#from the step when she says to cook the tomato paste for ten minutes like

[notjanine]

riffed on this recipe and ended up with the best jollof i’ve made yet, so i feel compelled to share ❤️

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Day 125.3 Accidental Bonding (Part 3)

You can start at Part One, if you'd like.)

"Piss off, Malfoy," Jenkins snarled from across the room at the end of the training exercise, drawing Harry's attention from the conversation he was having with Ron. "You are such an arsehole. You think you're so clever, so much better than us," he shoved Malfoy's shoulders, "but you're just a slimy Dark Lord worshiper-"

"Oy!" Harry shouted, darting forward and physically putting his body between Jenkins and Malfoy, "Don't talk to him like that."

"I'll talk to that fu-"

"You need to back down," Harry growled, his body thrumming with energy, fingers tingling with the urge to punch Jenkins in the face, his magic racing hot and bright under his skin.

Malfoy put a hand on Harry's shoulder, "Don't," he said. "He's not worth it."

He glared at the other man for a moment before taking a step toward the locker room.

"Oh, I get it," Jenkins sneered, "some people are so possessive of their pets. He's letting you fuck him now, so-"

Harry spun around so fast that Jenkins didn't have a moment to see what was about to happen as Harry's fist connected with his jaw. "Watch your mouth," he growled, low in his throat. "We aren't sleeping together but even if we were that wouldn't change the fact that he is twice the auror you will ever be." He took another step closer, "He's smarter, faster, and has better instincts. And everyone knows that your pathetic attempts to belittle him are out of jealousy. So you can fuck off before you make an even bigger arse of yourself."

"Alright," Ron said, holding out his hands between them. "That's enough."

Jenkins spat blood at Harry's feet but had the good sense not to say anything more as he left and slammed the door behind him.

Harry turned to see Malfoy storming away from him. "Malfoy," he shouted but the other man threw him a two fingered salute and stalked off.

"What the hell?" Harry grumbled.

(Read more below the cut)

Ron shrugged, "Beats me, mate." He slapped him on the shoulder, "but I wouldn't want to be going home with him. He looked pissed."

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

Regrettably Ron was right, Malfoy was pissed. Harry couldn't understand it and the other man wouldn't say a word to him about it.

They went home and Malfoy shut himself in the bedroom without a word, leaving Harry standing completely confused in the living room. "What the hell?" he repeated.

Hands on his hips, he stared off after the other man and replayed what he'd said to Jenkins for the fiftieth time, trying to figure out what had made Malfoy so mad.

Giving up on trying to puzzle it out seemed like the only course of action so he headed into the kitchen and started dinner. In the past week and a half, Draco had cooked, they'd cooked together, or ordered take out. Harry hadn't cooked anything on his own since he's arrived and honestly, he was glad for the chance to cooking now.

He chopped up an onion, diced a carrot, chopped up a stalk of celery, and minced several cloves of garlic. Then he turned to the stove and heated a frying pan, pouring in some olive oil before tossing in the veggies and letting them cook down while he chopped up lettuce for a salad.

After about ten minutes, he added the ground beef, salt, and pepper into the frying pan and uncorked a bottle of Merlot, pouring himself a generous glass and dumping a few ounces in with the beef and veg.

He cast a simple spell to keep the spoon stirring while the beef browned and he turned to cut up tomatoes and onions for the salad and made a simple vinaigrette. When the beef was brown and fragrant, he added in tomato paste, diced tomatoes, basil, oregano, and a dash of nutmeg before stirring it all together.

With a pleased hum, he put the lid on the pot and cast a spell that would condense the simmering time to about thirty minutes instead of three hours.

While the sauce cooked down he baked brownies, tossed the salad, and prepped the water and spaghetti. Boiling the spaghetti, cutting the brownies, and plating everything was easy after that. Harry topped the bowls of bolongese with freshly grated Parmesan and basil.

Then, after a moment of debate, he decided to bring dinner to Malfoy instead of the other way around and laid out their salads, bowls of bolognese, glasses of wine, and brownies onto a tray. He levitated it down the hall and knocked on the door.

"Come in," Malfoy called, sounding bored and detached and Harry had to take a steadying breath to tamp down the irritation that tone of voice invoked before opening the door.

"Made dinner," he said casually.

Malfoy turned his head from where he was laying on the bed, idly catching a snitch and releasing it. He sat up, his blonde hair trailing behind him, "It smells good."

"You don't need to sound surprised," Harry teased.

Malfoy opened his mouth to protest but Harry continued as he set the tray in the middle of the bed.

"I'm just kidding," he assured quickly.

"Do you really think that it's wise to consume red wine and pasta on a white bed?" Malfoy asked, one eyebrow arched at him as he climbed onto the bed across the tray from Malfoy.

"It'll be fine," Harry assured as he picked up his salad bowl and speared a tomato. "We're wizards, we'll magic it away if we must."

Malfoy hummed but picked up his own salad. "Thank you."

He shrugged a shoulder, "No problem. I like to cook, actually."

"Do you?" Malfoy asked curiously.

Harry nodded, "Yeah. Once we left Hogwarts and I was living on my own, I was eating out all the time and it wasn't doing me any favors. So I learned how to make some simple things that taste good." He tilted his head, "What about you? You're not a bad cook."

His cheeks turned a light pink and he cleared his throat, "That's Granger's doing actually."

"Sorry?"

He sighed, "She made a really good case about house elves. I didn't want to be who my parents wanted me to be so when I moved out and joined the aurors, I basically shunned anything that whiffs of pureblood bullshit. It has no place here," he said gesturing to his home with his fork.

Harry blinked, "That's amazing."

"Shut up."

"No, I'm serious," Harry said. "You're amazing and I had no idea."

"Stop," Malfoy said. "Please, it's not-"

"Is that what earlier was about?"

Malfoy stilled, "Excuse me?"

"Is that why you were upset?" he asked. "You thought that I was taking the piss?"

"I thought that you have an insufferable hero complex that makes me want to vomit," he growled.

"You're a hedgehog," Harry said, finally understanding.

Malfoy froze, "Who told you that?"

"Told me what?" Harry asked.

"That my patronus is a hedgehog," he said as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Harry laughed and Malfoy flushed cherry red, his eyes narrowed. "No, sorry," Harry said holding out a hand, "I'm not laughing at you. I'm laughing because I had no idea, honestly!"

"Then what made you say it?" he asked suspiciously.

"Just," he paused and took a bite of bolognese as he searched for the right words, "When you start to feel vulnerable or like someone is going to hurt you, you curl into this defensive ball that will stab at someone no matter what they say or do."

"I-"

"You are genuinely one of the best aurors in our class," Harry said earnestly, steering the conversation to something more tangible that they were less like to fight over. "I was serious."

Malfoy rolled his eyes, "You're just saying that because the bond-"

He shook his head, "I've always thought that," he protested. "It's annoying as fuck because it always seems like everything comes so easily to you. I used to complain about it to Ron all the time."

"Says you," Malfoy protested. "You're always doing everything right; throwing yourself into danger to protect people." He shook his head, "By all accounts, what you do shouldn't work but it does. You're a good auror, Potter."

Harry swallowed, "Thanks, Malfoy. That means a lot coming from you."

"Yes, well," he said as he took a sip of wine, "Don't let it go to your head."

Harry chuckled and they took a few bites in companionable silence before Draco started to talk again.

"You didn't have to come to my rescue with Jenkins, you know."

He waved the thought away, "He's an arse. We've had it out before."

"I'm just saying," he argued, "I was fine. Honestly what he was saying wasn't even that bad."

"Not that bad?!" Harry yelped. "He-"

Malfoy shook his head, "It's the bond, Potter, don't you see that? Jenkins has said a lot worse, other trainees have said a lot worse, and you've never felt the need to jump in and defend my honor before."

Harry frowned.

"You're being swayed by what the bond wants you to feel about me."

"I'm not sure you're right," he said. "Because you shouldn't be treated like that at work. No one should be treated like that."

"Be that as it may-"

"I'm just saying, even if the bond brought it to my attention, I would have done that for anyone. If he'd been saying shite like that to Ron, I would have decked him, too."

Malfoy looked like he was going to argue with him, before visibly changing his mind, "You do have a wand, you know. There's no need to resort to brute force."

Harry shrugged, "But there's just something so satisfying about punching someone."

A laughed forced it's way up Malfoy's throat and Harry grinned at him. Shaking his head, Malfoy replied, "You're ridiculous. And this is good, by the way," he added, pointing to his pasta with his fork.

"Good," Harry said with a pleased little smile.

The conversation turned lighter as they bickered about the training exercises and the best approach, but the bickering held none of the animosity it had a week and a half before.

And Harry couldn't help but wonder how much of this was the bond's doing and how much was simply him.

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

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4

[kyloswarstars]

ROOMMATES • Part 4

Divergent • College AU • Eric x Reader

ROOMMATES masterlist 💫 Divergent masterlist

You escaped your current living situation by moving in with your friend Christina – and five other college students. Little did you know that one of them was the guy who was your ultimate pain in the neck since your first semester. Now, you had to find a way to not strangle him in his sleep out of pure frustration. Also, you had to find a way to get rid of those weird butterfly feelings for him that slowly grew in your stomach.

Words • 2.3k

Warnings • mentions of drug use and unsettling text messages

The enemies to lovers story no one needed.

/////

In the following weeks you noticed Eric’s drive to make your life extra hard, by going against your opinions, decreased. You got along. Occasionally, your thoughts drifted back to that weird moment in the furniture store. Holding hands. And his fingers trying to intertwine with yours. If that was a deliberate action or an automatic reaction – you couldn’t say. All you knew was that the memory of it made your stomach twist and you didn’t like that.

The number of folded papers in your pockets had increased immensely. They were pulled out under the dinner table when you couldn’t endure Eric’s stares anymore. Or while waiting for the shower to be free. Or right after the ‚GN‘ knock at night when that stupid smile on your lips didn’t want to leave.

It was Friday. Friday was the weekly grocery haul day. It was your second time having to fulfil that task. The first time it had been with Tris who patiently showed you what everyone’s favorite snack was – Eric’s were those little pretzels covered in chocolate – and what kind of vegetables were an ultimate must buy.

It was Friday. And this time you had to go shopping with Eric. In the morning he told you to get read for noon. At noon he told you to get ready for five. At five he tried to push it back once more but you grew impatient.

„If we don’t go now, we don’t have to go at all today. All the fresh stuff will be gone,“ you pointed out, grabbed your backpack and didn’t leave him a choice anymore really. You put on your shoes and left the apartment. Eric was rambling something as he came rushing down the stairs after you.

„Where did you park?“

„Left.“

You walked ahead and tried to spot his car without being able. Further down the road you started to cross a street and suddenly felt a hand around your wrist. Eric nodded behind his back. „This way.“

His hand was immediately gone after telling you to change directions. Still, the spots where his fingertips had touched your skin was burning as if they had left marks. I don’t like that at all.

You were well prepared. After all you had the complete day to brace yourself for the struggle you expected. The shopping list was in your pocket, though not the only paper in there, the community money was in your backpack and you took a drag, or five, of Will’s joint earlier.

The store wasn’t that filled as you thought it would be on a Friday. Good. A lot of people made you nervous.

Eric pushed the cart and already at the first stop, fruit section, he remembered that your last discussion had been a few days ago. Too long. Time to settle for a new one.

„Take the blueberries.“ He pointed to the little containers as if you didn’t know what blueberries were.

„I want apples so I’m getting apples,“ you stated.

„Blueberries are super high on antioxidants, you know.“

„Cool but I don’t want to eat thirty tiny things. I want to eat one thing.“

„Fine. But I want blueberries.“

„Then take them yourself. You’re not decoration, Eric. You have hands to use them.“ You shook your head at how ridiculous he was. You weren’t his personal shopping assistant, this was a team work thing.

The veggie section wasn’t any better. You just tried to work your way through the shopping list and directed Eric on what else to pick. Admittedly, since living with your roommates, your eating got a lot healthier because they actually knew how to cook.

You completed the booze area, cheese heaven and dairy aisle without any further debates and turned into a new aisle. Then took a step back out of it again to look down the hallway.

„What now?“ Eric stopped the cart in time before running you over.

„I thought I saw someone I know.“ No one was there though. And if that person, you that had been there, really was there, you were glad they disappeared. Meeting ghosts from the past was under no circumstances something you wanted to happen while Eric was around.

Snack aisle. You grabbed some nuts for you and also the chocolate pretzels without thinking twice. Which caused another awkward moment when you placed them in the cart. Was life to be full of awkward moments now?

Eric looked at you bluntly, then forced a smile on his lips. You picked out the favorite snacks of your other roommates as well to show that his wasn’t the only one you remembered.

Whenever you turned into a new aisle you nervously checked if there was a ghost from the past. You never found one and were incredibly relieved when you made it through check out and had stored all the groceries in Eric’s trunk. And the backseat.

„Smartie waved at me yesterday,“ Eric said as the car rolled from the parking lot onto the street.

„Are you sure you didn’t imagine that?“

„It was close enough to be counted as a wave,“ he admitted. Though, talking about penguins broke the tense atmosphere. You hadn’t even been on the road for a minute and Eric pulled into another parking lot. He stopped at a diner drive thru window. „Milkshake?“

„Doesn’t look like I can say no now that we’re here.“

He rolled down his window and you were greeted by a waitress. She asked what she could serve you.

„Two milkshakes,“ Eric turned to you. „What flavour do you want?“

You leaned over to the window. „Strawberry, please,“ you smiled at the waitress and found yourself – too close to Eric’s face. Half leaning on his chest he mumbled a ‚for me too‘. Yep. Life would be full of awkward moments from now on.

You saved yourself to the passenger side and tried to hide the heat rising in your face by looking out the window. In fact you rolled it down to get a cool breeze. No chance, though. Chicago didn’t want to help you with that today.

„There you go!“ The waitress handed your milkshakes to Eric and you carefully made sure that this time your fingers wouldn’t touch. You sipped on your milkshake all the way back to the apartment.

The more often you took the way up and down the three flights of stairs, the more your muscles grew used to it. On moving day your legs had trembled so bad. Now, that all the groceries were up in the apartment you didn’t notice a single muscle being impressed by the stairs anymore.

Eric kneeled at the fridge, you handed him all the groceries that had to go in there. When you fished his blueberries out of the bag you couldn’t bite back a remark.

„Here, Eric. May they taste as good as my apples.“

He just shook his head and put them away. Once all the food that had to be cooled was put away, you stole away to sit on the balcony and finish your milkshake. He actually joined you.

„Why do you want to become a doctor?“ That question slipped faster than you had thought it to an end in your head.

„The obvious reason. To help people.“ He sipped as loudly on his milkshake as you did. „Why are you studying math out of all terrible things?“

„Same reason as yours,“ you bluntly stated.

„Yeah?“ Eric had stared at you ever since you sat down on the balcony. You had noticed that out of the corner of your eye. Now you looked at him as well.

„Yes.“ A smile grew on your lips. That was what you hoped you would be able to do one day.

/////

The evening atmosphere on the balcony was relaxing. Will came and joined Eric and you at some point. Then Christina got back home as well. One after the other found a spot on the balcony floor to squeeze in and contributed to a growing conversation.

It was warm instead of hot and Four provided everyone with beer. Tris suggested to head out to the beach all together soon. Everyone was all hyped for her plan and you hoped they wouldn’t notice that your excitement for that was just nonexistent. Nevertheless you enjoyed them making plans for everyone together. Christina didn’t exaggerate when she said, all those weeks ago when she suggested for you to move in, that all the roommates were like family.

Eric got out of one of the two lounge chairs. „Who wants pizza?“ And that question was the most rhetorical question he could’ve asked his roommates. Because everyone wanted pizza.

In this house pizza was made all by hand. So far the only pizza you had eaten here were takeouts someone brought home. The thought of completely self-made pizza sounded too good to be true.

Eric navigated his kitchen ‚staff‘. It seemed that when it came to pizza, he was the chef.

„Tris and Chris, you’re slicing the veggies. The guys can prep the tomato sauce.“ You waited to get a task too but so far he didn’t trust you with anything.

Eric grabbed flour from the shelf, oil and some water and yeast from the fridge. He placed it all in front of you on the countertop and fetched a bowl out of the cupboard. Balancing some sugar and salt down from the shelf, he came to stand right next to you.

„Did you ever make pizza dough yourself?“ He lowered his head a little for you to understand him better with the loud bantering about the vegetables that was going on behind your backs.

„Not really.“ You were a little overwhelmed. Not even cookie dough was within the realm of possibility for you.

„Wanna try?“ Eric’s voice sounded encouraging. He must’ve noticed the look of horror on your face.

„Don’t blame me if it’s gonna be a total mess.“

„No worries,“ he stated and he lowered his face a little more. „I’ll teach you step by step.“ His body came closer as well. It actually closed that little gap between your sides as he reached for the yeast. He crumbled it into lukewarm water and told you to add some salt and sugar. It had to set for ten minutes until you could continue with the flour. And during those ten minutes you realised that his body didn’t accidentally close that gap between your sides. Eric did it on purpose and he held it there. You sensed he gave you the chance to bring some space between you again but… you didn’t want to. You physically couldn’t, just couldn’t break the contact. It was way too intriguing, almost electrifying. And for ten minutes straight, he lowered his upper body to shield your nonchalant conversation about penguins – of course – from the others.

When the yeast-water-mix was ready, his following instructions were only whispers, so you had to keep close to him. Why was he doing that?

He added the mix to the flour, along with some oil, and dug his hands in to start kneading. The way his hands applied pressure, provided by his arms, made you… look. To say the least. To be honest, it turned into a very distracting sight. Eric kneading pizza dough? Come on. You had to give in and admit to yourself that this was something you couldn’t deny being totally sexy. The arm muscle escalation, whenever he flipped the dough and kneaded in once again set off a chain of thoughts you really didn’t want to have in a kitchen full of roommates.

„Wanna try?“ Eric asked with a brief glance in your direction, luckily unaware of your current admiration for his arms.

„Nah,“ you mumbled. In hopes to keep watching his arms. You were able to do so for a few more minutes. And were entirely embarrassed when you turned around to find Christina and Tris look at you with a mischievous grin on their lips. You deserved that.

From then on you kept a good distance between Eric and you. While the dough had to rest some. Later during making the pizzas and baking them. Only twice you met eyes with him during dinner. He probably didn’t even notice. After all, why did your brain make such a big deal about it? You were certainly not playing in Eric’s league nor was there even profound reason to think about that.

You were just roommates. Former enemies going onto maybe being some sort of friends.

And then there was a knocking on your wall again. Long, long, short. Long, short. GN. You turned to your wall and foolishly smiled at it. When you didn’t respond right away, the knocking was repeated.

Just as you wanted to knock good night as well your phone buzzed. For a second your pulse quickened, wondered if it was Eric because you didn’t respond soon enough.

You fished for your phone and unlocked it. It wasn’t Eric.

you were seen today

Your heart stopped for a second and then started beating in light speed all of a sudden. You opened the chat.

was that your new lover? already got someone new whose life you can fuck up?

or did you break up because of him?

The text messages didn’t end. Peter still understood very well how to provoke and intimidate you.

ANSWER ME

Do you think I’m just gonna let that sit???

You left the chat and threw it into your sheets. It bounced with a thud up and against the wall but you didn’t care. You searched hectically for a paper but all the clothes you grabbed were empty. The phone buzzed again. First you didn’t pick it up, scared it was Peter again. Then you rummaged around your sheets to find it because maybe it was Eric this time asking what that sound was. It wasn’t Eric. Again.

you’ll regret it. believe me y/n

/////

Taglist • @longlostinanotherworld • @dosentier • @dhunhdchrih • @coryisagee

[miraculousandbts]

RM | Sick Day

Summary: You were waiting for your boyfriend, but he doesn’t show up. Turns out he was sick.

Pairing: Namjoon X Reader

Genre: Fluff, fluff, fluff!

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: I don’t think there are any…

You shifted your weight to your left leg. Then you shifted it to your right leg. And you continued doing this for the next minute. You had been standing next to your boyfriend's locker for the past ten minutes, waiting for him to come. Ever since he started school four years ago, he had never missed a day or came in late, so you were really worried.

He was Korean, but his parents had moved to the States. You were his first friend, and he had always complained how he felt like he didn't fit in despite being fluent in English and knowing how everything worked. Three years ago, you both had started dating, and you couldn't have been happier.

Right now though, your brain couldn't help but make dramatic stories. What if some goon saw an innocent Korean, nature and crab loving dimpled guy walking down the street to get to school and decided to beat him up?! What if some idiot decided to drink early in the morning before work and hit Namjoon while he crossed the road?! You really were freaking out. The worst thing was, he wasn't picking up his phone; it was switched off.

Finally, the bell rang, and you furrowed your eyebrows. Namjoon would hate this, but you had no choice. You ran and ducked here and there and finally found yourself outside the school gates. This wasn't the first time you were bunking, but the last time you did so was an year ago, when your boyfriend had caught you and made you promise him that you won't do it again.

You tried calling him again, and sent another text. Pocketing your phone, you walked in his house's direction, hoping to know what happened to him. Luckily, both his parents worked, and he had given you a spare key to his house, just in case.

You reached his house, and rang the bell a few times. When you got no reply, you went in. "Joon?!" You called out. "Jooooon!" Wasn't he home? You looked around. No, the family photos were still there, the refrigerator was still decorated like it usually was. You decided to check his room. You climbed the stairs two at a time, and knocked on his door.

Again, you got no reply. You slowly opened the door. The sight that awaited you was not what you were expecting.

Wrapped up like a human burrito, laid Namjoon, with a red nose and a damp cloth on his forehead. He was clearly sick. "Aw, baby." You pouted and took off the cloth, and pressed your lips on his head. After washing the cloth and keeping it back on his head, you looked for his phone. Being sick is one thing, not answering your girlfriend's phone is another.

You finally eventually found the damn thing under a small pile of papers on his desk. You pressed the power button, but nothing happened. It was clearly dead. "How many times have I told him to charge his phone before bed..." you muttered to yourself, while searching for his charger. By looking at his personality, a person would easily think he was a very neat and clean person, but one look into his room would tell them otherwise.

You plugged his phone in, checking to see if it was charging, or if he had unknowingly broken the charger again. Nothing new in that. Satisfied when it lighted up, you silently moved out of his room to the kitchen. You had been over a lot of times, and often helped his mother in cooking, as you usually stayed for dinner. Taking out the ingredients for a simple tomato basil soup, you stared cooking. (I actually searched 'soups good for cold' and guess what I found? The first result said 'Chicken Noodle Soup'. Go ahead, make comments ;-) )

*****

Half an hour later, you had a plate ready with honey-lemon tea and steaming soup. You carefully climbed up the stairs. Setting down the plate on the floor, you opened the door of his room. You picked up the plate, and kept it on the little space left on his table. Quickly stacking all the papers and books in a corner, you made enough space for the plate so it wouldn't fall down.

"Joon? Babe? Joon." You gently woke him up by caressing his cheek, knowing he loved it when you did that. He slowly opened his eyes, looking disoriented for a while. His eyes finally settled on you. They were filled with confusion by then. You helped him sit up, making sure he wasn't cold. "Y/n." He simply said. You hummed, taking steps in the direction of his desk, to bring the soup and tea.

You took a spoonful of soup, and blew on it, taking it near his mouth. He opened up, but confusion was still evident in his eyes. "You didn't charge your phone again, and I got worried when you won't pick up. So I may have bunked school to search for you. And I found you asleep, sick." You explained. You knew he was going to lecture you for bunking school, so before he could say anything, you began defending yourself. "You are more important to me than trigonometry is. I don't even know why I'm learning that shit in the first place..."

He closed his mouth at this, and silently let you feed him. After the bowl was finished, you took off the coaster you had very smartly placed on top the cup of tea do it wouldn't go cold, and handed it to him. "Don't drop it!" Saying this, you took the plate and the empty bowl to the kitchen and washed them quickly.

After you went back up, you found Namjoon covering himself in blankets. "Lemme help." You grabbed one end of the blanket and wrapped him again. "Thanks." You knew he wasn't speaking too much or too freely because he had a sore throat. You hugged him. "Does it hurt? Your throat?"

"It's better. Thank you. For the soup and tea."

"Anytime." You closed your eyes and shimmied yourself up the bed on the small space he left, hugging him even tighter. "Y/n. Don't come closer, I'm sick. You'll get sick too. Please."

You opened an eye. "At least I'll have a reason for not attending school." You shrugged and relaxed against him again. "Come on y/n. Please. For me."

This was the one time you weren't going to let his cute baby voice or his dimples affect you. You were staying where you were, period. As a reply to his request, you pulled yourself to his head level, and gave him a long kiss on his lips, all the while caressing his cheek. "No." Pulling yourself back down, you closed your eyes yet again, this time trying to go to sleep.

He knew you wouldn't listen, so all could do was go to sleep too. And that's what he did.

Thankfully, your mother knew that you often spent time with your friends and Namjoon after school, so she wasn't worried. But you did give his mother a heart attack of the century when she came home early to check on her son and found you there, sleeping with him all snuggled up.

*****

Let's just say, the next day, your mother asked you to not to go to school because you were sneezing too much.

Is it good is it good is it good? I did all fluff, and I am satisfied. Anyway, I got the idea from Lyradaisical's 'Rain Showers And Shower Showers' on YouTube. It's a Miraculous fanfic, and one of my absolute favourites. Go check it out, if you're interested in Miraculous.

[msmarvelouswinchester]

Invisible String

Summary - Dean Winchester was never a man who would freely speak about his feelings and emotions. The reader, is his best friend of many years but some wrong choices and words of Dean's pushes a the reader away.

Pairing - AU Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings - Fluff (lots of fluff), angst-ish, swearing, mentions of abusive relationship, mentions of bad parenting, cheating

Square filled - Bestfriend AU ( @spndeanbingo )

Word count - 6150

A/N - This is written for @supernatural-jackles' Bi-weekly challenge. The prompts are in bold. Spn dividers by the amazingly talented @talesmaniac89 (go check her blog out) Beta'd by @mariekoukie6661 (she is a sweetheart for agreeing to take a look at this long fic. Thank you💕)

“So what are we watching?” You asked as you slumped down on the yellow couch. You were dead on your feet after a long week of work but you just couldn't break tradition and not hang out with your best friend like every friday. Pulling the comforter close to your body, you let out a sigh of contentment. Truth be told, no matter how exhausted you were, you always looked forward to movie night.

“I picked the movie last friday, now it's your turn,” Dean handed you a bottle of beer and took a seat beside you. Your eyes sparkled with a glint of mischief, a knowing smile appeared on your face as Dean's lips curled up in disgust. “No chick flicks,” he warned.

“I get to call dibs on the movie tonight so I picked,” you paused for a second to create a dramatic effect, “The Proposal.”

“No!” Dean cried out in horror.

