#have you seen how many baseball caps he had in his trailer

[artiststarme]

The only real sport Eddie could ever get behind was baseball. He could understand the meaning of the running and the bases, loved the junk food around the arena, and loved hearing the roars of the fans fighting for a common goal. He had memories of going to Hoosiers games with Wayne, baseball caps on their heads, ratty gloves on their heads, and a beer (or coke) against their chests.

It had been a long time since he’d accompanied Wayne to a game that wasn’t on TV. But as soon as Steve uncovered his interest in America’s favorite pastime, it was only a matter of time before a new tradition started.

Now, going to a ball game wasn’t anywhere near as interesting as the last session of a good campaign or being immersed in the metal scene at an amazing concert. But seeing Steve’s smiling face beaming when one of the players hit a double, watching his whoop for joy as all bases scored, and hearing his screams of amusing horror when the red made a bad call made Eddie’s day.

And the best part of every game was holding Steve’s hands under a cap of their laps and sneaking kisses amongst the excitement of the surrounding fans when a player scored a point to the board. As they sneak a fleeting glimpse of love amongst the chaos of the last game of the season, Eddie can hardly imagine being anywhere else.

[untaemedqueen]

Peregrination

Chapter 2.

Peregrination > j.jk

Disorient - (v.) make (someone) lose their sense of direction; make (someone) feel confused.

You stare at the seven boys in front of you as you sit in the large air conditioned mobile dressing room. They go about their conversations and all you can do is stare. First of all, what the hell are you doing here? And second, how are these seven people so beautiful? “Y/N?” Seokjin asks making the attention in the room fall on you. You look over at the familiar face, your head tilting as you stare at him. He was wearing the same outfit as he did on the train. Who is he? How does he have this magic? Is magic, seriously, real? He flashes his hand in front of your face. “You okay?” He widens his eyes leaning forward, “Act normal.” He whispers lowly, you clear your throat and nod. You shift uncomfortably in your chair as Namjoon looks at you. "Y/N you look pale, maybe you should just stay in here for the rest if your shoot and have your assistants do our hair." My assistants? I have people that work FOR me? All these memories in my mind, all these happy moments with them that flash by are shocking. In this life you’re genuinely happy? What a strange concept. You look at Hoseok and smile as he plays games with Taehyung. Looking on at them, you feel a small smile spread over my face. Your heart overwhelmed with love. These were your friends, your best friends even. “Five minutes till set.” Someone calls as they pass by the trailers open door. Jeongguk sighs as he grabs his long sleeve black t-shirt. His muscles flexing through his wife beater as he looks over at you. “I wish I could walk around like you, Y/N.” He points towards your body and you look down, tattoos gracing your arms, a small gasp emitting from you. Wow, they were beautiful. The were colorful and large. The suited your arms perfectly. You always wanted tattoos in my old life but could never afford them. He points at his black half sleeve of tattoos before throwing on his shirt. You wanted to get into conversation and yet, at the same time the conflicting feeling like you were somewhere you weren’t supposed to be was present in the back of your mind. Like I was eavesdropping on conversations of people you had never met. “You’re usually so talkative, what’s going on?” Yoongi calls out lifting his arm off his eyes and peaking at you. With the sputter of your lips, you shrug. “She must have hit her head pretty hard.” Seokjin tries to cover for you and you are grateful. Grateful for his magic and grateful for the kind person he is. “Y/N?” Your head snaps up at the familiar voice. “Ha Won!” You cry out loudly jumping out of your seat. She smiles happily as you run at her, arms wide open ready for the embrace. She hugs you tightly as a sense of relief washes over you. At least you weren’t completely alone in this, you had Ha Won. “This is insane, one minute I’m waiting for you downstairs at the book publications office. The next minute, Seokjin shoves me into the closet and here I am. New memories and everything.” You wanted to cry, she was the same as always. She was your Ha Won. A burning sensation begins at the back of your eyes as she hugs you tighter. “I thought I was alone.” You whine quietly as she pats your back. “We’re together. Best friends forever, right?” You nod weakly as tears begin to dot your cheeks. “Don’t cry.” She says pulling back and wiping at your cheeks with a giggle, you sniffle and roll your eyes. Emotion wasn’t one of your specialties before but now you had so much of it. Seokjin clears his throat and you look at him with a grateful smile. He winks at you before leaning back in his chair. “That’s Y/N. See, she’s crying. She’s fine.” Jimin says with a laugh as he gently moves his hair. Wow, you must really be different. “Lets go.” A man calls from the doorway as all the guys stand. 

“Stay here for a while, gather yourself.” Seokjin says in passing as he eyes the both of you as the file out. “Hwaiting!” Ha Won cheers making Yoongi snort as he exits last. You pull Ha Won by the wrist over to the chairs. “This is so insane.” You whine stomping your feet. She puts her hair in a bun as she looks you over. “Magic really is real. This is so crazy. I’m a make-up artist, something I always wanted to try and here you are doing hair. I mean- I mean, just look at your shoes.” You look down at your leather boots. You hadn’t even thought to assess yourself, you turn to look in the long set up mirror. “Wow.” You whisper standing to get a full look at yourself. Your body graced with name brands that in your old life would have made you vomit just to look at the prices. “I guess good things do happen to people down on their luck.” Ha Won laughs crossing her legs. “And we just get to stay here? In this life?” You ask looking back at her. She puts her head in her hand as it leans on the arm rest. “I didn’t get much out of Seokjin with so many people around but it seems so. We are an ‘integral part of their lives.’ So that must mean we can stay.” You open your mouth slightly giving a nod. “Shit.” You hiss out, you were happy but still feel like you’ve been hit by a truck. “They’re all so handsome.” She whispers as your weak body slams into your chair. You didn’t care about that, even though it was true. You couldn’t wrap your head around this, seeing handsome people was the least of your worries. “How am I supposed to act like I know them?” You find yourself asking, your voice sounding astonished. “Fake the funk, y’know. Take yourself out of this weird experience and make yourself realize that you deserve to be here. Just go on your new memories.” Ha Won says making you scoff. Sure it was easy for her, she was always good at adjusting. “Y/N?” You jump at the noise through a walkie talkie on the side table by you. You grab it, inspecting it as you press a button. “Yes?” You call through it, “Director would like to see you for stylistic direction.” You look up at Ha Won surprised. “I don’t know anything about stylistic direction! I had one pair of shoes!” You whisper fiercely as she giggles. “Maybe your new you knows a lot about it.” She says clamping her hand over her mouth as she laughs. You groan before pushing the button. “Be right there!” You can hear how nervous your voice sounded. This was not good. “Seokjin should have just made me a trash picker or something.” You mumble standing with Ha Won. “You got this. Trust your new you! With this style, I’m sure you have something insightful to give.” You stomp your feet in desperation. You could trust the new you, what else do you have to lose?

You step out of the trailer, your hand finds your face as you try to block the sun. It was ripping hot out here, you look around, fields of sunflowers greet you. It was really beautiful, the way the sun danced over the flowers and how it peaked through the trees. Before, you wouldn’t have even paid attention, nothing was beautiful to you. You look to your left as the seven boys stand under a make shift blue tarp tent. “Y/N!” The director calls with a smile and a wave. You watch as Seokjin eyes you carefully cutting off his conversation with Namjoon. You walk with Ha Won protectively at your back making you feel a sense of calming in this overwhelming day. “Yes?” You ask, mentally chiding yourself. You sound so meek and nervous. Who were you kidding, you were nervous. So nervous your palms began to sweat. “I wanted your opinion since you style so well. What would you think of placing the boys in the sunflowers?” Pictures in the flowers? You had no idea. You close your eyes, trust the new you. Let her shine, she was you after all. You look over at the field before tilting your head. “You could do that, or it might be a good idea to have some shots leaning against the trees. Even putting a few of them up in the tree and leaning against the branches. That’d be cool.” You say quickly, Ha Won pats your back and you look at Seokjin. He gives you a thumbs up impressed. You nod, you were impressed as well. Your new you did have knowledge. “Good idea! I like that.” “BEE!” Taehyung screams running around crazily before hiding behind you, His hands on your shoulders. He must be comfortable with you, you look over at him as memories play through your mind. 

You stroll with Taehyung late at night next to Han River. He looks at you, a black face mask on and his hood up almost covering his white baseball cap. “Sometimes I just want to disappear, y’know?” He huffs out before sitting on a bench over looking the water. “You don’t know how much you’re adored. I adore you, not for V but for Taehyung.” You say as he lays his head on your shoulder. “This pressure sometimes is really hard to deal with. I just want to be seen as Taehyung sometimes. I love my life but a break is nice, too. Like now, being able to just walk around with you is comfortable. You look at me as me and I’m so comfortable.” You pat his head as he kicks at the ground. “Money is nice but having true friends is nicer.” You nod puffing out your cheeks as you look up at the stars. “I’m really happy we have the relationship we do. Nobody should ever try to make you change for their benefit. You’re Kim Taehyung and you are your own person.” You say as he lifts his head. He pulls down his face mask and smiles. He grabs both of your hands and looks up at the moon. “You’re my best friend. I’m so grateful to you.” He sniffles before looking at you, his eyes welling with tears. “Thanks for always being there for me. Life would be really hard if I didn’t have such a true friend.” You smile before looking at the moon, as well. “Yeah, I am pretty great, huh?” You feign cockiness making him laugh. “Thanks for meeting me, I was going out of my mind pent up in my room.” “You needed a break, it’s normal. With me, you are just Tae.” He gives a big box smile, “Can we go get tteokbokki?” He asks pointing at the food tent farther down the road. You smile, “Sure. And I’ll even pay.” You say as he puts his arm in the air. “Did I mention you were my best friend.” You laugh loudly before standing and holding your hand out to him. “Come on, Tae.”

You turn your head as he cowers behind you. “You’re fine.” You care about this person, you only cared for Ha Won before. You look at the other six and your heart swells. You care for all of them. What a strange, wonderful feeling. “Let’s get Jimin up in the tree.” The director says pulling you out of your emotions. Jimin looks up from his phone and he frowns. “Maybe someone else? Jimin isn’t good with heights.” You say nonchalantly as you walk towards Jeongguk. “Oh? Is that so? Maybe Jeongguk then?” He gives a thumbs up as you walk with Taehyung pulling at your shirt behind you. “Yah!” You whine as he stretches your shirt. Out of the corner of your eye you notice Ha Won and Seokjin whispering to each other as she fixes his makeup. I guess this really was your life now. Jeongguk looks down at you with a goofy smile before sitting in the chair. You scrunch his long hair with your fingers before grabbing a comb from your back pocket. You separate strands of his hair to frame his face. He eyes you cautiously before relaxing. “Are you sure you’re alright? You gave me a scare before. I was worried about you.” “If I remember correctly, you tried really hard not to laugh in my face.” You tease making him chuckle, “It wasn’t intentional, I was just surprised.” You hum in agreement before folding your arms in front of you, Taehyung lets go of your shirt before sitting next to Jeongguk. “Shall we have our usual Friday meetup?” Taehyung asks the both of you. You raise an eyebrow, “The what?” You ask as Jimin approaches you all. “Kookies apartment. You know. Glasses of wine and relaxation time tonight?” Taehyung clarifies before frowning. “We do it every Friday when we can, how could you forget?” Jimin asks giving you a back hug. It clicks in your brain as memories of sitting on a large sofa with the three of them fills your mind. “Ah, yeah.” You rub your neck nervously before nodding. “Let’s do it.” Jeongguk looks up and smiles. “Good. We can head there from the company then.” 

