#going to sleep now honk mimi

[melanchoise]

HIII jus as i was about to sleep i realized i didn’t do a valentines for orv! so i did this happy valentines from shitpost yhk <3 <3

[ezra-trait]

they the same ☹️

[strawbnetwork]

maka and soul are my fav soul eater characters bc im lame and like mcs BUT crona is second by far and the reason i prefer the anime over the manga

[hopeless-lovex0]

I HAVE A DREAM (PART 6)

Kim Hongjoong Fanfic

Warning: Angst. Cheating. Heartbreak. Cursing. Fluff.

Hello fellow Atiny and Kpop stand, I wasn’t able to post Wednesday nor Thursday and I know some of you guys were looking forwards to read part 6 but without further ado here is part 6 of I Have A Dream 🥳🥳

She woke up to the sound of rain lashing down on her rooftop, the silence of the house being disturbed by the harsh water droplets falling from the dark sky.

The vibrations of thunder shake the small two-story house and emits a loud creak from within the place. Y/N tensed up for a second fearing that the small place would cave in on itself but then lightly chuckling from how crazy that would be.

She laid there a couple more seconds before hearing her alarm clock, the irritating ringing causing her to flinch from how unexpected it was. Sluggishly she lifts up her hand and slams it against the annoying piece of technology, the force of her hand causing the alarm clock to fall to the bedroom floor.

Letting her hand hang over the side of the bed she lays there a couple of minutes contemplating whether she should get up and go to work wanting to stay in the comfort of her warm covers the rest of the day, but then she realizes that Mrs. Park would scold her if she didn't take care of herself. Moving under the sheets she lets go of the pillow she was cuddling against and finally sits up, the darkness of the room making her think it's still night.

She hears the continues pitter-patter of the rain hitting her window making her turn towards it. She HATES the rain, the dark clouds surrounding the sky and the heavy feeling it drags along with it. She hates the memories that somehow always make their way back to her.

It was raining when she found them together, the rain falling down on her when she was breaking down somehow causing her to lose herself for a couple of days. The worse days of her life she would say, she was scared of how much she had changed after that night barely able to recognize herself in the mirror.

After a week she was finally able to come down to earth and take care of herself, she'll be damned if she let a man break her down. The thought of her baby also served as a motivation to her, wanting to give birth to a healthy baby and live in the small house she resides in now.

The room across her turned into a nursery after living in the village for a month. She felt the happiness of having a baby creep up on her letting her know that she was going to be alright with or without a man.

Shaking her head, she carefully steps out of the warm mattress, watching her step for the fallen alarm clock. Stumbling towards the dresser she opens it and takes out an outfit for the day, making sure that the clothing complimented each other or else Mrs. Park would roast her being the fashionista she is.

Setting her clothes down on her bed she walks towards her bathroom and turns on the showerhead, placing her hand over the water to make sure the temperature is just right for her. Feeling the warm water trickle down her hand, she turns towards her sink and takes her toothbrush and toothpaste figuring that she should just shower and brush her teeth at the same time as to save time.

Washing down her body with a little bit of struggle from the small baby bump she sighs to herself, the thought of her struggling with a much bigger belly to clean herself makes her huff in defeat.

Finishing up her shower she slowly steps out the tub and takes the white fluffy towel placed next to the curtain. Patting herself down she wraps it around herself and walks out the bathroom towards where she laid down her clothes.

She slipped on her comfy dark jeans and white long sleeve sweatshirt, the outfit was plain but still stylish as to not upset Mrs. Park with her lack of fashion.

Walking down the stairs, she steps over to the main entrance towards the shoe cubert. Kneeling down, she carefully opens the bottom of the cubert and takes out a pair of dark blue rain boots. Cleaning everything up she walks towards the small white couch near the exit and sits down with a huff, all the walking around making her lose her breath.

Leaning back against the couch she sits there a couple minutes rubbing her stomach before she sits back up and tugs on the rain boots knowing that her ride will be here anytime soon.

As in cue, honking comes from outside her house and Y/N curses out loud, quickly and carefully scrambling to get her belongings and to not keep the person outside waiting. Once at the door she shoves everything inside her purse and takes the raincoat next to the door as well as her keys not wanting to be locked out her house later on.

Once outside she locks her door and then walks towards the car parked in front letting the big water droplets hit her raincoat, too lazy to open up her umbrella.

She opens up the passenger door and quickly sits down wanting to get out of the rain already. “ Woooow look at you! The wet dog look is amazing on you!” She hears someone say on her left, snorting out and rolling her eyes at the driver.

She turns towards Kyung Mi, the villages teacher and lightly punches her in the arm already getting used to her teasing knowing she means no harm with her comments.

“ You like it? I got inspiration from you after that one time you fell in a puddle.” Y/N snickers out watching as Kyung Mi begins to turn red from embarrassment. “ HEY! You know we never talk about that okay! It could hurt my reputation around here.” Kyung yells at her not wanting to remember such humiliating memory.

“ What reputation? You take care of little kids who drool and slobber all over you and on occasions piss on you.” Y/N laughs out causing Kyung Mi to roll her eyes but she doesn't miss the twitch from her upper lip letting her know that she's holding back a smile.

“ Yeah laugh all you want but in a couple months you'll be getting slobbered and pissed on too.” Kyung says as she points towards Y/N baby bump. “ Yeah well, I can't wait for those times because at least I’ll finally have my baby with me.” Y/N says as she taps her stomach causing Kyung Mi to coo at her from the driver's seat.

“ Okay you cheesy momma bear stop with the cute stuff, you'll make my cold heart melt.” Kyung says but still gives her a small smile letting her know that she’s happy for her. “ Did you hear the big news recently?” Kyung asks her and Y/N shakes her head in confusion.

“ You know that big house a couple ways away from the town square?” She asks her and Y/N hums in acknowledgment while looking out the window. “ Apparently, there's a group of people moving in today. My neighbor said that he saw tons of people working on furnishing it and getting it ready yesterday.” Kyung says as she drives towards the town square where they both work at.

“ Really? Didn't someone say that the house was for celebrities or something since it's so expensive to rent?” Y/N mumbles out confusing plastered all over her face. “ That's why is such a big deal, apparently the people moving in are celebrities! Can you believe that!?!?” Kyung exclaims out loud startling Y/N at the same time.

“ What if they are cute! I can finally find myself a hot and rich girl Y/N! I can move out of this place and I'll take you with me. How amazing would that be!!” Kyung says excitingly taking one hand off the steering wheel and placing it on Y/N’s shoulder slightly shaking her as she talks.

“ Don't get your hopes up MiMi, it's probably just a bunch of old businessmen wanting to take a break.” Y/N chuckles out while patting Kyungs hand that is still placed on her shoulder. She hears Kyung sigh out and watches as she nods her head “ You're probably right, but that doesn't mean there won't be a cute assistant or even maid so I'll take what I can get.” Kyung says as she smiles at Y/N causing both of them to go into a fit of giggles.

Feeling the car stop, Y/N looks up and sees that they are parked in front of her job which seems to already be opened as the lights from inside are on. “ Don't worry, you'll probably find a nice girl to settle down with sooner or later.” Y/N says as she turns towards Kyung and pats her on the head causing Kyung to snort out a laugh.

“ Okay fashionista I believe you. Now go and have fun at work and call me later on if you need a ride home in case it's still raining okay?” Kyung says as she watches Y/N exit the car. Turning around Y/N gives her a thumbs up and watches as Kyung finally drives off towards the village's small school.

With a deep sigh, Y/N turns around and walks towards the boutique already expecting Mrs. Park to shove down some food down her throat in order to keep her healthy. As she walks closer she hears Mrs. Park’s loud voice coming from the back of the room and she shakes her head not once regretting ever applying here. Walking towards the back she prepares herself for a day filled with clothing and pampering.

_______________________________________________

They had left earlier than expected, the big bus taking them to Incheon arriving earlier in the day. From fear of having to pay more than they were told staff immediately rushed to getting every single boy in that bus and making sure their luggage was placed in the bottom portion of the bus.

In under an hour, they were able to get everyone on the bus and help with some last-minute packing before they finally set out towards Incheon.

The bus was quiet apart from some constant shuffling from some of the guys who had gone back to sleep, the rain combined with the smooth driving lulling them back into dreamland. Towards the back of the bus sat San, staring out the window as the rain fell heavily from the dark clouds.

He wanted to sleep, the heaviness from his eyelids and warmth that wooyoung was providing from beside him causing him to yawn but he couldn't. Mind wrapped up with the thought of her.

How was she doing? Was she taking care of herself? Is the baby okay? Does she know the gender? Constant unanswered questions floated inside his head and caused him to lose sleep multiple times throughout the 3 months that went by.

Turning to look towards the rest of the guys he located the one he was currently thinking about. Two rows away from him sat hongjoong, leaning against the window knocked out and snoring loudly against it causing it to fog up. San glared in disgust, how could he sleep so soundly after what he had done, sleep so calmly knowing that he ruined Y/N’s life and could have potentially ruined her trust in men altogether.

He glared at him with pure fire in his eyes and as if Hongjoong felt the intensity of his stare he watched as Hongjoong stirred and slightly woke up turning his head lightly then snapping his head back once he realized it was San who was staring at him.

Letting out a scoff San finally removed his stare from Hongjoong and continued to look out the window. He felt his body relax from the calming atmosphere and with that he lets his eyes close, letting sleep envelop him like a blanket.

. . . . . . . . .

“ San... San Hyung wake up, where here already.” San hears as he feels himself being shaken awake by wooyoung. Lifting his head from where it was resting against the window he catches sight of the big almost mansion-like house resting on top of a small hill.

Gathering his things, he shoves his phone into his pockets and lifts himself off the seat noticing that wooyoung decided to stand there and wait for him. Walking out together, San notices that he was probably the last one to exit the bus as the rest of the guys are already running towards the house in excitement and also in fear of getting wet from the small drizzle of rain.

Shaking his head, he begins to walk towards the house with wooyoung in toe. Up close the house is actually smaller than it looks like from down where the bus is parked but nonetheless still a decently big place. Arriving at the doorway he notices all their luggage stacked up against the left side of the big entrance and he quickly walks towards it wanting to take a shower and eat.

The rest of the guys seem to have the same idea because all at once they rush towards the mountain of suitcases and bags to last them a month startling the manager that would be staying with them.

“ Now, this is a big place but you guys will still have roommates just to make sure you guys spend more time together okay?” Says the manager and the guys grumble curses under their breaths seeming to have been looking forward to getting their own room which won't be happening now.

They wait as the manager takes out a clipboard from his bag and begins to call out names. San waits for his name to be called then immediately feels his body turn cold when he realizes that the only person left to room with is Hongjoong.

“ Okay last but not least San and Hong-” begins the manager but before he could finish San harshly interrupt him. “ No. I won't room with him so either you give me my own room or change roommates with someone else.” He says and he doesn't miss the way Hongjoong flinches from his tone.

The manager begins to stumble over his words, never have seen San tense up like he did just now and how hostile he was towards Hongjoong. In his mind, he prays that this break can somehow rekindle their friendship.

Seonghwa noticing how flustered the manager got from the situation decides to speak up not wanting to make him or the rest of the guys uncomfortable. “ I'll switch roommates with San, wooyoung and him can get a room together and I'll stick with Hongjoong.” He says and watches how the manager lets a breath out of relief and nods his head multiple times.

Not being able to stand the tense air the manager quickly turns around and begins walking towards a long hallway calling the boys after him and leading them into their rooms.

Once they are all finally settled in their big rooms, they all begin to unpack wanting nothing more than to eat, take a long hot shower and sleep. San is still tense from the situation and Wooyoung seems to notice because he grabs San by the shoulders and takes him back towards the front entrance.

“ Come on, let's go get some food and clear your head while we're at it. I'll let the manager know so we don't get in trouble.” Wooyoung says as he shoves his feet into his worn-out sneakers. San doesn't seem to hesitate and does so as well wanting to get out and relax for a while.