“Oh come on, it is not going to be that bad. Ryan Reynolds and Sandra Bullock are in that movie.” you winked at him, making him groan and he picked up a cushion to cover his face, “Now, now don't be so dramatic.” He removed the cushion from his face and glared at you. He opened his mouth to say something but was cut off by the sound of the doorbell. “Pizza's here!” He exclaimed as he got up to open the door. You turned on the tv, opened Netflix and put on the movie.

“I don't understand how we can be best friends,” Dean grumbled as he came back to the room, “you eat your pizza with pineapple on it.” “It tastes good. You should try it one day.” you said and took the two boxes of food from his hand, setting them down on the table in front.

“Are you kidding me? Even if that becomes the only food available on earth, I still won't eat it. You can't put fruits on pizza,” he said, and took a slice from his own pizza and nestled into the comforter beside you.

“Tomato is a fruit, De,” you said, biting into the slice in your hand. You heard him mutter something under his breath which you ignored and shifted your focus to the movie playing on the screen. Halfway through the movie, you yawned and snuggled into your best friend. He wrapped his warm hands around you, pulling you closer to him. “You want to head back now?” He asked softly, leaning in to kiss your forehead.

“Nuh-uh,” you said, “I want to finish the movie. I need to see if Andrew got Margaret back .” That elicited a chuckle from Dean, the vibrations of his laugh shaking your body a little.

“You're so stubborn and they are gonna find each other, it's a chick flick for God's sake,” he said, “they love each other, clearly.”

“Speaking of love, Cas asked me out,” you said, making Dean sit up straight. “What'd you say?” He asked

“Yes obviously. I need to dive back into the dating life,” you shrugged, “and Cas seems like a good guy.”

“He is but I thought you wanted to wait because of what happened with you know ‘ he who must not be named’,” he said, and you picked up the remote to pause the movie.

“I can't live in the past. I need to move on. It has been two years since I've gone on a date and it's not like I'm getting engaged tomorrow. It's just a date,” you said, messing with the loose end of the comforter.

“As you wish. I'm just looking out for you.”

“I know. You always do,” you said, giving Dean a tight hug, “and I kinda miss doing it.”

“Doing what?” “Sex,” Dean's eyebrows shot up, “oh come on, it's not like I didn't use to have sex with….him.”

“So,” he gulped, “so you m-miss doing….it?”

“Kind of. My fingers are not enough, you know what I mean right?”

“Of course, of course,” Dean cleared his throat, blush crept up his neck.

“And it's not just sex, I miss the physical touch, I miss those things that are part of a relationship,” you said, “I need this and I think I'm ready.”

“If you think you're ready, then it's fine. I just don't want to see my best friend with a broken heart again.” he said, his fingers getting entangled in your hair, as he slowly massaged your scalp.

“That feels good,” you moaned, “after that hell of a meeting with Azazel, I needed this night De. Thank you for always being there.”

“You're my best friend. I'll always be there when you need me even if you make me watch stupid romcoms.” he grinned, “Azazel creating problems again?”

“He never seems to approve of the templates and designs I make no matter how hard I try to make them loveable and on the other hand, the shitty designs made by Abaddon always gets approved.” you groan.

“Why don't you change jobs?”

“I can't. It's not that simple. Life's going good. I don't want to disrupt it by going on a job hunt.” you sighed.

“What if you start working for my company?” You immediately turned your head towards Dean and looked at him with surprise clear in your eyes.

“No.” “Why not?

“I'm a graphic designer, De. I'm not built to work in your company,” you said.

“Be my PA. I really need a personal assistant to help me keep upto date with my schedule and I'm a mess after Charlie left.” Dean said.

“But what is my job criteria? That I'm your best friend? It's like taking advantage of you. I can't do that.”

“What if you work as my PA after being interviewed for the job?” He asked. “Fine, maybe I can give it a shot,” you said.

“Awesome! Meet me in my office on Monday, ten in the morning, sharp. I don't tolerate tardiness.” he said, slipping quickly in the work mode.

“Aye, aye captain.” You giggled, but a deep frown soon appeared on your face.

“What?” “What if it messes up our relationship?”

“It won't. I know how to separate my work life from my personal one,” Dean assured.

“I guess, then it's okay,” you smiled.

“So about your date with Cas. Where's he taking you?”

“I have no idea,” you chuckled, “he said it will be a surprise.”

“That's-that's great but he should know that you hate surprises,” Dean raised an eyebrow.

“He doesn't know me very well. I'll let that pass this one time,” you told Dean.

“Fair enough,” he laughed. You yawned once more, as you tried to fight the drowsiness that was threatening to take over you.

“You want to head back home now or you want to crash here tonight, sleepyhead?” Dean smiled.

“I don't think I can drive all the way in such a state. Do you mind if I crash here?” You grinned, knowing very well he didn't mind because you crashed in his guest rooms on most of the Friday nights. He rolled his eyes as he got up from the couch.

“I'll prepare the guest room.” You sleepily nodded at him. You didn't realise you had fallen asleep but you were soon woken up when you felt your body move.

“Sorry, didn't mean to wake you up. I'm taking you to bed,” you found yourself in Dean's arms as he headed towards the guest room with you, “you looked too peaceful sleeping. Go back to sleep.” He softly murmured. Dean gently placed you in the bed, pulling the cover upto your chest as you snuggled into the warmth of the covers. Within a few minutes, you had dozed off.

“Morning, sunshine. Pancakes for you,” Dean's loud voice woke you up from your deep slumber the next morning. You sat up in your bed, as you rubbed the sleep from your eyes, the smell of pancakes hitting your nose.

“Breakfast in bed for my girl. Listen I gotta run to the office now,” he said as he handed you the plate of freshly cooked pancakes to you.

“It's Saturday!” You exclaimed.

“I know but Benny wanted to sign the deal with our company today. It's an important one, we can't let that go out of our hands,” he made you understand, “I'll be back within a few hours.”

“Sufe fing. I wif ve here,” you spoke with your mouth full, “Sure thing. I will be here.” You repeated your words after swallowing your food.

“Maggie will drop by. If you want to leave the house before I return, give the keys to her.” He said as he went back into his room to put his suit on.

“Hot damn,” you let out a low whistle as Dean stepped out of the room in his black suit, “Go get the deal, cowboy!” Dean did a full body laugh at your words, throwing his head backwards before he bid you goodbye and walked out of the door leaving you alone in his penthouse. Finishing your breakfast, you got up and got freshened up for the day. You picked up your phone and saw three texts from Cas.

“Meet me at 7.” “At the Season's 52.” “I'm looking forward to this.”

A smile crept onto your face, as you read the texts from him. “I need your help,” you shot a text to Ruby, “I've a date tonight. I don't know what to wear.” You waited for her to text back but instead of getting a text, you got a call from her.

“He finally asked you out?” She screamed from the other side of the phone.

“What do you mean “finally”?” You wondered.

“Oh come on, Y/N. How long have you two known each other?” “Uh-two months.”

“Two-wait, two months? You don't have a date with Dean?” She asked.

“No! Why would you think that?” You exclaimed, “Cas asked me out.”

“Cas? As in Castiel Novak? Dean's friend? And Dean's okay with it?”

“What's with the twenty questions, Ruby?” You said, annoyed at her questions, “And yes. Dean's fine with it. Why wouldn't he be? He is dating Lisa, in case you didn't remember. Now will you help me? I need a dress for tonight.”

Ruby agreed to go on a little shopping spree with you to find the perfect dress. Handing over the keys to Maggie, the housekeeper, you shot a text to Dean letting him know you were leaving his house. You waited for some time but he didn't text you back. You shrugged it off thinking he was probably busy with the meeting. Your whole afternoon was spent with Ruby as you tried to find a good dress for the date. She made you try on what seemed like a hundred dresses of different colours and style until a green bottleneck dress finally caught your eyes.

“This is a beautiful dress! You gotta try it on,” Your friend insisted.

“You sure? Look at the price - it's too expensive,” you pouted.

“Do you want to get laid tonight?” Ruby quirked her eyebrow.

“Yeah-I mean no….maybe,” you stutter.

“That dress - Cas won't be able to take his eyes off you tonight,” she smiled.

“Fine, if you insist.” Needless to say, the dress was a perfect fit but it was all for nothing.

Tapping on the hardwood of the table, you let out a frustrating sigh. Tears pricked at your eyes as you took a sip of the drink.

“Ma'am do you-are you going to-”

“Please bring the check. I'm done here,” you said, barely managing to keep your tears at bay. The waitress nodded and walked away from your table. You dialed up your best friend’s number and waited for him to pick up.

“Dean,” you said, sniffling a little as he picked up his phone after the third ring. “Y/N, you okay?” Dean asked.

“Yeah, yeah. Can you,” you cleared your throat, “Can you pick me up? I'm at Season’s 52.”

“Sure,” you heard shuffling on the other side, “I'll be there as soon as possible.”

“Okay,” you replied.

“He just didn't show up,” you sniffled as Dean drove yourselves back to his house.

“Maybe-maybe he had his reasons,” Dean said, throwing a worried glance at your way.

“Reasons?” You scoffed.

“Cas is a good man. This is very unlike him,” Dean said.

“Am I-am I not good enough, Dean?” “Y/N, you know that's not true. You're pretty, smart, a little badass - you are a good person with a kind heart,” Dean smiled.

“Then why? Why didn't he show up? He could have left a message. I'm telling you Dean, I'm so over men now. All men are the same,” you looked at him, “except you.”

“Thanks, sweetheart. That is good to hear.”

“I sure do know how to choose,” you grumbled.

“Y/N, it's just one bad date. So what? Cas is not the only man in the whole world. You'll find someone,” Dean said, pulling into his driveway.

“I don't think so. Maybe he was right,” you opened the door of the car to step out.

“Who?”

“Alistair. Maybe he is right. Maybe the problem is me,” you said, tears pooling in your eyes. Dean grabbed your hands and pulled you back into the car.

“No. He is not right. Alistair will never be right. He was an abusive and manipulative son of a bitch. Listen to me, you are not the problem, sweetheart,” he said, “those men just don't understand you.”

“Is that why no one sticks around?” You turned around to face him with wet eyes.

“I did and I will always be there for you,” he said, his hands cupping your face.

“I know, De,” you leaned into his touch as his thumb gently caressed your cheeks. You opened your mouth to speak but were cut off by three harsh taps on the car window. Dean immediately opened the door and stepped out.

“Lisa.” He said.

“Unbelievable, Dean!” Lisa exclaimed. You couldn't see her face but you knew she was furious.

“It's not what it looks like,” Dean whispered.

“You just up and left me in the morning and now when I get back to talk things out, I find you cozying up to her. I'm done with you!” She yelled back. You shrunk back into your seat when you heard her scream. Dean didn't even tell you that he had broken up with her. You wondered why he hid it from you.

“I already said we were over Lisa, just go back home,” Dean said and brought his hand down his face.

“Three years of relationship meant nothing to you! Why?” Lisa shoved Dean, making him stumble back a little.

“I don't owe you an explanation, okay?”

“You cheating asshole-” “I didn't cheat on you, Lisa. I-I'm just not in love with you anymore,” Dean said, making her scoff.

“Have a nice life, asshole!” Lisa said and you heard her retreating footsteps. You stepped out of the car and saw Dean standing against the car, with his face buried in his hands.

“Hey, you okay?” You rubbed his arm gently.

“Yeah. I'm sorry you had to hear that,” he sighed.

“Why didn't you tell me you broke up with her?” You asked.

“It wasn’t important.” “Not important? You let me ramble all the way from the restaurant to your house but not once did you tell me you broke up with her,” you said.

“Y/N, I'm fine. Can we drop this now?” He snapped at you, “I'm sorry.”

“S’okay,” you gave him a sad smile, “I've an idea.”

“Does this idea include booze?” “What do ya think?” “I'm in.”

“What time is it?” You groaned as bright light hit your eyes. The throbbing pain in your head increased as you opened your eyes, trying to focus on the human figure standing in your doorway.

“You got wasted last night, sweetheart,” Dean grinned.

“Stop talking. Just stop talking,” you groaned and nestled deep into your covers.

“Aspirin. You will need these,” he kept the medicine on the nightstand, and walked away, “Breakfast is ready.”

“Morning, how's the hangover?” He gave you a cheeky smile as you walked into the dining room a few minutes later. Dean had his laptop opened in front of him, a cup of coffee beside the electronic device. “You're enjoying this too much, aren't ya? How come you're not hung-over?” You grumbled, “I'm hungry.”

“Here. I made waffles because my heartbroken, hung-over best friend needs her comfort food. Dig in,” he said and pushed a plate of waffles towards you, “I didn't drink much.”

“I thought we were drinking because you had a breakup.” “I told you already I'm not feeling miserable. See there's this girl I like who is not Lisa. I'm thinkin’ of asking her out so I did what I had to do. I ended things with Lisa,” Dean said.

“How come you never told me about this girl?” You narrowed your eyes at him. “‘Cause I wasn't sure how I felt but two days ago I saw her and I just knew that she is the one I want to be with,” he smiled.

“You're such a sap.” You giggled, “she must be very special.”

“She is very special. I have never met a girl like her,” he said, staring at you, “now, eat up.”

“Mhm,” you moaned, taking a bite of the waffles on your plate, “you know, you should give up your business and open up a coffee shop. You make excellent waffles.”

“Sorry sweetheart, no can do. People at work will miss me too much,” he chuckled, “you do remember you are interviewing for the position of PA tomorrow?”

“Yep but I don't know if I will get it or not. I have heard the CEO of the company is kind of a shithead,” you grinned.

“Oh really?” Dean looked at you with amused eyes, “You're terrible.”

“Yeah, so I've heard.” You laughed.

He shook his head at you, “Listen, I have a favour to ask.” “Shoot.”

“I would like it if you could accompany me to Sam and Jess’ anniversary party tonight,” he said.

“Tonight?” “Yeah. I know it's very sudden but it completely sli-”

“I'll go with you but I thought you told me that after what happened with your Dad last time, you wouldn't be attending another family gathering,” you said.

“Uh-huh. Sam insisted that I attend this party,” he replied.

“Fine I'll be there with you at the party to save you from John Winchester,” you giggled.

“You'll be my knight in shining armour tonight.” He chuckled.

You went back to your apartment to get ready for the party. Dean had told you that he would be picking you up at six that evening. As you touched up on your makeup, you heard three knocks on your door.

“Good evening, Y/N,” Dean smirked, looking dapper in a black two-piece suit.

“Good evening, Dean. I'll be out in a minute,” you blushed when you saw his eyes travel all over your body.

“You look beautiful, sweetheart,” he said.

“Thanks.”

“De-” you snaked placed your hand over his, as you both sat inside the Impala with her engine turned off.

“I can't do this Y/N. I can't face John Winchester again, not after the crap he pulled last time,” he gritted out the words, his knuckles turning white as he held the steering wheel tightly, staring off at the direction of his house.

“Why are you here?” He looked at you in surprise. “I-Sam asked me to be here,” he said.

“Exactly. Your little brother asked you to be here so you will go into that house and attend your brother's party. It's up to you if you want to make any small talk, I'll be there with you but Dean you can't avoid your father forever-”

“I'm not avoiding him,” Dean said.

“Yes, you are. Now go in there, ask him why he did that, demand answers from him,” you said.

“I-okay, let's go. Just don't leave my side tonight or someone might get hurt,” he said.

“You're not going to punch your Dad,” you mumbled, “even though he deserves it.” He chuckled at your words as you two stepped out of the car.

“I'll never get used to the fact that you grew up in a mansion,” you smirked.

“It's not a mansion. It's a….big house,” he smiled.

“Yep, whatever you say.” As soon as you stepped through the door of the mansion, Dean was immediately pulled into a hug. “I thought you wouldn't show up,” Sam said, letting go of his brother, “Hey Y/N.”

“Almost didn't,” the older Winchester replied as you gave the younger one a small wave. “He showed up, didn't he? What about Mom?”

“Mom and Dad are in the living room. Last thing I saw they are not speaking to each other even when they are in the same room. I just want everyone to act civil till the party's over,” Sam said, “Drinks are in the kitchen.”

“So kitchen first, living room later. Keep John out of my sight and everything will be perfect,” Dean patted his brother's shoulder and made his way towards the kitchen, taking you with him. Pouring himself a glass, he handed you one.

“Dean,” a deep voice came from the doorway, making Dean stand up straight. “Sam had one job. Dad.” He looked at John and gave him a curt reply.

There was a moment of awkward silence as no words were exchanged between the father and the son. You could feel Dean trying his level best to keep himself from screaming at his Dad. You put a hand on his shoulder, trying to calm him down.

“I know you don't want to see me right now-” “You're right and you may leave now,” Dean said and turned his back towards his father.

“Son. You have to understand, it was a long time back and I didn't know what was going through my head. I-” John sighed.

“You what? You had a perfect family here. A wife, two sons. And all this time, you knew about Adam but you said nothing. You kept up with the charade of the perfect husband and father when in reality you were neither of them,” Dean gritted out.

“Dean. Maybe I was not the perfect husband but I did everything for you and Sam,” the older man said in a harsh tone.

“Really? You did everything? You were nothing but an absent father. I was there to take care of Mom and Sammy while you were away on your so-called business trips when actually you were plowing another woman's field,” Dean growled at his father.

“Dean!” His father snapped back.

“Mr. Winchester you should leave now,” you said, trying to diffuse the situation before it got out of hand, “John, please.”

“This is family matter Y/N. You have no right to get involved in this,” John retorted.

“Don't speak to her like that. She is more family to me than you ever were,” Dean said and stalked towards his Dad, “so you can leave now. I'm sure as hell Mom is not talking to you so you can get the hell out of this house now, John.”

“Dean-” “Now,” Dean growled.

“I would do what he says, John,” you said. John scoffed, turning around and got out of the house. Dean plopped down on one of the chairs in the kitchen, gently rubbing his temples.

“You sure you're okay?” “I need a stronger drink,” he murmured.

“I saw Dad leave. What happened?” Sam came into the kitchen and asked as he looked at his brother.

“I told you to keep John away from me. You had one job,” Dean snapped and stormed out of the room, grabbing a glass of drink with him.

“He just needs some time to cool down. John came to talk to Dean and-”

“Yeah I understood. I'm gonna check on Mom. This party was a mistake,” Sam said and left the kitchen leaving you standing there alone.

You squeezed your eyes shut as you finished up your drink. You were angry at John too. He had hurt Dean, your best friend. He was a liar and you hated liars. You needed to go find Dean. You placed the empty glass on the counter and made your towards the door but you stopped dead in your tracks when you saw him.

“Cas,” you said, “I didn't expect you to be here.”

“Yeah well, Sam is a good friend so he invited me over.” Cas gave you a smile.

“Oh.” You nodded.

“We should probably address the elephant in the room,” he gave an awkward laugh.

“Huh? Oh you mean how you stood me up last night?” You glared at him.

“Well you didn't tell me that you were looking for only a one night stand? I would have backed out sooner. I like you Y/N but I don't do one night-”

“Wait, hold on. Who told you I was looking for a one time, no strings attached thing?”

“Dean told me,” your jaw dropped onto the floor at his confession, “I'm sorry Y-”

“S’okay.” You brushed him off, “I need to have a word with Dean, have you seen him?”

“I think he was talking to Kevin over there,” Cas pointed you towards another room.

“Thanks and it's okay, Cas. We're cool.” You said and almost ran your way into the other room.

“I'm telling you man, you deserve someone better than Y/N. She is clingy and she doesn't take no for an answer. I can give you her number but-” Dean turned around and his eyes locked with your wet ones. You shook your head at him, a look of betrayal evident on your face. You heard him call out to you as you turned on your heels and ran towards the door. “Excuse me, Kevin,” Dean said and went after you but by that time you were already out of the house. “Y/N!” He called, as you pulled out your phone to call for an uber.

“Fuck you!” You exclaimed, “I'm clingy, I don't take no for an answer. Is that what you think of me? All this time while you pretended to be my best friend, is this what went through your head?” Tears were running down your face now, “how many times was I there for you when you needed me and this is how you repay me?”

“I didn't mean to say it like that. You are my best friend Y/N-”

“You are a fuckin’ liar! You told Cas that I was looking for a person to keep my bed warm for only one night. Why? You know what, I don't want to talk to you right now. Leave me alone,” you said.

“No, please,” he took a step towards you. “Don't you dare make a move!” You screamed, “You lied to me and I hate liars more than anything. You are no better than your Dad. I hate you! I regret that I ever thought of you as my best friend.” You heard shuffling behind you and turned around to see him leaving. A sob tore from your throat. Standing there alone on the porch of the Winchester mansion, with your smudged makeup, you waited for the uber to show up.

It took you one hour to finally reach your house. Your phone was getting blown up by messages from the Winchester brothers and Ruby. You broke down in tears as soon as you reached your house. You crawled underneath the covers without bothering to get out of your dress or to remove your makeup. Your body shook as you continued to sob loudly into the pillow. The same man, who acted as your rock when you had left Alistair, gave you shelter in his house when you showed up in the middle of the night because your ex-boyfriend was drunk and was on a rampage, was the one who continued to spew lies about you behind your back. Your trust was shattered just like your heart and you didn't know how to piece them back together. The crying had tired you out and in no time you slipped into a deep slumber with Dean's words haunting your dream.

Morning came way too quickly. You woke up to Ruby knocking on your door along with Dean calling your phone. Your eyes were red and swollen as a result of crying all night long.

“What happened? Who's ass do I need to kick?” Ruby barged into your house as soon as you opened the door as saw you had been crying.

“....Dean.” “Dean? Dean Winchester?” Her eyes widened in surprise which later turned to anger when you told her everything that had happened the day before. Ruby was furious and if Dean was there in the room, he would have been a dead man.

“Oh Y/N,” Ruby cooed as she pulled you into a hug, “I didn't know it was this bad. Sam called me to check on you because you left his house in a hurry. I'm gonna kill Dean Winchester.” You held onto her tightly as sobs racked through your body. She gently caressed your head while cursing the green-eyed Winchester.

You were miserable but what you didn't know is that your ex-best friend was also losing his mind over the incident. The guilt was eating him up alive and he didn't know how to fix it. Sam had punched him in the face and kicked him out of his house when he had told him what happened.

“Tell her the truth or don't ever talk to me again,” Sam had threatened his brother. With red eyes and a swollen cheek, Dean went into his office the next morning. He hoped that after the interview he would get a chance to apologise but you never showed up.

“Okay, Mr. Winchester, that was the last interviewee,” Jody poked in her head into the room. “That was the last? What about uh-Y/N L/N?” Dean asked.

“Uh-she dropped out - called us early in the morning to let us know she won't make it to the interview,” Jody smiled, “I need your decision fast.”

“Decision?” “Who we are hiring for the position of the PA,” she said.

“Sure. I'll let you know. You can go now Jody. Close the door on your way out,” Dean said.

He sighed as he dialed your number, “It's Y/N L/N. She can't get to her phone now. Please leave a message.”

“Y/N, sweetheart I'm sorry. You shouldn't have dropped out of the interview. I know you won't ever forgive me but I'm sorry.” You sniffled as you heard his voice message. He had left you exactly fifty-three texts, twenty three missed calls and seventeen voice messages - all had the same words, ‘I'm sorry’ but you couldn't forgive him.

“Stop listening to that asshat,” Ruby grumbled and snatched your phone from you. “I-I just can't understand why he did that? I thought he was my friend,” you sniffled.

“I'm sorry Y/N,” Ruby took a seat beside you and wrapped you in a comforter, “I brought ice cream with me. I heard they work wonders on a broken heart.”

��And you brought my favourite flavour. Thanks!” You hugged but were interrupted by the sound of your doorbell.

“Stay here. Let me check,” Ruby said and went towards the door. Opening it, she stared at a disheveled, sad Dean Winchester.

“Give me one good reason to not kick you out right now,” Ruby glared at Dean.

“I need to talk to her. Please,” Dean’s voice cracked at the end.

“No you won't. She is miserable and I won't let you break her even more,” Ruby challenged, “Now get out.”

“I don't care if I have to fight you but please let me see her,” he pleaded.

“You are one stubborn, lying piece of shit,” Ruby grumbled.

“Why are you here?” the two heads turned immediately towards you.

“I wasn't sure you wanted to see me but I had to see you,” Dean said.

“And why exactly?” Ruby snapped.

“Ruby. It's okay. Let him in. I need to hear him out.” Dean gave Ruby a side eye and let himself in.

“Y/N,” She started. “I'll be fine," you assured her.

“If you need me to kick him out or kick his ass, just call me,” she glared at Dean once more and left your apartment.

“She's scary,” the green-eyed man said. “Well she has to. She just saw her friend with a broken heart,” you threw him his words back.

“I can't tell you how sorry I am,” Dean said, his head hung in shame.

“Why?” He looked up at you, “I don't know,” he replied, making you scoff.

“You don't know? Well maybe because you actually thought of me to be clingy and the girl who doesn't take no for an answer,” you seethed, “and you even lied to Cas about me. You framed me as some whore who doesn't do relationships. Fuck you, Dean! You knew better than anyone how long it took me to get over Alistair. How could you do this to me?”

“I don't know,” he whispered, “It's just I lied to them because I didn't want them to be with you.”

“It's my life! I get to decide who I want to have sex with and who I want to date,” you hissed.

“Well I couldn't let you make those decisions because I didn't want you to choose them. I wanted you to choose me.” he blurted out. You sat there dumbfounded as you heard his confession, "What? Why?"

“Because...I love you,” Dean muttered.

“You love me?” “Yeah.”

“What are you, a kindergartener? Next thing I know you will be pulling my pigtails,” you sassed.

“I'm sorry. You know I'm bad with feelings-” “So you decided to lie?”

“Yeah.” “You're terrible, you know that,” you said.

“So I have heard,” he shrugged. “Come here you idiot,” you beckoned at him. He went towards you and sat down beside you.

“I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I was just-” “What? You were just fending off the boys?”

“Yeah. At first I was scared that I was falling for my best friend and you knew me, you knew all my horrible secrets, the thoughts that are inside my head which keep me up at night and I was scared that you wouldn't feel the same. I broke up with Lisa for you because whenever I closed my eyes at night I wanted it to be you with me, not Lisa.” You were stunned at his confession. Dean never talked about his feelings, he was extremely good at hiding his feelings so hearing him blurt out about how he felt, surprised you.

“Dean,” you said. “No. I need to say this,” he said, stopping you, “I don't know if you feel the same. Even if you did, I don't think I have a chance after the stunt I pulled yesterday. But sweetheart, you mean everything to me, I swear to never hurt you again. I was planning on asking you out after the party but Kevin had asked for your number so I told him all those lies about you but sweetheart I know what I did….said is unforgivable but please I need you. I need my best friend back.” He looked at you, locking his teary eyes with yours.