You sit next to Seokjin as you watch the sky begin to turn shades of pink and orange. “How’s it goin’?” He asks simply, the question holds more meaning than what Hoseok would probably assume as he looks up from his phone. You clear your throat as you watch Jimin sniff a flower for the photo shoot. “I mean, I’m okay.” You pull at your collar before looking at your lap. “Hoseok-ssi, get ready please.” He gives a thumbs up before standing, his body cracks as he stretches making you laugh. “Aigo. I’m getting out.” He laughs before striding out to the field. You turn to Seokjin as your hands land in your lap. “I’m confused but I’m okay.” Seokjin smirks, “You’re doing great. A natural, just think of this as getting everything you ever deserved. You can be happy here. This is your life now.” “This magic, how does it work?” You ask and he smiles tilting his head. “It’s complicated to explain. Your cries were heard by a higher power.” Higher power? “So you’re God?” You ask confused, he lets out a loud laugh before shaking his head. “Angel. The term is Angel. I could never be God. I’m not that powerful, I just heard your wishes and they were granted by the higher power.” You watch as the blue tarp overhead blows in the wind, “Think of this as an alternate timeline. A time when your parents made all the right decisions, you were able to follow your heart and do what you wanted. Just know that your suffering wasn’t for nothing. Y/N.” He grabs your hand as you stare into his dark brown eyes. “You’re a good person, you have a good heart you just never had the chance to show it. This life is nothing without the love you have in your heart. Remember that? You were a twig in a large forest but now, you are the forest in a barren world. You give oxygen to those needing to breathe.” He stands as he hears his name being called. “You’re a nurturing forest.” He strides off confidently and you lean back in your chair. Wow, he has a way with words. 

“Y/N.” You look up at BTS’ manager as he approaches the blue tarp tent. “You’re coming to the meeting tomorrow right?” You stare up at the tall man, his smile friendly and you remember things about him. Jihyun. “Ah, of course.” You mutter, “It’s about Bon Voyage. We have to get everything prepared, you’ll be coming with us again so it’ll be good for you to be there.” You nod as the boys run out of the field. “You’ve worked hard.” They cheer as they jump up and down. “Food time!” Hoseok cheers as Jimin and Jeongguk approach you. You smile up at them as Jihyun hands you the itinerary for tomorrow. “We’ll head to Jeongguks from the restaurant then?” Jimin asks holding out a hand to help you up. “Sounds good to me.” You were a forest in a barren world. This life would be better. You vow to make that happen. 

[j-j-ehlby-writes]

Păpuşă (s.s.)

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x Reader

Word Count: ~6.3k

Summary: You and Sebastian just finished a movie together. This is your first promo interview. What happens when an unknown truth is revealed?

Italicized = flashback

My Masterlist

“My first guest tonight is starring in her very first movie, a hilarious romantic comedy with Sebastian Stan that’s coming out in theaters this Friday. It’s her first time on the show- her first interview even. Please welcome to the show, Y/F/N Y/L/N.”

I come from behind the curtain and am greeted by Jimmy Fallon. He shakes my hand before giving me a light hug as I step up onto the stage in the 5 inch heels I immediately regret choosing for this interview. I wave at the crowd before taking a seat.

“Welcome to the show, Y/N.” He greets.

“Thank you! I’m excited to be here.” I cross my legs at the knee to get more comfortable in the outfit my stylist picked for me. This was my first promo interview for my very first movie. It’s expected to do fantastic at the box office. I know it’s going to be a great film.

“So this is your first movie. How cool is that?”

“Oh it’s beyond cool. I can’t even explain how excited I am for it to finally come out.” I smile, thinking about the last year of my life and how much it has changed.

“And your co-star and love interest is the amazing Sebastian Stan. Tell me how that was and how that came to be.”

“That’s a funny story actually. I insulted him during the first round of auditions.”

“Can you believe you’re headed to your first audition?” My friend shrieks in my ear through my headphones. I walk down the sidewalk from the bus station, trying to re-read the script we were all sent to make sure I memorized my lines.

 “No, I can’t. Don’t get your hopes up. You know how rare it is for someone to book their first ever audition? Practically unheard of.” I finally find the building after hanging up and go inside. I follow the signs until I reach a large room with dozens of people waiting their turn. People left and right all reading from the same script I have. I feel like the complete amateur I am in this crowd. Everyone looks so professional and not at all nervous, like I am. I find a quiet corner where there aren’t very many people.

 “Hey.” I hear someone one say over my soft music. I pull out my earphone to see a gorgeous girl standing in front of me. “Do you need help running lines?” She asks offering a kind smile.

 “Sure.” I unplug and put away my phone.

 We go over some small talk before turning to the script. I feel foolish doing this in front of her, but at least it’s some practice that I definitely need. I feel like I know this script front-wards and backwards by now, but I still feel like I will mess it up somehow.

 After we rehearse the necessary scenes, we continue to chat. She tells me that this is her tenth audition this week and I instantly want to drop out. There’s no way I will get picked over her. She looks like she belongs in this world. I don’t. The best that I could probably get would be someone in the back with no lines. I know it’d be something. Getting even a small part in a movie is something. But I want to go big. I wanted to go for the female lead. Go big or go home, right?

 We’re standing around, waiting for the process to start.

 And then he walks in.

 “Who,” I drag out, “is that?” I try not to stare too much, but it’s hard not to. He is one of the most beautiful men I’ve ever seen. His shorter dark brown hair is covered with a dark blue baseball cap and his steel blue eyes are shaded by a pair of tortoise sunglasses, but he’s not fooling anyone. His beard is perfectly trimmed, trying to hide the sharp jawline but failing miserably. No one seems to have noticed his entrance, or if they did no one wanted to react.

 She turns around to see who I’m gawking at. “You seriously don’t know who that is?”

 “Oh no, I know exactly who that is. I just wanted to have that ‘movie moment’.” She laughed at my silly behavior, before looking behind me again.

 “Well get ready to have another because here he comes.”

 By the time I turned around, he was a few feet away from us. He greets the girl next to me. “Who’s your friend?” He asks, looking at me.

 “Y/N.” I introduce myself. I see out of my peripheral vision him hold his hand out to me. I shake it, trying my hardest to keep my fangirling at bay.

 “Nice to meet you, Y/N. I’m Sebastian.”

 I chuckled at how humble he is. He’s an A-list actor. He needs no introductions anymore. “I know. You played one of my least favorite characters on Gossip Girl.”

 “One of?” He asks, feigning offense. He crosses his arms over his broad chest, trying to act like a tough guy. “Who’s worse than me?”

 “Georgina,” I don’t hesitate to say, “and then Louis and Marcus tie for a close second. Blair didn’t have the best dating history.” I just finished re-watching all six seasons of the show for like the fifth time, so everything is fresh. I never thought my knowledge of a teen soap-drama would actually come in handy one day. “A history that briefly included Carter, even if it was to just piss off Chuck.”

 “In your eyes, what made Carter so bad?”

 “What he did to Beth was inexcusable. He deserved to work off his debt to the Buckley’s. And then lying to Serena about how long he’s known about where her dad is? That was sketchy and unnecessary. He didn’t deserve Serena. I was happy she left him on the side of the road.”

 He smirks at me, “You seem to have a strong opinion.”

 “Well I did just finish watching it again so you could say I’m pretty well-versed on what happened with Manhattan’s Upper East Side elite.”

 “I’d love to hear what other opinions you have.” His smirk turned into a smile that lit up the room.

 The first name was called into the audition room, bringing us back to the reason we are all here.

 “What part are you auditioning for?” He asks after the conversations continued around the room.

 “Noelle.” I name the main female character and ask the same question in return.

“Forrest.” He answers with the name of the main male character a.k.a. Noelle’s love interest. “Do you want to run lines together real quick before we get called in there? It’d be nice to go through it with someone who actually knows the dialogue.”

“We ran lines together and found out we just fit. When we made it to the chemistry read round, they told us to pair up. You can imagine everyone wanted to be his partner.”

“Everyone wanted to be Bucky’s partner.” Jimmy filled in.

“Everyone!” I emphasized. “I mean, how could they not? He’s a phenomenal actor and an even better human being.” I had to stop myself from gushing about him. I didn’t want to give everyone the wrong idea about us… “And much to everyone else’s dismay, he chose me because of how well we had gotten along the last time and we remained a pair for the rest of the process.”

“That’s awesome. And since this is your first movie, it must have been helpful to be surrounded by so many veterans.”

“Oh gosh, was it ever! I had no idea what I was doing the entire time. I felt like a fish out of water. Thank God I had someone like Sebastian to help whenever I needed something, which was a lot.”

I slam the door of my trailer and immediately fall apart. Today was bad. No, worse than bad. It was a trainwreck. I wouldn’t be surprised if they fired me after that awful performance.

I don’t know what was wrong with me today. I kept forgetting my lines, constantly messing up the take and having to do it over and over again. I know the director and everyone else involved must be frustrated with me with wasting everyone’s money and time. I also kept missing my marks. Somehow my feet and my eyes couldn’t register where I was supposed to stand and stop in the camera shot.

But worst of all, I couldn’t get into character. Getting into another head space right now didn’t seem possible no matter how many times I read the scene, I just couldn’t do it. It was frustrating as an actress because that’s what I’m being paid to do and I can’t do my job.

Knocks on my door nearly scares the crap out of me. I don’t get up from my spot on the floor. I don’t want to talk to anyone or have anyone seeing me like this.

Unfortunately I forgot to lock the door, so whoever knocked opens it and comes in. “Hey.” Sebastian’s voice fills my trailer with no trace of frustration. I run my fingers through my hair and wipe the tears away. He sits next to me, not saying anything else.

“I’m so sorry.” A new wave of tears threatens to fall, but I push them back. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Nothing is wrong with you.” He wraps his arm around my shoulders. “You’re just having an off day. Everyone has them. That doesn’t mean there’s something wrong with you.” He coos. “Frankly, I think we’d all be surprised if you didn’t have one. Then we may think you’re a Russian spy coming to infiltrate.”

A very unattractive snort came from my nose as I tried not to burst out laughing. I finally look at him to see him smiling. Even if my dark trailer, his grin lights up the entire room like it always does. “You should know! You’re the Romanian vampire who never ages.”

“‘Romanian vampire’ is kind of redundant.” He pursed his lips, nodding. “All vampires are from Romania.”

“Oh shut up!” I use all of my strength to push him over but because his arm is secured around me, he barely moved more than a few inches and brought me with him. He keeps going though, lying on the floor, pulling me to his chest. We lie in the new calm silence.