Grabbing ahold of some umbrellas they both exit the big house and begin to walk towards the path leading to the town square. San mindlessly walks after wooyoung not knowing where they are going. “ Where exactly are we going?” San asks and they walk a couple minutes in silence before wooyoung answers him.

“ I woke up before you on the way here and I did some research on this place. It's a pretty small village, only about 4,000 people live here but that's good since we won't be recognized. I also saw that they have a really popular restaurant around the town square. Good food and good service so that's where we are going.” Wooyoung says and San only hums in acknowledgment trusting that wooyoung knows his way around from just google maps.

Walking for a couple more minutes they immediately know they are in the town square from how light up and lively the place is even if the weather isn't the best at the moment. Walking deeper into the town square, they get looks from the locals and hear as they start to whisper but none seems to recognize them probably just talking about a new face in town.

They continue to walk before they stop in front of a small restaurant filled with people, the small establishment bustling with life. Walking up towards the door they are immediately surrounded by the smell of meat and kimchi making their mouth water from the scent. They scan around the place and quickly realize just how packed it is, the whole place filled with various families and couples.

“ Should we just order to go? ” Asks wooyoung and San quickly agrees, not in the mood to be surrounded by people. They step up towards the small counter and greet the little old lady sitting behind it before they start to order, knowing that if they just get for themselves the rest of the guys would kill them so they place a big order for everyone.

Being told that the order would take 30 minutes max, they decide to sit against the bench located in front of the window and wait for their food. They sit there in silence but San can see from the corner of his eye that wooyoung want to say something, opening then closing his mouth multiple times.

Finally gathering his thought wooyoung begins to speak. “ You know we can't keep this up right...?” He says and San lets out a sigh from the question. “ I know... I want to forget about it and go back to the way it was but I-.. I don-...” San stumbles over his words not knowing how to express himself, wooyoung seems to sense this because he carefully places his hand on his shoulder and San brings his hand up to grip onto his hand letting him know that he appreciates the gesture.

“ You are the only one who knew how I felt about her and how much I suffered in order to let her be happy with hongjoong. I saw how happy she was with him and how in love she was and it broke my heart knowing that it would never be me and then he does that to her. ” San says not missing the way his voice starts to quiver.

Taking a deep breath he begins to speak again. “ It felt like a punch in the face after she texted us and I wanted nothing more than to take her pain away. I should have let her know, even if it wasn't my place or yours we let her get hurt by not telling her sooner and it honestly breaks my heart.” he says and wooyoung brings him into a hug knowing that San needs to let everything out.

“ And then we found that pregnancy test and it just felt like someone took my heart and ripped it into pieces. Can you imagine the excitement she went through when she found out she was pregnant? She always said that she wanted kids, and the minute she finds out she might be having one everything else just went downhill.” San says as he grips onto wooyoung, wanting to be held by someone.

“ I LOVE her wooyoung, and I'll travel the whole world to find her again and be the one to mend her back together. I want to be the one who she calls home and lays asleep in my arms at night. I want her child to call me dad because I know damn well I can be a better one than hongjoong.” he sniffs out, trying his hardest to keep himself together in public.

“ I know you will and I want you to know that I support you 100%. Y/N deserves the whole world after what she's been through and I know that you are the only one who can give it to her.” wooyoung says as he pats San on the back wanting to comfort him as best as he can.

They sit there in each others embrace for a couple of minutes before San finally pulls away, lifting his trembling hands and wiping under his eyes to get rid of the tears that managed to slid down his face. Chuckling to himself he shakes his head and turns to look at wooyoung. “ Hey.. Thanks man I really neede-.... Wooyoung..?” San begins to say but stops once he notices wooyoung’s flabbergasted expression. Lifting up his hand he waves it in front of his face and that seems to snap him out of it.

Wooyoung stutters out something but can't seem to form a proper sentence, noticing San’s confused expression he slowly lifts up a shaky finger pointing at something across the street. San turning around as he had his back towards the window looks at what wooyoung seems to be pointing at before his heart stops completely.

Across the street where a small clothing boutique stands in place are two women talking animatedly under the cover of the store, trying to shield away from the small drizzle of rain. They watch as the older lady of the duo leans forward to place a kiss on the other woman's cheek before leaning down towards her stomach and kissing it as well.

That's when San finally takes her whole appearance in having been staring at her face the whole time. The swell of her stomach causing her white long sleeve sweatshirt to stretch out, letting everyone know that she is currently pregnant.

They both stare in awe as they watch the older lady walk away with a final goodbye and other one walk the opposite direction opening up a big clear umbrella and holding it above her head.

Watching her walk away snaps them back into reality and wooyoung seems to gain his ability to speak again, whispering out the name of the girl they just found “... Y/N..?” he says and San turns around to look at him still too shocked to speak.

They stare at each other for a couple of seconds before the old lady at the register calls out their names letting them know that their food is ready. Scrambling to pay for the food they both exit the restaurant and rush back towards the house knowing what they have to do. Arriving there in under 10 minutes from how fast they were running as well as how close it was they burst through the doors startling the people who are present at the kitchen across the entrance.

“ GUYS COME HERE RIGHT NOW!” Yells out wooyoung and from the sound of his voice, the guys seem to know it's urgent as they rush out the kitchen all already dressed in their PJs.

“ What happened?!?!?” asks SeongHwa as he sees how shocked they are from their facial expressions, San not even uttering a word out just staring into space.

“ We found them.” San says, sounding like he's out of breath and all the guys stare at each other in confusion. “ Found who..?” asks Yunho and wooyoung grabs his shoulder in excitement.

“ We found Y/N!”

Wooyoung screams out and the rest of the guys gawk at them, minds immediately going blank from the information just thrown at them.

“ What do you mean you found Y/N?!?!? You mean to tell me you saw her here? At this location?!?!” Mingi utters out too surprises to even raise his voice. Wooyoung nods his head rapidly and they all fall into silence.

“ Wait! San said them..? Does that mean that she is actually pregnant..?” calls out yeosang and the rest of the guys snap their heads towards the dancing duo, eagerly waiting for one them to answer. They watch as San lifts up his head, the same flabbergasted expression on his face and he nods slowly causing the rest of the guys to gasp out in shock.

They knew there was a possibility of that pregnancy test being positive, they just didn't expect it to be true.

They all stand in silence taking all the information in before San jumps up in a hurry startling the rest of guys from how fast he got up. “ Guys... Where's Hongjoong...?” He asks and the rest of the guys tense up quickly losing color on their faces.

“ He left a couple minutes after you guys left, he was mumbling something about being alone.” Jongho says and the rest of the guys curse out. “ What direction did he go?! Did you see where he went!?!?” Wooyoung fires at him rapidly, not liking where this is going.

“ He walked the same direction you guys went, towards the town square, but instead of going all the way into the center he walked towards the little village houses.” He says and San and wooyoung completely freak out.

“ FUCK.” yells out San and the rest of the guys flinch from how mad he sounds. “ What?!? What's wrong with that?!?!” calls out SeongHwa and they watch as San spins around to look at them.

“ That's the direction Y/N was heading!” He growls out and the guys feel a cold shiver go down their spins, not liking what's about to happen.

. . . . . . . . . .

Hongjoong pulls his black puffy jacket closer to him, feeling shivers all over his body from how cold the night is the rain not doing anything to help it as well.

He knew that he should have brought an umbrella or put on more layers to keep himself warm, but the tense atmosphere around the house revolving around him and the guys was suffocating and he just had to get out of there.

He walked down the path leading towards the town square but instead of going all the way into town he branched off into the road leading to the village houses. When they were close to arriving he woke up from his deep slumber and watched all the little houses filled with families, along the way passing a small park and that where he was standing now.

Walking in the rain, he quickly found an empty bench to sit on and rest. He inhaled the fresh air the village provided feeling different from the air polluted city, and he lets the water droplets hit his face. He watches as a couple runs for cover from the rain, having their hands covering their faces so the rain won't hit them. He watches as they finally find cover under a house and burst out giggling leaning against each other and finally giving each other sweet pecks on the lips causing Hongjoong to wince at the sight.

Looking away he feels his throat clench up and his eyes to water but he stops himself from crying. Ever since he did what he did, he has never hated himself more than the day she left, every day he would sneakily go to her abandoned apartment not wanting the guys to know. He would lay on her side of the bed and grip onto her pillow, sobbing loudly not wanting her fragrance to leave the plush fabric. Even going as far as buying the same perfume she would wear and spraying it back on her pillow, trying so hard to keep the memory of her in his thoughts.

It was hard every day to live without her and Hongjoong never realized this after she left, taking everything he loved about her with her. Not knowing if she was pregnant or not he prayed that he could find her before she possibly gave birth, wanting to be apart of her and his child lives again.

Humming seems to break Hongjoong out of his thoughts and he swears he's heard that hum before. It takes him a minute to remember the song being hummed before he jumps up in a hurry and wildly looks around the park wanting to find the source of the humming.

The song is familiar to him only because it's the song SHE always used to sing, telling him that her mother used to sing it to her when she was younger and since then has stuck as a little tradition.

Snapping his head towards the road he sees a figure walking closer and once they walk under the light located in the entrance of the park he feels his brain stop working.

Walking calmly under the slight drizzle of rain is Y/N rubbing her belly bump and humming to it causing Hongjoong to stifle a sob. “ It is real then.” he thinks to himself as he sees her in all her pregnancy glory. She seems to be glowing and the baby bump makes her 10x more beautiful to him, knowing that the child she is carrying is his.

Snapping out of his thoughts he sees a car pull up next to her and his heart starts to race watching as the person rolls down their window.

“ Y/N you little snake!” yells the person inside the car and Hongjoong relaxes a little knowing that the person inside is a woman.

Watching as Y/N walks towards the car, he hears her laugh out loud and it makes his knees wobble from hearing her laugh again.

“ Hey Mimi, what are you talking about?” questions Y/N and the person inside lets out a huff. “ I told you to call me if you needed a ride back home! What the fuck are you doing walking in the cold rain dumbass! Don't you know you could get sick! Are you trying to get sick? What about the baby? I swear I'm like your mother taking care of you!!!” Rants out the girl inside and all Y/N does is let out another laugh and walk towards the passenger side.

“ Get inside right now and you're staying over tonight okay? I gotta make sure that you don't get sick and endanger my godchild!” the female who he now knows as Mimi yells out before opening the passenger door and gesturing Y/N to get inside the car.

He begins to panic once he sees that Y/N is about to walk away from him once again and he starts to walk towards the car weakly calling out to her. He's too late as he watches Y/N close the car door and the car speed down the road leaving him behind in the park.

“ Y/N...!” he finally screams out her name and runs after the car but stumbles on his way out the park falling to his knees and reaching out a hand towards the car, watching as it moves away further from him.

Hearing someone call his name, he turns around to see the rest of the guys running towards him. San being the one leading the pack of overgrown children, they finally stop in front of him watching as Hongjoong breaks down again mumbling one name that causes the guys to look at each other.

He's calling Y/N’s name.

[piccolina-mina]

But Who Takes Care of You?

Fandom: Roswell, New Mexico 

Pairing/Characters: Kyle Valenti and Maria DeLuca (Kyluca) 

Inspo: Who takes care of the caretakers? 

A/N: Because the show really needs to let Kyluca be great (preferably better than this, but it’s something). 