“I don't know whether to kiss you or hit you,” you said, wiping away the single tear that rolled down your cheek. “K-kiss me?” Dean’s eyes went wide.

“You are the most horrible person I have ever met. I hate you, Dean but I hate me more that I decided to fall for this horrible person that I call my best friend. Kiss me, before I change my mind,” you said and that's all Dean needed before he crashed his lips into yours. It was a harsh kiss but one filled with longing and love. His hands sneaked to the back of your head, his fingers entangled with your hair as your hands held on to his biceps.

“I'm sorry for hurting you,” he said after he let go of your lips. You sat there with his hands cupping your face, your foreheads touching. “Next time, talk to me,” you whispered.

“I will,” he kissed your forehead, “So Y/N L/N, can I take you out for dinner tomorrow night?” “Definitely Dean Winchester, but mind you I'm tough to impress,” you smirked.

“I have plans, special plans for a special girl. I will make you mine,” he said before he leaned in to capture your lips with his once again.

[knjoodles]

learn to love; jungkook | 02

pairing: teacher!jungkook x singleparent!reader

genre: angst, fluff

word count: 3k+

summary: raising your daughter alone while simultaneously watching your ex-husband live the life of his dreams away from the two of you hurts. badly. it hurts a little less, though, when you find an unlikely friend while looking for help.

lowercase intended

01 | 03 | 04

   it was day two of having to call your nanny for seyoung because you were too busy with work to get home at a godly hour. if it wasn’t for seulgi, you wouldn’t know what to do with yourself. anytime you needed her to cook, clean, or take care of your baby girl, she’d be on the case as soon as she could. seulgi means wisdom. you thought her parents couldn’t have chosen a better name for her.

   like you, seulgi has a passion for music. seulgi recently joined sm entertainment, not as a trainee, but as a songwriter. when she brought you the news that she’d been hired, you couldn’t have been more happy for her. over coffee, she explained to you how they offered her a position as a trainee for her voice, but she insisted she would go on as a songwriter because she loves taking care of children, especially seyoung. although seulgi was so cheerful to let you know, you felt as though you had dragged her down from something she may have considered a dream. as you confessed your worry, she begged you not to, saying she knew she wouldn’t be happy as an idol and that she’d get a larger sum of money as a songwriter. her words calmed you, making you feel like, for once, you haven’t done anything wrong. seulgi was like your second daughter, and you love her just as much as you love seyoung.

   “yes, (y/n), seyoung’s in bed! she begged me to make her something new for dinner, so we made pasta together. i just sent you a picture.” seulgi chuckled through the phone, your call about five minutes in.

   “ i’m so glad you guys had fun. i'm guessing she slept later than usual?” you sighed, relieved. you can always count on seulgi.

   “of course she did, you know how seyoung is.” you could practically see her cheerful smile through the phone. “she said, and i quote, ‘mommy isn’t here today, so i’ll go to sleep as late as i want!’ and about ten minutes after that, she was out cold.”

   “seulgi-ah, i can’t believe how lucky i am to have found you. i don’t think i say this enough, but thank you so, so much.” phone balancing between your ear and shoulder, you fumbled with your keys, pulling open your purse to find them.

   “it’s no problem, (y/n). you and seyoung are like my second family.” seulgi paused, the sound of a door shutting softly from the other end of the line. “and… i've cleaned up seyoung’s room! any plans for tonight?”

   “tonight?” you questioned aloud, finally finding your keys and stepping into your car. glancing at the digital clock on your dash, you realized it was three in the morning, and poor seulgi was still in your house watching over your daughter. “uh, well, i'm going to meet seyoung’s teacher at four, so that’s new.”

   seulgi giggled quietly. “did seyoung do something wrong? i know she’s naughty at home, but i never would’ve thought she would mess around at school!”

   “of course, not, she’s got (l/n) blood in her. we deceive everyone with out good looks and amazing personalities.” you joked, earning a shared laugh. “her teacher emailed the parents asking to meet with us, and i decided to sign up as soon as i could. he sounds really excited to get to know seyoung, so i’d like to get to know him.”

   “fair enough, (y/n)! if i may ask, how far away are you from home?” seulgi questioned, a tone of uneasiness in her voice.

   “about two-ish minutes away? why do you ask?” you answered, silently thanking the world that the traffic wasn’t bad this morning. after all, it’s three in the fucking morning. who other than rebellious teenagers or stressed-out parents are driving at this hour?

   “ah, no worries, then. i have classes today, and i thought i might be late or too tired to go if i stayed.” there was a short pause, the faint sound of your car pulling into the driveway on the other end. “i see you!” seulgi cheered. “i’ll come out to greet you, (y/n)."

   almost trudging out of your car, you emerged from the driver's seat, the garage noisily opening behind you. “hi, seulgi.” you groaned. the headlights of your car reflected against what storage you have inside of your garage, straining your eyes and what energy you had left at this point. seeing her approach, you grabbed onto her hands, holding them tightly and shaking them with a firm grip. “thank you, thank you so much for staying with seyoung this late. i know it inconvenienced you, and i'm sorry about that.”

   “(y/n), it’s fine! i'm just doin’ my job.” seulgi smiled crookedly, her hair falling towards her face. “good night!” seulgi waved, bowing politely before walking out of your garage cheerfully. you smiled and watched her get into her car, making sure she at least got in safe.

   the moment her car was out of sight you nearly collapsed in the middle of your garage from exhaustion. pulling your purse from the passenger’s seat, you closed your garage door, making sure to shut the door into your house from your garage to make sure seyoung was not disturbed. throwing your purse onto your desk in defeat, you pulled off your flats and shuffled towards your dresser. kicking off your pants angrily and throwing it, along with your shirt, into your hamper, you pulled on the nearest tank top you could and tumbled into your bed, allowing your body to be consumed in the sheets. you laid your head onto your pillow, holding your phone up to spot a new notification from seulgi. “oh, the picture.” you thought aloud.

   swiping up to see what she’d sent, a photo of a smiley seyoung, face covered in pasta sauce, greeted you, noodles laying across her face and being gripped in her small hands. it made you smile, seeing how happy your baby girl was. a second picture accompanied it, showing seulgi with a tomato sauce baby handprint on her left cheek, her and seyoung making silly faces.

   you put your phone to charge next to you, happy that your night — or day, rather — had ended on such a happy note. you felt yourself letting go of the ‘family’ mindset. all the family you needed was right here.

   you groaned in annoyance, the sunlight pouring from your window blinding your eyes as you opened them. adjusting your eyes to your current situation, you felt a huge pressure on your chest, wriggling under whatever was sitting on top of you. “mommy, mommy!” a girl’s voice chirped, shaking your shoulders lightly.

   “seyoung…?” you groaned, lifting your head to find your daughter straddling your stomach, smiling happily at you in her purple iridescent pajamas, the sunlight bouncing off of the sparkles creating a disco ball inside your bedroom.

   “mhm!” she nodded her head furiously. “mommy, it’s time for school. your alarm woke me up, but it didn’t wake you up, so i decided to be mommy’s alarm instead!” seyoung explained, letting herself fall onto the unoccupied pile of blanket next to you.

   shaking the covers loose, you emerged from your bed, bedhead and all. making her leave the room so you could quickly change into something more ‘responsible parent’ ready, you followed your marching daughter to her room, letting her pick out what she wanted to wear.  she twirled stylishly, modeling the new navy blue skirt you bought her, something newly added to her school’s uniform. “you look so pretty, se-se.” you complimented sleepily, chuckling at her playful spirit that could rise so early in the morning. it was something you always admired of your daughter, and you hoped she’d never lose it.

   you laughed happily at your daughter grabbing your wrist in determination and leading you back to your bedroom, where your large master bathroom stood. seyoung always told you how much she liked it in comparison to her bathroom, because in the master bathroom, she could sit on the counter and watch you style her hair from almost every angle. you pulled her up to the counter and brushed her hair, the brush falling gracefully, barely meeting a knot in her hair. knowing how much she enjoys wearing colorful clips with her outfits each day, you paired blue butterfly clips with her navy skirt. she seemed to enjoy this, pointing to the matching accessories with a wide grin on her face.

   “se-se,” you called, tieing your hair into a ponytail and putting a jacket on after putting her cereal on the dining table. “eat your breakfast! mommy has to make sure your teacher doesn’t think she looks silly.”

   seyoung’s giggles erupted from the far end of your house, the sounds of her small footsteps pattering against the hardwood floor approaching you quickly. “okay, mommy!” she bounced when she saw you, pausing for a moment before dashing towards the dining table to eat quickly. you chuckled at your daughter’s seemingly endless amount of excitement, reentering your bathroom to clean yourself up. looking up at your nude face, you sighed, spotting how deep your eye bags had gotten. from the time seyoung was born, caring about your looks became a thing of the past, but now, you’re starting to wonder whether or not you should get back on that self-confidence train. because right now, it looks like that train derailed, and even though it no longer has a path, it keeps on chugging. so, in conclusion, a bad thing’s consequences are finally showing up, and without dealing with that first bad thing, another bad thing is bound to happen. lightly dabbing on some concealer and foundation, you fixed the signs of a mother with ‘parent of the year’ button hanging by a thread. looking at yourself once again, you felt a pot of confidence beginning to bubble in your chest. makeup isn’t necessary and never will be, but sometimes, it’s nice to feel nice.

   “i’m done!” seyoung called, the sound of cluttered dishes in the kitchen sink clattering against each other.

   “be careful!” you warned, worried she may break something and end up hurting herself or damaging something else. fear piling up in your mind as you imagined each and every terrible outcome possible, you rushed towards the living room, just to find a calm seyoung sitting on the couch, her backpack securely attached to her back and her legs dangling from the floor. sighing silently in relief, you adjusted your posture, offering your hand to your daughter. “ready to go?” you smiled brightly as you felt your larger palm engulf her soft hand.

   “seyoungie, i’m meeting your teacher today!” you said happily, eyes darting towards the rear-view mirror to see her mid-drive.

   “really?” she smiled, kicking her legs in excitement. “you’re meeting mr. jeon?” her voice became higher, indicating her exhilaration.

   “mhm!” you nodded, amused at how elated she was at this news. “how’s mr. jeon, anyway? do you like him? is he fun?” you asked, wanting to know what exactly made her so enthusiastic about this specific teacher. in the past, seyoung’s always been excited for school, but never her teachers. she’d go on and on about what drama her seven-year-old classmates would have, but never completely ditch the narrative to talk about a teacher.

   “i really, really like mr. jeon, mommy.” seyoung explained, hugging her lunchbox. “on the first day of school, he gave us all these gummy candies that are supposed to be healthy for us, and gave us an extra one whenever we got the names right in the name game we were playing! he did it so we could get to know everyone in the class. and- and then, he showed us his tangerine points! for every time the class does well on a quiz or something, then we get a tangerine point! if we get ten tangerine points by the end of the year, he said we can have a tangerine party!” she squealed, kicking her legs even faster at the thought of treats — it was one incentive for kids, but something completely different for seyoung. she loves snacks, no matter what it is. if you have celery, and you offer her one, she’ll ask for more until you say no. but, then again, who could say no to such a cute face? “oh! oh! and, he’s a super fun teacher. yeah, he makes math fun. and you know mommy, you know how much i don’t like math.”

   “yes, baby, i know. math is our mortal enemy.” you laughed, finally arriving at her school. you looked over the dashboard, searching for an empty spot to park.

   “there he is!” seyoung yelled, slamming her hands up against the window. “that’s mr. jeon! that’s him!”

   “seyoung! you nearly scared the life out of me!” you gripped your wheel in shock, the loud bang of her palms hitting the glass startling you to a point you didn’t even know she could. thankfully, you’d gotten in the spot safely without hitting anyone in the process.

   “awe, mommy, you missed it! now he’s in the school.” she pout, crossing her arms against her lunchbox.

   you stepped out of your car carefully, taking a deep breath of fresh, outside air to calm your senses. “baby, i know you’re excited about your teacher, but you can’t scare mommy like that. we could’ve gotten hurt, you know, and that wouldn’t be fun. if you get hurt, mommy will be sad, daddy will be sad, mr. jeon will be sad, and so will all your friends!” you pulled seyoung out of her car seat, pulling her bag from the spot next to her and handing it to her.

   “what about yubin auntie?” seyoung asked, looking up at you in wonder, still clutching her lunchbox.

   “yes, also yubin auntie.” you swallowed your anger and nodded, knowing that seyoung’s relationship with ‘yubin auntie’ was much more friendly and less backstabbing than yours. “we’ll all be sad.” the two of you walked into seyoung’s school, seyoung greeting her friends older and younger than her and you earning smiles and waves from those you’re familiar with. she led you to her room quickly, where she opened the door to reveal it.

   the classroom was decorated beautifully, bright colors and fun posters and class supplies adorning the walls. the whiteboard was labeled very neatly, with the tangerine point scoreboard drawn in its own box, embellished with cute magnets that were found across the board as well, mostly being used to hold up pieces of paper. you turned to the wall next to you, which held petite hooks where his students could put their bags, a little name tag above each one in each child’s handwriting, decorated the way they liked. your eyes, flying from decoration to inspirational poster and back to a decoration finally landed on the teacher himself, who was leaning over his desk to what looked like thumb through some papers.

   “mr. jeon!” seyoung called, her teacher’s head immediately turning to see who’d called him over, looking to be near your age. “mr. jeon, good morning!” she waved vigorously.

   “seyoung!” he replied, a dazzling smile cracking across his face. you, now getting a good look at her teacher, now saw why seyoung was so enthusiastic about him. with just one word, you could tell just how devoted he was to each and every one of his students. you could basically see the same excitement in seyoung’s eyes reflected in his own. not to mention, he was insanely attractive — but it’s not like seyoung was old enough to worry about that, yet. “good morning to you, too! how are you?"

   “i'm good!” seyoung piped, waddling over to place her bag on her designated hook. “that’s my mommy!” she motioned to you, mr. jeon’s soft, brown eyes immediately meeting yours.

   “ah, the famous ms. (l/n)!” he smiled, walking closer to you. “seyoung, you can sit down until class starts! i’ll talk to your mom for a little bit.” he asked, nodding towards her seat. you’ve never seen seyoung respond to an order from an adult so quickly. honestly, you were a little jealous. “seyoung is quite the talker, but you wouldn’t believe how much she talks about you. and now, day four into the new school year, i can finally meet you!” he offered his hand to you, you holding it lightly to shake it.

   “oh, that’s so flattering,” you chuckled, glancing down at his hand. huh, no ring. “we’re set up for a four pm parent meeting today? i just wanted to pop in to get to know you and see the classroom seyoung goes on and on about. she talks about you a lot, too.” you complimented.

   “yes, we are! and, i’m so happy to hear seyoung likes me and my class. i remember when i was a student, i had this epiphany: a teacher’s job is to teach because they want to teach, so why not make the students come because they want to learn? so, i build my teaching style around that, but, i make sure i don’t distract them too much with the gifts and games. school’s main purpose is knowledge, right?” he joked, laughing heartily.

   “i'm very happy that seyoung is happy at school. you’re truly making her day. i do have to run now, but i’ll see you later at four, hopefully, to discuss seyoung and more about your class?” you asked, adjusting the bag on your shoulder. fuck, did that make you look uncomfortable? well, you’re always uncomfortable, but it’s not because of him nor this conversation!

  while you were in your state of mild panic, mr. jeon flashed you the same energetic smile he gave seyoung. “of course and of course! i look forward to seeing you again, miss…?” he trailed off, hoping to get your name.

   “(y/n).” you replied, feeling confident, though not understanding why your cheeks felt so hot. “(y/n), seyoung’s mother.” you reiterated, adding a fact about yourself you were most proud of.

   “miss (y/n), seyoung’s mother.” he repeated, his face softening to an understanding look, his lips curling upwards. “until we meet again, miss (y/n)." tag list: 

@ggsmashgg​, @childishbxmbino​

[ayellowcurtain]

could you write a fic where after Britt's, Sander goes out to parties and flirts with other people again, so Robbe starts to get away from him, meeting a new alpha, but when Sander finds out he falls into jealousy and in a depressing episode, Senne searches for the only person who can help him, Robbe. yesterday I dreamed of that and who else than you can materialize it! I love this ABO fic

abo sobbe hanging out with friends at a cafe

Robbe is worried, so worried, of course, but he can’t bring himself to do anything. His instincts tell him, scream inside of him even, to keep a safe distance from an alpha that’s clearly struggling.

They’re basically living together since Senne brought Robbe to Sander’s place, but they’ve mostly been living in separate rooms of the gigantic flat. Robbe is sleeping on the couch after a lot of arguing with Sander about it and he’s in his bedroom, barely left the room for the past three days.

Robbe feels stupid. He should have known this would happen. Sander would have an episode and he wouldn’t know what to do. Senne insisted just him being there, where Sander could smell him, it would be helpful, but Robbe doesn’t understand how he just been here, but away from Sander could help in any way.

Maybe Britt was good for Sander because of that, she knew what to do or she left him alone and wasn’t bothered by the distance. Robbe needs to be close to Sander and this emotional distance is getting the best of him. He forces himself out of the couch, even though it’s a really good couch, can probably fit 10 Robbes lying down. It’s probably better than his own bed, but it’s still bad because he’s alone in it.

Leaning forward against the kitchen counter, Robbe tries to find a recipe that’s easy enough for him to follow. He can’t help his eyes to wander to the right, watching the bedroom door still closed, no sounds coming from the inside.

On days like this, it’s hard to separate his emotions from Sander’s, but the fact that he’s up is a good sign. Two days ago it was too much, as soon as he got inside the apartment, Sander’s emotions occupied every inch of his body, they were all over the place and it was overwhelming, even more than overwhelming, it left Robbe in shock, not knowing what to do with himself. Robbe couldn’t stop crying, feeling hopeless, not knowing how to help and to make it stop for both of them.

As he’s putting the homemade pizza dough in the oven, he suddenly feels relaxed, a little more awake and he hears the shower being turned on inside Sander’s bedroom. He should rush to finish their dinner so it’s ready when Sander comes out, but he stops again, sitting on the big marble island, needing to use this to relax too, and so he closes his eyes, almost feeling how his skin would feel with the steamy air wetting his soft skin after hours of sleeping under heavy comforters.

He’s seen Sander take a shower enough times to be able to imagine it perfectly. His head down, letting the water hit the back of his head, his muscles contracting a little as he takes slow and deep breathes in and out. Robbe wishes he was there to kiss him for a minute or two under the hot and relaxing water.

He thinks about sneaking inside the bedroom to collect the dirty clothes, maybe change the sheets if he has time, but he can’t bring himself to stop daydreaming of better days. And if he got closer to the bedroom, the bed still warm from Sander’s body, smelling like him, Robbe wouldn’t resist the urge to lie down and stay there.

He opens his eyes as he stops hearing the water from the shower, he swallows hard and slips back to the floor, trying to think where he stopped with their dinner.

Sometimes Robbe wonders if this is the best for both of them: to be together. It feels like a lot of work and he doesn’t want to bother Sander, Robbe just wants him to have a good, chill life. Maybe he should have kept his distance once the other guy showed up. He was an easy way out, away from Sander, but Robbe doesn’t know how to resist his own feelings. He loves Sander and that’s it. Nobody else.

Robbe opens the two-door fridge, looking for tomatoes to make a fresh sauce, maybe more cheese, some dressings. As he’s putting everything on the counter again, he hears the bedroom door being unlocked.

Sander walks with his head down and his shrunken shoulders. He comes closer and closer and Robbe steps back until his back hits the island and Sander is really not the clingy type, but Robbe lets him be, sinking it all in, sighing as he sits on the island again and Sander buries his face against his neck. His body is heavy, relaxed against Robbe’s and he slowly puts his arms around Robbe’s waist, not really touching him.

“I’ve missed you,” he whispers against the neck and Robbe tries to hold back the shivers going down his body, playing gently with Sander’s hair.

“I missed you too, but I can wait…” Robbe kisses Sander’s temple, looking at how his hair is still a little damp on the tips and in the back of his head, “I made pizza for us!”

Sander nods his head but doesn’t answer, moving his face just to bury his nose even deeper against Robbe’s neck, taking a deep breath in. He’s relaxed, comfortable, but still melancholic. He wants to hug him so tightly, but Robbe is not sure if Sander is really comfortable for that type of touch now.

“I still need to put cheese and let it melt for a little inside the oven. Can you help me?”

It takes a moment, but Sander finally moves away from his neck, his eyes still mostly closed, sighing and looking at Robbe.

“Yeah, of course.” He sounds annoyed, but also kind of pleased.

“You don’t have to…” Robbe says softly, smiling, and trying to comb Sander’s hair out of his face.

“I know, but if I don’t force myself to do something now, it’ll take double the time to end this…”

Robbe nods his head even though he’s not sure he should agree with that. Sander forcing himself to do something doesn’t sound the best way to go about things, about his episodes when just a few hours ago he was still very much inside his own head, not thinking clearly.

“I know how much I can push, don’t worry,” Sander answers all his doubts and Robbe smiles kindly, jumping off the counter, feeling Sander’s eyes following him as he opens the oven, taking their pizza doughs out, crispy and looking like bread, just like he likes his pizzas to look like.

He shows and tells everything he’s doing like Sander is a student and he’s the best pizza maker ever. Sander helps him slice some cheese and put some extra sauce on his, listening to Robbe while he tries to tell him how the last couple of days went, hoping to help Sander distract himself.

“I think we did well,” Robbe says, looking at the two plates with two perfectly cooked cheese pizzas with tomatoes on the top ten minutes later. Sander doesn’t feel like a fancy dinner, so they’re going to eat sitting on the island, drinking iced water that Sander loves so much.

“Didn’t know you could cook.” Sander kisses the top of his head and Robbe looks at him, smiling, gently touching his face with his fingertips, so happy to have him awake and present.

“I learned tonight.” Robbe grabs his phone, sitting on the kitchen island since this morning when he talked to Senne, and he takes a picture, sending it to all their friends, instantly getting a bunch of replies of how good it looks, a bunch of happy emojis, probably happy about being two plates, not just one.

They eat in silence, it’s a good type of silence. Robbe doesn’t need anything else. His insecurities can be dealt with later, but he forgets Sander can feel what he feels just like Robbe did with him this whole week.

“I love you. Thank you for staying. You don’t know, but everything is a lot easier to deal with when you’re around.” He looks at Sander, avoiding to meet his eyes, finishing his pizza. And Robbe smiles, kissing his jaw, putting his pizza aside to finish later, it’s much more interesting watching Sander right now.

[katefiction]

Revolution, Part 4

by katefiction (Maria) / 2014

Driving on the deserted out skirts of Redfern had become our new favourite pastime. Back home, we loved to go for walks together. William would often take George on an early morning walk while Kensington Palace gardens were still closed to the public, and occasionally I would join them. It was the only sense of liberty we had back in London – a liberty that was confined to the gates of the palace grounds.

Iowa couldn’t be more different. The sun sizzled on our skin and stabbed into our eyes, and while we loved this weather, we couldn’t walk for long without George needing shade and water. So going for drives became our thing. You only had to drive ten minutes from Redfern to feel like you’d escaped for the day.

On that January day, we had needed somewhere to escape to. The news a few weeks earlier that the queen may be returning to the UK had tested us. There was the initial relief that she was safe and well, and the gladness that the Republic was losing their hold. Then came the worry that a renunciation of the Revolution would put us in danger from the people that wanted William out of the country so badly. Lastly came the realisation that we had to make a decision about what we wanted to do.

William had continued to work hard on the farm, but there were times when he became distracted and injured himself or wasted the milk by dropping it all over the ground after he’d spent an hour milking the cows. On that day, he’d accidently tripped over a bucket and kicked it so hard in frustration that it almost smashed Bette’s window. It was her who ordered him to ‘take a long break’.

So there we were, driving with our windows down, George in his new car seat at the back jabbering away to Ronald who was tucked safely under his arm.

William parked up at Rock Creek, a nature park formed of high and varied rocks and trees, and centred by a large pool of water. Bette had suggested it to us as somewhere relaxing to visit, it was the kind of place that you could hear the insects chirping in the grass.

We found ourselves a nice deserted spot right by the creek, and sat down on a large set of rocks. William picked up some small pebbles on the ground.

‘Here George, let’s try and skim them’ he threw a pebble in and it managed a small skim before it slid into the water.

He handed George one who threw it into the water with a plop. He laughed hysterically at the water splashing up from the surface and William gave him another one. He repeated the manoeuvre and we laughed with him as we watched his joy at throwing the stones in.

William took him closer to the water, crouching down to hold his body close to him.

‘We’re running out of pebbles here!’ he said as I watched from my seat. George flung his free arm about, impatient for another stone, his other holding on to Ronald.

‘Hold on, hold on’ William said, scrambling around to find one big enough.

But it was too late, because George had lost his sense of co-ordination and in his eagerness to throw another pebble in, hurled Ronald into the water instead.

The three of us paused in silence for a moment, before the piercing sound of George’s cry broke into it. I leapt up and rushed over to him.

‘It’s ok baby, it’s ok’ I said, stoking his face, while Will cuddled him close.

Ronald was bobbing up and down in the water and drifting further from us. William jumped into action and found a stick from the side of the creek. He knelt onto the bank and reached as far as he could, but to no avail.

George’s face was red from the wailing for Ronald, a look of despair covering it.

William looked over to him, ‘right’ he said, rolling up his jeans.

‘You’re not?…’ I said.

‘I am’ he replied, taking off his boots and socks. He stepped into the murky water with determination.

‘Fu-libberty jibbet!’ he shouted, ‘this is colder than it looks’

I giggled, and William’s reaction stopped George from crying too. ‘Be careful, you don’t know how deep it is’

He continued to walk and I threw him the long stick to use so he could feel how deep the water was getting. By the time he’d reached Ronald, he was chest deep in the green water.

‘Victory!’ he shouted, holding Ronald up like a trophy at George.

I held George’s arms up and waved them around as if we were greeting him from years away at war.

William emerged from the bank with the water dragging down his clothes. A flutter jumped in my stomach at the sight of him dripping wet, heroically carrying Ronald.

George lifted up his arms to try and grab him, ‘Ro Ro Ro Ro’

‘He’s dirty pumpkin, we’ll give him a good wash when we get home ok?’ I said, stroking his hair.

But George was just like his father, stubborn to the end, ‘Ro Ro Ro’ he screamed.

William lifted him off the ground and spun him around, throwing Ronald to me as he did so. He was an expert at distracting George. He pointed out the trees and the bugs and made them sound like the most exciting thing he’d ever seen. When George wriggled, he took off his shoes and they paddled together in the shallow water.

George jumped up and down in the water, delighted by the trickles between his toes.

‘Come on mummy’ William beckoned.

I took my shoes off and joined them, ‘well done’ I said and kissed William on the lips, careful not to let him get my clothes wet too.

He smiled coyly at me and I blushed.