Over the last few weeks, Sebastian has become more than just my co-star. He’s someone I would call a good friend. I can go to him if I need help knowing he would never judge me. I can bounce ideas off of him for our upcoming scenes. I can talk to him so easily about anything that’s on my mind and he will engage in the most meaningless conversations with me. I truly enjoy his company more than I ever thought I would… which definitely didn’t help with the slight crush on him before I even met him.

I tried to bury it as soon as we were both cast in this film. I didn’t want to ruin this job because of it by making things awkward on set when I couldn’t get a grip on reality. I managed pretty well until we had to do our kissing scene… When I found out there was going to be one, I instantly dreaded it. My only hope was it was done right away. I wanted to get it out of the way so I could then get over it and look at him as just a friend and co-star for the rest of the movie.

Luck was not on my side though. It took two months before we got to that scene. Two whole months of hanging out with him on and off set, running lines behind the scenes, him bringing me Starbucks every morning, and me slowly falling for him before finally getting to that scene. And to say it made things worse would have been an understatement. Every scene we’ve had to do together after that, I messed up at least twice getting lost in the things he said and the way he looked at me. I’d try and explain it away by blaming the lack of sleep for clouding my mind, but that can only go so far and can be used so many times before people start getting concerned about my health and work ethic.

“Are you going to be okay, păpuşă?” He asks breaking the silence with his Romanian that sounds like the most natural thing in the world. I wish he would tell me what that word means. I asked him the first time he used it, but he said, “Now păpuşă, if I told you that, then I’d have to kill you.” So now I just deal with it and hope for the day he finally tells me.

“Did you two get close during filming? I ask because when he was here earlier in the week, he said he told the casting people when they offered him the part that he wouldn’t do the movie if you weren’t cast as Noelle. And there are plenty of rumors about the two of you being an item.”

My heart dropped. “Did he really say that?” I hadn’t had a chance to watch his interview from last week. I had been so busy with preparing all of mine in the coming weeks that I haven’t had much down time. And he didn’t say a word about it to me. Jimmy played the clip where he indeed said that. “Wow. Um...” I manage to squeak out before snapping out of it. “Yeah, we did get pretty close. I’m lucky enough to be able to consider him my best guy friend now. He’s someone I trust wholeheartedly.”

“So those rumors about you two dating are…?”

“Untrue. I am single and he is, too.” At one point during filming, I wasn’t sure that was true…

“Cut!” The director yells. “Alright, that’s a wrap today! Good job everyone. Be back here at 9 am tomorrow.”

I turn to one of my co-stars. “Thank God this day is over! I’m so tired. All I want to do this weekend is go back to my hotel room and stay there until Monday.”

“So you and Sebastian don’t have plans this weekend?” She asks as we walk back to our trailers.

“No? Why would we?” We do hang out a lot after we’re done filming for the day and sometimes spend the weekend hanging out in one of our hotel rooms, but we’re not always together like she is making it seem.

“So he’s free this Friday?” She tried to hide the smile on her face by biting her lip.

I shrugged, “As far as I know, yes? Why don’t you go ask him yourself? I’m not his keeper.”

That Friday, as we finish filming for the day, I see him leaving with her and I don’t hear from him again until I see him Monday morning. She was grinning ear-to-ear the entire day and he acted odd around me for the week following. He didn’t look at me unless we were filming, he disappeared during our lunch break, he would give short answers to my questions but then run away as soon as he saw an opening, and he’d be gone before I finished changing in my trailer. By the next weekend, I had had enough of it.

I bang on his hotel door and wait. It took a few minutes before I heard the lock on click and the door open to reveal a shirtless Sebastian and a pair of low-hanging sweatpants around his waist. His hair was also a mess, hanging in front of his eye. “Y/N, this isn’t a good time. I-”

“Why have you been avoiding me? Did I do something? I thought we were-”

“Is that the room service, Sebby?” I hear someone call from inside the room.

And suddenly, I realize what an idiot I was. He wasn’t avoiding me. He was just occupied with someone else now.

He turns back to me with the guiltiest look on his beautiful face. I swallow the lump in my throat. “I’m sorry, I, uh, I’ll see you Monday.”

“Y/N!”

That weekend was probably the worst I had had in a very long time. I locked myself in my hotel room and ignored everyone except for the delivery guys when they brought me food. Sebastian came to my door a few times, knocking and begging for me to open up for twenty minutes the first time but then got shorter every time he came back.

By Monday, I plastered a smile on my face and planned on giving the performance of a lifetime, but fell incredibly short. I could barely look at him without feeling betrayed. But why did I feel like that? We weren’t together. He can hang out with whomever he wants. He’s a gorgeous single man who could have his choice of any girl and he’s choosing someone that isn’t me.

“Cut! That’s lunch.” Everyone scatters after the announcement. I make a bee-line for my trailer to eat in peace. I picked up something before coming in this morning for this very reason.

“Y/N, wait!” I hear Sebastian shout. As much as I want to ignore him right now, I have to get along with him for the sake of filming. But if he wants to talk about anything other than the movie, I’m out. He appears in front of me, halting my steps. “Now who’s avoiding who?”

“I’m not avoiding you. I just want to get to my lunch. I’ve been looking forward to it all day and I’m starving.” I step around him to continue my journey.

“Subway again?” He guesses correctly walking along with me. I don’t answer. I just kept going finally seeing my trailer in sight. “Can I please explain myself?”

“You don’t need to. You don’t owe me anything.” I yank open the door and step inside. He follows.

“I know I don’t need to, but it’s obvious you’re upset-”

“Upset? What gave you that impression?” My sarcasm bit. “Was it ignoring your constant knocking on my door? Or was it the fact that I didn’t return any of your phone calls and texts? Oh no, it must have been my blatant disregard for your repeated efforts to talk about it. I’m just giving back what you gave me all of last week.”

“I’m sorry.” He apologizes, “I know I should have talked to you.”

“Why? Like I said, you don’t owe me anything.”

He steps closer. “But I do. We’re friends, Y/N. I should have told you what was going on.”

Friends. The worst F word a person can hear from someone they like.

So he explains. She had asked him out on a date last week. He said yes. They had a good time, but ultimately decided they were better off as friends. He was weird around me last week because he didn’t know if he could talk to me about it. He didn’t know if we were at that level of friendship yet, but I assured him that he could talk to me about anything, even girls no matter how much that would hurt. Of course I didn’t say that last part.

“Are we okay now?” He asks from his seat across the table. “Can I have my best friend back?”

“I’m your best friend? I thought that was reserved for Evans or Mackie.” I cross my arms on the table, smirking outwardly at his statement. My heart hurt a little to hear it. I don’t want to be his best friend… I want to be more.

“I think they’ll understand.” He smiles at me only confirming my stupid feelings.

“Well in that case, we have to be okay. If I’m going to face their wrath, I’m going to need some Winter Soldier protection.” My smirk turned into a smile as I imagine what their reactions are going to be.

“I gotchu, păpuşă.”

“Well if you’re both single then why not make it true? I saw the movie. Your chemistry is fire.”

I tried to hide my being uncomfortable with laughter. “I mean,” I shrugged, “I’m never going to say ‘never,’ because you really don’t know what can happen in the future, especially in Hollywood. But as for right at this moment, I am single.”

“And are you ready to mingle?”

“I am so ready to mingle!” I exclaim. “You have the connections, set a girl up!”

The rest of the interview went smoothly after that. I was escorted back to the dressing room, where I met up with my agent. She confirmed I had two phone interviews later, but I wasn’t listening very much. All I wanted to do was talk to Sebastian.

When I called him, I got his voicemail. “Bună iubito,” I use the greeting he taught me that meant “hey dude,” or something along the lines of that, “can you give me a call back as soon as you’re not busy? I need to talk to you about something.” I leave my hotel information before hanging up.

I just hang up with room service later that evening when there’s a knock on my door.

“I come bearing food!” He greets as he steps into my room.

“I just ordered room service.” I whine before taking a look at what he brought. Subway. Of course. I shake my head at how well he knows me before joining him at the table.

“Thank God because I’m starving. I only got this for you because you said you wanted to talk. I figured I needed to apologize for something, so I brought your favorite to soften the blow.”

“You know I had my Fallon interview today, right?” I ask getting straight to the point.

“Oh yeah, how’d that go?” He started unpacking my food, not looking at me.

“Good…” when he didn’t say anything, I add, “He told me what you said.”

His head dropped and his shoulders slumped. A sharp breath of air came out like a weight just lifted. “I was waiting for this.” He mumbles as he turns around to face me. “Look, if it sounded like an insult, I didn’t mean like that. I just meant that I believed in you so much and we got along so well during the audition process that if they didn’t choose you to play my opposite, then I didn’t want to be a part of the movie.”

“Why would you do that though? I’m sure there were more well-established actresses that auditioned that you would have gotten along with just as well. You took a huge risk betting on me.” I can’t imagine what this would do to his career if this fails because of me. “Not to mention, you could have lost the movie completely because of your foolishness.”

“I know, I know. There was just…” He paused, gaining a half smile at the image in his head, “there was just something about you that I wanted to know. I couldn’t let the opportunity go; I couldn’t let the possibility of being around you more slip through my fingers.”

Even in the poorly lit room, I could see the emotions in his eyes. The emotions I’ve seen multiple times while filming this movie with him… The way I imagine I look at him when he’s not looking. My heart races at the possibility of what he could be saying. I’ve had a crush on this man for years before I met him. Even the mention of his name made me smile and seeing videos of him interacting with fans always ended with me giggling because he was just so adorable. Then I actually met him and he has exceeded all of my expectations since then. He is the sweetest, most down to earth, hard-working, kind-hearted, passionate human being I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting. And by some miracle, he might feel the same way about me that I do him.

“Sebastian…”

“Y/N…”

I had to sit down. If we were going to have this conversation, I wanted to be sitting. I curled up on the couch. He followed, sitting facing me resting his arm on the back of the couch. “When?” was the only question I could ask. My mind was spinning. Was this really happening right now?

His big, mesmerizing blue eyes locked on mine. They were filled with nostalgia as he remembered the moment. “It was the first time we hung out off set.”

After a long first week of filming, it was finally the weekend. One of the other actors suggested we all go out to celebrate surviving. I immediately turned to Y/N, waiting for her answer. All week I have been wanting to hang out with her off set. She is hilarious while just the two of us are between takes but shy when around everyone else, I wanted to know what she would be like in a more casual environment and not surrounded by dozens of people.

During lunch we all agreed to meet at this “cool” club downtown. Even as she said yes, I could tell she didn’t really want to. She’s an introvert. She doesn’t like crowds of people she doesn’t know. When we got back on set, I promised her I wouldn’t leave her side. She seemed reassured by it and that made me happy.

She makes me happy. Being around her has made me feel truly happy for the first time in a very long time. From the first moment I met her, she wasn’t afraid to tell me how she felt about my portrayal of an Upper East Side elite dick. Her conviction about a simple show showed me a side that interested me. What else made her blood boil? What other kinds of things is she passionate about? I had to know.

So when I was offered the part of Forrest, I asked who they were going to cast as Noelle. I panicked when they were leaning more towards someone else. I wanted to spend more time with her. Filming nearly every day with her for three to four months and then promoting the movie afterwards will give me that time. I knew I was risking everything by saying I wouldn’t do it unless she was Noelle. My agent definitely wasn’t happy with me about it when she found out. Thankfully it all worked in both of our favors.