They’re the best apart, and they’d be even better together if they ever got more screentime. It’s a random freestyle I wasn’t sure if I would share, but #KylucaRights.:)

~~~~ 

i.

The desert air made him instantly feel at home.

The sun beamed down as he inhaled deeply and ignored the jostle of folks scurrying in and out of the airport.

“Ay Guapo!”

He didn’t have to see her to recognize the voice. His lip curled up into a genuine smile. His eyes darted around him until he saw her standing a few feet ahead holding a “Dr. McSexy” sign and smirking at him.

He sauntered over to her, his carry on in tow, and pulled his sunglasses off when he got closer.

“Are you posing? Rubbing it in with those cheekbones,” she snorted. “Every time I see you, you get hotter, Valenti.”

Maria flashed him that stunning smile that made him return one in kind.

“I would say the same, but you’ve always been hot. A little hard to improve on perfection.”

She rolled her eyes but grinned widely and before he realized it, he was wrapped up in her arms.

He squeezed her back, basked in her scent of sandalwood and vanilla, and the shea and coconut that clung to her hair.

They hugged for what felt like an eternity, but it was only a few moments.

He didn’t know when it happened exactly. He and Maria socialized in school, but they were never particularly close.

He was more than aware of how much of an ass he was back then, and she didn’t hesitate to remind him. Rosa’s death changed everything.

Their world tilted on its axis. He never anticipated how one tragedy could change the trajectory of their lives.

He didn’t know Rosa enough to feel like he lost her, but he lost Liz. Those years after were life-altering.

Any opportunity he had to make it back home, outside of his mother, the only constant was Maria. She was there, and familiar, and somehow they developed a bond over the years.

She kept up with his life on social media – the graduation ceremonies, the late-night bitching during residency, and her personal favorite thirst posts on Instagram.

He kept up with her too. She told him things his mother never did and updated him on old friends, like Alex. 

He visited her at the Pony when he was in town, and sometimes they would catch a movie at the drive-in and reminisce on the old days. Mainly, they would imagine what Liz Ortecho was up to.

“I thought you were driving?” Maria squinted up at him. She nudged him until he started walking, and it was only when they neared her truck did he realize she was driving him.

“I planned on it, but I got called into the hospital early at the last minute,” he stopped at her car and leaned against it taking in his surroundings and smiling fondly.

“Admit it, you were homesick and wanted out of Iowa,” Maria teased. She raised a brow daring him to refute.

“It was very cold and very white.”

Her laugh was contagious, and he found himself joining in with her.

“I just told mom before I boarded the flight. How’d you find out I was coming in early?”

“I’m psychic, remember?” She winked at him playfully, and he couldn’t stop grinning.

Maria always had that effect. She had a way of making everyone around her smile. She was comforting and real, and he never realized how much he missed her energy until he was sucked back into her orbit.

“You didn’t have to come for me,” he said quietly. “I know my way home.”

She shrugged, signaled for him to toss his luggage in the back and disappeared into the driver seat before he could read her expression.

He took his time arranging his luggage and sliding into the passenger seat. He sensed she needed a moment to regroup and put on that fun-loving facade he adored but knew she clung to more than she let on.

“Seriously, Maria. I know you’re busy,” he said carefully.

She reached out now and then for inquiries. His mother was the one who told him about Mimi’s mental deterioration, how she had bad days, and Maria juggled the Pony and looking after her mom.

He tried not to pry, but from what he knew, no one could figure out what was wrong.

“All work and no fun makes Maria a dull girl,” she drummed her fingers against the steering wheel as they waited for the cars ahead of them to pull off.

“I take off on special occasions,” she honked her horn, and he winced at the person flipping the bird back at them.

“I’m a special occasion?”

He went for sly, but something about the way her eyebrow rose equal parts impressed and flirty gave him the impression it sounded more suggestive than he intended.

But Maria always gave as good as she got.

“Only if you’re lucky, Valenti. You’re not that lucky.”

“The Insta comments say otherwise,” he teased her.

She shot him an annoyed look utterly ruined by her scrunched up mouth as she tried to keep from laughing.

Finally, a break in the traffic and Maria shot forward. He gripped the seat and instantly recalled her penchant for going above the speed limit.

“It feels like a special occasion anytime anyone makes it back home.” She was serious, and something about the tone of her voice made him want to squeeze her hand, but he refrained.

“Everyone deserves a welcome wagon, Kyle.”

‘It doesn’t get any warmer.“ He tilted his head to the side and added. “Thanks to you.”

And in a quintessential Maria move, she turned up the volume. He didn’t contain his excitement when the car flooded with Regulate.

Somewhere between the highway and his mother’s house they ended up in a heated rap battle sing-along, and he didn’t care what Maria said, he won.

Returning home came with its share of memories, many of them painful.

But it came with friends too.

ii.

 "Right or wrong. Don’t it turn you on–“

“Maria?!” He called out. The second he unlocked his apartment, her voice bounced across the no longer bare and no longer white walls.

“Can’t you see we’re wastin’ time, yeah,” she continued.

From the way she was swinging her hips and bobbing her head, he suspected her music was up too high for her to hear him.

“Maria!’ He called out louder, as he dropped his keys on the counter and shut the door behind him.

"Do you wanna touch …Yeah.”

“Maria!’ He tried again to no avail. He had to give it to her; she was committed. Her long legs and short overalls were splattered in paint.

She had her hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun, and she was retouching a small spot with the last of the paint.

He leaned against the kitchen island and for the first time took in his apartment. She had rearranged his furniture, finally putting it in place after far too long spent collecting dust in the first place the movers sat it down.

All of his boxes were emptied, and everything was seemingly put away. Instead of the college frat boy vibe happening from the moment he moved in, his place looked every bit the trendy bachelor pad that it was.

"Do you wanna touch– FUCK, Kyle!”

Maria spun around mid-dance move, and if he didn’t literally know any better, he would have thought he gave her a heart attack.

“You scared the shit out of me,” she tossed the paintbrush into the pan and swiped hair away from her forehead.

“Funny you should say that,” he tried to suppress his laughter, but it didn’t work. She rolled her eyes at him and plucked her earbuds out of her ears.

“I had the same reaction given there was someone else in my apartment. It’s been a while since I came home to a woman playing house.”

“See, this is the kind of tea I like to hear, and yet you keep withholding.”

He shook his head and padded to the refrigerator for a drink. Halfway through guzzling an iced tea, he noticed she was actually serious about her statement.

He made his way around the island until he was in front of her. Handed her a bottle and rested against the back of the couch.

“Fine, she was a live-in girlfriend for a year. She worked at the hospital too.”

Maria squealed. He found her way too thrilled about his love life, but who was he to deny her the small joys of gossip when she had done so much for him?

“Did she greet you at the door with a martini in hand?” She joked.

“Nah, usually she was naked,” he winked at her.

“Hate to disappoint you, Valenti, but I took a more practical approach.”

He softened staring around his apartment and all the changes she made.

His mother had got on his case for weeks about making his apartment into a home, but between work and sleep, he hadn’t gotten around to it.

She bought the paint, deliberately pushed boxes into the middle of the floor and hoped it would be enough to prompt him to get to work, but two months later, his apartment wasn’t that different than when he moved in.

Until now.

He didn’t recognize the curtains framing the windows or the area rugs, but given the color and flair, he knew it was all Maria.

His kitchen appliances were where they should have been. Throw pillows made his leather couch pop, and the tv no longer sat atop sturdy boxes but rather an actual stand.

For the first time, his apartment actually felt like home.

“Maria,” his dark eyes met hers, and he could hear the emotion in his voice. He tried to keep it at bay as he internally processed why this touched him so much.

“You didn’t have to do this,” his eyes landed on a frame on a shelf, a picture of his father, and his mother’s rosary resting over it.

He pulled Maria to him with one arm before she could react. He pressed his lips to her hair before clearing his throat and stepping away.

“You really didn’t-”

“Hey,” her eyes sparkling like glitter was the only indication she gave him that she was emotional too. “It’s no big deal. The Wild Pony flooded today, damn pipe burst, so I’m losing a day and a half. I needed the distraction.”

She cupped his face tenderly, flashing him a half-smile before giving him a light smack, breaking the spell.

“It was getting depressing, Kyle. Two months of your shit lying around, if I didn’t do it, would you ever have gotten around to it?”

“You sound like my mother. I have my doubts, but I’m guessing that’s how you got in?”

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to,” she sing-songed backing up. ���And you may want to enhance your security, just an FYI. I’d hook you up with my handy guy, but you two always had bad blood.”

He snorted. Not much changed between him and Michael Guerin since high school, but apparently, Maria developed a soft spot for the broody cowboy over the years.

“Hey, mind if a grab a quick shower before dinner?”

She asked, but it wasn’t lost on him that she was already headed towards the master bath.

She clearly had made herself at home.

“Why start asking now?” He plopped on the couch, finally getting the chance to put his feet up and relax after hours spent in the OR.

“Did you say dinner?” He bellowed from the couch.

“It’s on the way. I’m starving, and you’re paying. Don’t forget to tip,” she called out.

She peeked out from his bedroom dangling one of his workout shirts.

He could have sworn they were still packed in a box that morning, which meant Maria unpacked his bedroom too. The thought of that should have concerned him, but he pushed it out of his mind.

“I’m borrowing this!” Her head disappeared before he could so much as respond, and he chuckled to himself.

Before he knew it, he was tipping the delivery boy from his favorite BBQ joint, and Maria was setting up dinner in front of the big screen.

She smelled like his body wash, and she curled up on the couch next to him, cross-legged in his oversized shirt, and he didn’t even want to think about what of his she borrowed as bottoms.

“What’s your pleasure, D? Rom-com?” He took a bite of his brisket sandwich and hummed in appreciation.

“I know, right? The good stuff.” She mirrored him, a healthy bite making her cheeks bulge. “I don’t sniff at a good rom-com, but it’s an action kind of night.”

“Thank God,” he kicked his feet up on the coffee table and grabbed the remote. To his surprise, it was already keyed up for one of the Mission Impossibles.

“It’s OK, you don’t have to say it. I know I’m the best.”

He stole a french fry off her plate and laughed when she swatted his hand away. After a while, they settled into a comfortable silence watching the movie.

Truthfully, she really was.

iii.

On the anniversary of his father’s death, he learned to throw himself into work.

In the early days, in his youth, he would toy with a bottle of whiskey, roll the top between his fingers. He would inhale, slow and deep and wonder if he’d find a reason for why he had to lose his father so early in the bottom of a bottle.

He thought it would bring them closer together … him closer to understanding the man who he worshipped and ached for every day.

His father found answers at the bottom of a bottle, why couldn’t he?

But it was a slippery slope, and he knew that.

He’s not an addict, but he could be, and the thought of slipping into the darkness scares the hell out of him.

So he directed his energy into something else, usually picking up other shifts. And while he and his mother checked in with each other, their grieving processes were different.

He never gave it much thought. He didn’t want to intrude.

But when he got a text from Maria, he realized maybe, since he was home again, it was time to grieve together.

The Wild Pony was packed, as usual, and he felt out of place in his scrubs he didn’t bother to change out of.

He glanced around, afraid of what he might find. Maria reassured him in brief texts, but that day he wouldn’t get any comfort until he saw his mother for himself.

Maria was serving up drinks with a tired smile, and when her eyes met his from across the room, she nodded.

He followed her gaze to the back of the Pony. His mother was in her street clothes. Her hair was loose and obscuring her face – a black curtain falling over her eyes and dipping into what appeared to be a lukewarm cup of coffee in front of her.

He sighed. The other drunks and regulars didn’t seem to notice her or him for that matter. His father got away with a lot, but he doubted his mother as a female sheriff could. Small towns meant lots of gossiping.

“Mom,” he squatted down in front of her, his knees groaning with the action after a long shift. “Let me take you home, mom.”