‘Lupo would love this’ I said looking up at the canopy of trees that covered us.

‘He would’ William said with a slight sadness. ‘You miss him, don’t you?’

I nodded, ‘like crazy’.

‘And everything else?’ William probed as he helped George make a little moat in the mud.

‘I miss my family, of course, and our home…’ I stopped, realising that he was trying to make our decision easy. ‘What are we gonna do Will?’

He paused, ‘What do you want to do?’

‘Don’t put this on me, please’ I begged.

‘I’m not, I just…’ he sighed, ‘all I care about is making the two of you happy, I don’t want you to regret anything’

‘We have to make this decision together’ I said.

‘I know, but I still need to know your opinion’ he smirked.

‘I miss home’ I began. ‘But I don’t know how I would feel about going back now’

I clenched my hands together, thinking about how our carefree life would be over if we went back.

‘So you’d like to stay?’ he asked.

‘Maybe’ I said non-committedly. ‘You like it here too though?’

He looked up at me, ‘of course, it’s everything we ever wanted. You know, six months ago, I didn’t think I’d need to ask you if you wanted to go home’ he laughed.

‘You can be quite persuasive when you want to be’ I said, kicking some water in his direction before changing tact. ‘What if your grandmother needs you to come home? And your father?’

William exhaled, ‘Maybe I’ll have to tell them that I can’t’

I watched him and George play together, and wondered if he meant it. William had always wanted this freedom and now that he had it, it was everything he expected. Was it really going to be so easy to let his past go?

*

We drove back that afternoon with a renewed sense of energy. William’s mood had improved and we had accepted the fact that there was nothing we could do until something happened back in London.

We cruised back into Redfern at a leisurely pace. Halfway home, I noticed his brow crease and his eyes dart back and forth from the rear view mirror.

‘What’s the matter?’

‘There’s a car behind us…don’t turn around’ he said as I turned my head. ‘It’s been following us all the way from the creek’

I stretched to look through the mirror to see a dark blue saloon car behind us. ‘Are you sure you’re not being paranoid? This is the main road back into town’

‘Let’s see what happens if I turn off the main road’ he said, keeping one eye on the mirror.

At the next turning we found, William drove into it without indicating or slowing down as he usually would. A few moments later, we saw the car turn after us.

‘Shit’ he whispered.

‘Can we just go back to the farm, it’s probably nothing’ I said anxiously.

William slowed when we got to a lay by and turned the car around to get back onto the main road. This time the saloon didn’t follow, but carried on down the small lane.

‘See I told you’ I said with mock confidence.

William, however, didn’t say another word until we got home.

*

The dark drew in quickly that evening, the worry over the car hung over us like a cloud. William was quiet, but affectionate, occasionally giving my waist a squeeze as he brushed past me in Bette’s kitchen. We were over there for dinner, which had become a regular occurrence.  William and I would cook for all of us while Bette entertained George.

The two of them went outside to pick some tomatoes for the dinner, leaving William and I alone.

‘Talk to me, what’s going through your head?’ I said, once Bette and George were outside.

William sighed, ‘I don’t know what to think’

‘Yes you do – you just don’t want to tell me’ I said bluntly, as I flipped a steak at the stove.

He looked up, pausing from chopping up the vegetables to see how annoyed my expression was.

‘You’re acting like you did the night you left. You don’t have to hide things from me’ I continued.

‘I’m not…’ he mumbled.

I returned his gaze, giving him a look that said I wasn’t prepared to be kept in the dark again.

‘Why now?’ he said, giving in. ‘Why are we being followed now?’

‘What do you mean?’ I said, relieved that he was letting me in.

He placed the knife down and leant against the counter. ‘We’ve been here for months, and it’s been weeks since the news about Granny going back to London. Something serious must be happening back home for them to be watching us’

I ran my fingers over the back of his neck to relax him, ‘we don’t know if that car was even following us Will’

‘You really think that was a coincidence?’ he asked.

I thought for a second before I spoke, ‘I think that if we want any kind of life here, we can’t be paranoid all the time, what kind of life is that going to be for George?’

He looked at me guiltily and then said, ‘I won’t put him in danger’

I put down the steak flipper and put my arms around his waist, ‘we’ll try and get the radio on tonight, see what’s happening’ I said more calmly than I felt.

He nodded and kissed the top of my head.

The door flung open and Bette and George tottered in, George carrying a basket of tomatoes, ‘it’s getting windy out there!’ Bette remarked.

William and I got back to the food, not wanting to waste any time so we could listen the radio as soon as possible.

‘What’s up with you two?’ Bette said, pushing wisps of hair from her face that had been flustered by the wind.

‘Just hungry!’ William said cheerily. ‘Thant’s all!’

After dinner, we told Bette that we would be happy to do the washing up. She thanked us for being ‘good kids’ and left us for an early night. As soon as she was out of ear shot, William clicked on the radio and turned it to the station we’d found a few weeks ago. We’d done this a few times since, when Bette was out of the house, but were yet to hear anything new.

After half an hour of slow dish washing, the news bulletin jingle began, and our ears pricked up.

‘News from Britain tonight, the Conservative and Labour Parties have formed an emergency coalition government this morning. After weeks of dissent against the Green Party, the Prime Minister stepped down, leaving his Party to flounder. Now comes news that the Queen is back in the country. Unconfirmed sources say she’s been holding emergency meetings at Windsor Castle to determine what action to take amid the rapid decline of the Green Party and the Republic. The Republic are still in control of Buckingham Palace, but large protests have been taking place in the last two days from members of the public. We spoke to a political reporter at the scene earlier’

Over the crackle of the radio, an English voice began to speak with the jeers of what sounded like hundreds of people in the background.

‘We’re here outside Buckingham Palace, where people continue to stream into this landmark to protest against the Republic. As you can hear, the atmosphere is tense to say the least. The Green Party have insisted that the Republic have had no influence on their politics, yet the country has aimed its anger towards the group who spearheaded the Revolution last summer. While never officially dissolved by law, there is widespread support for the return of the Monarchy; however some still insist that they have no place in 21st Century Britain’

The voice switched back to the Iowan radio DJ, ‘and now for a weather warning, torrential rain and winds…’

William switched the radio off with a heavy click. We looked at each other, and I imagined my expression was the same as his. The look that said the storm was rolling in.

*

Once I had bathed George, William took over and sat with him on the couch as he drank his bottle of milk. I leant against our bedroom door frame and observed him entertaining George with his exaggerated hand movements and voices.

‘ “Fee-fi-fo-fum, I smell the blood of an Englishman,” cried out the ogre; “I smell him, wife, I smell him” ’ he said, growling at George, then changed his voice to a high pitched cackle.  ‘ “Do you, my dearie?” says the ogre’s wife. “Then if it’s that little rogue that stole your gold and the hen that laid the golden eggs he’s sure to have got into the oven.” ‘

George chuckled and so did I.

‘Right that’s quite enough excitement for one night Georgie’. He closed the book that was on his lap, scooped him up over his shoulder and carried him into the bedroom. ‘We’ll see what happens to Jack tomorrow’

‘You make quite the scary giant’ I said when he’d joined me on the couch a few minutes later. I stroked my hands over his back and leant against his shoulder. ‘Are you ok?’

‘I’m fine, just tired’ he said, slipping his hand between my knees. ‘We’ll talk tomorrow’

‘The last time you said that, you weren’t there in the morning’ I teased, poking him in the ribs.

‘I’m not gonna leave you again’ he said sternly.

There were times I had to push William to open up and talk to me because I knew he needed to. Then there were times that I needed to give him time to untangle his own thoughts before he could relay them to me. This was one of the times where words weren’t appropriate.

I curled closer to him and kissed along his jawline and felt his body relax immediately. He leant back in the seat and closed his eyes as I moved my hand under his shirt and stroked his torso which had become defined and hard since he’d been working on the farm. I swiftly positioned myself on his lap, and although his eyes were still shut, he knew my body well enough to hitch up my skirt and tug down my underwear in one seamless movement.

We were only kissing for a few minutes before I unbuckled his belt and pulled down his zip to release him. This wasn’t a time for whispering sweet nothings; it was a time to give him the release he needed. As I slid on top of him he clutched my behind and dug his face deep into my neck, letting out low, heavy murmurs of pleasure.  

William held onto my hips as I grinded into him, willing him to forget his worries for just a moment. And forget them he did because his final murmur became so loud that when he was ready, I pushed his head into my chest to soften the noise.

He tilted his head back when it was over, and it was only after he’d regained his senses that he pulled me close and whispered a grateful ‘thank you’ into my hair.

*

Encouraged by the radio report, we decided that the next day, we would try and find the crow man again to use his mobile phone. I hadn’t told William out loud that what we’d heard on the radio had bought me round to his way of thinking. I now agreed that the blue saloon probably was following us, but couldn’t admit it to him. I desperately wanted to be right about him being paranoid so had dug my heels in and insisted it was a coincidence. But deep down, I knew there was more to it, and I knew the reason I had denied it was because I didn’t want anything to ruin the life we’d created for ourselves.

Late afternoon on the Monday, I walked into town alone to try and find him. It was another hot, cloudless day, so William had stayed at home with George. Crow man was a creature of habit and we often saw him digging around in the old antique shop.

As I rounded the corner of the main street, my hair in a messy pony tail and dressed in a second hand t-shirt and denim shorts, I savoured the moment. I had always thought of America as the king of the media-driven world; a commercialised and plastic place that would never be somewhere I’d want to live. Four years before, we had visited Los Angeles and saw for ourselves the frenzy that we caused.

Now everything had changed. America had provided us with the safe haven we needed and we’d grown to love it as home. We loved the way we could walk in public looking a mess and no one cared. We loved that George could run free and grow up with a life without cameras in his face. Most of all, we loved being Bill, Libby and Alexander, an anonymous generic family, just like everyone else.

I turned around to enjoy the rustic main street of Redfern, wondering if we’d be able to stay here much longer. As I looked into the rapidly setting sun, a shift of darkness caught my attention next to the butchers. In a second it was gone, but as I turned around once more, I saw it again.

In the doorway of the butchers stood a tall figure, dressed all in black. I turned forward again, pretending I hadn’t seen him. No one in Redfern would wear dark trousers, heavy boots and a thick jacket. My heart rate quickened as I passed Mary’s and neared the antique shop. I peered through the glass of the shop, hoping to see the old crow, but all I saw were full shelves of antiques.

I suddenly became aware of being the only person on the street. I stayed still at the window for a moment longer and squinted. In the reflection of the glass, I could see the man. He’d followed me down the street and was now on the other side of the road, hands stuffed in his pockets, looking into the thrift store. Now I had a better look of him, I noticed his short, almost shaved blond buzz cut and stony features.

The sweat on my hands started to seep out and I wiped them hastily on my shorts. Moving cautiously, I turned back the way I’d come, willing myself not to run. From the corner of my eye, I noticed him sauntering behind me.

After a few steps, I looked up, and like a guardian angel, saw the sign for Mary’s Inn above my head. Without hesitation, I slipped through the wooden door and slammed it shut behind me. I leant against it, my chest heaving.

‘Don’t you look spooked?’ a voice said from the stairs.

‘Mary, hi’ I said breathily.

She appeared from the staircase, with an expression of pleasure at seeing me, which quickly turned to concern.

‘You ok Libby?’ she said.

I nodded and gulped down my panic. ‘Yeah, I just, there’s just…’

I couldn’t tell her, of course I couldn’t. What would I say? There’s a strange man following me, call the police? I turned to look through the window that was so dirty; it barely let in any light. I couldn’t see the man.

‘Are you hiding from someone?’ Mary said, pressing me.

‘No’ I replied too quickly. I realised I needed a reason as to why I was in here. ‘Um, I was wondering if you knew how I could find someone’

‘Sure’, concern was still in her voice.

I licked my lips which felt completely dry and pulled myself away from the door. ‘I don’t know his name; he likes to collect things though’

Mary looked puzzled and I suddenly felt frustrated. Having access to the phone was more important now than ever.

‘He’s short and hasn’t got many teeth’ I said, waving my hands around ‘…he likes shiny things and is always in the antiques shop’. I cursed myself for never asking him his name.

‘Ohhhh’ Mary said and I breathed a sigh of relief, ‘Jim? Yeh he lives a couple rows behind us. You’ll know his place, it’s the one with all the crap in the front yard’

I thanked her and made to leave.

‘Are you sure you’re ok?’ she said before I could.

‘Yep’ I said chirpily as I approached the door, ‘I’ll see you soon ok?’

Her voice was anxious as the word escaped her lips, ‘Kate?’

I froze on the spot.

She knew.

My mouth dried up again as my blood ran cold. ���How did you…?’ I said, turning to face her.

‘This may be a small town, but you guys are pretty well known’ she said, offering a smile. ‘Plus that rock on your hand didn’t help’

I looked down at my left hand, which just had my wedding and eternity ring on it. I’d taken my engagement ring off after William had suggested that it was a giveaway of who we were. 

‘You’ve known all along?’ I whispered.

Mary shrugged, ‘yeah’

I backed away, feeling the panic slowly rising. Mary reached out, seeing that I desperately wanted to leave.

‘You don’t have to worry’ she said, her face soft with kindness, ‘I haven’t told anyone, I swear!’

I shook my head, my instincts failing me. I didn’t know whether to believe a word she was saying. What if she was holding me in here while the man waited for me outside? What if they took me the way they had taken William?

I suddenly felt the gravity of what had happened to him on my shoulders. How could I have been so cold and uncaring when we first found him? If he felt even half the terror that I felt now, I had no right to have punished him the way I did.

‘Please just let me go’ I said shakily.

She looked dumbfounded for a moment, ‘of course you can go’

‘Will he be waiting for me outside?’ my voice was more confident now.

‘What? You mean that guy that’s outside? I thought they were your bodyguards Kate? They’ve been here for weeks now’

They. That meant there were more of them lurking in the shadows.

‘It doesn’t matter’ I said suddenly.

Mary’s expression turned to one of pure bewilderment; the sort of confusion that was hard to fake. I turned again to leave.

‘Wait! Is everything ok? I saw on the news what’s been happening in London. Can I do something to help you guys?’

I considered for a second that I could ask to use her phone, rather than give every last thing we owned to the crow man. But it was too much of a risk. William and I had only used the crow man’s phone, thinking it was safe, but at that moment, nothing seemed secure anymore. Should we have used a different phone every time?

‘No…no thank you’

‘Wait – here’. Mary grabbed a pen from the bar and scribbled something down on a newspaper that was lying there. She tore the scrap off and handed it to me. ‘I know you don’t trust me, I can see it in your eyes, but if you need anything, this is my number’

I took the torn piece of paper and pushed it into my back pocket. Despite my reservations, I couldn’t help but thank her again.

She nodded and said ‘Sweetie, if I was gonna call the local paper about you, I would’ve done it by now. Good luck’.

It was her way of saying good bye.  

I left Mary’s just as the sun had begun to set. Looking furtively left and right, I was relieved yet anxious not to see the man anywhere. I wanted to get home before it got dark, so power walked the short distance to Jim’s house, listening out for any noise behind me.

Mary was right about how easy it would be to find his home. The small square patch of grass in front of the house was covered in rusting garden furniture, Greek style statues and other little ornaments. I weaved through it all and gave the chipping door a quick rap.

It opened a few inches and I saw the crow man’s nose come into view.

‘Hi Jim! Just me!’ I tried to sound normal, using his name for the first time in six months.

‘Oh hey there’, he said widening the door. The hallway behind him was just as I’d imagined; cluttered floor to ceiling with piles of what could either be junk or antiques.

I cut to the chase, ‘I was hoping to use the phone again’

‘No problem ma’am’ he limped off and returned again with it in his hand.

I pulled out a large wad of dollars from my pocket. He eyed the money and scrunched up his nose. For such an inoffensive looking man, he drove a hard bargain. I noticed his eyes were fixed on my left hand; I didn’t need to read his mind.

‘Pretty ring’ he crowed, and I thanked the heavens that I wasn’t wearing my engagement ring. I looked down at the eternity ring William had given me. A simple band that was circled with diamonds. I was astonished when William presented me with it, and chided him for spoiling me. He, in return, grinned widely because he knew how touched I was.

I pushed my sentimentality away, ‘if you want this, then I think I should be able to keep the phone’

He screwed up his nose again.

‘You know it’s fair’ I said, the fire retuning to my belly.

‘Oh alright’ he said, displeased, and handed me the phone. I slipped off the ring, clutching it in my fist for a moment before dropping it into his palm.

*

My journey back to the farm was taken at a run once I got onto Bette’s land. The wind had started to blow, sending the dust into my eyes. Above me, dark clouds loomed.

I burst through the door of the outhouse, out of breath and sweating head to toe.

William was playing with George on the floor, chasing after him on his hands and knees. ‘There you are! What took you so long?’

He took a proper look at me, and got off the floor, his face grave, ‘what’s happened?’

I relayed the whole story from start to finish and watched as he squeezed the back of the couch to control his anger, or maybe it was fear.

‘We need to get out of here, first thing tomorrow’, he said, and I could see the cogs turning in his mind.

‘What if they come for us tonight?’ I said, panicked.

‘They know you’ve seen them; they’ll be expecting us to leave straight away. Call your parents, and tell them we’re moving on’

George began pulling at my leg and I picked him up and pressed my lips against his head before taking out the phone and switching it on.

The battery sign flashed aggressively at me. It was on its very last legs. ‘I think there’s only enough battery left for one call’

‘So?’ he said, pacing the room.

‘So, don’t you want to call your family too?’

He walked up to me and cupped his hands around my face, ‘it’s ok baby, just call them’

I pressed down the off switch, ‘I’ll do it later tonight’.

As much as I wanted to, I had to give William the option of contacting his family instead. They were, after all, the ones in danger. My mother had re-assured us that she’d passed on all of our messages to Harry, but William hadn’t spoken to a single member of his family since we got here. He’d always put my needs before his.

‘Will’ I said nervously. ‘Are you sure this is what you want?’

His brow furrowed. ‘I thought we’d decided not to go back, have you changed your mind?’ I couldn’t tell whether it was curiosity or hope in his voice that I heard.

‘No’ I said honestly, shifting George to my other hip. ‘But this needs to be a joint decision. I know you want to make me happy, but if you want to go home…’

‘You love it here. We love it here’ he said, touching Geroge’s arm. ‘And wherever we go next, we’ll love too – once we’re settled’

‘Yes but your family, they need you -‘

‘Shh’, he placed his fingertips over my mouth to reassure me, but I could saw a flicker of pain pass over his eyes. ‘They’ll be ok, we’ll go back one day – to visit – this is our opportunity, we’d be stupid not to take it’

I nodded. I’d only thought briefly about where we’d go and what our lives would turn into next. There were a million questions to consider. How would we make money when we left the farm? How would George get into a school? What would happen if we ever needed medical help? It’s not like we were there legally.

But these weren’t the questions that were bothering me; those would be sorted out eventually. Deep down, all William wanted was freedom for the three of us. Neither of us had considered it would come at such a high cost. The battle in my mind swarmed around my head. William was willing to give up his family and his duty for us, yet if it wasn’t for George and me, I knew he’d be on the next plane home.

We ate dinner in silence as the wind and incoming rain lashed against the windows. At intervals, both of us snapped our heads around when the gusts created particularly loud bangs against the house. It would have been funny in any other situation; the way we looked up in unison like meerkats every few minutes. Dread filled our little home, but this time, mercifully, William had chosen not to hide it from me.

Later that night he blustered around the house collecting everything we might need on the road the next day. I knew I wouldn’t be sleeping, so told him to leave the packing to me.

‘We need food for the bus journey’ he said frantically.

We didn’t know where we’d be going, but had decided we’d take the first bus out of town, which left at six. We couldn’t steal the pick-up truck.

‘I’m gonna go into Bette’s pantry and take some food’ William said. It was too late to go out and buy supplies and it would be too early to buy some the next day.

I agreed that it was the best idea. Bette had been so good to us, and stealing from her wasn’t something we wanted to do. But it was the only option we had. William waited until around ten when he knew Bette would be asleep before leaving, the wind slamming the door shut behind him.

George slept soundly in his cot despite the noise while I packed the rest of our things. I marvelled that while William had arrived here with nothing, and George and I with just three bags, we’d somehow managed to amass piles of belongings.

There were clothes strewn over our bed, and toys and books all over the floor. I knew we couldn’t take it all, so carefully chose George’s favourite things and placed them into the bags. I picked up Ronald from the cot and breathed in his freshly washed scent. I reminded myself not to forget him tomorrow.

‘What’s going on?’ a voice said behind me.

My heart almost jumped into my throat and I whipped around.

‘God, Bette you scared me’ I said, touching my hand to my heart.

Bette was standing in her dressing gown, her already wispy hair standing up, and her face tired.

‘I heard a noise downstairs and when I looked out the window, I noticed your light still on’ she looked over at the mess in our bedroom, and at the bags on the floor. ‘Where you going?’

My mind buzzed. We weren’t going to tell her we were leaving. It would be safer for her that way. ‘We’re just going away for a few days’ I said, averting my eyes from hers.

‘Bill didn’t say anything about wanting time off’ her brow creased.

‘I know it’s a bit sudden, but I’ll get him to drop in to explain tomorrow’ I walked into the living room, collecting a few more bits along the way.

It was wrong to lie to her; William wouldn’t do anything of the sort.  Bette followed behind me, I still couldn’t look at her.

‘We’ll be back before you know it’

‘Sure you will’

A force slammed into my back, knocking me forwards. A wash of blurs flooded my eyes and my legs buckled, sending me down before I had time to think. In that millisecond, my heart sped up, and my body became rigid with shock. The last thing I heard was the crack of my head hitting the floor.

*

I opened my eyes a fraction, so they were just slits. Black and red dots danced in front of them. It was a moment before I registered the rest of my body, my legs felt like jelly, yet my back was tight, the muscles pulling in every direction. My face was squashed against the cold floor and as my senses returned, I smelt something metallic near to me. Blood.

My arms were outstretched and I wiggled a finger. It hurt, in fact my whole body hurt. That moment of realisation that I was alive and still moving was replaced in an instant.

‘George?’ I said, yet it came out as a whisper.

‘George?’ I repeated. I pushed myself up, unsticking myself from the floor. I looked around the room, letting it come back into focus before I tried to stand up.

When the room stood still, I grabbed onto the back of the couch and hurled myself to my feet. It was too quick and the blood rushed to my head. I placed a hand on my temple, and when I took it away, my fingers had turned bright red.

‘Will?’ I croaked. ‘George?’

I stumbled into the bedroom. Everything was as I’d left it. Except when I looked over to the cot, just like I’d feared and felt the moment I’d woken up; it was empty.

‘No. No no no’ I cried, stumbling towards the front door. The moment I opened the door, the wind and rain smacked into my face, threatening to force me back inside.

I ploughed ahead, squinting to find any sign of life. There was nothing around me, the only sounds were the creaks trees as the wind attacked them. I looked over to Bette’s house and squinted again through the rain. A faint glow was coming from the kitchen.

I moved as fast as I could with the elements working against me and my legs wobbling. ‘Will!’ I screamed.

I used the full weight of my body when I reached the back door and it whipped open. Everything looked so normal; the chipped worktops, the old pots and pans hung up against the wall. It seemed ridiculous that it could stay the same when my life was hurtling around me like a tornado. 

There was a banging coming from somewhere. At first I thought it was just the house, yet it was frantic and determined. I looked to the corner of the small kitchen, where the door to the pantry was firmly shut and bolted.

I rushed over without thinking and pressed my hands against the door, ‘Will?’

His voice came, fast as lightning ‘Kate!’

My fingers shook over the bolt and the door swung open from the inside. William came flying out, crashing into me.

‘Are you ok, are you ok?’ he said, holding my head to him. Relief flooded me and I gripped his shirt. He pulled away suddenly and wiped the blood off my temple. ‘What happened?’

The words came out muddled and confused, ‘She taken him…she hit me…Bette’

William’s face drained of colour, ‘where is she?’

‘I don’t know Will, she just, I’m so sorry…she’s taken him’ my face started to burn.

‘She can’t have got far’ he pulled my hand like a ragdoll and we rushed back outside.

I don’t know how long I was out for, but William’s reaction made me think it can’t have been that long. ‘How long were you in there?’ I shouted over the wind.

‘She locked me in fifteen minutes or so ago’ he shouted back.

Had it only been fifteen minutes? Every second without George seemed like a lifetime. William looked into the distance, towards the entrance of the farm.

‘Where is he Will?!’ I was a stupid thing to say, but I could think of nothing else.

‘I can’t see any cars up there’ he said. ‘If they’ve taken George, they’ll want me too’

We turned the corner to where I’d first found him next to his pick-up truck. Both his car and Bette’s small Chevy were still there.

Amongst the battering noises against the windows, a tiny sound drummed my ears.

‘Did you hear that?’ I said to Will.

‘What?’ he said, pushing the rain off his face.

I walked past the cars quickly, ‘the horse’

William followed a step behind me, ‘what?’

‘The horse Will!’ I shouted impatiently. ‘He sleeps during the night’

William’s face filled with comprehension. We started to run towards the stable, our ears straining to hear the loud whine of the horse again. The door was ajar and I saw William’s chest heave with hope. We pushed it open.

There, at the back of the room stood Bette, George wrapped in a blanket in her arms. They were feeding the horse hay like it was the most normal thing in the world. There was just a single wall light in the room, but I could tell that though sleepy, George was unharmed. 

‘Bette’ I said.

She turned around nonchalantly, casting her gaze over the two of us. I took a step forward. ‘I wouldn’t do that if I were you’ she said in a voice that was unfamiliar.

‘Just give him to us’ William snarled.

‘I don’t think so’ she glanced behind our heads.

William and I looked at each other, evidently thinking the same thing. She was waiting for someone to arrive.

‘There’s no need for you to keep him, just give him to us, you’re scaring him’ I pleaded.

George was sitting calmly on her hip. He’d gotten so used to her. She’d taken care of him and played with him. Of course he wasn’t scared. She laughed dryly.

William’s eyes were narrowing and I knew he wanted to pounce on her.

‘Don’t try anything’ she said tightening her grip.

‘You wouldn’t hurt him’ William said.

‘And how do you know that?’ she smiled.

I wanted to hurt her just as much as William did but we had to try a different tact. ‘Who are you?’

Bette laughed again, ‘I’m exactly who you think I am’ she said, her voice drawling. ‘I own this farm’

‘Who are you working for’ William tried I sound as calm as me but failed.

‘Who do you think?’ she said, playing with George’s toes. ‘You think you just turn up here and some dumb old lady takes you on without asking a single question?’

William turned away, angry at his own naivety. 

‘So what now?’ I asked. ‘You’re just gonna hold us here until whoever gets here?’

‘I’ll do what I was paid to do’ she looked at me with disgust.