She wasn’t like anyone I’d met in this industry and I wanted to see what else there was to her. I vowed not to waste any opportunity to do so.

I told her I would pick her up at her hotel and then we could go to the club together. But when she opened the door, she looked me straight in the eye and asked, “Do you just want to order pizza instead?”

No matter how badly I wanted to say yes and completely forget the plans we had made, I knew the two leads had to participate in a cast get-together even if it was only for a short bit. I did manage to convince her to go at least for a little while and then we could get pizza. I even added ice cream to the deal to persuade her.

When we got to the club, she instantly clammed up. I did all I could to make her feel comfortable for the time being by upholding my earlier promise. I never left her side. We ordered one drink, toasted with the cast, chatted for about ten minutes, and then we left.

The second she stepped out of the club, she was back to being her confident self. She complained about how stuffy it was in there, how loud and obnoxious the music was and how all she wanted to do was go back to her hotel and eat pizza and ice cream. Her wish was my command…

After we finally got our food, we went back to my hotel room. I was right about her having a whole different side to her outside of work. She is laid back, incredibly funny, and outgoing once she gets comfortable with you. I learned she has many different laughs for different situations, all of them equally as adorable as the last. She snorts when she laughs so hard that she can’t breathe. She squeaks when she likes something, her nose crinkles and her upper lip kinks up when she doesn’t. Each and every time she laughs, her smile lights up the room. She does have very strong opinions on more things than TV shows she knows well. I got to know her more than I ever expected.

“You know I didn’t initially want to be an actress?” She says lying on the couch with her feet on my lap. “It was more like a last resort thing. I never thought I could do it.”

“Why didn’t you think you could do it?” I ask flabbergasted by her inability to see how talented she is. Throughout the audition process, if I didn’t already know she was a newbie, I would never have guessed it. She acted like a pro. She nailed just about everything that was asked of her.

“Well,” She finishes her last piece of pizza, impressing the hell out of me. This girl isn’t afraid to eat. She consumed the entirety of her own pizza. I love it. “It’s not that I thought I couldn’t act. It’s that I knew it would a long shot that anything would ever come of it. All you ever hear about are people struggling to make it in LA. I’m one of those people that doesn’t like failing. If I didn’t get this movie, I probably would have given up on acting completely and tried something else.

Plus, it was drilled into my mind during my formative years that being an actor or a singer ‘weren’t real jobs’ so I just kind of swept it under the rug, never to be thought about again… until a few months ago that is.”

“Just goes to show, păpuşă, that you shouldn’t listen to the doubters.”

“Pap-what?” Her brows furrowed and her mouth hung open in confusion.

“Păpuşă.” I repeated fully knowing she has no clue what I’m saying. I’d been calling her that in my head ever since I met her, guess it just kind of slipped out.

She sat up and scooted closer to me. “I know you fluently speak Romanian, no need to show off to the rest of us that are inept and uneducated at languages. What does it mean?”

I tucked some of her hair behind her ear, taking in her natural beauty. When I met her, she wasn’t wearing much make-up, and she looked stunning. She’s complained to me many times this week that she has to wear more than she’s used to for filming. She thoroughly enjoys when she can take it off at the end of the day. She goes into her trailer as a beautiful woman, but she comes out the most stunning woman I’ve ever seen when she is without any. Not only is she naturally beautiful, her hair smells heavenly I literally want to bury my face in it constantly, she’s smarter than she thinks she is, she’s kind to everyone on set, she’s caring towards all she meets, she’s creative on and off set, she’s extremely passionate about many different things, she’s… everything I had thought she would be and so much more.

I like her. A lot more than I ever thought I would. I see that now.

“Now păpuşă, if I told you that, then I’d have to kill you.”

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” I ask after going down memory lane of that night. We went to McDonalds later because we were both still hungry and were craving their fries. We walked a few blocks to do so, singing Disney songs to each other down the empty streets to pass the time. It was an adventure that I never expected but am extremely grateful for. It showed me a side of him I had always wanted to see… and it only worsened my feelings for him.

“I didn’t want to make things awkward on set if you didn’t feel the same way.”

“And that date you went on with-?” It was only a month after our first hang out that he went out with our co-star. If he liked me then, it doesn’t make sense why he would go through with it.

“I did agree to go on a date with her, but only because I couldn’t go out with the person I really wanted to take out. And as soon as we got to the restaurant, she told me she only asked me out because she knew you wouldn’t. She was hoping that her even mentioning asking me out would spark something in you. That gave me hope.” Even the small smile that appeared beamed causing my insides to feel all melty.

“If you had hope then why did you ignore me after that?” All of the pieces are coming together now; it’s all starting to make sense.

“I only ignored you because every time I looked at you, all I wanted to do was tell you how I felt. But I didn’t want to tell you unless I knew for certain that you liked me back. I didn’t know how to handle it correctly. The night you came to my hotel room, she was only there to try and convince me to tell you. I had just gotten out of the shower when she arrived, so she had ordered room service while I was getting dressed. That’s when you knocked on the door. Nothing was going on between us.” He reached over, taking my hand in his. “It shattered me to see how hurt you were.”

I shook my head at the memory of that night. “Did you even suspect why I was so hurt?” I know at times I wasn’t subtle about my feelings for him. I always had a stupidly big smile on my face when I was around him, finding every opportunity to bring him up in a conversation… but that night, I was sure he would find out. When he didn’t ask me about it specifically, I thought he didn’t notice or care.

“Believe me, I had hoped that the reason you were so upset was because you cared about me the way I did you. But when I explained everything and you didn’t say anything, I assumed…”

“When you called me your best friend, it kind of slammed the door on that talk. One of the reasons why one day I literally could not do anything right was because of how I felt about you.” I admit, “I think I just got so overwhelmed with everything going on with the movie and how quickly life had flipped upside-down, trying to make sense of my feelings for you and maintaining a façade that my mind just could not do what everyone asked of it.”

He titters, “The day we laid on the floor in your trailer for so long that we fell asleep.” I nod. As we both reminisce about that day, his thumb rubs circles on the back of my hand. We fell asleep for quite some time too. It was the best nap I had had in a very long time. No one had any idea where we were and why we weren’t back on set when called. It was slightly embarrassing to be found in that position but since we were both clothed, no one suspected anything happened.

“I tried to bury my feelings for you when we were cast, but every day we’ve spent together has just-”

“made them stronger?” He finishes, locking eyes with me.

“How freaking cliché is that? Falling for your co-star?” Everything is telling me that this wouldn’t work. The track record of celebrities starting relationships on set and staying together is staggeringly low. I don’t want to become another statistic, but with the way Sebastian is looking at me right now, it makes me feel hopeful that we’d be one of the success stories.

“I mean, I liked you before we were even cast. Doing the movie together just helped those feelings grow exponentially.” He smiles at me again, caressing my cheek.

“You made sure of that,” I chuckled.

“And I think I made the right choice in trusting my heart.” He grabs both of my hands and pulls me up off of the couch. “If we’re going to do this, I want to do it right.” He takes a deep breath, letting his smile take over his handsome features. “Will you, Y/F/N Y/L/N, go out on a date with me?”

“It would be my humblest honor, Sebastian Stan.”

“Great, how does now sound?” He asks eagerly.

“Now? But Subway and room service…” I whine, eyeing the long white plastic bag on the table.

“You know as well as I do that you can have it later or tomorrow.” He gave me a pointed look, daring me to argue with him. He knows that’s what I’ve done multiple times; he knows I can’t argue with him. Bastard.

“Ugh, fine!” I whine some more. “Let me just take off my make-up and then we can go.” I still hadn’t taken off the stage make-up from my interview earlier. I felt disgusting and in need of a good face wash.

“Păpuşă, you look perfect.” He pulls me to him after I exit the bathroom, wrapping his arms around my waist.

“Are you ever going to tell me what that means?” I giggle as he buries his bearded face in my neck.

He laughs, pulling back. “Doll.”

“What?”

“Păpuşă means ‘doll’.”

Permanent taglist: @elusive-beauty @drakesfiance @im-a-slut-for-an-accent @fantasy-is-my-reality @naniky

[chyrstis]

Nothing like a little friendly fire

I’ve been waiting to tackle the deputy’s first meeting with Sharky ever since first meeting him in game, b/c she was not prepared for how much fun he is.

Rating: T Word Count: 5.8K

Link to AO3!

----

The Deputy’s been tasked with taking down Joseph’s statue. To do that, however, she’s going to need help.

___________

She had never seen so many singed and melted speakers in her life. Not even when years back while moshing it out at a concert a pyrotechnics malfunction set the entire stage on fire. The scent of burnt wires and plastic filled the air as they continued burning, but not a single sound escaped them.  

And to finally have that silence after the rush before? That truly was bliss.

Hana placed her foot on the marked barrel and pushed it, rolling it towards the others stacked right outside of the Hope County Jail. It hadn’t been ruptured by gunfire or dented, but one lucky hit and she’d be out on her ass, an experience that she wasn’t about to repeat anytime soon.

Bliss was awful no matter the form, and after being laid out by a laced ‘bullet’ of all things, she was keen on avoiding any additional run-ins with the drug if she could help it. Out here over on Faith’s side of things, however, it flowed like water. Cutting across the shallower parts of the Henbane on the way here had her seeing stars, and she had to sit in the nearby bushes until the double-vision passed.

Blinking and rubbing her eyes, she’d almost missed the woman dancing right at the river’s edge. She’d jumped at the first sight of her, only to keep on watching, her eyes fixed on each skip, each spin, her white dress gleaming as she drew closer with each step.

Faith Seed had reached out her hand, letting it linger in the air between them. When Hana did nothing but stare in return, Faith snatched it back with a playful laugh before bounding off.

She hadn’t seen her since, but didn’t stop looking over her shoulder after that. Not until long after she’d finally made her way through the jail’s gates.

She smoothed her hair back, wrangling any loose strands back into the low bun she’d attempted earlier, and took a good look around the jail’s entrance, noting every last scorch mark and bullet hole that littered it. Twenty minutes ago it’d been a war zone. A fuel tanker had blown the front gate wide open, leaving them to scramble to hold back the waves of Angels charging forward, wave after wave compelled to do so from the music alone.

Now they could work on repairs, but the gates were going to be a big damn problem. The metal doors had warped from the heat of the explosion, and a group of resistance members guarded the front, giving the ones welding some semblance of a gate back together plenty of cover while they completed the job. This wasn’t something that could be rushed, but the literal hole in their defenses was looking more like an invitation for trouble the longer it was left open.

She tried to find tasks here and there to help, gathering up remains, disposing of the leftover bliss, and running rounds of watch. It was easier to stay busy, but all a part of her wanted to do was head back in and join Sheriff Whitehorse at the radio.

Seeing him alive and kicking – albeit frustrated with her for not even bothering to send him a message sooner – was the boost she’d badly needed. That night at the helicopter, she hadn’t been sure what to believe. With the smoke choking her, her arms too damn weak to grab for him or hold onto Hudson, she’d screamed her throat raw as she watched them all disappear.