She looked at him with bleary eyes and tear-stained cheeks. She didn’t see him at first. It was like she was looking through him, but when he folded her hands into his, she finally did.

She didn’t say a word; she merely nodded and reached out to stroke his jaw.

The only thing that rivaled the sadness in her eyes was the shame. She stood and grabbed his arm like it was the last thing keeping her from drowning. When he saw how broken she appeared, he thought maybe he was.

“Take me home, perrito,” her voice was hoarse, barely a whisper as they shuffled toward the door.

He pressed a kiss to the side of her head and bit his lip to keep from crying. The burning warmth on the side of his face as he guided his mother through huddled bodies was like its own hug.

Maria eyed him from behind the bar her brows knit in concern and mouthed, ‘Are you OK” or something akin to it.

A curt nod was all he could muster before they slipped out.

The drive to his childhood home was short, but the process of getting his mother settled down was long.

She refused to sleep in her bed– the bed she shared with his father for years. She settled on the couch, and after he slipped into some old clothes of his lying around, he did too.

She slumped into his lap and curled up on the couch like a small child. He could still smell the stale beer and gin. He stroked her hair – his nimble fingers ghosting across her forehead and pressed a cool compress to her neck.

The blinking light on his phone caught his eye, and he checked his messages.

Maria texted once to ask if he was alright and called once too.

He wasn’t alright. He was far from it, but there was nothing that could be done. His father’s old clock sounded, and it was only then when he realized it was past midnight.

But it was too late; his fingers worked of their own volition calling Maria before he could think.

“Hello,” she sounded tired but also concerned. The whooshing in the background meant she was driving home for the night.

“Kyle,” she breathed. He looked down at his mother softly snoring in his lap, and then the photo on the coffee table, a family portrait, but he couldn’t bring himself to respond.

“It’s OK,” her voice was soft and soothing. “You don’t have to talk. I promise I won’t hang up.”

His eyes prickled with tears he had managed to restrain all day. A gurgled sound crawled up his throat, and he inhaled sharp surprised the choked sob came from him.

He pressed the heel of his palm to his eyes trying to staunch the dam, but it was no use.

He could hear Maria hum soothingly, but it only made him cry more.

And that was how they stayed. He heard her car stop, the sound of the key scratching against the door. He heard her breathing as she went about her nightly routine.

He heard the water running, the soft creak of her climbing into bed, her sighs as her body relaxed after a long day.

“Thank you,” his voice was hoarse as he whispered into the phone, but at least his words were back. “Thank you for letting me know.”

“Of course, Kyle,” she sighed into the phone. “How is she doing?”

“Resting,” he whispered, not wanting to rouse her.

“How are you?”

The question caught him short. He exhaled slow, but it didn’t make his voice sound any less small and fragile. “I miss him,” he said honestly. “We both do.”

“I know,” Maria whispered back. “I know.”

And he knew she did. Her mother was still alive, but it was like she wasn’t there at all. Sometimes he wondered if that would feel worse; missing someone who was still there.

“I need to do better – be better,” he stroked his mother’s hair and bit back another strangled sob. “I’ve been so busy. We don’t check-in enough, and I–”

“You’re a good son, Kyle,” Maria yawned into the phone. “She talked about you nonstop, and she still does. She’s so proud of you.”

He sniffled and nodded his head, looking down at the woman in his lap. “Maybe so, but I should – ” he cleared his throat. “I just need to do a better job taking care of her too.”

“And you do, Ky…” Maria mumbled into the phone. Her speech slowed down as she struggled to stave off the slumber but failed. “But who takes care of you?”

He listened to her soft snores over the phone for a moment – the breathing of both women oddly relaxing him.

“Goodnight, Maria,” he whispered into the phone hanging up and succumbing to his own exhaustion.

iv.

He learned over the years that Maria had a knack for scaring the shit out of him, but it wasn’t until later he realized it wasn’t intentional on her part.

Somewhere between jamming out to his playlist and waiting for a gaggle of tourists to cross the town square, his passenger door opened unexpectedly.

Before he could so much as yelp in surprise, Maria slid in all flowy skirt and a hint of sandalwood.

“Shit! Maria, what –” one glance in her direction stopped him cold.

“Just drive, please,” her voice was raspy as if she had been crying, but he saw no traces of it.

“You want to talk about it?” He asked gently.

She placed bare feet up on the dash, her skirt billowing around her knees, and he refrained from lecturing her on the pitfalls of being in such a position if they ended up in an accident.

“No,” she said quietly. She pressed her face to the window and hugged herself.

He reached across the console and fastened her seatbelt for her, and turned the music up.

He didn’t know what was troubling her, but he understood the need for distraction.

He didn’t pry, but he did sing-a-long to his Latin mix badly. He could make Spanish sound the opposite of sexy when he made an effort, and while she didn’t join in, her lips would turn up just a tad during a particularly bad note. Her eyes were dark pools of sadness though.

She didn’t budge when he dropped letters off at the post office. She stared at the mechanizations of the car wash with that childlike wonder one never seemed to lose.

She tipped the young pimply-faced teen drying the car before he could dig out more singles, but she never said a word.

It was like he was on his own and Maria was his shadow.

She hopped out when it was time to go inside the grocery store. She tagged along like a bored kid, except she wasn’t so much bored as unusually quiet and distracted, with her mind a million miles away.

“I can feel your judgment from here,” he joked when he put a dozen frozen dinners into the basket.

“Inquiring minds want to know how are you a doctor with a body like that,” she gestured at him. “Living off of frozen dinners?”

“They’re quick, easy, and delicious. Don’t act like you don’t eat this shit too.” He tossed a box of Easy Mac into the basket and glowered.

“I’m poor, Kyle. Of course, I eat this shit,” she countered throwing two boxes of Pop-Tarts in with the other groceries.

“I’m poor too,” he smirked at her dubious expression. “Student loans.”

She nodded. “Touchè.”

To his surprise, shopping with Maria became an adventure. She tossed more crap into the cart, most of which he snuck out when she wasn’t looking.

She was a natural haggler too. She charmed the butcher into giving her, well, him, a deal on a couple of steaks which she promised to make for their next movie night.

They only had one mishap when he accidentally hit the back of her ankles with the cart, and he almost saw his life flash before his eyes when she glared at him.

They settled on a pint of ice cream, he caved to cookie dough because he promised her it would make her feel better, and they snagged a few spoons from the hot food bar before hitting the register.

She opted for the self-checkout, and he figured out it was for the best when she dug through her huge purse for a handful of coupons she knew she had in there.

He wasn’t a coupon person, and it embarrassed him a bit until he saved 13 bucks. He could live with Maria’s smug response after that.

She was lighter and happier, the Maria he was most familiar with by the time they settled down on a park bench to relax and share their pint.

An ensuing war over a coveted chunk of cookie dough led to a spoon battle and his utensil falling to its death in a pile of dirt.

“Mine!” She crowed claiming the piece.

He couldn’t resist laughing at her victory dance as she hummed in satisfaction at the sweet confectionery goodness melting on her tongue.

She didn’t see him coming when he plucked her spoon out of her mouth, dove into the pint and shoveled a hunk of ice cream into his.

“Hey, asshole!” She shrieked ignoring the dirty look a mother with her children shot her way.

“Sharing is caring,” he said around a mouthful of ice cream.

She rolled her eyes, snatched the spoon and pint back and went to town.

“This is the most fun I’ve had adulting in a long time,” he admitted truthfully.

“That’s because adulting isn’t meant to be fun,” she shrugged. The smile on her lips settled into a hard line.

“Let’s hear it, Maria.” He gently knocked his shoulder into hers. “Not that I didn’t enjoy you practically hijacking my car today, but what’s wrong?”

“They still don’t know what’s wrong with her,” she whispered. “Another specialist. More money that I don’t have spent, and no answer.”

She met his eyes briefly, and he saw the tears she was fighting back. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and offered a comforting squeeze.

“Maria, I can loan you–” he started even though he felt her tense beside him.

“No, Kyle. I can’t. You’ve helped me enough. Your colleague back in Iowa at least didn’t treat me like a crazy person or treat Mimi like an inconvenience. He was good, kind, and a breath of fresh air.

God knows I’ve run into my fair share of assholes. Not to mention the entire healthcare system is fucked…” she sighed.

He clenched his jaw as it pulsated with his own frustration. “Trust me, I know better than anyone.”

“It’s just every day I feel like I’m losing more of her,” she stared at a young mother helping a toddler climb on a plastic turtle.

“I know it seems like I …” she blew out a puff of air and distracted herself with stirring the remnants of ice cream until it became soupy.

“Losing pieces of her is like losing myself,” she shrugged. “She’s my compass, and she grounds me, without it – without her, I’m lost.”

He nodded. He understood that feeling after his father died.

“I think it’s incredible, the way you take care of Mimi…” he knew she didn’t always take compliments well, but he didn’t consider it a compliment so much as the truth. “It’s hard, and I can’t even begin to imagine, but I admire you, Maria. I hope you know that.”

She didn’t respond. She looked away instead, but he saw the way her cheeks were the slightest tinge of red.

“You take care of your mom, and you feed the community every month, and … ” he sighed, frustrated for his friend. “You need to let someone take care of you some time.”

“I’m a big girl, Kyle,” she went for light and flashed him that irresistible smile. “I can take care of myself.”

He wanted to add that she shouldn’t always have to, but in addition to knowing how hypocritical that would be of him, he sensed she wanted to drop the topic.

So he did.

“I’ll deny it later, and don’t let it get to your head, but I’m glad you’re back, Kyle.”

He chuckled, snatched the ice cream soup out of her hand and downed it.

“I am too,” he said after a while.

And he was.

v.

There were days when his job was the worst in the world.

Losing a patient never got easier, and no amount of experience could make delivering the news to the family less difficult.

His chest still ached from a pummel of fists hitting him as he eased a sobbing woman to the waiting room floor and held her.

His skin was blotchy and bruise. It was tender to the touch, but he welcomed the pain.

The pain reminded him that he was still alive, but it also reminded him that his patient wasn’t.

It took him a while to find a routine – something to direct all his energy towards in those dark moments.

Otherwise, the darkness would consume him. It would take a toll on him, but more importantly, it would interfere with his ability to be effective at his job.

He could never risk that; it was too important to him.

He retreated into himself. He declined the offers for drinks or dinner. He hit the gym and worked himself out until he collapsed, and then worked himself out some more.

Angry beats, a cacophony of harsh lyrics, blared in his ears as his feet slapped hard against the treadmill.

Sharp jabs against a punching bag until his knuckles were sore. 

Shadowboxing, more often than not, was easier on his hands; but sometimes he wanted to punish them for failing. For not healing. For allowing someone’s life to slip through their fingers.

He knew there was nothing he could have done, but feelings aren’t logical.

Then he hit the showers, hot water at a punishing setting sluicing against his skin in rivulets.

He drove home in silence, and sometimes he prayed and hoped the next day would be better.

On particularly hard days, an anguished scream would claw its way up to his throat, and he would cry. The echos of distraught family members and friends haunted him.

He would throw on a reality cooking competition and eat a frozen dinner until he fell asleep.

Everyone had their process.

His was almost complete until he arrived home and saw the kitchen light on over the stove.

He cursed to himself when he dropped the keys on the counter. He couldn’t… be if his mother dropped in.

She knew what it was like losing a person, but her way of coping differed from his.

“I know you probably don’t want to talk,” Maria came out of the bathroom not the least bit surprised by his appearance.

“I heard … that accident,” she wiped her hands down her sides to get off the remaining moisture. “I’m not staying. I just brought you something to eat.”

He was frozen in place, and he couldn’t meet her eyes. “Thanks,” he responded sharply.

He didn’t trust himself to say more, and fortunately, Maria seemed to understand.

He dropped his gym bag on the floor beside him.

His hair was still dripping from the shower, and his body already ached, and he just wanted to fall face-first into the couch, but he couldn’t bring himself to move.