‘We trusted you’ 

‘Then you’re idiots. You really thought you’d be left here to play happy families? We’ve been watching you, making sure you didn’t do anything stupid. But you had to go and ruin it. They would’ve left you alone if you didn’t try to run’

William was fuming now, his body heaving. I held onto his arm. 

But it was too late. He lunged forwards and Bette backed away, turning to the wall. 

George cried at the sudden movement and my heart tore.

‘Give him to me’ William roared.

Bette spun back around, her hand grasping a metal bar that she’d picked up. I realised that’s what she’d hit me with. She must’ve had it ready in a corner when she came to the house.

She swung at William but he stepped aside, sending her of balance. The bar hit the side of the stable instead, and as it did William pounced to her other arm, tearing George from her grasp.

He ran over to me and almost threw George into my arms. I wrapped my arms around him and rocked him.

Bette’s eyes were frantic. I couldn’t tell if it was her anger or fear of what would happen now she’d lost George. In a second, she walked calmly over to William and hit him straight on the back.

He fell to his knees, groaning in pain.

‘Stop it!’ I screamed.

‘Give me the baby’ she said in her old tone.

My protective instinct kicked in as William struggled to his feet. All this time, she’d been plotting and planning. If we had stepped out of line, tried to leave, she would’ve taken action against us. The cooking lessons, telling us to take a break; it was all a way to make us not want to leave this place.

Fire gripped my stomach, the anger of our precious six months turning out to be nothing but another cage.

I handed George to William once he’d regained his composure.

‘Kate what are you doing?’ he said, eyes wide.

I strode towards her and grabbed the bar. She tugged, but I placed both hands around it and pulled it from her grasp.

‘Don’t come near them’ I said in a low voice.

‘It won’t be me you need to worry about in a minute’ she said, with a slight shake to her voice.

She made a try for the bar again. I don’t know what made me do it. Rage? Animal instinct? But at that moment, without my brain seemingly connected to my body, I bought my free arm from my side and slapped her hard on the face.

She stumbled backwards, but before I could register her shock, William was pulling me out of the barn.

‘Let’s go!’ he was saying.

He pulled me outside and slammed the barn door shut, pulling down the latch.

‘They’ll find her eventually’ he said to me, like I’d care if they did. ‘We’ve got to go, I can’t see any one at the entrance, I’ll get the bags, you call home, we don’t know when we’ll get signal again’

We ran back to the outhouse and scooped up everything in sight, including the car keys. We had no reservations about taking the pick-up truck now.

William travelled back and forth to the car as I dressed George in something warmer. As he returned from his third trip, a light from stopped him in his tracks.

I looked up at the same time he did. Out at the entrance to the farm – the only exit – were a line of headlights.

‘We’re too late’ I breathed.

William paused.

I held his arm, my heart thudding, ‘can’t we call the police or something?’

He looked at me with apology in his eyes. ‘They won’t get here in time and I’m betting they’ve been paid off too’

I looked at the ground, desperately trying to think of someone that would help us.

He held me close, suddenly resigned , ‘they won’t hurt us Kate…they just want us out of the way. They’ll probably just take us somewhere remote again like they did to me’

The lights were still there but they weren’t moving any closer. ‘And that’s what you want?’

‘I know it’s not ideal, but if it keeps us safe’, he touched his fingers to the cut on my head.

‘We won’t be safe and happy at home now? I mean we were never really unhappy were we?’ I asked.

‘We agreed on this, it will make us happy eventually. Now call home, tell them what’s happening’. He kissed me and left to take more bags to the car.

He didn’t answer my question, at least he thought he hadn’t. But he had answered it in what he hadn’t meant to say. Eventually.

I picked the mobile phone up from the table and switched it on, staring down at the battery sign flashing at me. I reached into my back pocket and took out the scrap of paper. Eventually wasn’t good enough.

*

It only took twenty minutes. We’d packed everything in the car, with William’s optimism that they’d let us drive ourselves to wherever we were going.

We were in the middle of the living room when they came, arms wrapped around each other with George sandwiched between us. We didn’t know why they were waiting. Perhaps they were waiting for Bette to get in touch or for us to try to escape before they captured us.

Either way it gave us precious time.

Lights came flooding through the windows, lighting up the farm.

‘What the…?’ William let go of me and shielded his eyes to get a better look, ‘how many more of them have they sent?’

‘It’s not them’ I said blankly, following him outside.

He hadn’t seemed to have heard me, ‘why do they need so many cars?!’

‘It’s not them!’ I said louder. He looked to me and I tilted my head, ‘I’m sorry’

His eyes widened, ‘what have you done?’

‘I’m sorry’ I said again.

He held my face in his hands, ‘Kate, what have you done? Who are they?!’ His voice was ragged and tired.

Tears welled in my eyes, ‘I had to do it, there wasn’t another way, we’d be pushed around from place to place and our freedom would be on their terms for the rest of our lives’

I knew William still didn’t understand but he didn’t try to force me, just kept his hands on my face as the weather played havoc around us.

‘It’s the press’ I said finally.

His face dropped. ‘What?’

‘They’re the only people that could help us. You said yourself the police were probably corrupt. They’re the only people who could get here in time and the only people they can’t control…’ I pointed to the cars that were waiting to take us away. The people probably sent by Steven and Alec. These were the people behind the Revolution.

The press had fueled the fire of the Revolution and now it came like a deluge to wash it out.

‘Please don’t be angry, you know leaving wouldn’t be right’

William released his grip on my face and watched as more lights appeared in the distance.

It was Mary who had put the thought into my head. She had said that if she wanted to expose us, then she would’ve called the paper by now. At the time, I recoiled at the thought of the press infiltrating our little hidden nest like snakes in the grass. But as I called her and told her to ring the local paper and do that very thing, in fact to ring the biggest and most media outlets she could find, I acknowledged they were our only hope.

‘We’ll never get the lives we hoped for now, you know that’ he said to me. It wasn’t chiding or angry, but just a confirmation of the finality that I already knew.

No matter how disappointed he was, I know as William took George from me, his little body shivering in the rain and looked at the gash on my head; a result of our fight for our ‘freedom’, that our dreams would always be just out of reach. 

I took his hand and he held it securely. We walked away from the house and onto the path that led away from the farm. The rain poured down onto us and the wind flew threw the fields, around and between us. 

We stopped in the middle of the path when we came into view of the cars, holding tightly onto each other. The lights seemed to turn and focus in our direction, piercing through the dark and shined onto us, once more.

Epilogue

‘Are you ok?’ he muttered into my ear.

‘Yeah, fine, just a bit nervous’ I replied, taking a deep breath.

‘And you GB?’ 

George shouted a response which we took to be a yes.

William placed a hand on my back and lead me outside. The cheers went up immediately, the streams of red, white and blue colouring the masses of bodies below. 

It was amazing how little, yet how much had changed. Just five months on and it was like it had never happened. The Queen stood waving gratefully. It wasn’t a gesture that said she was grateful to be alive or not exiled, but one that thanked the people for keeping the faith in her.

That was the thing about duty, just when you thought you’d escaped it, it would bind itself around you and reel you back in. 

When we’d left Iowa, William had bargained with the press immediately. Kept our secret, and we’d give them an interview and more access to our family. They agreed, and somehow those beautiful few months had remained ours to savour.

William and I waved, as did George, who was loving the attention. He should get used to this, I thought. He’ll be doing it now every June for the rest of his life.

A flutter passed through my stomach and I placed my hand on it.

William shot me a look immediately, speaking through his smile, ‘you sure you’re ok?’

I touched his arm, ‘yes, stop worrying about us’

There on that balcony we were exposed to the world again. A world so different to the one we were determined to live in. The Revolution was over, a new government formed, the monarchy returned to its place, and a new hope blossomed in the country.

A new hope, that if you read the newspapers, was symbolised by something tiny, perfect and innocent, curled up inside me.

The one, beautiful thing we’d bought back from Redfern.

This is where that story ended and a new one began.

The End

[victorialovesstiles]

For the writing request, something with pynch being domestic with opal, if you want?

& @kristaa who sent a prompt for a fic with Opal and a prompt for jealous Ronan

Adam had grown accustomed to leaving his phone on silent while at work. It never really bothered him much, the panic of last fall having died down. His friends were safe and could usually wait until he got off for him to reply to their messages.

However, ever since he began applying to all of his top choice schools – the urge to constantly check his phone was as irritating as it was disappointing. He would slide it out of his pocket at each buzz, his heart leaping only to trip steady again when he saw it was only Gansey or Ronan – or sometimes Scam Likely.

Finally after a month of this distress, he decided to go back to his original habit of silencing his phone. If someone of import called, they would leave a message and that would have to be good enough. He still felt dreadful when he would check his phone after work and see that no new numbers had tried to reach out, but it was getting easier to push it to the wayside as the days went on. 

Especially with summer just around the corner, and with it, the promise of the warm sun shining down on the crawling black of Ronan’s tattoo, his slender but strong hands on Adam’s body, and the comfort of the Barns welcoming him home in a way no where else had managed before.

After work one day, he made his way towards the shitbox – he’d pretty much given up on trying to call it anything else – and resolutely refused to check his phone. He was meant to be having a night in with Ronan and didn’t want to sully his mood before he even got there.

Walking up the front porch, he noticed Opal making her way excitedly across the fields. Her entire front was covered in mud, as if she’d tripped in it and hadn’t bothered to brush it off when she got back up. She rushed into his legs, hugging tightly and dirtying his jeans. She seemed to be in a better mood today, much to the misfortune of his clothes. 

“Shit, Opal, seriously?” Adam looked up to see Ronan leaning against the doorframe, his expression hard as he leveled Opal with disapproving glare. “Look what you did to his pants. Get in here and go wash up, now. Serio.” Opal actually did what she was told, her good mood making her infinitely more agreeable than usual.

Adam watched her trot into the house, after scuffing her hooves against the welcome mat. He heard Ronan warn her to tread through the house lightly, so as not to knock any of the caked mud onto the floor. 

Adam tried to brush off some of the mess on his own pants but figured it a lost cause. He made his way up the steps, feeling Ronan’s intense gaze on him like a brand. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to the intensity of Ronan’s attentions. Before they were an item, Ronan had chosen his moments of watching carefully – and they’d been few and far between. Now, though, Ronan was free to look all he liked and Adam loved every unembellished minute of it. 

Ronan grabbed ahold of one of Adam’s belt loops in lieu of stepping to the side so he could enter the house. Adam let himself be pulled in, the stress of the day finally subsiding as Ronan brushed his lips over Adam’s in a chaste kiss. 

Adam let out a shaky breath as Ronan dragged his nose past his jaw and further down his neck, pulling him into a hug. Adam followed suit and let himself rub his face over the exposed skin where Ronan’s neck met his shoulder, inhaling deeply. Ronan always smelled of rainwater and burning coals – the two shouldn’t marry, being so different, but they did on Ronan’s skin and the result was pure, earthy, and perfect.

Ronan released Adam but not before kissing him lightly behind his ear and taking his own sharp inhale. He leaned out of Adam’s space to meet his eyes.

“You stink.” Ronan said, grinning wickedly. Adam couldn’t help but let out an amused groan, pushing Ronan aside to enter the house.

“Asshole.” Adam muttered before sniffing himself – it had been a long day. “I’m gonna go shower.” 

“Be quick, dinner’ll be ready in ten.” Ronan was heading back to the kitchen before Adam could reply. His curiosity got the better of him and he followed Ronan instead of taking the turn for the stairs leading to the bathroom. When he made it there, Ronan was checking on whatever was in the oven and Adam realized for the first time how aromatic the air in the house was – the savory scent wafting stronger when Ronan had opened the door to check on it. 

“You’re making dinner?” Adam asked skeptically, it wasn’t that Adam hadn’t seen Ronan cook before. It was just that usually he ‘has better things to do, Parrish’ and so it was surprising that Ronan had elected to spend the night in the kitchen. 

Ronan turned on his heel and grabbed a tomato from the counter, tossing it carelessly to Adam, who barely managed to catch it. Adam threw Ronan an exasperated look before examining the tomato. There was something off about it, the color wasn’t quite right and the texture was firmer than he thought it ought to be. He brought it to his face and could smell fresh basil, pungent and mouth-watering. This was a dream object.

“Dream tomatoes? Really?” Ronan’s smile was dangerous, it was all teeth and amusement, and he shrugged.

“It’s saltier than regular tomatoes too, the perfect ingredient for marinara sauce. We’re having lasagna.” Ronan explained and Adam eyed him before throwing the tomato just as haphazardly back to Ronan – who caught it easily, the bastard. 

“I don’t know how I feel about your dream objects being inside of me.” Adam said before he could think better of it. 

Sure enough, Ronan cocked a single eyebrow and leered at him, and Adam felt his face heating up.

“No! Nope. Don’t you dare say whatever is going on in that mind of yours right now. I’m gonna shower.” Adam escaped, hearing the sound of Ronan’s boisterous laughter behind him.

Finish reading on AO3 (since it turned into a monster).

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25254946

[zippiestdraws]

Choking Curiosity Ch 9

ftm reader x Michael Myers

read on ao3

The microwave clock says five-fifty am when Michael creeps into the house. He shakes the dew out of the mask’s hair and reaches for the kitchen towel to wipe off the latex.

The book is new. He saunters to it slowly, leaving it untouched other than plucking the note from the cover. Your request in writing is met with indifference, barely read, but his thumb rubs over the inking of your name at the bottom.

He’d seen it amongst your things, but this trinket he can keep. He pockets the paper, crumpling it in his grip, and picks up the book. Beginner’s Guide to American Sign Language.

Michael snarls under the mask. Past anger wells in his chest at the words, fighting to vent through his fingers. They tried to make him use sign language in Smith’s Grove. He never wanted to learn to communicate better, even if out of spite, it was what he could control. The only sign that really stuck was the middle finger.

Michael climbs the stairs with a harsh grip on the spine, sparing a glare towards your bedroom door and throwing the book into his room before him.

*** You wake up with purpose this morning and only spend half the amount of time as usual sitting in your bed before getting up.

Fussing with the bedhead in the mirror, you brush your teeth when a thought hits you. You haven’t seen your new roommate brush his teeth.

Ew.

You sigh. You’re going to have to get him a toothbrush and some deodorant, you can’t imagine being on the lam has left him smelling decent. You gag. He better not have touched your toothbrush.

The book is gone from the counter, which you count as a win. There’s no response to your note, but you’ll take what you can get. You just need to remember to study your book too, when you get back.

Thinking about the cookout, you stop short.

‘Was I supposed to bring a dish?’

You groan, hopefully they won’t judge you for bringing some chips and dip.

You get dressed what would be considered way too early, but you need to get gas anyway, and luckily you did because, as you leave your house, you see Abtin approach from his yard.

He gifts you a tomato from his garden, to your surprise, and begins to tell you how his plants are doing. He tells you he’s gonna cook the rabbit that keeps eating his cabbage if he catches it, in the way he jokes for shock value.

“So, hey, is that your brother I keep seeing behind your house? He keeps coming and going-”

You choke on your own spit.

“I’m just messing with you, I know what it is.” He laughs and slaps his knee. You don’t know what you would say if you could say something. What excuse could you give? You hope he doesn’t mean what you think he does, but you’re the only person he gossips to anyway.

You’re relieved when he moves on to critique the spray paint still out front, but at least Halloween is next month and then you’ll probably be able to paint the house.

In another ten minutes, you pocket your tomato and make it to your car to drive for the first time in probably two months. Hopefully you’ll have enough gas to make it to a station.

*** You’re lucky you filled the tank before leaving because you got lost twice trying to find the turn off indicated on the map. Finally, on another turn back, you see a faded red flannel tied around a tree, and upon closer inspection, an old dirt road hidden at an odd angle.

When the trees part into a wider clearing down the road, you slow to a stop in the drive of what appears to be a tricked out log cabin. Putting your car in park, you jump at a loud whack nearby, someone splitting logs in your peripheral.

Jake is wearing what looks like a cowboy hat, but you’re more enamored with the way his arms look in his sleeveless vest when he swings the axe. You close your mouth and remind yourself he’s spoken for. Stepping out of the car and grabbing the food you brought, he waves to you, then points to the cabin. Right on time you see Dwight and someone you don’t know lifting a wooden picnic bench, and you jog over to help because Dwight looks like he’s about to get squashed.

At its destination, the other man introduces himself as David and slaps hands with you, throwing his arm around Dwight. It’s almost surprising, the two of them look like a stereotypical high school nerd and bully, but David tussles his hair like an older brother.

After letting go, he pulls you over to where some logs are felled around a firepit to “grab a beer and meet the queers”. You laugh at the overtness of it, and again as a girl with red hair chucks a bag of marshmallows at his head when she hears him say it. Maybe finding someone like you isn’t a lost cause here.

“Hey!”, when David opens the cooler, you look up to see Laurie standing there pointing at you. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” you smile, glad to see a familiar face.

“I came with Meg and Claudette,” Laurie gestures at the two other women who nod to you.

“I’m Meg and this is Claudette, to be clear,” the girl with red hair clarifies and nods her head across from her, “and over there is Ace- and so help me, Ace, if you shoot that at me I will roast you over the fire.”

You turn towards who she’s speaking to and see an older man sitting in a blue, plastic kiddie pool struggling to fill a small water pistol while laughing.

“Here you go, mate.” David grabs your attention trying to hand you a beer.

“Oh, no thanks, I gotta drive home tonight-” you put your hand up, but he presses it into your palm.

“Come on, relax, just one won’t hurt. And if you get hammered, you can just camp out here like everyone else.”

It’s in your hand now and you nod at him, but you don’t want to reveal that you think beer tastes like shit.

Dwight returns with Jake and firewood in tow, Ace squirts the water gun at them ‘to cool Jake down’ and you duck out of the way as they drop the tinder into the pit.

“Hey, glad you came,” Jake says, dusting splinters from his hands.

“He brought chips!” You both hear David yell over from the table, presumably with his mouthful.

“Yeah, sorry I didn’t bring something better-” you start to apologize but he tells you not to worry about it, chips are great and you brought enough so that David can’t eat them all. David yells back that he takes that as a challenge.

You can’t remember the last time you’ve laughed this much.

It’s a warm enough afternoon that you don’t need to light the bonfire yet, and David gets the grill going while Jake runs back to his cabin to grab the meat. At this point you remember the tomato in your pocket, pulling it out and setting it on the table sheepishly.

“Nice tomato! I always bring a vegetarian option for everybody too, Jake keeps them separate on the grill for me.” Claudette smiles at you from across the table as she sets down some plates.

“Thanks, my neighbor actually gave it to me from his garden this morning before I left.”

The two of you talk, and you learn that planting marigolds with tomatoes is a great way to prevent pests and Claudette knows a whole lot about gardening because she happens to be a botanist.

Meg sits down next to her and listens happily for a couple of minutes before calling Ace over to challenge him to an arm wrestle.

“Don’t let him near the grill, everything he touches burns…” Meg whispers out of the side of her mouth as he walks over. You catch Laurie’s eye from where she’s standing with Dwight, Jake, and David at the grill, exiting the conversation before swiftly making her way over to you.

“I’m gonna show (Y/n) where the bathroom is.”, her hand lands on your shoulder, you guess you have no choice.

You swing your legs around the bench and follow her off towards the cabin with a shrug. When you’re a few paces away from the group, she hisses to you under her breath without looking and you almost miss it.

“Have you seen him again?”

It takes a second before you register what she’s talking about, but you respond before you come to a full conclusion on what you tell her.

“No, not since the first time.” She opens the front door of the cabin and you avoid eye contact. You hope your body language reads ‘upset’ and not ‘hiding something’. “I don’t want to talk about it right now…”

Laurie lets it drop, but sounds irritated when she points out the bathroom. On the way back you whisper a ‘sorry’ and she responds with a ‘me too’. You scrunch your brows in confusion, but head over to the grill. She disappears from your side but a thirty seconds later a stream of water hits you in the side of the head.

You yelp in shock and duck, but Laurie keeps squirting the gun, catching Dwight in the crossfire.

“It’s on!” David yells, dropping the tongs on the grill and vaulting over the table after her. Laurie runs to the other side of the kiddie pool that you see Ace getting out of, holding a beer aloft.

There’s a stand off on either side of the water, broken by David launching over it and landing one foot in the drink to lunge at Laurie, only for her to jump out of his reach. Almost in slow motion, everyone watches as his one foot slips on the plastic and he goes tumbling down, soaking his pants and getting a face full of grass. Everybody has a good laugh while he climbs out with a flurry of curses and peels off his shirt.

Damn.

Jake calls over as he sets one huge plate of hot dogs and burgers on the table and follows it with one of corncobs and what’s probably the veggie patties that Claudette mentioned. Meg whistles at the sight of the food and starts serving hot dogs after passing the vegetarian plate to Claudette, everyone falling in at the table to eat.

*** You eat until you’re stuffed, unashamed as everyone else does the same. The sun is sinking in the sky now, casting a pleasant glow through the trees. Jake deems it enough to start the fire and you approach to watch curiously as he strikes flint onto the dry brush and blows on it.

When he’s finished he tells the group to keep an eye on it while he fetches the s’mores stuff.

“I thought we put it out right here-” Dwight turns toward the logs, confused, but Jake takes him by the arm to bring him along to the cabin.

“I brought it inside because the chocolate was melting.” Dwight seems to accept this and follows along.

When they're out of earshot, Meg leans in towards the log you’re sitting on from her own.

“Jake is proposing tonight! I think he’s doing it!” She squeals a bit in excitement and tries to look like she’s not watching when Dwight looks back before ducking inside.

You share in their excitement and join Ace in stoking the fire into a roaring flame. You watch the smoke dance and carry some ashes into the air and lean back happily. The sky is turning from purple to deep blue now. The light from the fire dances off the trunks of the trees, and you take in the nature of your surroundings as your friends chatter around you.

You squint at a shape between the trees and it moves behind a thicker trunk.

White mask.

*** Michael would never admit to himself of ever feeling jealousy, but a certain irritation of possessiveness grows as he watches. His stomach rumbles at the food, but it’s of little relevance to him.

He spots Laurie and his knife is already in his dominant hand. The strings are connecting what he’s seeing to the same feeling of what he saw watching the teenagers in 1978. This time Laurie is collateral. Funny.

All he has to do is wait.

He could go after the two that already diverged from the group, but he wanted you separated. He moves closer to where you will see him.

The firelight flickers over your form, creating a beautiful moving sepia of you that reminds Michael of the old photographs in the asylum. As you poke at the fire, it licks towards your fingers and that are drawn back sharply.

What sounds would you make when it touched you?

Your eyes had a dream like quality, observing the realness of your habitat, peering through rose-tinted glasses to only see the welcoming nature when surrounded by the lurking sharpness of it.

He may have felt smug when the illusion broke around his presence.

Michael moves out of your line of sight, but he humors over the way a human freezes like an animal in the headlights.

The annoying man who fell in the pool speaks. Michael doesn’t like the way he looks at you.

“Oi, (y/n), you look like you’ve seen a ghost, what’s got you bothered?”

You snap out of it quickly, looking towards him and then shaking your head.

“Um, yeah sorry, I’m just...cold. I’m gonna go get my jacket from my car, I’ll be right back.”

You skitter off nervously, Michael can see the confusion on some of the other faces.

You make it to your car before scanning the woods and spinning to check your blindspot, but you don’t need it, Michael is already walking toward you and you can see the way the orange of the distant campfire glints off of the knife he’s brandishing. You step back, you don’t want to be intimidated, but you fear for what he’ll do to your friends.

The car door stands between the two of you when you open it, pulling out your jacket without breaking eye contact. It’s seeming like you can’t escape him.

“How did you get here?”, you whisper, not knowing exactly where Jake and Dwight are.

You wait for an answer, and when you give up on one, he turns his head deliberately toward the backseat of your car and back to you.

You’re incredulous, the main question you don’t want to elaborate on is “how?”, but you wave it away to get to the point.

“Please.”, you don’t know what you’re appealing to, but you hope there’s some leverage you have in the way he sees the situation. “Please don’t hurt these people. I’ll-”

What will you do?

You don’t know, but you have to save them from whatever he’s planning.

“I’ll do whatever you want. I’ll-I’ll leave right now, okay?” He just stares at you. He twists his knife once.

“The car is open, I’ll go make an excuse to leave and be right be right back, I promise.” You hold up your hands placatingly.

You do a quick jog back to campfire and it looks like you return shortly after Jake and Dwight.

“So, what’d I miss?”, you hope you don’t enter as clumsily as you feel.

Jake and Dwight turn to you on the log and Dwight is wearing the biggest sheepish smile and looks like he cried a little bit. You can see the little gold band on Dwight’s left hand and smile back, issuing proper congratulations.

You force yourself to say it, feeling guilty for springing it on them during a sentimental moment.

“I wanted to stay for the s’mores, sorry guys, but I gotta get home.” Some sad ‘awws’ erupt from the girls and Laurie looks at you suspiciously.

“What, are you afraid of the dark?”, David jeers as you say your goodbyes.

“No, I just have work tomorrow.”, you grimace.

he responds with a hum of acknowledgement before laughing.

“Hate to see you go, but love to watch you leave.”

You give him a good natured punch in the shoulder before waving to everyone and heading out.

Approaching your car once more, you can see Michael’s silhouette in the backseat and gulp. Sliding in and starting the car like normal, you try not to look back, but in the mirror you see the shadowed eyes watching you.

It’s easy to imagine how vulnerable you are to him in the backseat. The ride home is awkward, but only for you.

[bisexualnerd]

Melancholy Kaleidoscope

Chapter 5/5

~You can read on AO3 here ⤵️⤵️~

Dinner had been peaceful so far. There hadn't been any sign of attempt murder just yet. No flying dishes nor forks being used as weapons.

Bruce was looking at them with suspicion in his eyes.

Well, the man had every right to keep a close watch on them.

Cass stole a piece from his plate again and Tim whined quietly at his sister. The said sister just giggled and booped his nose. He sighed as he could hear Jason sniggering from the other side of the dining table.

"Cass..." He complained again as another piece got stolen. "You have your own food already..."

"Messing with you is fun, little brother." She grinned.

"But..." He got interrupted by a shout.

"You take that back Todd!"

"What?! It's true. That potato piece does look a lot like you."

"I am not a potato you imbecile zombie!" Damian had jumped on his chair with a spoon raised high, pointing at Jason.

The older boy just snickered, leaning back a bit to avoid the Spoon of Doom.

"Damian, don't attack your brother. Jason, stop provoking him." Bruce interfered.

Tim picked out a bean and threw it at them randomly.

"No, go on. This's getting good."

"Tim please..."

Jason had raised a chicken leg to block out Damian's attack and now the Spoon of Doom had flown all the way to Cass's plate, hitting one of her vegetables. 

And then one of Damian's elbows knocked at Dick's plate and now there was sauce on the everywhere. Dick looked quite heartbreaking at that. 