And Burke, he’d cut and run as soon as he’d had the chance. She tried not to hold onto any bitterness, but it burned. Fear had pushed him to do it. Fear, and the thought of dying or worse as Joseph set his people upon them. People did awful things under duress. Awful, shitty things, and she’d been guilty of it too.

But she hoped when the day came and she found Burke again, there wouldn’t be a repeat of before. For his sake and hers.

“Hey, Deputy!”

She’d been in the middle of wiping the sweat of her forehead, and checked around until she caught movement from above.

Tracey gave her a wave from the top of the prison’s walls, one of a few posted up there for watch. At first glance, she didn’t seem any happier to see her than before, but didn’t seem ready to tear into her a second time either.

“Come up here for a second! We didn’t get a chance to finish our last conversation.”

Hana hesitated, but blew out the breath she was holding, and headed towards the nearby ladder.

When she reached the top, Tracey motioned her over to the group she was standing with. She looked Hana over just long enough for her to start picking at the fringe on her fingerless gloves, but before long Tracey’s posture relaxed and so did her stare.

“Sorry about earlier. It’s been nothing but hell here ever since we’ve been set up. I think this is the first time in a while where we haven’t been holding our breath and waiting for the next wave. Angels’ll still come pouring in. They always fucking do, but we aren’t worse off for dealing with them for once.” She shook her head. “I can’t even believe it. Fucking days of that shit, done.”

“And I come rolling up out of nowhere in the middle of it acting like an asshole with a hero complex.” Hana cracked a grin. “No, I get it. You’ve all been needing extra help for days now, and for all you know I’ve been doing nothing but doughnuts in John Seed’s turf out of boredom.”

Tracey snorted. “Oh, is that what’s been going on over there? Heard he’s pissed.”

Good, the pettier part of her thought. After being dunked during her botched baptism it was the least she owed him. “I’m kinda wishing I did now, but…there’s always next time.” Tracey wasn’t smiling at her, per se, but the lighter topic seemed to be on the right track. “Anyway, you didn’t call me up here just to shoot the shit.”

“No, I didn’t. I’ve got work for you.”

Hana’s eyebrows flew up. “Oh! I guess now that I’m officially a Cougar, it only makes sense.”

Tracey took one look at the pin Virgil had placed on her shirt and rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. Don’t tell me you plan on wearing that around.”

“Aww, it’s kinda cool being part of a club again. Haven’t been in one since I was…” Probably seven or eight years old, if she had to guess, but judging from Tracey’s unamused expression, she really wasn’t appreciating the tangent. “Never mind. You were saying?”

“We’ve all been trying to figure out the best way to get at Eden’s Gate. If you ask me, it all comes down to one person: Faith. She controls the bliss, she made the Angels, and she’s the one pushing people to walk the Path through participating in a damn pilgrimage to Joseph’s statue. A pilgrimage to show their ‘true’ faith in him.” She spat at the ground. “The man’s as much of a god as she’s a Seed, droning on and on about only being a fucking mouthpiece for him, but he has no problem with his people putting him up on a pedestal either.  Faith’s little gift is only fueling that.”  

Filing away the comment on Faith for later, she found herself very interested in where this was going. “Okay, so on the subject of marble Joseph being an even larger asshole than Joseph already is, where do I come in?”

“You? Well, I want you to drive a giant fuck-you-sized hole right through it. You weren’t shy before around explosives. Hell, that was the only way to get the damn speakers to shut up. You want to do us a real service out here?” Her lips twisted into a bitter grin. “Go out to that giant fucking eyesore and blow it right off of the map.”

Opening and closing her mouth a few times, she waited for Tracey to give a sign that she was kidding, or to reveal the real job at hand. All she did instead was raise an eyebrow at her expectantly. “…Seriously?”

“Did I stutter?”

She did not. Not even remotely.

“So, say I did want to do this, and don’t get me wrong, sending that up in a hail of fire and smoke would be pretty damn fantastic,” Hana began, “but that’s a statue. Unless you’re all hiding one hell of a payload somewhere in the prison, or there’s some wildcard prepper out there sitting on a treasure trove of fireworks and other such paraphernalia…”

She trailed off when she noticed a few of the resistance members trading knowing looks. A few even started nudging each other, and she stood there with her eyes narrowed for a hell of a lot longer than necessary.

“Okay, please elaborate on that, because you’re all leaving me in suspense here.”

The older woman on the left spoke up. “You gotta go with Boshaw and the Drubman kid.”

“Kid?” The one with the baseball cap shook his head. “Hurk Jr’s no damn kid-“

“If there’s something that needs blowing up they’ll be there,” she replied, ignoring him, “and where there’s one you’ll find the other. They’ve been getting up to who knows what judging from the calls coming in over the radio.”

Tracey rolled her eyes. “And half of the county’ll be a burned-out wreck by the time they’re done. But they’re solid bets if you want to do some real damage, and I’m surprised neither of their asses have ended up here yet.”

“You don’t say.” Hana tugged at a loose strand of hair as she thought it over, twirling the red-brown strands around her finger, and the more she considered it, the more she liked it. “Anyone got their last known positions?”

“I thought I heard something about Sharky being out by Moonflower, you know the trailer park? Don’t know if he’s still hanging tight there, though. I hear the Angels are out there in droves, so he’ll have his hands full.”

She nodded, and took out her map. “Moonflower… Moonflower…”

“Right here.” Tracey placed a finger on a spot just north of the jail.  “Warning, if he is there, shout at him first, got it?”

“Sure, so he won’t swiss-cheese me on accident?”

“So he won’t roast you on accident. The guy loves his flamethrower to death, and isn’t afraid to use it. Unless you really want to see just how good of an aim he is up close, just avoid it, got it?”

After her last near-death experience by fire singed her hair? Nope, not happening.

Hana flashed her a thumbs up. “Got it.”

----

The rickety truck she’d stolen on the way there was still in the haphazard spot she’d left it, half wedged in the dirt off of the road.

She plopped into the seat, not even bothering with the seatbelt, and threw the truck into the reverse to try and guide it back to more even land. It creaked as it went, jostling her the entire way and she dreaded listening to that, let alone actually having to work her way through a car chase if anyone happened to recognize her.

It wasn’t a tough feat with her penchant for red clothes still going strong, and sunglasses could only do so much to cover up her eyes. She was still her same over-freckled self, and her mannerisms would give her away no matter how perfectly her outfit hid her. It just couldn’t be helped.

“…But maybe snagging a cap at some point wouldn’t hurt,” Hana muttered to herself, struggling to turn the steering wheel. Something internal had gone, possibly a leak somewhere, making it a near-Herculean effort, and would only get worse over time without repairs.

The sound of static by her side made her jolt, but soon the Sheriff’s voice came through crystal clear. “Hey, Rook? It’s Whitehorse, copy.”

She reached for her radio, and grinned wryly. “Rook? Thought that promotion was a sure thing, sir.”

“It was, and damn if you haven’t run with it since, but you know how it goes with old habits. They’re hard to shake once you get used to them, and speaking of one, I thought I told you to drop the 'sir' bit. Makes me feel ten to fifteen years older every time.”

“Easier said than done, I’m afraid, sir-er, shit.” She let go of the call button and sighed deeply before picking back up. “Hey, uh, I hope you don’t think I’m just cutting out on you just when things are looking up. Tracey wanted me to look into something for her, so I might not be back for a few days or so.”

“If she’s got you on something, it’s important. We can hold down the fort as long as we need to, and better now that we don’t have the Angels bearing down on us.  Just remember to touch base every now and then.

“Or you’ll worry?”

“Damn straight, I’ll worry.” That knocked the silly grin right off of her face. “I’ll worry until this is over and done with, but until then, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

No promises, none at all. “I’ll try. Trying counts for something, right?”

“It’s always better than nothing. And I just wanted to tell you again, and it’s not worth much, but good work today. What you’re able to do right now, for here and for Fall’s End has meant a lot. Things aren’t going to improve for a while, but this is more than what we had yesterday. Keep it up, and we’ll even have something to celebrate.”

“Wouldn’t that be something?” An actual end to all of this, with Hudson and Pratt back with them safe and sound? If only. “Just don’t jinx me now. You can’t see me, but I’ve got both sets of fingers crossed.”

“I hear you, Rook. I hear you.”

“Still, wish me luck?”

He chuckled. “Sure, but don’t use it unless you have to, you hear?”

“Loud and clear. Dep out.”

----

Most of the trip to the trailer park was actually spent fighting with the radio. Five times she’d switched to the Peggie station to see if they’d changed it up. She loved Barracuda, but needed a break every now and then to stay sane and keep the song as fresh as it was going to get.

One of those times she’d even started whistling out of tune to what was playing, focusing more on the tune than the words at first. That ended the minute it shifted into a rousing chorus of ‘Oh, John! Bold and brave!’ on her. There wasn’t much to mess around with concerning the radio after that.

All in all, she was thinking she’d have to either get used to this fast, or see about asking Dutch if they could arrange a way to pirate another rock station nearby. Not that she needed the extra tunes, but if the Peggies were going to blare their shit at them as a means of warfare, turnabout was fair play. 

The road up ahead was a sharp curve, her angle of approach nearly making the wheels slip off of the side of the road. The steering wheel spun as she wrenched it to the right, and she felt the whole truck shift in response. The engine died soon after, sputtering as everything came to a halt.  

“Oh, please don’t do this to me now.” She twisted the key, listening for anything, but only heard the grinding of metal. The next few turns were the same, except she stomped down on the gas for all the good it did her. “Shit.”

The rest of the trip would have to be on foot. She grabbed her bag and hopped out, making sure to keep her rifle ready as she made her way up the road.

A loud sound carried over from the park. A whoop? She crouched down by the bushes and took her binoculars out. The green fire-breathing blur soon became a person. A person currently in the middle of trying to shake off one too many Angels bearing down on him. They soon ignited, however, lost in a blast of flames.

Tracey hadn’t been kidding at all. In the man’s hands appeared to be a flamethrower, and judging by the surrounding small fires springing up around him, he wasn’t shy about using it.

And was he…dancing?

“Oh, geez,” she muttered, quickly stashing the binoculars in the bag at her side so she could run on in.

Going for her rifle, she raised it when she was close enough to actually track one of the Peggies moving in on him, and fired. The shot appeared to hit. The fact that it did nothing, made her swear loudly. She fired again, this time not waiting for a reaction before unloading again, and didn’t relax until they hit the ground.

Not even that was a guaranteed drop, but she had to keep on moving. With three of the Angels remaining, one of which was well within range of clubbing him with their pipe, she tried to keep her shots clean. One mistake and she risked hitting him herself, and like hell was she going to let that happen.

When the last one finally fell, she lowered her weapon but kept it close as she traveled further into the park. She wasn’t exactly sure how the guy there was going to react to help, but when she got close enough to really get a look at him any and all concerns faded fast.

“Got some nice shots in there, chica!” Up on his perch on a nearby trailer, he smiled broadly at her as he removed his headphones. “Here for the barbeque?”