The intrusion threw him all out of wack. Any move could lead to him being more vulnerable than he wanted to be in anyone’s presence, even hers.

But then there was something about her presence …

“I’m heading out now,” she said softly. “Text me later.”

She gave him a sympathetic smile as she brushed past him. She squeezed his shoulder on her way past. “Sorry for your loss, Kyle.”

His hand entangled with hers before he could think about it, grabbing and locking her hand in his as she breezed past.

“Stay,” his voice was gruff even to his own ears. “Please. If it isn’t too much trouble.”

She squeezed his hand and nodded.

He went around the island and peeled back the foil on the plate she left him. It was still hot.

He shuffled to the couch and collapsed on it like the wind had been knocked right out of him.

He turned on an old Master Chef and ate in silence. It wasn’t until a sweaty bottle of root beer was placed in his hand that he noticed Maria hadn’t sat beside him yet.

She was standing off to the side, and it suddenly hit him like a ton of bricks that she was trying to give him space.

Larger than life Maria DeLuca was making herself small for him, and that wouldn’t do.

He knew she meant well, but it made him feel shittier.

“I promise I don’t bite,” he went for a light joke, but it fell flat.

“No, you don’t,” Maria finally sat beside him, and his body relaxed. “You don’t need to make me feel comfortable, Kyle. I just wanted to give you space.”

Her hand entwined with his, and they sat in silence. But then it switched to Master Chef Juniors, and he lost it.

A toothy 10-year-old, eerily reminiscent of his patient, smiled into the camera. To his utter embarrassment, he began sobbing.

“He was only seven,” he sputtered. His voice was choked up and every attempt to rein himself in failed. “He loved wrestling and Spiderman. He wanted to be a fireman when he grew …” he couldn’t finish – cut off by his own sob.

He felt her shift closer, her arms wrapped around him tight enough to stop the onslaught of anxious breathing.

He buried his face into her neck, his embarrassment abandoned in favor of the full-body release of his sadness, anger, and pain.

Maria clicked her tongue, rocked him gently, and brushed her lips across his temple and damp hair.

“I’m s-sorry,” he choked out, aware of how he was dampening her neck and shirt with tears and God knows what else.

“Shhhh,” she hummed soothingly. “Talk it through. It’s OK if I don’t understand the procedure; just talk it through.”

He ran through the entire surgical procedure. Every step leading up to Levi’s surgery and every tool he used.

Maria stopped him on occasion to confirm it was the proper protocol, the proper utensil, and so on. When he was done, she made him repeat it all over again.

They were settled into the couch by then, his head resting on her chest wedged beneath her chin.

She scratched at his scalp, and at some point, his tears subsided, and his breathing matched hers.

“You did everything right, Kyle,” she said after a while. 

“Bless that sweet baby’s soul and his parents. You didn’t make any mistakes. There’s nothing else you could’ve done. He had the best care by the best doctor until he closed his eyes, and he went peacefully. Mourn him, but don’t let it eat away at you.”

He nodded. Knowing the truth and hearing the truth were two different things.

At some point, he felt he should have extricated himself from her embrace, but a selfish, lonely part of him relished the comfort.

As if reading his mind, like the psychic she proclaimed to be, she hugged him tighter.

Her heartbeat lulled him into the soundest sleep he had in months.

When he woke up, he was hugging a pillow that still smelled of her. it was a quarter past two.

He scanned the room bleary-eyed, the throw tossed over him tumbling to the floor with the effort.

The blinking on his cellphone let him know he had a text.

Had to run. Rest up and start again tomorrow. ♡

He shuffled into his room and fell onto his bed. He expected to feel a wave of regret and embarrassment, but it never came.

Instead, he felt unburdened.

vi.

He didn’t sign up for this. Him, Liz, Rosa, Alex, and Maria. None of them did.

But extraterrestrial bullshit invaded their lives, and they made do with it. Whether it was love and feelings or a birthright, the alien fight became their own.

But they weren’t resistant to attacks. They weren’t immune. They were fragile and susceptible.

They weren’t soldiers; they were humans. Assets. Liabilities. Victims.

Rosa was a victim once. It was something he fought to make peace with, and that took a long time. But now she was a victim too.

Flashes of the past two days flickered through his mind like an old film.

Another survivor from the crash was in their midst. What began as a tenuous partnership to help revive Max turned into lines drawn and a declaration of war.

All wars have casualties, and Maria was nearly one.

He couldn’t shake the image of Michael carrying her lifeless body across the desert.

It was the most distraught he had seen him since the prison explosion. Liz and Rosa flanked his sides.

Alex and Max were closing in behind them. There was blood everywhere.

He did what he could to stop the bleeding while Michael sped to the hospital.

He worked on her all the way to the OR, straddled over her form on the gurney willing her to live.

He physically fought his colleagues trying to rip him away.

As a general rule, no one is supposed to work on family and friends, but some rules were meant to be broken.

He couldn’t leave that OR if he wanted to, but he didn’t want to. There was no way in hell he could sit idly by when he could help.

He left the questions to his mother and Max. They could sort out the stories on their end, and he could do everything in his power to make sure his friend came out of it on the other side on his end.

He hadn’t slept in two days. He hadn’t left the hospital. He barely left her room at all.

He couldn’t lose anyone else. He got a second chance with Rosa, but second chances were anomalies, not the norm.

He rubbed his temples, closed his eyes and sighed.

“Y-you,” Maria croaked before clearing her throat with no success. “You look like shit, Valenti.”

She coughed and laughed at the same time before her body alerted her that both were a terrible idea. “Oww!” She groaned.

He was at her bedside in two long strides. His body relaxed for the first time in days as he poured her a cup of water and smiled fondly with utter relief as she drank it greedily.

“Take it easy,” he cooed, as he stroked her hair.

“I’m assuming I have a couple of cracked ribs?” She asked, her voice raspy.

“You would assume correctly.” He looked down on her and smiled. “I want to tell you that you look like shit too, but it would be a lie.”

“Flattery … will get you … everywhere,” she rasped as she tried to get comfortable. “Although …”

He scanned the machines and checked her vitals, and signaled the nurse that she was awake.

“Although, what?”

“Although, I briefly remember you on top of me, and…” she ran her fingers across the bandage on her chest. “You lucky bastard, you already saw me naked,” she joked.

“Ah. But the circumstances weren’t like I imagined. It would require a do-over.” He moved out of the way for the nurse to check out Maria.

After what seemed to be an eternity she left urging him to let Maria rest and get some himself.

“You imagined me?” It was like Maria to pick up where they left off.

He felt his face heat up.

“You scared the crap out of us, Maria,” he plopped on the bed and grabbed her hand.

“Nice swerve, Kyle, but I’ll allow it,” she squeezed his hand back. “Where is everyone?”

Her voice was small, and he wondered if she had an irrational fear that no one else showed up for her.

“I texted them that you were awake,” he replied running his fingers feather-light against the pulse in her wrist.

“Visiting hours are over, but almost everyone has been here,” he fretted over her. He knew he was doing it, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop.

“Almost everyone?” She looked wary. He could tell she already had her suspicions before he could confirm.

“Michael was thrown out two days ago,” he couldn’t hide his annoyance mentioning the most volatile of their pod squad acquaintances.

“He was too … aggressive. Others were complaining. He couldn’t be reined in. He really cares about you, you know?”

“I know,” she shook her head.

“And Rosa wasn’t happy that she couldn’t come,” he flashed back to how volatile his half-sister was. Max’s apartment was probably a wreck.

“Which one of them slugged you?” Maria ran her bandaged hand with the IV across his jawline.

“Rosa has a mean right hook,” he admitted not hiding how impressed he was by that.

“She always did,” Maria agreed. “How’s that going?”

“Still adjusting, I guess.”

“To know you is to love you, Kyle. She’ll come around,” she squeezed her eyes shut tight and exhaled slowly.

“Are you in pain? I can get you some more–”

“I’m fine, Kyle. I don’t need anything. I’m probably going to wish that alien bastard had finished the job when I get the medical bills though,” she blinked back tears and forced herself to smile.

“Maria –”

“Go figure, I got probed and in none of the fun ways. Stabbed in the chest by glowing alien paraphernalia and left to die in a cave is not how I expected to go. I’m guessing Max still can’t tap into his healing powers?”

He wanted to say so much – comfort her better, but he settled for going along with her topic change. “No, Max is still blocked. But Michael tried to heal you,” he met her eyes and shrugged.

“But Michael can’t heal…” her confusion was almost endearing to him.

“Didn’t stop him from trying,” he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. He was still fretting and busying himself. “You had a close one. We thought we lost you twice, and none of us can bear losing anyone.

He was tired, and doctor mode bled into friend mode. He didn’t realize he was pulling back her gown and checking her bandage.

Her surgical wounds would heal nicely, if he said so himself. He secured the bandage tight, poked and prodded until he was satisfied.

At her cough he yanked out his stethoscope and listened, nodding to himself after confirming her breathing was fine.

He flashed a light in her eyes, studied her pupils and ignored her scrutiny.

He knew he looked like hell, bloodshot eyes, and dark circles around them. He hadn’t shaved in days, his dark stubble uncharacteristic. His hair was matted except for the tufts he mussed from constantly running his fingers through his hair.

“When’s the last time you slept, Kyle?” She asked innocently enough.

“I’m fine,” he lied. “Remember? I do this for a living.”

She raised her brow but dropped it. “What’s my prognosis, doc?”

“You look good,” he replied, his voice soft and worn even to his own ears. “You had a concussion, but we kept an eye on it. Your surgical incision looks good. You’ll barely have a scar.”

“Scars mean you lived – they mean you survived,” she replied.

“Yeah,” he rubbed his thumb across her hairline. “Yeah, they do. Vital organs were missed, so that’s –”

“When do I get out of here, Kyle?”

Leave it to Maria to get to the bottom line. It killed him that even then, her concern was financing. They probably didn’t require exceptional healthcare on whatever planet the others derived from.

“If you promise to take off and settle in at home, preferably somewhere with room and a simple floor plan, then I’ll get you out.”

Max’s spacious home came to mind, but there was also the cabin or even his apartment.

“But you need to rest, Maria.”

“Pot meet kettle, Kyle. Pot meet kettle.” She shuffled in the bed and winced and gasped in pain.

His jaw clenched as he bit back a sharp reprimand. She patted a spot on the bed beside her and raised her brow.

“Maria,” he started, too tired to argue with her but gearing up for one anyway.

“Don’t,” she glared at him. “Just for a little bit, please.”

She didn’t want to be alone. He understood that.

“Just for a little while,” he ignored her triumphant smirk. She acted as if she didn’t have a knack for making people bend to her will.

He slid beside her. The hospital bed was more comfortable than he cared to admit. He checked her vitals again, slid his arm beneath her, and gingerly pulled her into his chest.

It was a small enough bed where snuggling was the only option. She didn’t seem to mind. She burrowed herself into him.

He tucked the covers around her and double-checked to make sure her water pitcher was full. When she thought she hid a grimace, he upped her morphine drip.

He felt her soft laugh reverberate through him and how she shook her head infinitesimally.

“What?” He yawned. “Do I even want to know?”

“Always fretting,” she patted his hand gently. “You’re always taking care of everyone, but who takes care of you?”

He wanted to laugh. Instead, he rested his head on hers. He allowed her warmth and the sound of the heart monitor to lull him into a sleepy daze.

His eyelids were heavy, his voice husky with exhaustion as his lips barely grazed the shell of her ear.

“You, Maria.” He could tell he caught her by surprise. Her breath hitched, and admittedly, it made him smile.

 "It’s always you,“ he whispered as he finally drifted off to sleep.

—-

[sunriserose1023]

The Adventures of Love Muffin and Coffee Shop Guy

Here is one of my entries for Mimi’s Marvel Trope Challenge, which I combined with Kait’s 8K Angst Writing Challenge. I took it easy on the angst, in that it’s still there, just not as rip-your-heart-out as I have been known to do in the past.

PROMPT 1: Two strangers who have a silent daily battle to get the same muffin/ most comfortable chair/ best parking spot/ certain object at the coffee shop/library that turns into something more PROMPT 2: “Can we get coffee?” ”Is this a date or it is because you’ll end up strangling someone if you don’t get caffeine in your system?” ”I shouldn’t have asked.” CHARACTERS: Female reader, Hope van Dyne, Wanda Maximoff, Clint Barton, Jane Foster, Sam Wilson, Scott Lang, Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Natasha Romanoff WORD COUNT: 5491 WARNINGS: Angst, fluff; Clint is based on the Hawkeye of the comics, so he’s deaf