Tim grinned at Bruce before throwing another bean at Jason and Damian, then took joy in seeing the horrified look on his adoptive father's face.

Damian had now resorted to trying to hit Jason with a knife. Not exactly sharp but still enough to make someone bleed. Jason, on the other hand, had dumped all the food from one plate onto Dick's and used that plate as a shield to protect himself. His other hand held the chicken leg from earlier so he could occasionally bit into it.

You know, you couldn't just waste Alfred's cooking.

He heard Cass laughing from next to him and found himself grinning even wider. His sister then threw small pieces of vegetable at their brothers and encouraged them even further.

"Cass, sweetheart..."

"Fun, Dad." She pouted.

"Please don't encourage them..."

"Fun." She emphasized.

Bruce looked like he was asking for strength from above now. From the other side, Jason jumped out of his seat to avoid getting stabbed and Dick had lunged forward to wrestle the knife out of Damian's hand. Apparently, knives were off limit. Forks weren't.

Damian grabbed a fork from the table and with a loud battlecry, he went for Jason.

Tim had managed to pick up a handful of beans to throw at them. Cass was cheering from her seat. And Dick was trying to look unamused but the small upward quirk on his lips told a different story.

Jason ducked under the fork and they chased each other around the table with the older laughing and the younger shouting. Bruce had tried to grab either of them several times and failed.

Jason was now using Cass to hide from Damian. The younger boy stopped before them, glaring hard.

"Step aside Cassandra, so I can put this zombie back to his place."

Cass's eyes widened at how Damian had called her and smiled at him. She glanced back at Jason with a mischievous glint in her eyes before speaking.

"No killing."

"Sis, you traitor!" Jason gasped dramatically while the younger boy huffed.

"Fine. I will not slay him, but there is no guarantee I will spare him from my wrath."

Cass nodded and stepped aside, leaving Jason without any protection. Damian jumped, the fork high in the air...

...just to be caught by Bruce, who had leaped from behind him. Tim startled, crashed into the table and sent one of the plates flying to Dick.

"Alright time out! Time out!" Bruce took the fork away and dragged Damian away from Jason. 

Tim looked down at the sauce stain on his shirt and grimaced. Alfred would not be please. Speaking of...

"Where's Alfred?"

Silence fell upon them and Tim stepped away from the mess on the table.

"Right...I'm just gonna..." Dick dashed down the hallway, probably went looking for Alfred.

He came back with the old butler in tow, who took a quick look at the mess before shaking his head disapprovingly.

"I went out to check on the garden for five minutes, and come back to this. Anyone care to explain?"

"It was Jason and Damian." Tim quickly provided.

"Yes. Jay and Dami." Cass confirmed.

Alfred's "I'm-not-mad-just-disappointed" gaze fell upon the two said boys, one of them grinned sheepishly and the other glared at the ground. 

Please, take a wild guess which was which.

"You know that's not completely true." It was now Bruce's turn to smile evilly at them.

"Of course it was Jason and Damian to create this whole mess. But...you both have encouraged them to continue to do so." The man turned to his oldest. "Thanks for being the only child I'm proud of."

"Dad!" Cass frowned.

"B, come on!" He groaned.

"So it's settled. Master Jason and Master Damian will clean the dining room up while Master Tim and Miss Cass will be in the kitchen to help me."

"Sorry guys." Dick waved his hands around. "But I can help too. Providing emotional support and encouragement is very important too."

"Big brother!" Cass poked Dick on his side. 

"Really?!" Jason narrowed his eyes.

"Thank you Master Dick. Now off you go. All of you."

They ended up cleaning for a good hour. By the time they had finished, he was exhausted. As the four of them dragging themselves upstairs, he could see Dick chuckling to himself from a few feet behind.

The dick.

They all eventually bunched up in Cass's room because this was usually considered neutral ground. Dick had gone to find several more blankets and pillows so they could make themself comfortable.

When Tim finally cuddled up between Jason and Cass, he remembered.

"Hey Jay, what about the prank?" He whispered.

"Hmm..."

"Jay...it's your idea."

"Right...sorry. So tired. Can we do it tomorrow night or some other time?" Jason mumbled, half asleep.

This is pathetic.

"Fine."

He snuggled against his brother's side and closed his eyes, letting out a long sigh. Not even ten seconds later, he heard Dick whisper-calling for him. Tim fluttered his eyes open to see Dick petting Cass's hair and hugging Damian close to his chest.

"Timmy, hey...the prank?"

"Jay said tomorrow night. He's tired."

"Okay fine. But we're doing it."

"Never say we're not. Go to sleep Big Bird."

"G'night Baby Bird."

He shut his eyes again and tried to sink into the blanket. Jason mumbled something unintelligible and draped an arm over his torso. From his other side, Cass buried her face into his hair and curled up into herself.

Tim yawned, eyes watered. He so needed sleep. He breathed in the scent of Alfred's detergent on the blankets and their clothes as it lulled him into his dreamland.

Everything was good.

 

----------------------------- 

The next night, Jason had stored all the cheese and leftover meat in his mini freezer. Dick had somehow managed to find an oversized piece of bread and hid it away very carefully. Tim had made sure they got enough vegetables and tomatoes. And he had installed a camera in a dark corner of Bruce's room.

They were so gonna get yelled at.

But it'd be worth it.

Besides, the prank made Jason happy and less broody so he was not gonna deny his brother of this.

The clock struck three in the morning and the operation "Bruce the Sandwich" began.

After many discussions, they had argeed that getting past Damian, Cass and Alfred was the hardest. Making their dad into a sandwich (that sounded like murder, Jason loved it so much) was child play. But not like the movie. Nuh uh.

Almost ten minutes later and they had successfully completed their first task. The three carried the food to Bruce's bedroom and while Dick and Jason waited outside the door, Tim went to the kitchen to get the peanut butter jar. Just a small reminder of the the prank's precedence.

He came back not even three minutes later and they all crept into the man's room.

They started with filling the bed with meat and cheese, making sure nothing touched the man himself but as soon as he moved, all the squishy leftovers would startle the man out of his skin.

Tim got some peanut butter on the veggies and stuck them to Bruce's face and neck. He hoped it'd stick until morning. He then got some more using his thump and swiped it across his dad's forehead while whispering.

"Simba..."

Dick snorted from the foot of the bed and lost his balance, which resulted in him almost fell off the bed. Jason, who was next to him, put his hand over his mouth to stop himself from laughing. Tim could still hear a low chuckle coming from his brother's throat.

"If Bruce is Simba, then you are Rafiki." Jason said.

"Hey," Dick whispered. "The Bat King. Coming to theatres this 30th February."

"There's no 30th February."

"Yea no shit Sherlock. That's why I say it."

Bruce twitched slightly and Tim almost jumped on Jason. But the man soon returned to being still. Tim turned around, face scrunched up as if to tell his brothers to finish their prank.

"The bread."

"Oh right. Fuck! Where do I put it?"

"You're half sitting on it Dickhead. That goes on B's head dumbass."

"I didn't sit on it Little Wing."

"Uh huh. Sure..."

Tim placed the bread on Bruce's forehead. It did look a bit squashed. Oh well...

He booped Bruce's nose lightly with one finger which still had peanut butter on it. The man now sure looked like a lion with his coloured nose.

They discarded the tomato slices around and the final piece ended up on Bruce's nose. They tried to balance it but it always tipped over. So they out it on the bridge of the man's nose, right between his eyes.

Dick left behind a piece of paper saying:

"Here's your breakfast in bed. Bon appétit!"

Then they ran off into the night...

 

...and to the bathroom to wash their hands 'cause going to bed with dirty hands didn't seem so fun.

They were so doomed by the way.

3:54 in the morning now and they all but passed out on Jason's bed. Tim got sandwiched by his two older brothers. He didn't think he minded sleeping like this.

"Can't wait 'til morning." Dick murmured.

"This is morning ya dipshit." He heard Jason's low grumble and snuggled even further against his brother's chest.

"Can we sleep?"

"Fine. Listen to the little shit and sleep already Dickhead."

"Goodnight." Tim didn't even have the strength to tell Dick that it should have been "good morning".

 

They woke up to the sound of yelling.

Tim rubbed at his eyes and looked around in confusion for a few seconds before the memories came back to him.

"Holy shit! B's up!" Dick shouted excitedly and dragged him up, hitting Jason by accident, which made his second oldest brother growl at them.

"The prank, Jay. Get your ass up now!"

"Fucking hell Dick! Slow down."

"That's your prank dude! Do you want to see the result or not?!"

"Right, let's go."

They scrambled to their feet and dashed down the hall. Standing by the doorway of his room was Bruce, with veggies still sticking to his face, though one or two pieces had fallen already. The peanut butter on his forehead stayed intact.

Tim fished out his phone to take a bunch of pictures while Jason was still busy laughing at their dad's face. The man still looked confused and scared (which was unusual to others, not to his kids) with pieces of food randomly falling from his body to the floor.

Upon seeing them, Bruce bellowed.

"BOYS!"

"Shit, let's go before he gets food on us." Jason pushed him down the hallway and then they were running away.

"RICHARD JOHN, JASON PETER, TIMOTHY JACKSON, COME BACK HERE! YOU ARE ALL GROUNDED!"

"Dickie and I are adults!" Jason called back.

"Did you just..." Tim spluttered. "But I am not, Jay!"

"Yeah, your problem, kid."

"Oh fuck you. He's gonna ground you anyway."

"Hm sure..."

They hid in Tim's room and the older two barricaded the door and windows with his furniture, singing "Do You Hear The People Sing" while doing so.

"What we're gonna do with the pictures?" He heard Jason asked. Tim grinned.

"Just so you know, Twitter is going to have a field day."

End.

[carbrakes-and-stakes]

Waterloo || Evelyn & Alain

Location : Evelyn’s home - Harris Island When : Evening - 18th of April

Birthdays are as good an excuse as any to cross something off a to-do list, aren't they?

Alain had just finished preparing samosas and a bunch of small bites they could have over a glass of god knows what. Ever since he had taken the decision to stop drinking so much, he had come to realize that there were many casual moments like those in which he would have usually have had a glass not too far from him. He shook the thought out of his head and glanced at the oven then at the timer on the counter. Even if this was not his kitchen, this being the second time he was cooking here, he was already feeling quite comfortable being here. Of course you could not say that he had completely gotten used to it, but he finally had memorized where the pans were stored, which was an achievement, considering the amount of drawers Evelyn’s kitchen counted. He was mincing garlic thinly when he heard footsteps getting louder. Even if he had told the birthday girl to keep out of here while he was cooking, he was impressed that she had waited a good hour to take a peek at what was going on here. “So much for a surprise,” he commented, shoving the garlic into a pan. Obviously the cake was concealed in the fridge, and it was the only thing he did not want her to see yet. As a matter of fact, her showing up was perfect timing, as she could help him shape pasta with him. This was something he had never done, and if all failed, they would have tagliatelles tonight.

Years ago, she would have balked at the idea of her birthday being anything but a large event. Even at Cambridge, she’d had parties with dozens of people. However, White Crest had changed multiple things about her, and Evelyn had yet to have a big birthday party or anything since moving here. Four years ago, now. She’d invited Alain over because they were friends, even though Kaden’s line of questioning still stuck in her mind. She wasn’t going to focus on that too much, because the last thing she wanted to do, for one of the first times in her life, was to screw up a friendship. So she’d listened when Alain had kicked her out of the kitchen, gone up to her bedroom and changed from the more casual outfit she’d had on when he first came over and into a new dress, which seemed more festive and appropriate for her birthday anyhow. She’d gotten bored though, and so after only a little more time she made her way back over to the kitchen, grinning at his comment, “yes, well, I do have the ability to be patient, but I also sometimes get impatient, and it is my birthday, so you have to indulge me.” She walked past him, tapping him on the shoulder. “So, what are you cooking? It smells brilliant.”

“You are not getting anywhere near that fridge,” Alain pointed his index briefly at her, before looking up and noticing the change of clothes. If he first wanted to comment on the outfit being quite a disappointment, just to pick on her, he figured that considering that this was her special day, he would stick to the truth : “You look nice,” he smiled at her and glanced back at what he was doing as she asked what was in the oven. “Well, I’m not about to tell you, but I can promise that it will taste as good as it smells.” He took the dough from the bowl and brought the pasta machine closer to himself, turning the ball of dough slowly into a thin sheet of pasta.  “Alright, so this is the fun part.” It was absolutely not the fun part. “We’re going to try to make pasta,” he offered with a smile that only show how little he was sure about what he just said. They were really going to try here. He detailed the sheet of pasta dough into 2 inches circles. “So, I prepared the filling last night,” he explained, pointing at a pastry bag on the counter. “I’ll put a bit of that in the middle of each pasta, and then we’ll fold them, alright?” It took him a good ten minutes to get filling on each pasta, and when he was done, the kitchen towel tied to his apron was not as clean as when he began. “Alright, look,” he took his time to fold the first tortellini, following the instructions he’d scribbled in his cooking notebook, and invited Evelyn to do it at the same time as he did, when he started to fold the second one.

“See, that just makes me want to.” She said, a light laugh crossing her lips. “Nice music, by the way.” It was faint, but she could appreciate it. Perhaps it was a cooking thing, something that aided in concentration. Either way, it was nice. Though she knew that her music taste was nothing to talk about, she did sometimes enjoy having music around, even if it was just scores from movies or from ballets. Evelyn glanced down at her dress at his remark, “thank you, it is new. I like the dark blue.” She bit her lip for a moment as he continued talking. “Make pasta?” She replied, her eyebrows shooting up. “Well, this will be a first for me so I should hope that you do not judge me too harshly.” Her gaze flicked over to the pastry bag as he described it, nodding along. “Well, alright, that sounds okay. It is sort of like decorating, and I am good with delicate things, with my hands.” She shot a glance over to him, a small smirk crossing her lips, though she wasn’t entirely sure if he would catch the double meaning. If maybe half-flirting with someone who she valued deeply as a friend was a stupid idea, but she shook her head and focused back on his words. Besides, she was good with her hands in many other ways, she had to be, to feed in the way she did, and it had always been her nature, though she was extroverted, she had rarely been the loudest person in the room. She waited as he filled the circles, tapping her fingers against her thigh, and then watched him as he began to fold the first one. “I think I can do this.” She moved closer to where he was standing and began to quickly fold one of them, careful to get the folds as precise as possible. “How did I do, teach?”

Alain stared at her right in the eyes, his eyebrows raised and his chin tilted down as he waited patiently for her to step away from the fridge. “Merci,” he wiped his hands clean on the towel, and picked up the pastry bag, turning the plastic end around his thumb and getting rid of the air inside of the bag. He froze in his motion as she joked about having capable hands, and gave her a glance. Obviously she looked like she was quite proud of herself, and he couldn’t help but laugh when he saw her expression. “You are unbelievable,” he shook his head, and with still a thin smile on his face went back to work. Folding those things weren’t as easy as it would have looked, and with his hands, they weren’t exactly looking as good as they should have, but all he cared for was that they would not open up when he’d throw them in hot water. Glancing over at Evelyn’s tortellinis, he pursed his lips to the side. She may have done less of them than he did, but hers looked much better too. “You’re cheating, you’ve got ten fingers and I only have nine,” he scoffed, glancing at his work then hers. “You think you can fold the rest of them while I start making the sauce that goes with those?”

She’d been worried, for a moment, that her remark had gone too far. Which wasn’t something that Evelyn usually thought about, if she threw a half-flirtatious (or even more) sort of remark out there. But he had a small smile on his face and he’d laughed, so that was good, right? “I like to think of myself as just believable enough, thank you.” She smirked at his next comment. “Well, I apologise for the number of fingers I have, but I think you do a bang-up job with what you are given.” A small pause, before she added, “besides, I did tell you I am good at decoration, you made all of this and it looks delightful. So yes, feel free to begin the sauce, I also have sparkling cider if you would like to drink that with our meal? I figured, well, I do not want to drink for two, so…” she bit her lip again. “I just thought that would be nice. There is a shop here that makes it locally, so I promise I didn’t get any fancy imports.”

“You did not lie about your decorating skills,” he agreed, turning on his heels to get his pan on the stove. He frowned, turning around again to get his notebook from the counter. “Right, okay,” Alain muttered to himself, focusing his attention on the ingredients, although Evelyn’s voice pulled him from his notes : “What ? Oh, sure, that sounds nice. The local products always taste a lot better too,” he bit his lip and picked up a wooden spoon, adding parsley and butter to the garlic. Letting it all caramelize a little, he had a look at Evelyn’s work, figuring that she would be probably almost done by now. “Looks like you’ve been making those your whole life,” he observed. His attention went back to the stove when he started hearing noise in the pan. Adding diced canned tomatoes to the rest, he explained, “It’s not really tomato season, but I promise it won’t matter much for this,” otherwise he would have picked a different recipe for her birthday. “What do you think, smells nice, right?”

“I try to avoid lying if at all possible, even if it makes me seem as though I am bragging.” She shrugged. “But thank you, I appreciate this.” She continued to fold the tortellinis together, savoring the smell from the sauce that Alain was cooking. Even if actual proper food was not Evelyn’s favorite, she certainly was permitted to enjoy the smell of it, at least, and the taste too - especially if Alain’s other baking was even half a show of his talent. “Well, I used to watch my cooks back home sometimes, if I got bored, so maybe I picked up skills I never knew that I had.” She nodded at his explanation, “Do not worry, I bet that the canned tomatoes will taste utterly divine as well.” She brushed a stray strand of hair from in front of her face. “I think it smells utterly wonderful.” She said, folding the last tortellini. “What do you know? We are quite in sync, once again.” 

“I wouldn’t call this bragging,” Alain commented. Coming from him, who never knew how to react to compliments, and never liked to talk too much about what he did, that was rich.  Anytime he spoke about things he did well, he felt like he was bragging, and that was why he did not speak about it too often. “That must have been nice,” he paused. He did not really want to mention that he too grew up with cooks, watching them because then he would have a lot of explaining to do. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you learned a thing or two just by watching,” he left the spoon in the pan and opened a drawer, looking for a pot where they could cook those pastas she was just done folding. “Ah, there it is,” he exclaimed, speaking to himself. The pot was soon filled with water, the water salted, and placed on the stove. “So, how did you like folding those,” he took off the apron, figuring that he wouldn’t get too dirty putting pasta in the water, and approached the kitchen island, where she was. It was nice, spending time with her. She was always curious, and for someone who did not usually cook, she even managed to get the job done well. He couldn’t hold back his smile as he looked at what she had made, and then at her. “The water’s going to take a few minutes to boil, we should probably clean up…” He corrected himself, “No, it’s your birthday. I will clean up my mess.”

“Okay, I accept this.” Evelyn grinned. “It was nice, even if once I - well, not every experience in the kitchen was lovely but this certainly is.” She was incredibly appreciative of the fact that he had agreed to come over, that he’d agreed to cook for her and spend her birthday with her. Even though some of Kaden’s messages still swirled around in her mind. There was no way he liked her, not like that - even though he did agree to spend a lot of time with her, which had to at least mean that he liked her in some capacity. It was weird, too - she so rarely had any doubts about whether or not people liked her, because she knew most did. “I did like it.” She glanced over to him as he took off his apron. She smiled at him, too, for a moment - “Well, I can help, if you want.” She bit her lip again, taking a few steps toward him. “You know, it only seems like the nice thing to do.” She glanced over to where everything was cooking, before grabbing the collar of his shirt and pulling him closer to her and pressing her lips against his before pulling away for a second, looking down. “Sorry. I  - well, maybe Kaden’s questions had more validity than I thought.”

He had a jar of flour in one hand, and the pastry bag in the other when she pulled him into a kiss. She looked down, he put down the jar of flour, and couldn’t help his smile as she mentioned damn Kaden and his stupid questions. “I cannot believe that you just proved him right,” his hand reached for her cheek, and he kissed her back, forgetting about his hunter friend, and thinking about all these times when he had wondered if she was messing with him, or actually interested in him. He had been wrong, apparently. “Shared blame,” his shoulder shook with amusement. Biting his lip, Alain looked at Evelyn. “Is this your attempt at distracting me from cleaning all that up ?” He kissed her cheek this time, and handed her the pastry bag. “We’ve got a birthday dinner to finish cooking, Evelyn,” he raised his eyebrows, although he had trouble not to smile at her.

“Yes, well,” she looked over to him. “I have to say, I am alright with proving him right in this case.” Evelyn liked the feeling of his lips against hers as he kissed her back. But then he broke away and she frowned for a moment. “Good to have balance.” She rolled her eyes. “Well, at the risk of sounding too cheesy, I think you taste better, even if this does smell fantastic.” She pulled him toward her for another kiss, this time biting his lip with her teeth, gently. “I suppose we can finish, but only if we can continue this later, if you are okay with that. My couch is nice for kissing.”

“You are right… About this sounding cheesy,” sure her comment made him laugh but he gave her the same look he had given her earlier as she told him that she would look inside the fridge. “I’ll get the appetizers out of the oven,” he didn’t have time to add another word for she was kissing him again, “Really? Well, we’ll have to clean and eat first, don’t you think?” He reached for her hand, and put it on the bowl where the pasta dough used to be. “If you help, it should not take too long,” winking at her, he took a step back and headed toward the trash can, getting rid of wrappers and empty paper bags. The oven. Merde. Alain hurried toward the appetizers, cursing at himself for not using a timer that beeped. Taking his time to put them on a nice plate, he heard the water boiling behind him and glanced over at Evelyn, on the other side of the kitchen. “You can put the pasta in the water if you want…” He would have added that she should be careful with the boiling water, but she could probably handle making pasta. She had mentioned that she liked that, and that’s why he had picked that dish for tonight after all. “I’ll set the table, alright?”

“Yes, well, I have layers.” She smirked at him. “Apparently some are a little, well,” she gestured vaguely in the air. “Yes, really. It is good and soft and I am more than happy to show you how good it is for other sorts of things and longer kisses later, after dinner. You know, if you want?” She let him guide her hand. “Well, I have always believed that being given motivation for doing a task well is excellent, and this, any of this, is more appealing than some silly sort of sticker.” She watched as he moved the appetizers to a plate and nodded at his comment. “Yes, of course.” She said, carefully placing the pastas into the water.” Evelyn nodded. “Yes, if you - well, you do actually know where some of my dishes are already, so feel free to use any that you please.” She went over to one of the cabinets and got out the sparkling cider. “We cannot forget this, especially given that this evening has turned out to be even lovelier than I thought it would be.”

“Questionable?” She certainly did not want him to finish her sentence, but he could not help it. “One thing at a time, alright?” Searching through the cabinets for plates, he picked up two small ones for the appetizers and two larger deep ones for the rest of the meal. The table set, he asked her for table napkins, and then took care of the pastas, adding them to the sauce and setting the heat to the lowest setting. “Let’s have dinner then,” one plate in each hand, Alain pecked Evelyn’s cheek and invited her to follow him into the garden. He had figured, since it was a warm evening, that they could have dinner outside. They would probably have to head back inside for dessert, but that was not something he had thought of yet. The table looked quite simple, compared to those you could find in fine restaurants, but anything that was free of mimes would probably suffice.

“Not what I was going to say.” She replied, but her eyes and lips conveyed that she was not at all mad with him. “Yes, one thing at a time. We could even make a list for tonight.” Another smirk crossed her lips. He kissed her cheek again and she couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. It was nice, though admittedly more than a little bit surprising, that he seemed to be nearly as receptive as she was willing to give. She gladly followed him out and through part of her garden, winding around towards her beach and a small platform at the back of her house; not one she used frequently (though again, when did she use anything frequently for eating actual meals?). Evelyn sat down as Alain did, and she poured each of them a glass of the cider. “Well,” she began, holding her drink up, “here is to new beginnings.” After tapping her glass against his, she took a small sip before placing it down and taking a bite of one of the appetizers. “This is wonderful. Thank you. For more than I was expecting, even.” She took a few bites of her pasta. “We do seem to make a good team.”

“We could make a list for tonight,” Alain raised an eyebrow, “but I’m pretty sure I can remember all that is planned so far,” even if he had a bad habit of forgetting things, even sometimes important ones, his short term memory was rather decent. Sitting down at the table, he had a look at the ocean for a moment, just long enough for Evelyn to serve them drinks. Taking a sip of cider, he picked up the bottle to have a look at who was making it, and listened to her as she commented on his cooking. “Careful with the samossa, I don’t want you to get burned,” he warned, disregarding the compliment (as per usual), putting down the bottle and starting to have a bit of the food cooked. “We do make a good team,” he agreed, finishing the appetizers before he started having his pasta. Being used to eating his meals quietly, he remained silent for a while, although from the moment they had met, several months ago, Evelyn had been warned that he was never the most talkative.

“Me too,” she said, pursing her lips to the side. “I think I can forgo a list for tonight.” She nodded at his words regarding the samosa, careful to have only taken a small bite of them, allowing them to cool down. She glanced over to him as he began to eat, and so she, too, took a few more bites of the pasta, and another sip of her drink. Evelyn put her fork down and looked back over to him. She was never nervous. Well, that was not entirely true; she did have the capacity to feel nervous but it was not usually in regard to any of - whatever this was. Hanging out with someone in any capacity; but then again, it was new, in some way - because usually she was fine with kissing someone and asking questions later - or not at all. “Are you - are you still okay with more of what we were doing earlier? For longer periods of time?” She took another sip of her cider. “Unless, of course, you would prefer to just not, that is fine too.” She grabbed another samosa and shoved it into her mouth, waiting for his reply.

“You did not scare me away, yet,” Alain put his cutlery down and looked at her kindly. “So yes, I suppose we can make more pasta later,” he raised his eyebrows, examining her reaction. It was the first time since he had met her that she did not seem so confident in herself, which was actually rather reassuring. He currently had no idea of what he was doing right now either, and winging it was a nice way to describe everything that had happened since that first kiss in the kitchen. “I will tell you if I want to change my mind, until then…” He picked up his napkin to wipe an imaginary crumb from his mouth, and get rid of the sweaty hands feeling. “Anyway, would you rather open your present before or after dessert?” He hoped that she would like it, although considering how interested she seemed every time they had done that, it could only be well received, right? Or maybe she didn’t really like it and just liked spending time with him, which was an option. “I mean, we have to do that before the mime strippers arrive, right?”

“Not what I meant.” Evelyn raised an eyebrow at him. “I think we have more than enough pasta, and I would not want to make more and have it go to waste.” She glanced down at her plate, taking another forkful of pasta to give herself something to do. “Okay. Okay, just, um,” she hated filler phrases, “let me know.” She glanced back over to him at his next question. “Well, I think dessert first and -” she rolled her eyes. “If you brought stripper mimes I will walk up and leave right this moment.” But she let out a small bit of laughter - she had grown to at least partially understand his humour in the few months since they had known one another. “But yes, I think dessert is good, first - if you are full?” She pushed a few of her pastas around on her plate, taking another small bite of one, grateful that Alain was a good cook, and even if proper food was still not her favorite, these were quite lovely. “That will be a proper surprise, too.”

