands grabbing the backs of her thighs, stockings dear God, the word goddess flashing through his mind. Scully's legs went around his waist, arms around shoulders, she did not fight for fear she'd topple them over, and he carried her through to the bedroom, ignoring her protests, your leg, no need, I can walk, he was def to her concern over him or his health at the moment. He pleaded temporary insanity from her breasts pressed against his chest through silk and satin of their clothes. "Mulder," she breathed into his ear, holding on to him as he reached to push the door open, "condoms, bathroom, medicine cabinet." He didn't stop but walked in and put her down on her feet. He took her hand and without a word slipped it into his pants pocket, smiling as her palm closed around two foil packets and brushed against the erection that was already starting to feel uncomfortable. "Small steps, Scully," he reached around her and found the tab on the zipper of her dress, and started to pull it down slowly, "I wouldn't do this if I wasn't prepared." "I saw your blood work," she explained taking her hand out of his pocket and dropping the condoms on the bed, "and I'm on the pill but..." he shushed her with a soft kiss, hands caressing her bare skin on the way up to her shoulders. "I know, small steps." A kiss to the side of her neck and a brush of his fingers and the dress pooled around her feet with a whisper of satin. Black lace and silk stockings were all she got left and felt like he was definitely overdressed. "You need some help?" Scully reached to the bedside table and turned on the lamp. Soft light filed the room and the sight stunned Mulder into silence. He could do nothing but stare at her skin, body all soft curves and freckles and female perfection standing before him. She reached up and made quick work of the buttons on his shirt, pulling it from his pants, already bulging impressively. Scully pulled the belt from the loops of his pants and dropped it to the floor, taking a step around to switch places and push him on the bed behind him. "You run around too much, I told you that already." Hovering above him, keeping her tone playful, she slowly unbuttoned his pants to pull them down, mindful of his recent injury. His socks followed suit as she knelt down on the floor between his knees, looking up. He was looking at her, propped up on his elbows, his erection straining his briefs. "Scully, are you sure?" He asked quietly, not concerned, just making sure. "If I wasn't," she replied with confidence, standing up and resting her toes on his knee, "we wouldn't be here." Mulder got rid of his doubts and reached to peel the last of the silk and lace of her body.

Scully laid on the bed, his face inches from hers, watching every change in her expression as he ran two fingers between her thighs, learning what made her tick, following her hand. They fumbled at first and he decided to just let her take the lead. Now she was straining against him, arching her back. He kissed her from time to time, wet sloppy kisses, all soft brushes of languid tongues. He kissed her breasts and nibbled on her nipples, and shoulder and neck, but now he was watching her knead the soft flesh and pinch the hard tip of it and circling around it with her thumbnail. Each moan was like a reward for a well aimed stroke of his hand. He dipped two fingers inside her, her clit swelled as he brushed past it from time to time. He returned there but not too often, she was very responsive to what he did for her. Sometimes her finger joined his, showing him what to do and how, but mostly she just let him explore, take his time. "Like that," she threw her head back and he felt her walls soften under his touch, become pliant, ready for him to join in on the fun. Mulder knew his leg was not yet 100 percent healed, so he brought her as close to the edge as possible without wasting the strength he knew, he would need. She thought he was teasing when his hand moved away, but as his weight shifted and the tip of his cock started to push inside her, she welcomed him into her arms. The sensation was pure and undiluted bliss. "You feel so good," she whispered pulling his lips to hers, her tongue in his mouth as hot as her centre. "I've wanted you since you tossed back that first shot of whiskey at the bar with me," he confessed pulling her knee up and around his hip, shifting so that most of his weight rested on his good side, and started to pump into her, slowly, like he did earlier with his fingers, "you trusted me, I see that now." "I never did that," she panted as he started picking up pace, "let a guy talk me into doing something." She dropped a kiss on his parted lips, "but with you it felt different." her one hand pushed between them and found her clit, the other scratched down his back all the way to his ass, she relished the way his muscles flexed with each thrust. "Like this." Mulder wasn't sure if she was speaking of that night or urging him on, "like what?" "Amazing," she breathed, and he could do nothing else but agree. He felt himself quicken, as she swelled around him. Their lips met and she was whimpering softly with his each thrust, now urgent and hard. "Keep going, like that," her finger moved fast in tight circles, "Mulder, oh God, I'm going to..." She didn't need to finish because just then her body spasmed under and around him. Scully held on, trying to pull him inside her, her free arm now tight around his shoulders, her hand at the nape of his neck, her lips at his ear. "Let go, come for me," and she ran her tongue around his ear, bit his earlobe and he couldn't fight it anymore, he came and fell and she caught him.

It was her turn to watch him, limbs intertwined, bodies sated, sheets pulled warm around them. "What did you do to me?" He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, with tenderness she hasn't felt in years. "What do you mean?" "I feel like you just moved in here," he said taking her hand and placing it over his heart, "and started redecorating." "Do I get the attic as well?" Scully chanced a joke, kissing his temple and running fingers through his hair, silky smooth and soft, now that she knew he liked that. "If you don't mind the toys there," he teased back. Self deprecating was his idea of honest when speaking about himself. "Mulder, you are a good man," she told him, kissing his lower lip gently, she knew it and felt it, and that made it as good as true for her. "I'm Spooky Mulder howling at the moon," he countered, a faint sleepy smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "No, you care about people, that's noble, you're like a white knight that way" she explained, feeling his midnight stubble with the back of her fingers. "Wait," he looked alarmed for a moment, "not like Don Quixote or something, right?" "What, you want me to stroke your ego some more?" She reached under the covers and found his shaft, running her palm up and down its' length, and circling the head with her thumb. His eyes rolled back as he started to get hard again, she was starting to love how he could not resist her. "That's not where it's at, but it has a direct line." "Shut up Mulder," she straddled his hips and kissed him for real this time.

The next morning Mulder woke up in Scully's bed. In pain. He untangled himself from her small warm body, asleep with her back against his chest, and knowing it was impossible not to wake her, he turned onto his back and groaned. His thigh was killing him. "Mulder?" Her sleepy voice sounded concerned as she turned to face him, "what's wrong?" "My leg," was all he managed to say, the pain was spreading to his hip and lower back. She uncovered his side and saw no bruising or alarming swelling around the freshly healed wound. "You pushed yourself last night," she covered him and started to get up, "I told you not to carry me." "Adrenaline rush Doc, couldn't help it," he joked, but really felt terrible, "where are you going?" "I'll be right back," she kissed his forehead and left him to his suffering. Scully went to the kitchen, tying the robe around her waist and noting in passing the path of clothes they left behind last night. They needed coffee. She opened the fridge, scanning it's contents and finding it satisfactory, took out the coffee and started a fresh pot. "Take this." She came back handing Mulder one pill and a glass of water, and noticing his hesitation clarified, "it's Tylenol 3," then pulled the covers back off his leg and covered it with a bag of frozen peas. "Bad news, you're not going anywhere today." Mulder looked at her and barked out a strained laugh. "And how is that bad news?" His reaction shook her out of her doctor persona and she realized what she just said. "Right," she laughed and leaned over to kiss his smiling lips, "happy Valentine's Day Mulder."

[tillyswatson-blog]

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