TAGS: @captain-rogers-beard, @bionic-buckyb, @captain-s-rogers, @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan, @stevieang

You tapped your foot on the floorboard of the car, leaning forward and looking out the passenger-side window. You blew out a breath and tapped the horn at the exact moment the door opened and your best friend stepped out of her house. She held a hand to her hip, one perfectly groomed eyebrow raised. She made her way down the sidewalk and climbed into your car, turning to face you and blinking her big blue eyes.

“Did you just honk at me?” “We’ve got to hurry.” “Why? We don’t have to be at work for another forty-five minutes.” “It’s not work I’m trying to get to. It’s the coffee shop.”

Hope stared at you as you drove just slightly over the speed limit. She glanced out the windshield, then looked back to you.

“What coffee shop?” “One I found a few weeks ago. It’s called Widow’s Peak, and it is divine.” “Okay, why are we rushing to get there?”

You flipped your blinker on, changing lanes as you talked.

“I need to get the last chocolate cream cheese muffin.” “How do you know it’s the last one?” “Because it always is. Those things are beyond delicious and they’re always the first to go.”

Hope shook her head.

“I’m so confused.”

You smiled as you flipped the blinker on again, pulling into the parking lot of a small shopping center. You’d barely put the car in park before you jumped out and ran inside. Hope scrambled to follow you, stepping inside right behind you. The girl behind the counter, a pretty girl with reddish hair, dark eyes, dark eyeliner, and rings on almost every finger tsked her tongue when you walked in.

“Nooo.”

She smiled, shrugging her shoulders.

���Sorry, honey. He beat you today.”

You stomped your foot, turning back and pointing at Hope.

“This is all your fault.”

Hope held out her hands and the girl behind the counter laughed. You dragged your feet to the pastry cooler, Hope joining you a minute later. You had a pout on your face as you scanned the cooler and Hope let out a breath as she looked to the girl.

“Can you fill me in on what this is all about?”

She smiled.

“Y/N has an ongoing competition with another of our customers.”

Hope raised an eyebrow and you huffed out a breath.

“She won’t even tell me his name. Only that he’s gorgeous and apparently loves chocolate cream cheese muffins and breaking hearts.”

The girl laughed, holding out a hand towards Hope.

“I’m Wanda, by the way. Wanda Maximoff.” “Hope van Dyne.”

Wanda walked behind the pastry cooler, setting her chin on the top of it.

“What are you going to settle for today?”

You sighed, then pointed to your selection.

“I guess one of the raspberry scones. And two oatmeal cookies.” “Cookies before nine A.M.?” “You hush your mouth or I won’t share like I was planning to.”

Hope smiled, and Wanda set the pastries on the counter, along with two steaming cups of coffee. You paid for it all and waved at Wanda, then handed Hope one of the cups of coffee as the two of you walked back to your car. When you’d started the engine, you unwrapped the cookies, taking a bite out of one and handing the other to Hope.

“So tell me more about … this.”

You chewed, taking a sip of your coffee before you spoke.

“So I found this place a few weeks back. Looked interesting, so I went in. Did you taste the coffee yet?”

Hope shook her head, and you motioned for her to try it. She did, and when her eyes widened, you nodded.

“I know, right? So I figured if the coffee was that good, the pastries had to be too, you know? I tried one of the muffins and it was heavenly. Went back the next day and all the muffins were gone. Went the next day and I got the last one. When I went back the next week, the muffins were gone again. I happened to mention to Wanda that the chocolate cream cheese muffins are my favorite, and she said they’re super popular. Mentioned that there was this guy who came in every day and always gets the chocolate cream cheese muffin. I was just joking with her, told her to tell him that he’d have to get up early in the morning to get my muffin.”

You smiled.

“And I guess he took that as a challenge. So we … kind of fight every day to get the last muffin.” “Why don’t you just get up earlier and come get one when they first open?” “Because one: they open at five A.M. And two: have you met me? I barely make it to work on time. You think I would waste my precious sleep to get up early for a muffin?”

Hope laughed.

“Good point.”

You shook your head, taking another sip of coffee and putting the car in drive.

The next morning, you walked into the office with a smile on your face. Hope looked up from her desk and leaned back in her chair when she saw you.

“Well, well. Someone looks happy today.” “Damn right. I beat him to it.”

You sat at your desk and unwrapped the muffin. You gave a happy sigh and smiled widely, and Hope laughed as she scooted closer to you.

“Let me try a bite.”

You shot her a look that made her laugh and she moved closer to you.

“I want to see if this thing is worth competing for. Come on.”

You rolled your eyes, pinching off a piece of the muffin and handing it to her. She chewed it and you watched as her eyes widened.

“Holy shit.” “Right?! Now do you see?” “Oh, honey. Can you order like a dozen of these? Because I need that every morning.” “You’re welcome.”

You walked into the coffee shop and Wanda smiled.

“Just in time.”

You threw your hands into the air and she laughed as she pulled the last muffin from the pastry case. You set your purse on the counter and Wanda cleared her throat. You met her eyes, tilting your head when you saw the single pink rose in her hand. You raised an eyebrow and she smiled.

“He was in here just a little while ago. Asked me to give this to you when you came to get your muffin.”

Your mouth dropped open, fingers gently taking the rose Wanda handed to you. You brought it to your nose and closed your eyes as you took in the sweet scent. You swallowed, smiling up at her.

“Tell him … thank you. I love it.”

Wanda grinned at you.

“I will.”

“Hey, I got a tray of those muffins for the breakfast meeting tomorrow. Do you think you can pick them up on your way?”

You nodded, and Hope moved to rest a hip on the edge of your desk.

“Anything this morning?”

You smiled.

“Maybe.”

Hope smiled.

“What?”

You took a roll of Sweet Tarts candy from your pocket. Hope frowned when she looked at it, then looked to you. You laughed.

“Wanda said he said that he thinks I must be sweet, the way Wanda describes me, but stealing his muffin makes me a little tart.”

Hope rolled her eyes, but smiled.

“What are you doing in return?” “I gave Wanda a little bag of Sour Patch Kids.”

Hope laughed.

“Perfect.”

After a week of little gifts from what you’d come to think of as your secret admirer with Wanda playing the middle man between the two of you, you walked into the coffee shop and yawned. Wanda gave you a smile.

“Good morning, sunshine.”

You rolled your eyes and she laughed.

“He beat you in this morning, but he did leave something for you.”

You leaned over the counter and Wanda pulled out a small plate with half of a chocolate cream cheese muffin on it. You laughed, then smiled as warmth filled your chest. Wanda cleared her throat and you looked up at her. She smiled, then rolled her eyes.

“He wanted me to ask you a question.”

You nodded, and she spoke as she wrapped up the muffin.

“Do you like raisins?”

You furrowed your brows, and Wanda glanced back at you, she nodded in encouragement, and you shrugged your shoulders.

“Sure.” “How about a date?”

You stopped, let the words register, then fell out laughing. Tears came to your eyes and Wanda grinned behind the counter, laughing to herself.

“Oh, wow. Oh my god, that’s great.”

You pulled your phone out of your purse when you heard it vibrate, then groaned.

“I’ve got a meeting I’ve got to get to. I’ll get here early tomorrow and tell you something to tell him back, okay?” “I’ll be waiting!”

You glanced up from your desk when Hope stood up from hers. She came back a few minutes later and you waved her over. She raised an eyebrow in lieu of saying anything and you leaned back in your chair.

“What’s the cheesiest pick up line you know?” “What?”

You smiled, laughing to yourself.

“So when I went to the coffee shop this morning, Wanda was waiting for me. He beat me this morning, but left me half of the muffin.” “Aw!”

You rolled your eyes.

“Then, Wanda said he’d asked her to tell me something. Well, to ask me a question.” “Which was?”

You looked up at her.

“Do you like raisins?”

Hope made a face.

“Seriously? What kind of question is that? ‘Do you like raisins?’ What the hell?” “Just answer the question.” “Do I like raisins?”

You nodded, and she lifted her shoulders.

“Sure. They’re okay.” “How about a date?” “A d—”

Recognition lit up Hope’s features and you laughed as she shook her head.

“Oh, wow. That’s a good one. I’ve never heard that one before.” “Right? So I want to tell him one back, but I don’t know what to say.”

Hope tapped a dark burgundy nail against her chin.

“Well, I mean, there’s the classics. ‘Do you believe in love at first sight, or should I walk by again?’ Although that one won’t really work since you’ve never seen the guy.”

She twisted her lips, then turned her back to you.

“Hey Clint!”

Clint Barton poked his head around his cubicle, standing up and walking over to your desk. Hope nodded to him, speaking slowly and deliberately, so he could read her lips.

“Cheesiest pick up line you know.”

He thought for a second, then smiled, hands moving as he spoke.

“Did it hurt? When you fell from heaven?”

You rolled your eyes, but smiled, and Clint took that as permission to continue.

“If I could rearrange the alphabet, I’d put ‘U’ and ‘I’ together.”

You groaned at that, and Clint laughed. Jane Foster stepped up from her cubicle, leaning against the side of yours.

“I lost my number. Can I have yours?”

You laughed at that, nodding at her. Sam Wilson walked up, glancing at the crowd around your desk.

“What are we pow-wowing about and why wasn’t I invited?” “Corniest pick up line you’ve got. Go.”

Sam nodded at Hope, then turned to you.

“Can you hold this for me?”

He held out a hand and you nodded, moving your hand under his. Instead of handing you something, which you were expecting, Sam took hold of your hand. You shook your head.

“That’s your hand. … Oh.”

You laughed as Sam gave your hand a squeeze and Clint clapped his hands together.

“That’s the best one!”

Sam let go of your hand and stepped back.

“Why are we tossing around cheesy pick-up lines?” “Because Y/N got hit with one this morning.”

Jane rushed forward.

“From Coffee Shop Guy?!”

You lifted your eyebrows and Jane shrugged. Clint stepped into your line of sight, smiling as he began signing, hands flying. You shook your head, reaching out and taking hold of his wrists. You spoke slowly and deliberately, allowing Clint to read your lips.

“You’ve got to slow down. I can’t read that fast.”

Clint gave a quiet laugh, this time speaking as he signed.

“Hope told us about him.”

You leaned around Clint, and Hope held out her hands.

“What, like it was a secret?”

You rolled your eyes, and Jane clasped her hands together.

“I think it’s sweet. Especially now.” “Hey, I thought of another one.”

You glanced over to Sam, who bounced his eyebrows at you. You raised your eyebrows in anticipation, a smile already playing at your lips. He cleared his throat, speaking with a wide smile on his face.

“Kiss me if I’m wrong, but dinosaurs still exist, right?”

Laughter rang throughout your group of cubicles, and Clint clapped his hands until you all turned to look at him. He signed while he spoke.

“There’s a whole website dedicated to cheesy pick up lines.”

You crawled out of your chair, moving to join the rest of the group gathered around Clint’s computer. Jane let out a laugh.

“You must be a parking ticket, ‘cause you’ve got ‘Fine’ written all over you.” “Classic.”

The bell above the door jingled as you stepped into Widow’s Peak, mouth open in a wide yawn.

“I’ve got everything ready for you.”

You furrowed your eyebrows and Wanda’s smile softened as she held out a baggie and a tall to-go cup.

“I’ve got something to tell you.”

You sighed.

“I never really had an admirer, did I? You bought the stuff because you felt sorry for me.” “What? No!”

You stopped at the counter and Wanda leaned over it.

“Your guy? He’s in the military. He’s going on a mission, of sorts. He couldn’t tell me much, only that he’d be gone for about a month.” “Oh.”

You glanced down at the counter, wondering why you felt sad. You’d never even met the guy, but hearing Wanda say the words struck a place in your heart.

“However …”

You met her eyes again and she smiled.

“He said to be sure and make absolutely certain that you got your muffin every day.”

You blinked, a soft smile coming to your lips.

“Really?”

She nodded.

“So get ready, because I promised to be sure and take care of you while he’s gone.”

You blinked, a lump suddenly in your throat. You went for your purse and Wanda shook her head.

“It’s taken care of.”

You met her eyes, yours widening.

“For a month?”

She nodded, and you pursed your lips, biting the inside of your cheek. You nodded, giving her a smile as you took your coffee and the muffin, lost in your thoughts as you walked back to your car.

You sat at your desk, one foot planted on the ground, slowly moving your chair back and forth. Hope was at her desk across from you when the other people in your office gathered around. Clint tapped a hand on your desk and you turned to face him. He spoke slowly, hands moving to sign the words he said.

“How’s Coffee Shop Guy?”

You sighed as you turned to face Clint. You opened your mouth, but couldn’t find the words. You shrugged your shoulders and shook your head.

“Did something happen?”

You looked to Clint’s right, where Jane was standing. You gave her a smile, then shook your head.