“Fine, I’ll cancel the mimes then,” he gave her a shrug although the blank look on his face didn’t last long and was soon replaced by a thin smile, again. “Sure, I’m good,” mainly because he had nibbled on most of the things that were needed to cook this whole meal, which was not the best habit one could have. Standing up from his chair, he picked up her plate and cutlery first, then his, and headed back inside. He breathed out heavily as he closed the door behind him. For someone like himself that had never been fond of the unexpected, this was a rather pleasant surprise, although one that still seemed to him like a mirage, too good to be true. He shook the idea, but it still lingered for a moment in the back of his head. When he walked back to the table with the strawberry cake in his hands, Alain had not completely forgotten his anxious thought from the kitchen. “I decided against going with 28 candles,” he explained. There were indeed a total of 7 candles on the fraisier, mainly because he wanted to avoid wax ending up on the top of it. “Well ?”

She watched as he made his way back inside her home, and while he was in there Evelyn fiddled with the hem of her dress, trying to calm her breathing. She liked him, in a way that was admittedly confusing for her, for someone who might have liked people before but so rarely liked them enough that she didn’t feel a need to just have them over for one night or two just for fun. Of course, she told herself, if that was what he wanted, she would happily comply, but he didn’t quite seem like the sort to do that. If he was though, she would be fine with it. Luckily, she didn’t have to focus too much on her thoughts because he was back out with the cake and - “Oh, it is beautiful,” she said, her eyes lighting up as she smiled, “I think seven candles is perfectly acceptable, twenty-eight would be quite a lot, I am getting so old, after all.” She glanced up at him, the smile still present on her face. “Do I get to make a wish?”

“Thank God,” he put the cake before her, sighing with relief. Alain had mentioned to her a couple days ago that most of his cooking looked … okay, without ever looking beautiful, and he had actually gone through several youtube tutorials to get his cake to look good. “Absolutely,” now whether or not the candles would grant it was another question. He could not remember the last time he had seen someone do that. There was something very normal about all of this, and he actually liked it.

“Bakery-window worthy, though also it looks as though it will taste good as well.” Evelyn nodded at his allowance of her making a wish before she closed her eyes and blew out the candles; they stayed in place and she held a finger up to her lips. “Well, this worked - but shh, my wish is secret, lest it not come true.” She began removing some of the candles from her cake, placing them between her lips to remove some of the icing from them and she looked up at Alain. “Will you do the honors of cutting us each a slice?”

“Of course,” he replied, carefully getting rid of the candles and placing them on the edge of his plate. The hunter furrowed his brows. First in two halves, then quarters, and once again. The cake now cut in 8 pieces, Alain picked one up with the edge of the blade and placed it in her place with caution. Even if he could be trusted with a knife, delicateness was not his main quality. It was not surprising to see his own slice end up on the side although he was okay with that. “Bon appétit,” he waited for her to start eating to pick up his own spoon. “I’m not too sure about the strawberries,” it was a bit early for them, but his first bite made him change his mind about that. It did not take too long for the plate to be emptied.

She watched him cut the cake into eight pieces, appreciating the neatness of planning that he used, and gratefully accepted a piece of cake onto her plate. “To you as well,” she replied, digging into the cake. “I think that the strawberries are wonderful.” She said, placing one into her mouth. Evelyn ate the cake slower than Alain did, savoring each bite. After a bit, her plate was empty as well, save for a little bit of icing that had spilled out while she was eating. She ran her forefinger across it, before bringing it to her mouth and wiping it off of her finger, looking right at Alain. They had kissed - three times, already - she was allowed to take another step of flirting, wasn’t she? “This was utterly delightful.”

Alain raised an eyebrow as she dragged her finger against her plate to get the last bit of icing. If it first went over his head that she was flirting, it was as he was about to comment on it not being good manners that it hit him. He scratched a spot next to his nose in an attempt to hide, just a little, the faint redness that made his cheek feel warm. “I’m glad you liked it,” he cleared his throat and took a deep breath. “Do you want to have tea or something, or…?” Or she could open her present and then, who knew. He could have enjoyed going by the shore to walk with her, but this was her day.

A small smile crossed her lips as she noticed his cheeks growing just slightly red. Evelyn gave a quick nod. “I did, absolutely. I still think that the Victoria Sponge is my favorite, but this was quite delightful as well.” At his question, she thought for a moment. “I think, if you are alright with it, I would like my present. Then we can see how the evening goes?” She paused for a moment. “Do you have to be back home at any particular time? I remember you were taking care of Abel as well as, of course, your own dogs.” Evelyn smiled at him. “Though of course, you are welcome to stay as long as you would like.”

Alain shook his head. He should have known that she would not change her mind about her favourite cake, and he had to admit that this was one thing the British knew how to cook. “Alright then,” he held out his hand to grab hers, squeezing it lightly. “Let’s go open that present then,” his eyes travelled across her face, lingering on her lips for a moment. Yeah, no, now was not the time. Besides, she had just asked him a question. Walking with her toward the living room, where he had left the wrapped present, he considered what she just asked. It was not reasonable to stay for the night, was it ? If things headed naturally toward this, then fine, although he could not tell her that the rest of his plans for the night consisted of taking care of a spawn nest he had been told about. If she knew about the supernatural, she probably would disapprove, and if she did not, she would think that he was insane. “My dogs are used to being alone,” he finally answered. Now, she did not have to know why. “I don’t know, we will see. I still have to prove that you do snore,” he let go of her hand and glanced at her with an innocent look on his face.

She liked the feeling of his hand against hers, and she followed him toward her house, even though she frowned slightly when his gaze moved toward her lips but he didn’t kiss her. Well, all the more reason to give him reason to later. “I look forward to seeing what it is you got me.” she went and sat down on her couch. Evelyn crossed her legs and looked at the wrapped up box in front of her for a moment, responding to his remark. “I have already assured you that I do not, but if you want to see me sleep, I do have a number of bedrooms that I could show you.” She matched his innocent look with one of her own, a simple grin crossing her lips. “But I also would not want to tear you away from your dogs so, you know, it is up to you. I can give you a reason to come back over again if you would like.” With that, she opened the card he had attached and read it, another smile, softer this time, crossing her lips. She began to carefully tear open the wrapping paper, her eyes growing wide as she saw what it was. “Thank you so much.” She said, motioning for him to sit down, and once he did, she pulled him into another kiss, longer this time.

“I guess I asked for those sorts of comments,” Alain looked down at his shoes for a couple of seconds before he looked down at her, tilting his head to the side. “That is very kind of you,” it was true that recently he had found all sorts of excuses to spend time with her, the latest one being picking her up for Kaden’s birthday party because he wanted to retrieve a baking pan he had forgotten in her kitchen. As she began to open her present, the hunter’s feelings were balancing between expectation and concern. She could either love it, or be really disappointed. His worries faded quickly enough, although her wide eyes managed to bring a frown to his face for a short time. “I wasn’t sure you would -” her kiss cut him off, although since he was about to ramble, it wasn’t such a bad thing. His hand moved to her cheek, carefully, as if he was afraid that she would vanish, his fingers slipping through her hair.

She gave him a bit of an ‘I told you so’ shrug in response to his remark. But then when she had kissed him he responded, he didn’t pull away and she only deepened the kiss as his hands found her hair - and she liked how they felt there. It was one of her favorite and most solid someone else is here with me things. She pulled him down against the couch, almost as though she was desperate to make sure that this was real, that his hands and his weight were not just some sort of false comforting part of her imagination. Which was also weird. Evelyn wasn’t usually the sort to need this sort of comfort, not since Melanie, not really. Having people appreciate her was fine without deep and solid confirmation. Not now, though. She broke away from their kiss for a moment, her cheeks warm and her gaze soft on him.

Alain felt as if his heart had sunk in his chest, as he was briefly brought back years ago. He had had time to grieve, and it was hard to feel melancholy with these little things bringing him back to reality. Warmth, the faint smell of lavender, the touch of her hair under his fingers. When she pulled herself away from him, he met her eyes and his expression softened. He rubbed reddened cheeks under his fingertips and sat up. “That’s…” Trailing off, his eyes were distracted by a Bluray case. Rear Window. “Weren’t we originally supposed to watch this,” he wasn’t against spending the rest of the evening in a .. cooler environment, after all.

“We were.” Evelyn looked up at him, “though it makes it a little difficult to watch given our current predicament.” She grinned, watching as he sat up. She pushed herself up too, grabbing the disc and making her way over to the television, placing it into the Bluray player before pressing play and making her way back over to the couch and sitting right next to Alain again, resting her head against his shoulder. “Thank you, I do not know if I have said this enough. This has been one of my loveliest birthdays.”

His eyes followed her as she went toward the television and came back to his side. Alain shifted a little as she leaned against his shoulder, lifting his arm to give her more room. Her comment made him bite the inside of his cheek. She must have thanked him at least ten times since he had arrived. Although rather than to give her shit for it, he kissed the side of her head and glanced at the screen as the music started, announcing the beginning of the movie.

[dyscrasia-eucrasia]

<<Prev | Next>>

Part 18

"Are you sure I can't help with any of that?" Angel asked. 

"Would you let someone who doesn't know anything about your culture's food help make it?" Demie said, looking over his shoulder to where Angel sat at the kitchen table. 

"Dude, my parents both worked sixty hour weeks," Angel said with a shrug. "I grew up on Kraft mac and cheese and Bagel Bites." 

"Ew," Demie said, wrinkling his nose. He had no idea what Bagel Bites were, but he'd seen Elaine make mac and cheese out of those bright blue boxes. The stuff looked positively radioactive. 

He turned back to what he'd been doing. He had very much wanted to make dolma - it felt befitting for having a guest over for the first time in his entire life - but Elaine had been very firm when he gave her the shopping list that she was not going to drive to Charleson in search of grape leaves and pine nuts. So he had to make due with tomatokeftedes and patzaria. 

Currently, he had the fritters chilling in the freezer and the potatoes mashed, and was in the process of peeling cucumbers for tzatziki. He had had the good sense to make the beets a day before. 

"So, you're like… really into food, huh?" Angel asked. 

"I'm Greek, of course I'm into food," Demie said absent-mindedly as he pulled a knife and the sharpening rod out of the knife block on the counter. 

"No, I mean like…" Angel paused as Demie swiftly drew the blade along the steel before dropping the rod back into the knife block. He sliced the cucumber down the center lengthwise and then chopped the vegetable with the speed and skill of a trained chef. 

"Like you said you have a garden, and you clearly made those goat treats yourself, and you can do that with a knife…" 

"I make my own cheese, too," Demie said.

"Omigod, really? Are we having some with all this?" 

"None of these recipes really use feta…" Demie said. He was loath to do anything in the recipes that hadn't been taught to him by his grandmother. Angel made a noise of disappointment, though, and Demie looked over his shoulder at him. "Why, do you really like feta that much?" 

"I don't think I've ever actually had any, I just really want to try homemade cheese," Angel said. "Especially if it's made by you." 

Demie felt the tips of his ears get hot, but he couldn't really figure out why. No one had ever been impressed by his cooking before. Then again, the only people he'd ever cooked for were Marius and Elaine. Marius would always compare Demie's cooking to their grandmother's, and Elaine had the most garbage tastes in food he'd ever seen, so neither of them were particularly enthusiastic about what he made. 

"Uh… I mean, if you really want some, there's some in the fridge," Demie said, nodding over his other shoulder at the fridge. 

He saw Angel start to stand up out of the corner of his eye, but right at the same time, the front door opened. Both he and Angel stopped and turned towards it, to see Elaine step inside. Her hair and arms were covered in sawdust, no doubt from trimming lumber at the hardware store, and she looked even more pissed than usual. 

"Oh, hi!" Angel said. His voice was bright and chipper, and felt entirely out of place in the trailer. No one was ever that happy in this place. 

"I'm Angel," he said, holding out his hand. 

Elaine narrowed her eyes, looking at the hand offered to her. "I know," she said, and stopped off towards her bedroom. 

"Did I say something wrong?" Angel asked, turning to look at Demie. 

"Nah, Elaine's just a huge bitch," he replied. He swept the ingredients on the cutting board into the blender and blitzed it on high. The vintage machine complained loudly, the blade sputtering as the engine tried to generate enough power to move. Demie felt extremely self-conscious. The blender, along with everything else in the trailer, needed to be replaced, but there was no money for it. Most of the time he just put up with it, but having an outsider see how he lived made him feel deeply inadequate. 

Finally the blender managed to work the cucumbers into a chunky paste, and he set it aside, turning his attention to the stove. 

"What's that?" Angel asked as Demie poured oil from a large plastic jug into a large pan. 

"Uh, peanut oil," Demie said, lifting up the jug and looking at the label. "It's supposed to be healthier than canola oil." 

"No, I mean, what were you humming just now?" 

The heat spread from Demie's ears across his face. He hadn't even noticed that he'd been humming. It just sort of came naturally. Music was just ingrained into his life - it had been, ever since he was a kid. Cooking, gardening, herding… basically anything that required any sort of care towards another living thing, his family would hum or sing to. There was no proof their voices affected food or plants or animals like it did people, but there was always the possibility that maybe they could make the food taste a bit better, or the plants grow a bit fuller, or the animals act a bit more tame. 

He didn't really know how to explain that to Angel, though, so he just mumbled something that he wasn't even sure were words. 

When the oil started shimmering, the tomato fritters came out of the freezer and went into the pan. They sizzled and splattered, and Demie had to jump back just a little. Most things in the kitchen didn't bother him, but the stove was just about at crotch height for him, and he'd splattered hot oil on his balls enough times to know it wasn't pleasant. 

That was another thing he was self conscious about - he was technically naked from the waist down around another dude. Of course, he was always naked from the waist down. He didn't see the point in wearing pants; they just seemed constricting, especially since his knees and ankles were anatomically in different places than a human's. But he did technically just have his ass and balls out around a gay guy, and that was kind of weird. 

He didn't have too much time to think about that, though. He had to keep an eye on the tomatokeftedes so that they didn't get too dark, fishing them out of the pan and laying them to dry on a piece of paper towel. Next he got the beets out of the fridge and got two clean, but mismatched, plates out of the cabinet to serve the food. 

"This smells amazing," Angel said as Demie set the plate down on the table in front of him. "I don't think I've ever had Greek food before. Except gyros, are gyros Greek?" 

"It's pronounced yee-rohs," Demie said as he sat down in the other chair. "But I've never had food from wherever you're from, so whatever." Was that racist to say? He wasn't sure. Angel was Asian, and Demie thought he could remember him saying something about his ethnicity, but he couldn't remember what it was. 

"You've never had pho?" Angel asked. 

"I don't exactly eat out," Demie said. 

"You don't even get delivery?" 

"Delivery from where? Billy Brook has like one shitty diner." 

"Oh, right." Angel looked a little bit embarrassed, and quickly took a bite of food. "This is amazing," he said after he swallowed. 

"It's alright," Demie responded, picking at his plate. 

"You don't really take compliments well, do you?" Angel asked. 

Demie had to stop and think about it. Did he? "I guess I'm just not used to getting any," he said. 

"Aww," Angel made a sad noise. Demie looked up to see him pouting. He couldn't help but snort. 

"Dude, what the fuck?" 

Angel's face broke into a smile. The corners of Demie's mouth reflexively lifted in response. He felt weird - he didn't smile a lot, but seeing Angel smile wanted him to do so, as well. It was kind of like how performing made him feel less anxious and empty inside, but multiplied by ten.

"Can I ask you something?" Demie said. 

"Sure." 

"Do you actually listen to heavy metal? No offense, you just don't seem very… hardcore." 

"Yes, I listen to heavy metal," Angel replied. His tone was a little strained, a little annoyed. 

"What bands?" 

"Is this a test?" Angel narrowed his eyes at Demie. 

"Huh? No? I just… just wanna know, I guess." 

"Well," Angel said with a dramatic sigh, "back in middle school, I knew this kid, he was a few years older than me… he was a total metalhead - a lot like you, actually. With the hair and the beard, at least, not a goatman, I mean. But no one would really hang out with him, because he wore a trenchcoat and stuff. But no one would hang out with me, either, because I was the one Asian kid in school. So we just kinda wound up hanging out together, since there was no one else to hang out with. And he turned me on to Korn and Slipknot and from there I just fell down a rabbithole, y'know?" 

Demie furrowed his brow. "Seriously?" 

"What?" 

"Korn? Slipknot?" 

"What's wrong with them?" Angel asked. 

"Nothing," Demie said. He wasn't really sure how to word it. They just weren't… great. 

"Oh? So who do you listen to, then?" Angel asked, aggressively pointing his fork at Demie. 

"Uh, Iron Maiden, Black Sabbath, Slayer…" 

"Oh, and you're going to judge my tastes in metal, when you listen to the most basic metal bands ever?" 

"Hey, no, I listen to other stuff. Like… Blind Guardian, Labyrinth, Rhapsody of Fire…" 

"Yeah, you would listen to Blind Guardian," Angel muttered. 

"What's that supposed to mean?" 

"It means you definitely seem like the kinda guy who'd listen to nerd metal." 

"What!? Blind Guardian aren't for nerds, they're like one of the most influential European power metal bands--" 

"Yeah, who sing about their LARP campaigns." 

 "They aren't for nerds!" 

"WILL YOU TWO SHUT THE FUCK UP, YOU'RE BOTH FUCKING LOSERS THAT I'D BEAT UP FOR LUNCH MONEY," Elaine bellowed from her room. 

Angel glanced over his shoulder, then back to Demie. They were both silent for a minute, but then Angel's face cracked into a smile and he wheezed, and all of a sudden they were both laughing.

[alejaosbastardos]

On the Road

Summary: Ten years after the massacre at the border, Daniel’s life had changed a lot, the death of his father and brother, his escape to Puerto Lobos to start a new life, dragging a past that he could never leave behind. When Daniel decided that he would never see a familiar face again, the past and the present cross in his road.

Chapter 5: Friendship

Daniel wasn’t sleeping.

Yes, he was lying on the couch and his eyes were closed, but he wasn’t sleeping.

Yesterday He had finally been able to sleep 4 hours in the morning, but today? Nothing.

It should be around 7:00 a.m., he felt the sunlight on his eyelids. He had tried to sleep at 4:00 a.m., but he couldn't.

He sighed and got up from the couch.

Another night without sleeping a shit. He thought.

The house was completely silent, Chris must still be sleeping.

Daniel took out a pack of cigarettes he had stored in the kitchen and opened the door carefully to avoid waking Chris. There was no one around the beach, so he sat on the first step of his porch and lit a cigarette, then he took it to his mouth.

The waves of the sea moved smoothly along the coast. Daniel loved the sound of the waves.

A puff of smoke came out of his mouth as he watched the landscape.

Daniel threw and stepped on the cigarette when a brown figure in the distance quickly approached him when she noticed his presence.

"Hey! Kiara!"

The dog greeted him by licking his face while Daniel smiled.

"Where were you? I was already beginning to worry about you." He said while stroking her head, Kiara barked at him as she waved her tail happily.

"Mmm, you must be hungry, I'll get you some food."

But when he got up and opened the door, Chris was on the other side about to open the door too.

"Hey." Daniel greeted.

"Hey." Chris repeated and a huge yawn came out of his mouth. "Good mornaaaang."

"Yes, good mornaaaang for you too."

"You are a dick." He shook his head and looked outside the house. "Oh, do you have a dog?"

Chris walked to Kiara and put his hand toward her to caress her.

"Be careful, she doesn't like strangers." Kiara put her head close to Chris's hand and started licking him. "Well, except you."

"Who doesn't like me?" He smiled and began to stroke Kiara's body. "Boy or girl?"

"Girl, her name is Kiara."

"She is super cute."

"And she's not mine. But two years ago She got hurt in the street, so I brought her here to heal her." Daniel said as he caressed her too. "She stayed with me until she was better, since that day she always visits me every morning."

"That is so cool, I always wanted to have a dog." Chris said. "But my father never liked the idea, and my grandparents had cats, so I could never have one."

"Did you live with your grandparents?"

"Yes.. a while after you left my father decided that he needed to solve some personal problems he had and thought it was the best to me to stay with my grandparents." Chris replied without saying much.

"I get it."

Daniel neither asked nor said anything else.

He entered the house and took out a food bowl for dogs and drinking water.

"I always have bags of food for when she comes to visit me." Daniel said as he brought the food bowl to Kiara. "Although I know I'm not the only one who feeds her, she has the whole neighborhood in her pocket."

Chris laughed.

Kiara barked and wagged her tail happily before eating her food.

"Daniel, don't you mind if I use your kitchen to make breakfast?" Chris asked.

"It depends, if you're going to make me breakfast too, no, it wouldn't bother me." Daniel said trying to sound serious.

Chris rolled his eyes and smiled.

"Well, yes, I was going to make breakfast to you too."

"It's a joke dude."

"You clean the dishes and I cook, is it a deal?"

"Deal."

________________________

"Mmm dude." Chris called him.

"Mmm?" Daniel replied that he was lying on the couch writing on his phone.

"There is no bread in the fridge, I only see cans of beers, butter, water, milk, ketchup, a tomato and... an old lemon?"

"Oh shit, sorry, I forgot that I had to go to the market."

"Well, we have the eggs at least."

"What else do you need to cook?"

"I think we're fine, we can eat scrambled eggs and drink the remaining milk, but we should buy food for later."

"Ok." Daniel said as he approached the cupboard to check what he needed to buy. "But before we go to the market, I need to go somewhere. I promise that I won't be there for long."

"Where?"

"Sean's grave."

"Oh."

Both were silent for a few minutes until Chris spoke.

"Can I go with you?"

Daniel looked at him.

"Of course you can, he will be happy to see you again."

After Chris made the scrambled eggs, they both sat down to eat on the couch.

"Not bad, it’s very good." Daniel said before taking another spoonful to his mouth.

"Things you have to learn when you live alone." Chris said.

"Don’t speak for me, I don’t know how to cook."

Chris laughed.

"How are you supposed to feed yourself?"

"Most of the time I eat street food, and if I have to cook because I have no choice, I always cook very simple things."

"Well, it's not that hard, I can teach you if you want."

"I will consider your proposal."

Chris finished eating his plate and sighed.

"Dude, I need a favor from you." He said as his cheeks began to turn red with shame.

"Uh, ok, what happened?"

"Well I don't know if you've noticed it but when I entered your house I didn't have any suitcases."

"Oh, someone stole you?"

"No... well yes, I know, it's stupid."

"Dammit." Daniel cursed "Are you alright? Did he do something to you?"

"No, not really, he threatened me with a knife but nothing happened, he just took my suitcase."

"Mmm, how did he look?"

"I don't know, he was behind me and I couldn't look at him because he was threatening me." Chris said. "Why is that important?"

"For nothing.. I just want to know." Daniel replied. "Sorry dude, it's not very safe here, you have to be careful when you're alone in the street."

"Yes, I know.." Chris said. "My question is if you can lend me some of your clothes? I promise to buy some clothes so I don't keep bothering you."

"I don't mind lending you my clothes, I just think it wouldn't be your style, you know." Daniel said as he looked at Captain America's shirt that Chris was wearing.

"I will make a sacrifice this time if I can wear some clean clothes."

"Ok, ok, I'll give you clean clothes." Daniel said laughing.

After Daniel gave him some clean clothes, Chris went to the bathroom. Daniel took the time to wash all the dirty dishes and put them in their place.

When Chris opened the bathroom door he found Daniel sitting on his bed using his cell phone with more clean clothes next to him.

"Hey, you look great wearing that shirt." Daniel said as he looked at the skeleton drawing.

"You really believe it?"

"Well, that shirt looks more like you than me. I didn't wear it, it was a gift but I didn't like it."

"Mmm, I like it."

Daniel smiled at him.

"I'll go to take a shower too." He said as he stood up and took off his shirt to go to the bathroom.

Chris looked at his chest for a few seconds and then looked away to another place.

"Uh, well .. I'll wait for you outside the house."

"Okay."

Before Daniel closed the bathroom door Chris looked at his back.

When he left the house, Chris saw two kids swimming on the beach.

He took out his cell phone and looked at the charge percentage.

1%

Awesome. He thought sarcastically, his cell phone charger was in the suitcase that was stolen.. so he is fucked up.

He sighed and sat down the first step to look at the beach.

He would have to ask Daniel for his cell phone to call his grandparents and tell them that he was fine, at least he could contact them yesterday in the morning.

And Karen.. Chris has to convince Daniel to talk to her.

He still doesn't know how, Daniel seems to hold a lot of resentment yet.

"Chris." Daniel called him at the entrance of the house, he had another sleeveless shirt on. "Come on."

______________________

Daniel and Chris walked together until they arrived at what looked like an old construction that was never finished, next to it was a blue cross with several flowers and candles that had the image of the Virgin Mary.

R.I.P

SEAN

Daniel reached down and took the withered flowers from the vases.

"Later I will bring him some new ones, these flowers are already very withered."

"Daniel."

"What?"

"How did all this feel?" Chris wasn't quite sure to ask this question.

"Like a fucking hell."

"It still hurts?"

"As if it were the first day."

"Dude.. you know, regardless of what you believe, none of this is your fault." Chris said.

"Don't try to comfort me, if I hadn't taken Sean to that damn police shooting none of this would have happened." Daniel said.

"You were a child."

"And nothing will change the result."

"It was too much for you, both were children in a situation that neither could handle, you both didn't know what to do at that time where there was so much injustice on the part of those who had the duty to protect you, you didn't know how to use your powers." Chris replied. "You just tried to defend yourself."

"You know, every night before I go to sleep I think about what it would have been better to do at that time." Daniel's gaze was fixed on the cross. "Obviously what I decided to do was the worst decision of all."

"Daniel.."

"Chris." Daniel said. "If I had accepted Sean's decision to turn himself in to the police he would be alive right now."

Chris didn't answer anymore. Daniel got up and shook his pants.

The laughter of the kids was heard in the distance.

"Let's go, we can get the flowers in the market too." Daniel said and walked towards the street to throw away the old flowers.

Chris stood a few minutes standing in front of Sean's grave, his sad look was fixed on the cross.

"I'm so sorry Sean."

________________________

Daniel walked to an old pickup that was parked in the back of his house and took out the keys to open it.

"I didn't know you had a pickup." Chris said as he looked at it curiously.

"Well, yes, this shit is old but I like it a lot." Daniel said as he opened the passenger door. "Come on."

When Chris got in the car, Daniel started the engine and drove back until he reached the road.

Upon arrival, he pressed the throttle forward.

Chris watched the landscape as he felt the wind on his face.

"There is a lot of desert around here." Chris said. "It reminds me of the Colorado desert, but with less vegetation."