She gave him a quick once over, noting the soot-streaked green hoodie, the large fuel canister on his back, and the cheerful bounce to his step. “Uh, maybe?”

“Cause you can pull up a chair, and kick back ‘til I throw on some more tunes and the next herd of Angels come on by. Event’s BYOF, but I’m flexible.”

BYOF? “What?”

“Flamer, flame, fire, firestarter, firearm, firework. Any or all.” He patted the side of his flamethrower and waggled his eyebrows. “So, yeah. Real flexible.”

Hana stared up at him, half-tempted to lower her sunglasses as she eyed him, but settled for giving him a crooked smile. “Gotcha. So, I’m looking for someone actually, and I think I might have found him. Got a name, Mr. Pitmaster General?”

She climbed up the stack of crates next to the trailer, hopping up to grab the corrugated sheet metal of the roof after that to clear the last few feet so she wasn’t alone on the ground anymore.

“Name’s Charlemagne Victor Boshaw, Sharky for short, and welcome to my little piece of disco heaven.”

Charlemagne? That alone was one hell of a name to shoulder, before adding on the others, but this was her man. Ironically enough, hearing his name in full now finally rang a bell that should’ve gone off back at the prison.

The Sheriff had handed her a hefty stack of files back at the station a few days before it all went to hell. It contained notices of complaints and charges in the county courtesy of a few repeat offenders. Hurk Drubman had popped up, and just as often a Sharky Boshaw joined him.

Whitehorse had shaken his head when she’d asked what the deal was, and had only offered up two words. Serial boredom. Knuckleheads, he’d also muttered right after, and she flipped through more of Sharky’s file as soon as Whitehorse turned his back.

Forget complaints, the list could’ve been slapped on a bonafide wanted poster. Unauthorized use of explosives and accelerants. Illegal acquisition and modification of weapons. Noise complaints. Vandalism. Public indecency. Arson. Conspiracy to commit arson.

It was a fun little list to say the least. And the arson bit? Totally checked out.

She threw up her hand in a mock salute. “Deputy Hana Vao, at your service.”

“Dep…uty?”

“That’s right.”

Sharky’s grin froze as he looked first at her, then at the flamethrower in his hands, then her again. “Uh, yeah, I’d say there’s nothing to see here, but they fucking started it.” He cleared his throat. “Ma’am.”

“I don’t think they wandered over here only to fall over into your little makeshift mesquite firepit all on their own, Boshaw.” She took one look at his flamethrower and gave him a wry look. “That’s got frequent use written all over it, aside from well, you know. Taking in what I’m currently seeing here.”

He started checking out the flames roaring off of the nearby trailer to her right, following her pointing finger when it also lingered on the flames dancing on the edges of the drained swimming pool. The trail kept on going until she’d done nearly a full 360, and when she settled her finger on him, he shrugged.

“You might’ve heard about the last few charges down at the station, but arson’s kind of a strong word to throw around for what went down at the Testy Festy last year. And the year before that. And last month, but-”

Still whirling a bit from being called ma’am, her eyebrows drew together as she processed that statement in particular. “Testy Festy?”

“Hell, yeah. Gotta go balls to the wall for that one. Wouldn’t be a Festy otherwise. I might’ve gone on a bender leading up to it, but other than the hoe-downs, drinks, and some mighty fine pickings, it was missing something. Hurk agreed – he’s my cousin, and the best bro a Boshaw could have – and told me it’d be great to smash together a lightshow in its honor, and he was right. Homemade sparklers, a few hoosker doos and hoosker don’ts, and it was about to become the fucking Festy to end all Festies.”

“And?”

“We lit it up, and had it all under control, til the winds changed and uh, caught the barn on fire. And the house. And the fields and…the actual festival stands. Not real proud of that, but that dick burned so bright, I like to think even NASA floating up there got an eyeful.”

He finished his story with a grin, and she actually felt her mouth hang open a bit. “A dick?”

“Hell, yeah.” It wasn’t possible, but he grinned even wider. He was practically beaming.

This man set off a giant, flaming penis during what was referred to as the ‘Testy Festy’. The conversation with Whitehorse back at the station made so much more sense now. …Along with the charges.

“So, short of you cuffing me and bringing me down to the station, the jail, or wherever the po-po’s gathering now – and fuck that, you’ll have to run me down and hogtie me first - I figured I’d meander on up here to do a little community service. Spit in the eye of any of the Peggies that come knocking, and maybe melt some Angels’ faces off while I’m at it.”

“No, I’m not taking you anywhere, at least not anywhere you won’t want to go. I’m technically here on Cougars’ business, so any actual Deputy-ing will be kept to a minimum.”

She flashed the pin on her collar like she would’ve her badge, and he squinted at it as he considered it. “Sure you don’t just have like fifty guys waiting outside of the park to bring me in? Like hiding in the tall grass with the mossy suits and-”

“Scout’s honor,” she said, holding up a set of crossed fingers. “It’s a pretty hefty task I’m looking at, and going off of what others have told me, I think you might be the best around. What would you say is the largest thing you’ve ever blown up?”

Sharky glanced skyward as he thought it over, his face scrunching up as he scratched his goatee. “Largest? Might need Hurk for that, cause he’s the go big or go home type. We did send up Rae-Rae’s mascot ten years back, though. Not Boomer, cause that’s fucked up and he’s the sweetest dog around. Just the larger blimp-sized version of him.”

The mental image of that nearly threw her off again, but this time she recovered.

“How about a statue?” She turned, and held out both hands towards the statue of Joseph lurking in the distance. “How about that statue?”

“That one? You mean you want to…” Sharky’s eyes lit up, and his expression bordered on downright giddy as he looked between her and the statue in the distance. “Man, you want to shove a rocket up the Father’s ass? His statue’s ass, but still, it’s his ass, and I will make that dream a reality. Shit, might be better than having a chance at the real thing.”

“Anything you personally need to make this happen is yours, no questions asked. Extra gear, guns, uh…your buddy Hurk?”

“He’s further north up at his dad’s, but he’s in. You tell him even half of what you told me, and he’ll be begging for a proper shot at it. Might even give you fifty bucks to do it too.” He leaned towards her, and half-whispered, “And if he does, could you spot me thirty of that?”

While there weren’t flames currently coming out of the flamethrower, Hana did find herself eying it very carefully. “Uh, sure, man. Why?”

“He still owes me for the last time we got blasted over at the Spread Eagle, and every time I bring it up he claims to have had an out of body experience, and I don’t think we got zap-fried by aliens. Not that time, anyway.”

“Deal. Anything else?”

He walked over to three sets of foot pedals and a microphone, and rested his foot on one of the pedals before turning back to her.

“Yeah, shorty, one last thing. I promised anyone dropping by a barbeque, and we’re having one.” He pressed his foot down, and that’s when the speakers came on. “And it’s not a proper Peggie barbeque without this playing.”

The opening notes started, and she felt her mouth fall open. “No.”

Turns out disco didn’t actually die. It just decided to tuck itself into this tiny little corner of Montana, guided by one man set on letting that torch burn forever.

What happened over the next fifteen minutes was borderline surreal. To what quickly became apparent was a soundtrack consisting only of Disco Inferno – What the hell – they let every Angel that stepped foot into the place have it. He sang, he danced, he lit people on fire. The man was a living cartoon of a human being, and she was equal parts bewildered and fucking delighted.

Running laps around the trailer park, she took potshots at anyone that managed to make it past him. Sharky swept the stream of fire coming from his flamethrower in a wide arc, and even from the distance she told herself to keep, she felt the heat.  

“Good thing it’s not no-pants time right now!” he shouted over the mic, and she strained to hear him over the shots rattling out of her rifle. “Normally I’d say drop ‘em if you’ve got ‘em - this is a pants-free zone for any and all looking for one, and that counts you too –“

An Angel ran up on her, tacking her straight to the ground, and Sharky’s words somehow still came through clear as day.

“- but my dick’s hard right now and you don’t just flash that around a lady, not without asking first!”

She wrestled her rifle up, sending the butt of it into the Angel’s forehead as she shouted up at him, “Not helping, Boshaw! Not helping!”

It took three solid shots to stun them, and she scrambled out from under them just in time for Sharky’s help to arrive. He’d found a way down from his perch and let loose as soon as she was clear, though only by a hair. The flames roared as the Angel reared back, then fell, sliding back into the scorched pool.  

“You okay, chica?” he asked, looking worried. “Looked close!”

Sneaking in a few quick breaths, she rested her hands on her thighs and let her head hang low before raising it. “Yeah, just a little. Can you watch it with that thing? They’re not the only ones feeling the burn here!”

“Fuck! Sorry, man! Just got a little too-”

This time she definitely lowered her sunglasses to look at him. “Excited?”

That actually got her something bordering on a blush from the man as she glanced up at him, and he coughed before giving her a sheepish grin. “Uh, yeah. Kinda.”

“So, are we good on the whole Saturday Night Fever thing, or are you still feeling the need to shake it further?”

“The turnout was decent, got to stretch my legs and see if I could beat my old high score. Think I was short by three,” he replied, dancing his way back to the trailer with the controls. “But ol’ Joe’s calling, and we can roast more later.”

After climbing back up, he pressed down on the pedal he’d pressed before, looking plenty satisfied with their work. The music instead kept on going, starting a new verse as his foot kept on pressing down, each motion more frantic than the last.

“Uh, Dep? We’ve got a serious problem here!”

Her hand started digging through her pack, sifting through the mess inside for anything resembling a magazine. The fact that she was still searching as the seconds ticked by didn’t bode well at all. “That wouldn’t be a music-related problem, would it?”

“It’s…the pedal should cut the sound off for each set of speakers, but it’s fucking done, man! We’re going to have to go for them one by one!”

“How many?”

“Four!”

So much for disco heaven. They were careening straight into disco hell.

Aiming her attention towards the entrance, she swore loudly under her breath. As she shoved a new mag into her rifle, she started towards the nearest switch. It was tucked behind a fenced off area, leaving her searching for an opening as she fired at the Angels in her way. Once it was clear enough, she ran for it, flipping the switch.

“One down!”

She couldn’t see Sharky from where she was, searching for any signs of green as she went back into the clearing, and nearly collided with an Angel waiting for her. The large pipe whistled through the air as it came within inches of her face, each swing forcing her back towards the trailers.

“Second’s off, just two more left!”

Her heart pounded in her ears as she tried to look for a way to side-step around the Angel, only to catch a nearby shovel off to her right. It’d been shoved spade-first into the dirt, but was just within reach.

The rifle dropped to her side, the sling keeping it by her side as she dove for the shovel. Pulling it out of the ground, she barely put the shovel up between her and the Angel in time, holding them back as they snarled in her face.

Every sound, beat, and note meant another pissed off Angel. It was all too reminiscent of the jail, and she cursed their awful luck as she planted her foot in the Angel’s stomach to shove them back.

“Am I close to one?”

“Up the ladder, Dep!”

Ten feet ahead, then up the ladder. You can do this.

Hana swung the shovel, full-on thinking of hitting a home run as she did it, and it clanged on impact with the Angel’s face.

Go, go, go!