“I went to the coffee shop this morning. Wanda had a muffin there waiting for me, which apparently, he set up.” “’Set up?’”

You nodded to Clint.

“Turns out, he’s in the military and he’s leaving for a while. But he … made a deal with Wanda to make sure get a muffin every day while he’s gone. He paid for it and everything.”

Jane’s mouth dropped open and she glanced to Hope, who stood up from her desk.

“What?”

You nodded.

“I don’t … I don’t know what to do with that. I … I’ve never even met the guy and I feel … weird.” “Weird how? Is the muffin bad?”

You laughed, looking over to Sam, who was smiling at you.

“No, the muffin’s perfect.”

Sam winked at you, and Clint went to speak, closing his mouth when the phone at your desk rang. You answered it, making a face.

“We’re needed in the conference room.”

Everyone made a face identical to yours, then headed down the hall.

You sat on Hope’s couch, a glass of wine in your hand. She walked in from the kitchen, sitting beside you and picking up her own glass.

“Talk to me.”

You smiled.

“It’s weird.” “Yeah, you mentioned that.”

You rolled your eyes, keeping the smile on your face.

“I don’t even know this guy. Never met him before in my life. I mean … that I know of. All we do is go to the same coffee shop. And now I …”

You sighed.

“I’m worried about him.”

Hope sighed, shaking her head as she brought her wine glass to her lips.

“You are falling in love with Coffee Shop Guy.” “I am not.” “You lie. Did you hear the words you just said?”

You sighed, leaning forward and setting your glass on Hope’s coffee table. You turned to face her, pulling your legs up under you.

“I don’t know him. Every time we’ve ever interacted, it’s been through Wanda. She could be playing him up because he’s her brother and she wants him out of her house. Or he could be in the mob and he’s threatening her to do the stuff.” “Okay, you’ve got to stop watching these weird-ass movies on Netflix all the time. Go outside. Get some fresh air. Human interaction.” “Shut up.”

Hope laughed before moving to set her glass on the table beside yours, pulling her legs up under her the same way you were.

“This is sweet, Y/N. It’s like … like old times, when people had secret admirers.” “What if the military thing is a lie and he’s from the old times? Like what if he’s ninety?” “I don’t think Wanda would do that to you.”

You nodded.

“I just …”

You sighed and Hope reached over, taking one of your hands.

“It’s okay. To … like him and worry about him. To conjure up this picture in your mind of what he’s like. I mean, he’s given you flowers and made you laugh and made sure that you’re getting your favorite breakfast every day.” “I just don’t want to build him up so much the real thing disappoints me.” “I know, honey. But you’ll never know if you don’t take the shot.”

You nodded, and Hope leaned over, kissing your forehead as she stood up.

“Come on. I’m going to bed and if you don’t come get in your spot now, I’ll lock you out so you don’t wake me up.”

You laughed, but stood up because you knew she wasn’t kidding. You fell asleep dreaming of coffee and muffins and roses and for some reason you couldn’t pinpoint, blue, blue eyes.

You were typing on your computer at work the next day when Clint walked by, gently tapping on the edge of your desk. You lifted your head and he signed to you, asking if you knew what was going on. You shook your head and he shrugged his shoulders, signing that everyone was in the conference room. You stood up, following him down the hall. One of the projectors was set up, filling one of the walls of the room with what looked to be a newscast. You sidled up to Scott Lang, who worked across the hall and was constantly flirting with Hope, crossing your arms over your chest, whispering to him.

“Hey, what’s all this about?”

He shrugged.

“I don’t really know. Something about how a group of Special Forces soldiers has gone missing. Doesn’t look good.”

Your breath caught in your throat as you turned back to the projection on the wall. You watched the news ticker across the bottom, covering your mouth with a hand.

You went to Widow’s Peak as soon as you got off work, ignoring Hope’s efforts to get you to talk to her. There were no customers, only Wanda behind the counter, and she came and sat at a table with you, both of you sipping hot chocolate.

“So … he was in that group of soldiers that’s been on the news, wasn’t he?”

Wanda sighed, stirring her hot chocolate, the thin spoon clinking against the rim of the mug.

“I don’t know for certain, because he can’t call when he leaves out, but … I think so. I’m afraid so. Nat’s out of her mind with worry.” “Nat?”

Wanda met your eyes and smiled.

“Natasha. She’s my cousin, and this is her coffee shop.” “So she’s the one who makes the pastries?”

Wanda grinned.

“Yep.” “I need to meet her and marry her.”

Wanda laughed.

“If she wasn’t already married, she’d totally take you up on that.”

You smiled, leaning forward, taking the opportunity to change the subject.

“So I’ve always wondered. Why ‘Widow’s Peak?’ Where did that name come from?”

Wanda took a sip of her hot chocolate, then smiled.

“There are a couple of theories bouncing around out there. One, that the name is literal and means something tragic.”

Wanda shrugged.

“Since I know Bucky very well and he is very much alive, which makes Natasha the opposite of a widow, I say that theory has been debunked.”

You smiled and nodded as she went on.

“Another is that Nat was a spy for the CIA or something, and her code name had something to do with it. I’m thinking it was something like Black Widow, you know?”

You nodded and she shrugged again.

“I’m on the fence about that one. I mean, I doubt it was true, but …”

You pursed your lips as you slowly nodded, and Wanda spoke up again.

“The third theory is that this place was overrun with black widow spiders and they had to practically level it before the strip mall was built, and the name is an homage to that.”

You went still, slowly moving your eyes from side to side and Wanda laughed.

“Don’t worry. I haven’t seen hide nor hair of a single spider since I started working here.”

You shivered and she laughed, taking another drink from her mug. You shook your head as you looked down at your cup, giving a sigh.

“I’m worried about him, Wanda.”

Wanda gave a soft smile.

“I know, honey.” “I’ve never even met the guy, never laid eyes on him, but … I’m terrified he might not come back.” “You can’t think like that.”

Wanda reached over, the bracelets on her wrist jingling as she laid her hand on yours. You looked up at her, tears filling your eyes.

“He has to be okay.”

She nodded.

“I know.”

You both turned and looked out the window, but you turned your hand over and gripped Wanda’s tightly.

“So Coffee Shop Guy is rich?”

You rolled your eyes before turning back to look at Sam.

“What makes you say that?” “Because it’s been almost six weeks and you’re still muffin-ing every morning.” “Shut up, Sam.”

He smiled, moving to lean against your desk.

“You can’t think the worst.”

You sighed.

“They found those soldiers three weeks ago, Sam. Wanda doesn’t say a word when I go in the shop anymore. This morning, my coffee and the muffin were just sitting on the counter, no one around.”

You swallowed, turning back to your computer.

“I just feel stupid.” “Why?” “Because I wasted all that time acting like a child. Trying to get to a stupid muffin instead of …”

You shrugged your shoulders, shaking your head. Sam crossed his arms over his chest.

“So … what? You should have called this punk out the first time he got the last muffin? You should have sat outside the shop and waited and … what, kicked his ass?”

You blew out a breath.

“I don’t know.” “Y/N, you had fun doing it. You’d come up in here like the cat who ate the canary whenever you won. And when you didn’t, you were all sulled up and pouty, but it was cute. It gave you something to look forward to. Something special just for you. You can’t negate all that just because you let your mind work double-time.”

You looked up to Sam, who gave you a smile. He reached down and pressed his thumb at your cheek.

“Cheer up, buttercup.”

You gave a smile and Sam patted your shoulder before he walked away.

You sat in your car outside Widow’s Peak for a good ten minutes before you got up the nerve to go in. It was Saturday, which was good in that you didn’t have to work, but then you weren’t sure if Wanda worked on Saturdays. You closed your eyes and took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. You turned the car off and climbed out, walking towards the door. A man with his arm in a complicated-looking brace came walking up and you opened the door for him. He flashed you a smile, murmuring his thanks as he stepped into the shop. You followed him, taking off your sunglasses and setting them atop your head. You looked around, heart falling when you saw a man behind the counter.

You thought about turning back and just going home, but you shook your head and walked towards the counter. The man behind it walked into the kitchen just as you did and you sighed before you stepped towards the pastry cooler.

“What’s your favorite thing to get here?”

You glanced over your shoulder, seeing the guy with the arm brace standing beside you. You straightened and shrugged your shoulders.

“I always get the same thing. Caramel macchiato. Although I’m leaning towards something iced today.”

He nodded, glancing up at the chalkboard menu.

“Yeah, I always go for the Americano myself.” “Creature of habit?” “Quite a bit.”

You smiled as you looked up at him. He was taller than you, with blondish hair and gorgeous blue eyes. He looked like he must work out all the time, aside from the sling that fit around his ridiculously tiny waist and over one shoulder, keeping his elbow bent and his arm near his stomach. You met his eyes and saw the smirk on his face, feeling your cheeks heat up before you smiled.

“I’m Y/N, by the way.” “Steve Rogers.”

You nodded, glancing back towards the still-empty counter. Steve stepped closer to it.

“It’s okay. I know the owners.”

He slapped his hand on the counter a few times, until the man from earlier poked his head out from the kitchen. He looked around, face falling when he saw Steve. Steve nodded to him, a smile on his face.

“Quit playing grab-ass with your wife and come take our orders.”

The man shook his head, muttering under his breath as he walked forward.

“You know, Rogers, if there wasn’t a lady present …” “You wouldn’t be here. Ha, ha.”

You snorted, clamping a hand over your mouth. Steve and the man behind the counter looked to you and smiled. You shrugged your shoulders and Steve turned back.

“I want an extra large Americano, and my new friend here will have …”

You smiled.

“Medium iced vanilla latte. With caramel drizzle, please.”

The man nodded.

“Any pastries?”

Steve looked down at you and nodded. You smiled, speaking at the same time as Steve did.

“Just don’t get the—” “The chocolate cream cheese muffin, please.”

You took in a breath and let it out slowly, turning your head when you heard Steve’s whisper.

“It can’t be.”

You met his eyes and shook your head.

“What?”

Steve stared at you, then licked his lips.

“Are … are you …”

The two of you turned back as the bell over the front door jingled. A smile came over your face when you saw Wanda, but it slipped away when she gasped and covered her mouth with her multi-ringed fingers. You reached out to her.

“Wanda? Are you okay?” “You know Wanda?” “She’s my friend. We talk in here all the time.”

Steve smiled.

“You’re Wanda’s friend who loves the chocolate cream cheese muffins.” “Hang on.”

You looked back at the man behind the counter, who was pointing at you with the pen in his hand, but looking at Steve.

“Is this your little love muffin?”

You barked out a laugh.

“Excuse me?”

The man behind the counter gave a sheepish look while Wanda put a hand to her forehead. You looked to Steve, who was glaring at the man behind the counter. You shook your head and Wanda stepped to you, laying her bejeweled hands on your shoulders.

“Y/N, this is him.” “Who him?”

Wanda widened her eyes and smiled. You took in a breath, pointing.

“This is him? My Coffee Shop Guy?” “How original.” “Shut up, Bucky.”

Wanda and Steve had spoken at the same time, and you glanced from the man behind the counter back to Steve. A soft smile came over your face when you moved closer to him.

“You’re my … rose leaving, cheesy pick up line giver?”

A smile came over his lips.

“And you’re my muffin stealer.” “I didn’t steal it!”

He laughed, holding out the hand that wasn’t in the sling. You put your hand in his and stepped closer to him.

“Thank you, for … everything you set up while you were gone.”

Steve nodded, and you looked up, breath catching in your throat at the sight of his blue, blue eyes.

“I’m glad you’re back.”

The words were barely a murmur, but Steve closed his eyes at them. After a moment, he opened them, giving your hand a gentle squeeze.

“So am I.” “Good God, man. Kiss her already.”

Steve hung his head and you let out a laugh. He gave your hand a tug and you stepped closer, ignoring the crowd around you as you went on your tiptoes to press your lips to his. The kiss was chaste, but sweet, and when you went back to your flat feet, the look of promise in Steve’s eyes lit a fire in your belly. You licked your lips, seeing a flash in his eyes, and you motioned to one of the tables.

“Would you like to sit and talk?” “Without a middleman this time? Think we can do it?”

Wanda rolled her eyes and huffed out a sigh that you heard across the room. You laughed, nodding your head.

“Let’s try it out.”

You started walking towards one of the tables and Steve stopped by the counter, tapping a hand on it, getting Bucky’s attention.

“Can we get coffee?” “Is this a date or is it because you’ll end up strangling someone if you don’t get caffeine in your system?” “I shouldn’t have asked.”

You laughed from your spot at the table, and Steve shook his head as he came to sit across from you. You leaned over the table, a smile on your face.

“You know, I … I think something’s wrong with my eyes.”