"Yes, welcome to Puerto Lobos, you are hardly going to see a tree in this shit, there are only cactus." Daniel answered and turned on the radio.

A Metallica song began to play in the background.

"So, are you going to tell me why that drastic change of look?" Chris asked.

"Uh? Oh, do you mean the tattoos?" Daniel asked amused.

"Well yes, but your hair surprised me a lot."

"The hair thing was stupid, I'm not going to lie to you." He said laughing. "I lost a bet."

"Dude, really?"

"Yes, the first time was because I lost the bet, then I started dyeing it because I liked how it looked."

"Well, the color looks good on you."

"Yes, people always tell me that I have a handsome face so anything I decide to do with my hair would be look good, who knows, maybe I will dye it green or something like this next time... If I'm bored enough to do that. "

"I'm not sure if that's a good idea." Chris said laughing.

Daniel laughed.

"It's a joke, but I miss my original color, so I'll let it grow to cut it later."

"That sounds better."

"What about you? You haven't changed much. You are exactly the same Captain Spirit I met 10 years ago." Daniel asked. "Do you still do cosplay and that shit?"

Chris laughed.

"Dude, you are a dick, jesus." He said as he dried the tears of laughter. "Well, you got me there."

"No shit." Daniel said laughing. "You became an otaku or.. what is the name of the Japanese shit?"

"No, I mean, anime is fine, but I like comics more than manga."

"Well, I don't know what is the difference between a comic and a manga to be honest." Daniel said  "But do you cosplay?"

Chris rolled his eyes and smiled.

"Yes, I've done cosplay, especially Marvel."

"Well dude, that's cool." Daniel said. “You should show me a photo of you wearing a cosplay.”

"Well, thanks I guess?” Chris said amused. “and no, definitely not.”

"What are you studying? I guess something that has to do with arts?"

"Actually, yes." Chris replied. "Interdisciplinary Arts."

"That's great, I'm happy for you Chris."

Chris smiled at him.

"You also draw."

"Yes, but I doubt I have the same professional level you have."

"Well, that's something I have to decide, not you."

"Ok, I promise to show you a drawing of mine next time.." Daniel said looking at him. "After we buy the things we need, but you must also show me your art."

"Deal?"

"Deal."

Both boys smiled at each other.

[isitgintimeyet]

The Ties That Bind

AO3

Previous

Thank you for reading this far. I really appreciate it. I still get nervous posting each chapter. I hope you enjoy this next chapter.

Thanks to @mo-nighean-rouge for the beta

Warning: bit NSFW towards the end

Chapter 8: A Dinner Invitation

“Her cuisine is limited but she has as good an idea of breakfast as a Scotchwoman.” Sherlock Holmes― Arthur Conan Doyle, The Naval Treaty

Jamie hesitated for a minute before he knocked on the door of the flat. He was slightly nervous, which he didn’t really understand. Since their first dinner, they had met twice more - once for a walk and a coffee before Claire had to return to work, and once for a drink. In his eyes, both had gone really well. And presumably in Claire’s eyes too, as she had extended this invitation for Jamie to come to her flat for dinner. Perhaps that was where the nervousness came from. Jamie felt like Claire had built a safety barrier around her, for her own emotional protection and for him to be willingly invited through the barrier into her safe haven was a great honour. Jamie didn’t want to let her down. He took a deep, calming breath and knocked on the door.

The door opened and a rich smell filled Jamie’s nostrils. Claire stood on the threshold, her hair a wild array, wearing a striped butcher’s apron and brandishing a large wooden spoon. She greeted him with a warm kiss, her mouth tasting of garlic and tomato. She nimbly pulled away before Jamie had a chance to extend the kiss.

“Welcome, welcome. Come on in.”

Jamie followed Claire through the hallway and into the main living room.

“I’ve brought ye a bottle,” he said, handing her a bottle bag emblazoned with ‘Happy Birthday’ in silver sparkly lettering. “Sorry about the bag, picked it up in a hurry. Consider it a late birthday gift for yer last birthday, Sassenach.”

Claire lifted the bottle out. “Oh, wow, that’s really special. And possibly the latest or earliest birthday gift I’ve ever received.”

She careful placed the bottle of Broch Tuarach Special Reserve whisky on the coffee table. “Thank you so much. I’ll look forward to some sampling after dinner.”

Gently running her fingers down his forearm, she looked into his eyes and smiled. Returning to her normal brisk manner, she explained, “I can’t cook many things, but my lasagne is not bad at all. Pour yourself a glass of wine. It’s on the dining table; I just need to pop it in the oven. Be back in a minute.”

Jamie poured himself a glass of wine - red, he noticed, the same as they had ordered at the restaurant the week before - and looked around. Although the room itself was decorated in neutral tones, creams and beiges on the walls, natural wood plantation shutters at the large bay window, there was a relaxed and homely feel due to the accessories Claire had chosen. Earth toned plaid throws and cushions adorned the cosy-looking sofa. A yucca plant, standing at least as tall as Jamie himself, graced one corner. Another corner held a floor to ceiling bookcase crammed with an eclectic mix of books: some medical, some on plants and herbs, some murder mysteries, Jane Austen novels, Beatrix Potter tales and Winnie the Pooh. One shelf was dedicated to old history textbooks. Entwined around the bookcase was a set of fairy lights, casting a glow over all the books. Jamie reached over and ran his fingers over the spines.

With the lasagne in the oven and the salad already made, Claire knew that dinner was well in hand. She took a big gulp of her wine. Really, she seemed to be developing quite a taste for red wine. The key thing, she told herself, was not to drink too much tonight. She wasn’t totally sure yet how the evening would end, but she wanted to be sober enough to make conscious decisions, and to enjoy herself no matter what happened. Sex with Jamie had featured heavily in her thoughts over the past week. Claire wasn’t sure it had ever been like this with Frank, or perhaps it had and those memories had just faded away to be replaced by those of criticisms, nit-picking and uncomfortable silences.

Claire took another gulp of wine as she picked up the salad bowl. What will be, will be, she told herself, heading back into the living room.

As she entered, she found Jamie standing, looking at her books. “Quite a wide selection ye have here.” he commented.

Claire felt herself reddening slightly. The books were her treasured possessions, they were what defined her. She didn’t usually explain their importance to people, didn’t usually want to. But she wanted Jamie to know her, to understand her, to deepen the connection she knew was there.

“Those books are so important to me. The medical ones, obviously, for my job, my vocation. Medicinal plants and herbs is a real passion of mine, one I’d like to develop in the future.”  

She moved closer. “As a teenager I fell in love with Jane Austen’s books. Feisty women, strong men… what’s not to love? I even had pictures of Mr. Darcy on my bedroom wall. The history books belonged to Uncle Lamb. I kept them with me after he died. He was a professor at Oxford, specialising in the Crusades. Every holiday, we’d be off, following the steps of those Crusaders.”

“Like Indiana Jones?”

“Not nearly so adventurous, lots of walking, lots of libraries, lots of late night discussions with fellow historians, occasional digging. No spies or nazis. Most danger was being chased by dogs in Antakya. Me running ‘til I thought my chest would burst, Uncle Lamb panting beside me and yelling insults in Turkish to the dogs. I must have been about nine or ten.”

There was a brief silence before Claire started talking again. “The Beatrix Potter and Winnie the Pooh are mine from when I was a child. I don’t have many things from my mum and dad, don’t even have many memories of them. I was only five when they died in a car accident. But what I do remember is lying in my bed, Mum on one side of me, Dad on the other and them reading these to me… Mum doing the narrative bits, dad doing the voices, you know, Eeyore, Tigger, Piglet and so on. I thought I was the luckiest girl in the world, having parents who could read stories so well. And that image, that memory, that’s what I want for my children...” Her voice tailed off, now afraid she had shared too much.

Jamie pulled her close, her head nestling against his chest. She could hear his heartbeat, calm, steady, reassuring. One large hand cradled her head, the other spanned her back. He radiated warmth and security.

“Och, lass.” he whispered.

“And the fairy lights,” Claire continued. “I know they’re a bit twee, but after my parents died, when I went to live with Lamb, I had difficulty sleeping, was scared of the dark. Lamb set up fairy lights in my bedroom, told me that mum and dad were now stars in the sky and the fairy lights represented those stars, to remind me that they were watching over me as I slept. So they’re always here with me. Silly, I know.”

“It’s no’ silly at all. It’s beautiful, Sassenach. Yer uncle must have been a rare man.”

“Oh, he was. To take on someone else’s child, full time… I never felt unloved or a burden to him. Even though I must have cramped his style no end!”

A bell rang out from the kitchen. Claire pulled out of Jamie’s embrace. “Time to eat.”

“Just one more question… why the murder mystery books?”

Claire turned as she headed for the kitchen. “Never know when those techniques may come in handy.” She grinned and waggled her eyebrows mischievously.

******

Claire was wrong, Jamie thought as he leant back in his dining chair, stuffed with lasagne. Her lasagne was not ‘not bad’, actually it was fantastic.

“That was great.” He complimented enthusiastically.

“Now you know the extent of my culinary skills… lasagne, salad… oh, and I can do a pretty good bacon sandwich. But that’s more a breakfast thing though.” She stopped abruptly, scared of giving him the wrong (or was it the right?) impression. “Would you like a dessert? I have some ice cream, or sorbet. Or would you like a coffee? I can make some proper stuff.”

“Nay, I’m fit tae bursting here. What I would like is fer us to sit on the sofa and I will educate ye in the proper way tae drink that whisky.”

“Suits me fine. I’ll go and get some glasses.”

Claire returned to find Jamie sitting on the sofa, opening the whisky bottle. She placed the heavy crystal tumblers on the table together with an ice bucket. Jamie looked at her and pursed his lips tightly.

“First rule of whisky: no ice. It crushes the flavour, ye ken. And when it melts ye canna control how it dilutes the whisky. If ye like ye can add a wee bit of water tae open up the flavours, but try it w’out first. Glasses are good, though. Heavy base, nice. If ye want tae sniff it first, ye can use tulip-shaped glasses, but these look better.” He poured a generous measure into the glasses and handed one to Claire. “Slainte. Tell me what ye think.”

Claire sipped the whisky, savouring the complex flavours. “That’s wonderful. There’s a sweetness to it, it somehow reminds me of fruit cake, like at Christmas.” She lifted the bottle, studying the label.

“That’s verra good. Ye’ve quite the palate. This is aged in sherry barrels, that’s the sweet fruitiness.”

“Hang on,” Claire read the label again. “The distillery name here, it says ‘Fraser and Sons’. Is that you?”

“Aye, I’m the son... weel, technically I’m the great, great, great however many times grandson. But, aye, my da heads up the distillery. He’s the CEO. He lives up there in the village, Broch Mordha.”

“And that’s what you’ll do when he retires?”

“Nothing’s ever certain. Perhaps. We have shareholders, ye ken. Mebbe they’ll no’ want me. But it would be an honour to follow on from my da. He’s a great man.”

“And I’m sure his son will be just as great.”

Jamie shrugged nonchalantly, but Claire could tell he was pleased by the compliment. Claire took another sip as Jamie watched, her lips moistened by the whisky. She looked up at him as he lifted her glass and placed it gently on the table. The room was suddenly filled with tension, like static electricity, sparks shooting between them, emanating from their very cores.

Almost as if in slow motion, Claire raised her hand and placed the palm on Jamie’s chest, feeling the hardness of those muscles and his heartbeat speeding up with each breath. As she moved her fingers, she could feel his wiry chest hairs though the thin fabric of his shirt. He was so strong and big and… and any thoughts of playing it cool rushed right out of her head as she leant forward to touch her lips to his. She felt Jamie’s arms wrap around her tightly and she was lost. She opened her lips under his, letting her tongue slide inside his mouth, feeling his entwine with hers. His hands rubbed against her back as he pulled her onto his lap. His arousal pressed hard against her and she felt her own response deep within.

Jamie was the first to break the kiss. Locking eyes with Claire, he asked hoarsely “Are ye sure about this? I dinna want ye tae do anything ye may regret. Ye’ve no’ had too much tae drink, have ye?”

In response, Claire stood up and pulled Jamie to his feet. With fingers intertwined, she led Jamie out of the room, across the hallway and to her bedroom. He stopped her at the door, keeping her firmly in his grasp.

“Are ye sure?” He asked again, running his hand down the side of her face.

She nodded wordlessly and pulled him into the room, closing the door behind them. The room was dimly lit with one small bedside light. Claire moved to turn it off. Jamie stopped her. “If ye dinna mind, I want tae look at ye.”

Standing beside the bed, Claire ran her hands up under Jamie’s shirt, over his chest, and down his back. She slid her hands under the waistband of his jeans to his firm buttocks.  

Jamie lowered his head to her neck, peppering her skin with a trail of feathery kisses from her earlobe and down her neck. His fingers hurriedly undid the buttons of her shirt creating a path for his kisses to continue their descent into the cleft between her breasts. Claire threw her head back, letting the sensation of his lips wash over her and then gasped as Jamie lifted her up and placed her on the bed in one motion. She smiled up at him as he sat down beside her and pulled her shirt off her shoulders. She raised slightly from the bed and shrugged it off, not caring where it landed, just desperate for the contact of skin on skin.

Turning his attention to her jeans, Jamie quickly unzipped them and tugged them down as Claire lifted her hips to aid this process. Finally free of the jeans, Jamie groaned out loud at the sight of her lying on the bed, clad in her cream lace bra and panties. Jamie could clearly see her nipples outlined through the fabric, already erect demanding his touch. Through the lacy panties, he could see the dark shadow of her pubic hair. He knew, if he touched her, how wet she would be.

Claire pulled at his shirt. “Take it off.” She pleaded.

Jamie rose from the bed and pulled his shirt over his head. Claire reached out to pull him down to her but teasingly he stepped away, prolonging the tension. He undid his trousers and bent down to pull them off, fumbling momentarily on the ground.

“Socks,” He explained, grinning. “They’re no’ verra sexy.”  

Claire could clearly see the extent of his arousal through his tight white trunks. Sitting up, she ran her hands up his thighs, cupping his balls before curling her fingers in the waistband and pulling the trunks cleanly down. They joined the rest of their discarded clothes on the floor as he stepped out of them. Without thinking, she ran her fingers along his length, revelling in the contrast of hardness and velvet softness. She could hear his intake of breath at her touch.

Still without touching her, Jamie lay on his side next to her on the bed. His eyes moved back to the cream lace of her bra, staring intently. His tongue moistened his lips. Claire felt desperate for his hands on her body.

“Jamie,” she whispered.  

Finally, he touched her, his hand lazily moving across her abdomen, tracing circles round her navel before coming to rest with the underside of her breast nestling in the palm of his hand. His thumb stroked her lace covered nipple. She looked into his deep blue eyes, filled with lust and could hold back no longer.

Claire pushed him onto his back and stretched one leg over to straddle his hips. Kneeling up, she reached behind and unhooked her bra, letting it fall down her arms. Instinctively, his hips rose up, his erection pressing insistently against her core, sending sparks of excitement through her body. Jamie tugged her forward and she fell against his chest. Cupping her breasts, he moved under her, fitting her against him so he could taste her breasts, each one in turn.

As Jamie alternated from breast to breast, Claire began to grind against him, striving to increase the sensations through her body. She moved against him restlessly and slid down his body, licking and nibbling down his chest then lower and lower until he felt her head resting against his groin. He bucked against her mouth and pulled her back up. “Not now,” he growled against her throat, “I need tae be inside ye.” With one swift move, he lay Claire on her back, hovering above her and slid her panties down. Claire kicked her legs to free herself from them.

“Wait.” Claire reached into a bedside cabinet, producing a small foil packet. “Please.”

She handed it to Jamie. He quickly ripped the packet open with his teeth and rolled the condom on. Claire opened to him and Jamie slid one large finger down, slowly teasing her.

Finally, he could stand it no longer. Claire stared up into his eyes as she felt him moving within her. Her pleasure built in time with the rhythm of Jamie’s movements back and forth, plunging deeply and withdrawing almost completely, trying to prolong the excitement he felt. He reached his hand between them and quickly found what he was looking for. Rubbing in time with his strokes, he could feel Claire’s muscles tensing round him, her deep moans growing in intensity.

As Claire’s orgasm took hold of her whole body, Jamie withdrew his hand and with a guttural cry, he climaxed. They lay together, still joined, breathing heavily as their heart rates slowly returned to normal. Moving onto his back, Jamie nestled Claire against his chest, kissing the top of her head.

He whispered something against her hair. Claire raised her head.

“What did you say?”  She asked.

“Sorcha - your name in Gaelic. It means light. Like in the French, aye? Clair is light. Ye have yer fairy lights and now I have ye, my Claire, my Sorcha.”

[tatooedlaura-blog]

At the End of the Road

a standalone venture into the world of fine diner dining ...

@today-in-fic

&&&&&&&&&&&

Their first time at Waffles and Stuff, they had the heavy mantle of deadly 10-year-olds weighing on their shoulders, the diner dim with midnight shadows, the waitstaff mellow through pouring rain. Settled awkwardly at the counter, Scully felt around until her feet found purchase on the footrest while Mulder wrestled with sodden coat to hang dripping from the back of cracked vinyl swivel seat. Eventually, the foam finished giving way, shaping to backsides and thighs, warming to damp wool while the pair studied separate menus, quiet in debate over patty melt or salad, burger or chicken, coffee or hot chocolate.

Finally, the ancient waitress, small, quick, tight bun of hair, sweater hugging narrow shoulders, ended her conversation with the cook, coming over at just the moment Mulder decided what to order. How she knew, he’d never know, but know she did and stopping in front of him, “ready to order? Coffee? Tea? Space heater?”

Mulder, tired but still kicking, gave her a crooked smile, “you can’t warm space. It’s too big.”

“Given enough time, I could probably crochet it a blanket though. Maybe that would help.”

Her name was Catherine and he adored her instantly.

Scully, beside him, only absorbed half the conversation, mind caught between grilled chicken with lettuce and avocado and death by double cheeseburger, eyeing the deep-fried pickles for the interim moments between fry consumption and hot chocolate stupor. Hearing Mulder vaguely finish his order of waffles and eggs, she bit the bullet, ordering things the doctor in her screamed about at 3am when she couldn’t sleep from the heartburn singeing her esophagus.

The hot chocolate arrived first, whipped cream high, little bit of cinnamon classing up the plain, chipped mug; second came the pickles, mixing terribly with the drink and Scully loved it, the weird flavors, the grease, the ranch, the tang all smoothed out with warm milk and sugar. Mulder didn’t ask to have one, waiting quietly until she offered, holding out the small coin of fried delight, which he took, thanked her, didn’t ask for more but smiled when the flavors hit his tongue.

Scully’s feet were falling asleep but her belly was filling nicely, cheeseburger sitting precariously first on plate then in stomach, chasing away the gnawing hunger that had plagued them for the last three days, not satisfied with Payday bars and M&Ms, held barely at bay but not providing the shear beautiful thing that was deluxe cheeseburger and mound of vegetable oil crisp potatoes.

She caught Mulder staring at her at some point and when she raised her eyebrows at him, question sent non-verbally given her full mouth, he smiled his second time since they entered the restaurant and answered, small amount of egg caught in his front teeth, “I think you just moaned in satisfaction there, partner.”

Wondering if she should protest, turn red, sink in embarrassment, she instead gave it half a thought, then shrugged, talking through her mostly chewed mouthful, food in cheeks to speak without spitting bits, “damn good fry.”

Catherine refilled the hot chocolates for free, offered them pie, or cupcake in Scully’s case, given she was an ardent pie hater since the beginning of time, didn’t rush the check and circled a large smiley face on the bill, her ‘come again’ cheery against the thundering sky.

“Take as long as you like folks. I’ll be over here working my crossword and crocheting that blanket.”

Mulder snagged the bill, keeping it out of reach in his hand, “I like her and the Bureau will be tipping her double.”

Drifting towards a food coma, she propped her elbow on the counter and balanced her head on her hand, tilting enough to look him square, “if you give her triple, I bet she’ll let us nap here until morning.”

With a gaze that barely hinted at the next 70 years, he nudged her with his knee, receiving a lip twitch in return, the slightest eye twinkle she would never acknowledge having the power to do, before beginning the long slide to the floor, wiggling a little to straighten her pants, free damp cloth from the sticking places against her skin.

He saw that wiggle.

He would remember that wiggle.

Once soaking wet, 2:45am glowing on the dash, hair dripping, stomachs filled, in the car in a splashing dash, he gave her a glance, his diminutive partner already curled around the heater vent, safe in the passenger seat, “you’re going to fall asleep before we get to your apartment, I guarantee it.”

“It’s twelve minutes. I will not fall asleep in twelve minutes.”

Big fat liar.

He had to shake her arm for at least a minute before she even began thinking of forcing an eye open; ten minutes later, she was finally in her front door, Mulder holding her elbow the entire way, navigating her like a slack-jawed drunk up the steps. Setting her bag on the floor, he debating shoving her towards her bedroom so he could drop comatose on the couch but he fought gravity and overstuffed pillows to bid her g’night/g’morning.

He nearly crashed twice trying to make it to his own place with both eyes open.

Falling asleep on his couch, snuggled up tight under two wool blankets and a layer of flannel and fleece, Mulder listened the rain and thunder, wondering if they’d ever find the time to go back to the diner.

He wanted a full order of those pickle chips all to himself.

&&&&&&&&&&&&

Waffles and Stuff glowed in the night. Pitch black around them, savior in fluorescent and neon, it called to them after the longest drive known to man. They were just this side of the Bureau’s cutoff for driving to a crime scene, planes too expensive when a six-hour drive could take care of business.

It wouldn’t have been terrible save the flat tire, the stench of spilled gas from the can in the trunk and the persistent squeak, thud, thump from whatever under the car. Mulder didn’t want to look and Scully didn’t care to look so they suffered the rhythm while trying to keep the other from hangry overtones in their conversations with stolen M&Ms and Starbright mints from Scully’s secret forgotten stash in the side pocket of her suitcase.

They really should have stopped but the thought of Waffles and Stuff by 1:30am, navigator Scully estimated time of arrival, kept them driving past crap fast food for glorious Catherine and her bottomless supply of chocolate, hot or cold form, and the newest special, banana pancakes with whipped cream and strawberries, side of bacon, side of ham, one egg over easy, two wheat toast, grape jelly, one biscuit hold the gravy.

Actually, that was the Mulder special at the moment, of which he’d been extoling virtue since exit 4b or 610, whichever was further back and farther from destination.

Scully, on the other hand, had been drooling, physically and mentally, over the thought of mushroom swiss burger with lettuce, tomato and bacon, bun toasted, fries on the side, crisp side salad with exactly four cups of ranch dressing and croutons by the pound, mozzarella sticks, marinara dipping and for the love of God, some kind of strawberry milkshake.

In the three years since they’d began frequenting Stuff, their combinations had changed drastically in contrast to pricing, décor and staffing but the cook kept cooking, Catherine kept knitting and Mulder kept tipping his usual Bureau approved 30% tip. Finally, in reference to the glow from earlier, Mulder spotted it first and Scully, to this day, swears she heard a small whimper of want escape his lips, forcing his foot down further on the gas pedal.

Scully had just slightly more decorum to keep her sounds to herself.

“Well, hello, my weary travelers.” Catherine waved to the empty room, “your usual is open.”

Mulder gestured Scully forward to the only blue booth, the one that had been reupholstered at some point and by accident done in blue. He’d always meant to ask why blue but tonight, like every other time, the thought fizzled out before fully forming and he was perfectly fine with this. Once they were both in, coats shoved to the sides, dry, not needing a place to drip, Scully tucked one foot under her leg, swinging the dangling one lightly, the breeze of her movement ruffling Mulder’s pantleg every second or third pass by, “cheese?”

Before he could answer, Catherine called out from near the coffee machine, about to begin the hot chocolates, given the chill in the October air, “we’ve got a new item. Max thought it up about a week ago.”

Manly squee loud enough to make Catherine smile, “really? Please say it’s a fried chicken and waffles with a side of home fries and scrambled eggs with green peppers, tomatoes and just a hint of Tabasco sauce and maybe a spritz of lemon.”

Max stuck his head over the order counter, “give me a few weeks on that one but tonight’s is pancakes with crumbled sausage and bacon cooked right in, four egg omelet with jack cheddar, peppers and onions, two biscuits and sausage gravy, perfect for sharing.”

Mulder held up a hand, “I’ll take it. Burn the bacon first please.”

Looking at Scully next, “how about you, Miss Scully? What can I get for you this evening?”

After she told him her order, Catherine came by, drinks in hand, settling into the chair she bought with her, “all right. What’s happening in your world today?”

Their nights at Waffles and Stuff were part therapy, part inquisition, part intellectual debate, part necessary nonsense, Catherine helming it all, feeding them, waiting on them, listening to them and when necessary, pretending to have somewhere else to be when she saw them lock eyes, drop off the Earth, the quiet bubbling them together for what she hoped would be eternity.

Or until the sun came up.

Sometimes it was Scully who looked about to faceplant in her dessert; this time, however,  it was Mulder, yawning every thirty seconds like clockwork until Scully, the other foot dangling by now, nudged him gently on the shin, accidently on purpose running her foot closer to his knee than she ever suspected she’d do in daylight.

He didn’t wake up so much as give her a sleepy crook of smile that made her wonder if she really needed to drop him off or if she could just take him home, stash him in her spare room, make him breakfast sometime the following afternoon.

Reluctantly she paid the bill, left the tip, held the coat, guided the body, drove the car, escorted the warm puppy, called the good night, drove the car, opened the door, locked the door, shed the clothes, pulled the covers, hailed the Mulder, succumbed the sleep, dreamed the partner… woke up with a smile to find him banging on her door, donuts in hand and casefile ready.

&&&&&&&&&&&&

From spinning barstool to lone blue booth to corner haven, feet on seats, hands on ankles, smorgasbord between them, plates lined up, a fry for a carrot, a bite of burger for a slice of tomato, one chocolate shake, one strawberry, one mint, each with two straws and spoons for skimming whipped cream, two cherries to Scully, more mint to Mulder.

He stole sips of her water while she talked, she slid pickle coins her way while he nibbled crusts from her buttered toast. Their fingers lingered when reaching for the same crouton soaked in dressing, sliding past and through each other, hanging on with white knuckles one second, back to eating the next.

Hours later, instead of stumbling into the night, he slid quietly in beside her, thigh warm against thigh, hand flat on tender muscle, kneading lightly, waiting as unseen forces pulled her head to his shoulder, tired eyes closed against the world. Mulder set his head against hers, eyes meeting two pair behind the counter, the slightest upturned cheek and chin nod in their direction before closing his own eyes, not worrying about the day ahead, only the Scully beside him and the quiet around.

Catherine looked at her husband, leaning against the counter across from her, “we did good, Max.”

“We did very good.”