One tried to grab her leg as she pulled herself up the ladder, nearly wrenching her arm as she hooked it through the rungs. It wasn’t easy or pretty as she finagled her handgun out of her holster and fired blindly below, but the moment she had her leg back she scrambled to the top.

She yanked down hard on the switch, holding on tight, and waited.

“-disco inferno, burn baby burn-“

This process was going to ruin this song for her forever, and that was unacceptable. “Sharky!”

The music cut off abruptly, feedback coming through the speakers as it happened, then silence. Glorious silence. Her grip loosened, and she quickly tightened it to keep from falling off of the damn thing.

Casting her eyes down at the ground, two Angels lingered at the bottom of the ladder. Their dazed drifting had her watching them very carefully, and as she started to creep down rung by rung, she held her breath.

Don’t look up. Please, don’t look up.

She reached for one of her grenades and popped the pin. Letting go as she jumped, she aimed herself for any tall grass she could reach, knowing that at this height it was still going to hurt like hell.

Not as much as that grenade, however.

It went off right as she hit the ground, her messy roll sending her into a nearby crate. Swearing loudly, she stared over at the smoke-filled spot while flat on her back, and idly registered that her handgun had fallen somewhere off to the wayside.

But the Angels didn’t appear to even remotely exist anymore, so…best one out of two?

She’d take it.

“Yo, po-po! Where you at?”

She groaned and flipped over onto her stomach. Sharky called out for her again, and she pushed herself up so she could wave over at him.

The fire she’d freshly started continued to crackle as it burned, catching more of the dry grass around them as it made its way around the trailer park.

Hana flopped down in a nearby lawn chair, and watched it as the tension bled out, resting her rifle across her lap. She hadn’t even bothered to light the cigarette she’d dug out of her pack, keeping it dangling out of her mouth as she relaxed.

The grass crunched under Sharky’s feet as he ran over, somehow still a complete livewire after everything. “Way to bust some Peggie ass, Dep! You just scored yourself one bonafide Boshaw. One of a kind, limited edition,” he said, pounding his chest before firing off one last blast with his flamethrower.

The edge of it caught a nearby fence, quickly spreading to the trailer to his right. He scrambled away before it finally went, larges plumes of black smoke rising up before a small explosion tore through the rest of it.

When he came to a stop in front of her - not quite singed, but still kicking - he struck the same pose as before, only to take a few seconds to puff his chest out.

She took one last look at him before finally giving in, dissolving into a fit of laughter.

One of a kind indeed.

[harper-clarington]

Tender Touches || Romper

Where: Roman Lynn’s trailer

When: December 2, evening

Warnings: Being too cute, lots of emotions

Word Count: 8,950

Harper in bold, @roman-lynn in italics

Roman's stomach had been in knots since the uncovering of Sebrina Smythe's  body. The last thing that he had expected while taking part in an all out brawl in the snow with Hunter Clarington was to  stumble over evidence of the missing girl--much less her body. It had been a long 24 hours since the incident and despite his first instinct to stay inside and keep to himself, trying to scrub his brain of the graphic mental images , he decided to reach out to Harper. 

He didn't want to leave his trailer, slightly worried that the Serpents would be slithering around, forming some sort of intricate plan for being blamed for Sebrina's untimely death. He snuck out, choosing not to take his motorcycle so as to not bring any attention to himself, especially since he was crossing over into the North Side. Within an hour, he had made it over to the Clarington residence, picked up Harper, and made it back to the South Side. They hadn't talked much on the way back, Roman leading Harper through the tree line in almost complete silence. 

Upon them walking back to Sunnyside Trailer Park, Roman almost immediately noticed the smell of fire and heard a loud commotion. His heart beat in his chest, worried about the state of his home, his parent's, and his friend's. He took Harper's hand in his, turning to her with a concerned look in his eyes, "Stay close to me...and don't let go of my hand".

Harper had been feeling like shit since she got home from Sebastian's. She still hadn't talked to Hunter since finding out he'd known that Bri was alive because he simply didn't know how to approach the subject without screaming and never stopping. When Roman had invited her over, she'd jumped at the chance to get out of her house. The Clarington residence was huge, but at that moment it felt stifling. 

Despite her low expectations for the South Side, she hadn't exactly been expecting the commotion that greeted the two of them when Roman led her to Sunnyside Trailer Park. She was fairly certain the place being on fire was unusual, even for this part of town. 

She nodded, looking back at Roman and tightening her grip on his hand, feeling anxious all of a sudden, unsure what was happening and worried something would happen to them. "What's going on?" She hissed.

The chaos that was ensuing on Sunnyside Trailer Park was far from normal. Roman could see on the east side of the lot a small group of people forming; all holding various forms of weaponry between torches and baseball bats. The pandemonium was getting louder by the second and he could sense the anxiety coming off of Harper in palpable waves. He squeezed her hand, his thumb brushing over hers and let out a small sigh. "I--I'm not sure. They look like they're sticking to the East lot though, so we should be safe when we get to my place. Trust me." 

Roman took a heavy breath and coaxed Harper to follow him in the direction of his trailer. He cautiously  started walking, his head on a swivel as he gauged the situation around him. They walked for what felt like 30 minutes, stopping when he saw a shadow or heard the snap of a branch, until they finally got to his trailer. He walked up the wooden stairs, pulling his keys out of his pocket and with shaky hands, opened the front door. "After you," he said, trying to gain some composure as he invited her inside.

Harper relaxed a smidge at his words, and she let him lead her away from the angry crowd. Harper felt like her heart was going to beat out of her chest, not quite sure what was going on or what she'd just witnessed. Her grip on his hand stayed tight as they walked through the night, the sounds of the mob eventually falling away. "Is that kind of stuff normal?" She asked as they arrived at his trailer after a stress-inducing walk. 

She released his hand reluctantly so that he could get the door open, following him up the stairs and past him into the trailer. The space was bigger than she'd expected looking in from the outside, and certainly cleaner too. "Thank you."

Roman cringed at Harper's question, a sinking feeling burying it's way into the pit of his stomach.  Of course Harper's first impression of the South Side had to be a bad one, it wasn't really her fault, but he couldn't look past the fact that even without all the chaos she would still probably think the same. Roman closed the door, clicking the turn lock and setting the chain in place, "I--No, it's not." Roman ran a hand through his unkempt hair and leaned against the door, "The South Side isn't what the Ledger portrays us as. We're not all gang members and drug lords." 

Roman toed off his shoes and left them at the door, walking over to Harper with almost a defeated look on his face. "I honestly don't know what the hell that is," he admitted, motioning towards the door.   His trailer was kept and somewhat clean, a random pizza box and a small baggy of weed sitting on the arm of his couch. He hoped it didn't turn Harper away, seeing how the other half lived. "You want something to drink?". he asked, "I think I've just got water and beer."

Maybe a few weeks ago, Harper would have disputed that assertion...but the last week or so had opened her eyes to the reality that not everything was as it seemed on either side of town. "Yeah, I'm starting to see that," she said quietly. She slid her flats off and then went over to the couch, curling up on one of the cushions as Roman puttered around. His trailer was cleaner than she'd expected, and cozy in a way. 

"It was scary, whatever it was," she admitted, looking back up to meet his eyes. "Water is fine, thank you." She'd considered the beer, but alcohol was probably not wise considering her mindset at the moment. Harper shrugged off her jacket, before draping it over the side of the couch. "Are you living alone? Or — or does anyone else live here with you?"

Roman hadn’t seen Harper like this; he knew that she was close with Sebrina Smythe, but didn’t realize how much her death really affected her. Roman was sympathetic, and despite this just being a sexual thing between them two, Roman couldn’t help but want to help. There were no feeling involved—just sex—and  even that would eventually fizzle out. 

Roman watched as Harper got somewhat comfortable on the couch, grabbing bottled water for the both of them before sitting down, sinking into the cushions and letting out a breath. “I’ve never seen anything like that, to be honest.” , he mumbled “That mob out there—they weren’t Southsiders.” Roman lifted the lid of the empty pizza box, tossing it on the coffee table, not knowing how to act with Harper. “Yeah, it’s—it’s just me. My mom lives a few trailers down, so it’s not like it’s lonely or anything.”

Harper took the bottle of water from him, unscrewing the lid and downing a third of it down in one go before she put the cap back on.  She ran a hand through her hair, feeling exhausted. "I don't understand...what did they do? What did they want?" Harper wasn't particularly fond of the South Side of town herself, but coming down to it just to make a scene seemed like it was crossing a line. 

She nodded as he explained. "Sorry if this is too personal...you don't have to tell me but is there a reason you don't live together? Did you just need your own space or..." she trailed off, unsure of what she was asking. She hugged her arms around herself again, letting her eyes fall shut and pretending that none of this week was real. She opened them again. "Do you want to put on a movie or something?"

Roman’s jaw clenched and his eye throbbed, an unfortunate result of his fight with Hunter. He could hear the uneasiness of his own voice as he spoke, answering all of Harper’s questions. “ Revenge? Someone to blame? This—Sebrina’s death...”, Roman sighed, “Everyone wants to know who to blame and who better than us, right?” Roman shrugged, it was nothing new to him. 

Roman kicked  his feet up on the table, an attempt to stave off some of the awkwardness between them, and pointed to the only picture he had of his family, framed and hung on the wall next to the TV. “Other than I’m 21 and don’t want to live at home anymore?” Roman laughed, unsure as to if the truth was worth it to explain. “Dad was a little too rowdy when he drank, typical piece of shit. Mom won’t leave him, even though she’s sick of it. I visit often enough—to cook together and hang out. But, to answer your question, I make good money doing construction, so here I am.” 

Roman’s eyes were fixed on Harper, gauging her reaction to everything he was telling her. He didn’t trust many people, but again, Harper was different. “Is—that what you want? I’ve got Netflix and if you feel like you’re going kind of crazy, well—I’ve got some weed."

"That doesn't make any sense...vigilante justice doesn't achieve anything and the sheriff thinks it was Sebastian of all people," Harper said, shaking her head. "Besides, Darius and I were talking about this...it — strangling is too personal  for it to have been — been a gang thing, right? Too messy, too much evidence....at least if she hadn't been frozen for two weeks."

Harper's eyes caught sight of the fading bruises on Roman's face, and she frowned, reaching out to trace them with one hand. "What kind of fight club do you and my brother have going on, honestly? I don't get your animosity." 

She looked over at the photo curiously. She could certainly understand wanting your own space...although at her house, with it being so big, it wasn't exactly difficult to avoid her parents. "I...I'm sorry, about your parents, I mean," she whispered, reaching over to give his hand a squeeze. She wasn't sure what the boundaries were here...what she was and wasn't allowed to do, but she couldn't not when he was sharing something so personal. 

Harper shrugged. "I'm not exactly going to be paying it a lot of attention but the background noise would be nice," she admitted. She wasn't much of a weed girl. Didn't like not having clear airways for dance, and she hated the smell, but....fuck it, today was  a bad day. "I...sure, yeah. That'd be nice."

“Just because Sebastian is Sheriff Hummel’s number one suspect, doesn’t mean the rest of the town sees it that way.” People on all sides of town had their own viewpoints on who the murderer was, but no one has any concrete proof leading them as to why. Even Sheriff Hummel—whose accusation of Sebastian was baseless, for the most part. “This isn’t a gang thing, D is right. If it had been, we wouldn’t have found the body.” 