Steve’s brows furrowed and you couldn’t help the smile.

“I can’t seem to take them off of you.”

Steve blinked, a second before he threw his head back, rich laughter filling the shop. He moved the hand not in the sling to rest just to the left of his heart, and he shook his head as he looked back to you.

“Oh, yeah. It was all worth it. Every bit.”

You smiled, leaning back in your chair as Bucky brought over your coffees and the muffin. You and Steve both reached for it at the same time, smiles on each of your faces as you started making your cases as to why you should get the muffin.

Bucky walked back behind the counter, smiling at Natasha as she walked out from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dishtowel. Wanda came skipping over and leaned across the counter as Bucky wrapped an arm around his wife. Natasha nodded towards the table.

“All’s well that ends well?”

Wanda nodded, but Bucky narrowed his eyes.

“Neither one of them know that you keep a stash of those muffins in the kitchen and only set one out in the cooler, do they?”

Wanda pursed her lips, widening her eyes and shrugging her shoulders. Nat mirrored Wanda’s look, then laid a hand on her husband’s chest.

“Desperate times, baby. All’s fair in love and war.”

[adriennefrank]

Strawberry Moon

Is it odd that I was thrilled to carry you into the hospital on your third ER visit? My heart was full of gratefulness that I was able to be there. To be present. To comfort you as you struggled for breath. I was certain that this would be one of my last opportunities. The surgeon had told me just the week before that he couldn't do anything else to help me fight off the cancer that was tightly wrapping its tentacles around my neck. I was so thankful that I could be there with you, even as your own body struggled for breath. You woke up early on that Monday morning, many hours before the sun. You were hot, which was understandable. The heat and humidity of those June days had zapped everyone, even the healthiest of bodies. In the dark of night, I stole the fan that Mimi was using, and turned it on your body. You settled down a bit, and I put my hand on your chest. The heart that has been beating in your chest for five and a half years plus, was racing. Beating wildly. Out of control. I noticed your breath was fast. Short. Shallow. My 3AM stupor attributed this to your frustration with the heat. "It will slow down," I believed. Until it didn't. You woke me at 6AM and got up to watch TV. I knew something was wrong. You never wake at 6AM. You love to sleep in, according to what your body needs. I considered taking you to the pediatrician, but I knew that it was probably more serious than a visit to the clinic. And I had Mimi in my ear, telling me that you needed to go to the ER. So we went. But I am ashamed to admit that it was after I went back to bed for another hour or so. I needed relief from my own demons that I only got while sleeping. When I slept, I forgot that cancer existed in my neck. When I slept, I forgot the doctor's words about how risky a surgery would be. When I slept, I forgot that I needed to find books for you about coping with the loss of a parent. When I slept, I forgot the nightmare of life. But when I awoke, it all came crashing down on my back, like a load of the heaviest cement blocks. Painful. Aching. Horrific. How could I help you when I was falling apart myself? But that is what mothers do. We mother in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer, til death do us part. You felt too weak to walk, so Mimi carried you to the car. I drove as fast as I could along 38th St. and Chicago Avenue. It's not the first time I have breathed a word of gratefulness that we live so close to several children's hospitals. Thank you, Minneapolis. We arrived moments (or was it hours?) after the nurses had begun their strike. The car in front of us didn't hit the accelerator as quickly as I thought appropriate when the light turned green, so I gave a little honk. The nurses began cheering and waving at us, thinking the horn was in support of their demands. Sure, friends. Anything to get my son to the ER as quickly as possible. We parked the car in the lot set aside for emergency room visits. I didn't have time to wonder how many petrified parents had pulled into that parking spot before us. I gathered up your almost fifty pounds of boy, carried you inside, and held you as the triage nurse asked question after question. So many questions. Couldn't she see you panting in my arms? You were uncomfortable, but not nervous. Well, you weren't nervous about your breathing difficulties, but you were nervous about the "arm hugger." The blood pressure cuff had squeezed and pinched and left an imprint on your arm and in your mind. If anything was to be feared, it was the arm hugger. I answered all their questions and we sat down, the only three in the waiting room. That felt good. I was certain we would be called back soon, if a breathing attack didn't get them moving, surely a lack of others waiting would get us some attention quickly. And it was a short wait. Maybe 10 minutes at the most, although it felt like an hour, listening to your shallow breaths in my ear, feeling your heart beating so quickly in your chest. We were led back into Procedure Room #9. I set you on the bed and helped your change into the gown that the nurse offered, the one with the stars and spaceships sprinkled on it. You kept your Snoopy jammie bottoms on underneath. Mimi was on the phone texting our family while we got you situated for your first breathing treatment. You balked at the taste, but your body was too weak to put up much fight. I sat in the chair to the left of your bed and held your hand. And then I crawled into the bed with you and held your body. My dear boy. My sweet, dear boy. I'm not sure if there is any time I love you more than when you are sick and weak and I can mother you in all the ways. That sounds so selfish, but you are so independent and "tough" as the doctor called you. I wanted to hold you in my arms forever. As we snuggled in the bed, watching Jake and the Neverland Pirates, I remembered your previous two visits to the ER. When you were two years old, you had new pants on with pockets. Your little hands reached into the pockets to test them out just as you walked up the two stairs from the sidewalk. Your little toddler legs tripped, the pockets acted as handcuffs, and you crashed right into the concrete with your chin catching most of the force. Kyle and I raced you to Children's Riverside hospital. I was certain you needed stitches. You happily colored away as the doctor came in, gave me a band-aid and reassured me you were fine. We drove home in the blackness of night and all that remains is the scar you have on the underside of your chin. A year later you woke up on a summer morning and told me your legs didn't work. Polio, I was certain. And it was all my fault for waving the doctor off about the vaccine. You had single-handedly brought polio back into the United States' population. But instead of rushing you to the closest iron lung, I delivered you to day care and asked them to keep an eye on you. When you still were crawling around at lunch time, I left work and we hurried to the emergency room. The kind doctor decided you were having growing pains, and you were fine from that moment on. Our time at the hospital was so short that I decided we deserved to play a little hooky. I took you to get a cheeseburger for lunch before returning you to day care. It was a sweet time with you. And now here we were. Back at the emergency room, but this time it was different. It had only been days since my surgeon told me he didn't recommend surgery to remove the mass threatening to steal my breath. It was too risky in his eyes. Let's try chemotherapy again, he said. It was the unspoken words that killed me. We all knew that chemotherapy could only slow the cancer down, not destroy it. What could I hope for? A final Christmas in 2016? Would I make it to kindergarten graduation? These were terrifying questions. I had to bring myself back to the present. All I knew is that you needed your mama now and I was there for you, with you. I blinked back tears in that stretcher bed that I am sure had "STRYKER" imprinted on the side. Your vacant eyes focused on the TV in the corner of the room while we held the breathing mask to your lips. In that moment I knew I would not be there each time you will need me. It broke my heart that day and it breaks again as I write the horrid words. But at the same time, I felt such a relief that I was able to be with you that time. We finally were moved into a more permanent room and the day was filled with asthma education, movies, BINGO, and breathing treatments. The doctors didn't diagnose you with asthma, but they didn't have a certain answer for your shallow breaths. A virus? The dry, dusty, summer winds that we had faced at the pool just 24 hours before? It remains a mystery, but I'm grateful that the steroids caused your airways to open and relax throughout the day. I relied on my Valium for that. Even though you had improved so much during the day, they still felt like you needed to be kept overnight. Which, of course, meant that I was also kept overnight. You needed me with you and I needed the same. I told the nurse and doctor that we needed to be discharged by 10AM the next morning because I had an appointment to meet with a surgeon at Mayo Clinic in Rochester. The breathing specialist asked me what was priority: you being able to easily inhale oxygen or my appointment? Fuck you, I thought. You have no idea what my life is like and how dare you accuse me of not taking care of my son. I can't remember if I responded calmly or not. Probably not. But in my heart, I knew I was going to make sure that I left on time with a healthy boy. It must have been around 8pm when I told the nurses I was going to wheel you around the hospital halls for a bit in the wheelchair. They told me this was not allowed, but I somehow managed to get you out of that 9 ft by 9 ft room. I walked you to the cafeteria and then around to the lobby. We stared at the sculptures and art pieces, all created for the children who were unlucky enough to be inside these yellow walls. And then I remembered, the strawberry moon! Maybe we could catch a glimpse of the full moon rising on the longest day of the year. I casually rolled the wheelchair out the door, like we had been released from that medical prison. The humid city air hit us as we walked towards the sidewalk on Chicago Avenue. I looked up. The sun had set, but I couldn't spy the moon no matter which direction I turned. I'm not sure if we were too early or if the tall walls of the city hospital were blocking our view. We would miss it. The once-in-a-lifetime event, and we would miss it. The evening light turned into morning light. The longest day of the year yielded the shortest night of the year. It was obvious to everyone, but me. You body calmed overnight and your breathing became normal again. We were released from your jail cell late morning, just in time for us to drive south to Rochester. Although I fought your doctors to get you discharged on time, my appointment at Mayo Clinic merely felt like a formality. It was an answer to the question of whether I explored every option before giving up. Did I fight for you with my last ounce of strength? We walked in to see the surgeon. I hadn't seen him since just over a year before, when, at our first meeting, he told me I was uncurable. I didn't need to see him again. What else was there to say? I walked in with little respect for him. And even less hope. But I wanted him to see you. I wanted him to know why I was desperate for as many days as the Good Lord would give. I wanted him to see my ringless finger. I wanted him to lay eyes on the five year-old boy who had heard that word, "cancer", more times than any child should. I needed you. I needed your presence. I needed the doctor to see our family. You grounded me in that moment of fear and floating. The kind nurse brought you crayons and apple juice and snacks and kept you occupied while the surgeon performed his examination. You happily drank your apple juice (treat of all special treats!) and played games on Mimi's phone. I held my breath as I always do, waiting for the verdict. Will he or won't he? Am I a lost cause? Will he try to convince me that quality of life is more important than life and how can you even compare the two? "I think we should do the surgery." He went on to describe the major risks, the unknowns, the loss that I potentially would face. Loss? Is it loss to be alive? I knew in that moment, before I even left the exam room, that I would move forward with the surgery. How could we not? I've always taken the most aggressive approach. I've always weighed my options with the question of which I would regret more? Yes, I would regret not fighting with everything in me. "And I think we might be able to cure you." Cure. Cure me from cancer. Cure me from hopelessness. Cure me from depression. Cure me from this weighty, terrifying life. Cure. My eyes filled with tears. "I'm sorry," I apologized. "I haven't heard that word for such a long time." We walked down the hallway after spending almost two hours with my doctor. My doctor. The doctor who would do the surgery that I hadn't yet committed to. The doctor that spoke of ridding my body of cancer. Forever? How had life changed so quickly? From mourning my last ER visit with you to allowing myself to dream of coming out of surgery cancer-free? How were we walking out of our second hospital of the day with a chance at feeling hope again? I would have loved to show you that strawberry moon that night when I pushed you along Chicago Avenue. I would have told you how rare it was, and why they coined the term, "strawberry moon." I would have described how we had just lived through the longest day of the year, hoping to sear these memories into your brain forever. Now, I am left feeling hopeful that we might live to see the next one. Together.