Roman’s breath hitched as Harper traced over his bruises from his recent quarrel with her brother. “I—we—“, Roman didn’t know what to say, stumbling on the right words. “We’ve just never gotten along. He—we’re from two separate worlds.” Roman shrugged, that was really all there was to say on the topic. Roman didn’t like Hunter because he acted like an elite, entitled, North Sider. He couldn’t speak for why Hunter didn’t think well of him. 

Roman reached across the couch, grabbing the small Ziploc baggie of weed and nodded his head. “My parents are who they are, nothing to be sorry about”, he murmured before taking opening the bag and smelling inside. “Have you smoked before?”

Harper frowned. She wished people actually cared about bringing Sebrina's killer to justice and finding out the truth instead of jumping to conclusions based on their own biases. Her best friend deserved better than to be fodder for town warfare. "That's...oddly comforting, I guess."

She brushed her fingers down his bruise once more, shaking her head, a little bemused, a little fond. "Boys. So what? So are we. I'm not going to pretend I haven't looked down on South Siders myself but....," she shrugged. "I don't know, this whole thing has opened my eyes to things not being as simple as they seem, I guess." 

She didn't know what to say to that. Her parents marriage had always appeared fine, at least to her, so she couldn't exactly relate to being on the other side of that. "Uh...like once? Tenth grade? I was bad at it and not a fan of the smell," she admitted. "But this week can't get worse so teach me your ways."

Roman hesitated, gently placing his hand over her knee. He didn't know what to say to Harper, he didn't know how to empathize with how great her loss was, or begin to understand how she was feeling. He didn't want to scare her; telling her that while it seemed comforting to know that not everyone in Riverdale thought Sebastian was guilty, that the real killer was still at large. A fact he was sure she was well aware of. 

Roman cocked his head, watching as Harper tried to fit together pieces of a puzzles that just didn't work. " So are we, Harper. But, I mean--you can't tell me that this isn't anything more than what it is." It was true; beyond the obvious split in social class, there was no way that Roman would let himself catch feelings, much less from a North Side girl like Harper who could chew him up and spit him out in a matter of days. He looked down at his lap, a slight twinge in his chest as he spoke, "I think they are as simple as they seem. You just have to look." 

Roman took an already rolled joint of the baggie, tossing the rest onto the table. Putting the butt between his lips, he reached into his pocket for his lighter and lit the end. He took a deep inhale, feeling the smoke fill up his lungs and let out a smooth, slow exhale. "I'm surprised you've done it even once to be honest." Roman took the joint from his mouth and offered it to Harper, "Don't let me be a poor influence."

Harper frowned, drawing back a bit. "I don't know what you mean.  They're not. If someone told me a month ago I'd feel so safe with a Serpent, I'd call them crazy but I do." She drew her legs up, wrapping her arms around them, annoyed by how dismissive the other was being. "Hell, you and Darius are the only people concerned enough for my safety to bother asking if I need a walk home or a ride somewhere. Hunter's too busy and my parents? They're occupied in their own world. So excuse me if I think we're all more than whatever stupid labels they stick on us." 

A little embarrassed by her own outburst, she reached out for the joint, turning it over in her fingers and trying to remember what she'd done the last time she tried weed. "I wanted to win Prom Queen and that meant hanging out with every social group at school including the stoners. It worked, I won, but I had to smoke to do it," she explained, before placing the joint to her lips and inhaling. Someone, she fucked up on the exhale and ended up coughing, her lungs burning. "Ugh. I think I know why people like to bake this into brownies now."

Roman knew he had said all the wrong things, but he wasn’t lying. He took pride in being honest, no matter the consequence. Biting his lip, Roman ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “I—fuck. Harper that’s not what I meant. I—I just meant that I take things at face value.”

He shifted on the cushion at the mention of Darius. He had been the one to push them together-in a completely professional way-so what reason did he have to feel on edge at hearing his name come off Harper’s lips. “You honestly think that I can be anything other than a Serpent?”, he asked, genuinely interested in her answer. 

Roman frowned, patting Harper gently on the back as she coughed from the smoke. He took the joint from her, holding it between his thumb and forefinger. “If I had the shit, I’d offer to make you a batch. I’m a somewhat decent cook”

Harper tilted her head, confused by what he meant. "I don't know what you mean then? Just because my brother doesn't like you doesn't mean I can't and the different sides of the tracks thing is just an excuse. Like...I'm not trying to make this more than it is. I just like spending time with you so who gives a shit?" 

She paused at his question, leaning back into the cushions. "I don't know...maybe it's naive but I think anyone can be more than what they are if they really want to," she fiddled with one of her sleeves absently as she spoke, not fully realizing she was doing it. "Like...I don't know all that much about you besides your sexual prowess so I can't make any definitive judgements but I think so. What made you join in the first place anyways?" 

She gratefully relinquished the joint, sucking in a fresh breath, turning a bit red. "Told you I was bad at that," she joked, before piquing up curiously at his next words. "Ooooh, chef Roman, consider me intrigued. What can you make?"

Roman’s heart stopped, his breathing gone shallow, his mind..confused. Maybe he was wrong, maybe living on one side of town versus the other didn’t actually matter in the end. Maybe he and Hunter could look past their differences. Maybe he and Harper—No. 

“I like spending time with you too”, he said with a smile. 

He blushed, a flush red rising to his cheeks. He thought back to the Serpents, remembering when he first joined at 16 years old. “I was 16 when I joined the Serpents, back when Dare’s old man was our leader. I wanted to join—wanted to feel like I belonged to something important.” 

Bringing the joint up to his lips, Roman took in another drag, relishing in the way it worked into his chest. “It’s all about the exhale. Too fast and it hits you hard, too slow and you’ll end up coughing.” 

Roman chuckled, reminiscing on his younger years, “Well, uh, if you didn’t know...I’m part Cuban. My mom—she taught me how to make fresh tortillas, empanadas, tostones.”, he said with a slight accent. “But, i know how to make other things too. “

Harper chewed on her lip. Part of her felt queasy at the idea that kids were being recruited into gangs that young — having the course of the future and the way people saw them altered by a decision they were making because they felt desperate. It didn't seem right. But vocalizing it might be...offensive in some way. Still, it seemed manipulative to make kids think that joining a gang was their only option. "Do you ever regret it?" 

She smiled, trying to imagine a tiny Roman cooking with his mom. It was an adorable image. "Well you need to cook for me sometime, then. What else can you make?" She asked curiously, before reaching back out for the joint. "Let me try again."

“Not—no. There’s nothing to regret.” Roman shrugged, thinking nothing more of the Serpents, his indoctrination, or the current state of things. “There have been times when I’ve had to do things I don’t believe in 100% , but even then, the outcome has been decent.” 

Roman passed the joint back to Harper, his hand on her back, just in between her shoulder blades. “Up to your lips, breathe in 5 seconds, out 4.” All this talk about food made Roman’s stomach growl, “Steak, burgers, i make a mean spaghetti”

Harper bit her lip, but didn't question it further. Who was she, from her glass tower, to question his choices? "Well that's good...I think having regrets is one of the worst things in life. It haunts you." 

She took the joint between her fingers, leaning into his touch, and then slowly raised it to her lips, taking a slow breath in. She held it for a second, before releasing it, this time much smoother. "That was nicer," she murmured, smiling softly at him and passing the joint back. "You're a good teacher." 

The sound of his tummy had her giggling, and she patted it lightly. "Maybe you should get something going right now. It sounds like you need it."

Roman took a third hit off the joint, this time feeling his thoughts go fuzzy around the edges. On his exhale, he choked out a laugh, “I can’t tell if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. Should I be worried about corrupting you, Ms, Clarington?” 

Roman’s stomach gurgled again and this time he was going to listen to his body. “Here. Come with me into the kitchen,”, he said standing up and stretching his hand out for hers. “I’ll teach you how to make empanadas.”

Harper rolled her eyes, but a smile was tugging at the corners of her lips. "I'm Miss Clarington now, am I? Fancy..,," she said, giggling. "But I don't know what it is either....maybe you should get worried once I start thinking this stuff doesn't smell like you killed a skunk." 

She took the offered hand, allowing him to pull her off the couch. and she tangled their fingers together as he led her to the kitchen, excited to learn. She didn't exactly do a lot of cooking at home...they had a chef who made food for them after all, but....she was intrigued by the idea of it. "What kind are we making?"

Roman led Harper to the kitchen, picking her up by the waist and sitting her on the counter. “It’s not bad for you, depending on if you’re smart about it”, he called out over his shoulder as he opened a few cabinets gathering up the ingredients that they needed. “ It’s not Jingle Jangle—that shit gets you addicted after one go.” 

Roman took the premade empanada discs out of the fridge, tossing them next to the rest of the ingredients on the counter. “Ground beef and cheese? If that’s cool with you?”

Harper yelped when she was picked up and then deposited on the counter, and she lightly smacked Roman in the shoulder once he pulled away. "Give a girl some warning next time!" She swung her legs as she watched Roman putter around the kitchen. "I just hate the smell...I think if I had the edible kind I'd be munching some all day. But yeah, no, you wouldn't catch me within 10 feet of jingle jangle. I've read some horror stories." 

She knew there was a stereotype about rich people and drugs but Harper was so not about that life. "That sounds delicious. What do you need me to do?" She asked, feeling a bit useless. "I'll be honest, I don't cook much at all."

Roman placed his hands on either side of Harper's legs, their faces not but a few inches apart, and he winked. "Yes, Ms. Clarington", he joked playfully before pulling away.  Roman knew he had promised to keep things non-sexual, but that was going to be difficult given the way she looked. She was cute like this, legs dangling off the counter and swinging just slightly, and Roman was fucked. Best to focus on the task at hand, he thought, his stomach growling again. 

Roman wasn't all that surprised that Harper wasn't into drugs; there were a lot of well off people who could afford whatever they wanted that took advantage of trying a little bit of this and that. Hell, most of the Serpent's clientele were North Siders with too much time and money at their disposal. But, knowing that Harper was a dancer--it just didn't make sense. 

Roman took out a pan, placing it on the stove top. "First step is that we've got to cook the beef.", Roman opened a bottle of olive oil and poured a little into the pan, just coating the bottom. He turned on the burner and then took a knife and opened the container of ground beef. "You wanna do it?", he asked

Harper rolled her eyes but there was no heat behind the gesture, vaguely amused by his antics. They were a good distraction from all the gloom she was feeling on the inside. She watched curiously as he padded around the kitchen, grabbing things and prepping to cook the meal, and she couldn't help but tilt her head to the side, admiring the way his arms looked in the shirt he was wearing. 

"Um...sure," she replied, shaken out of her thoughts by his words. She slid off the counter and went over to the stove, taking the container from him. She glanced at the simmering oil dubiously, before holding her breath and flipping it into the pan, squeaking a little when it started fizzling.

Roman shook his head, unable to hold in a laugh as he watched Harper flip the entire container straight into the pan. It was painfully obvious that she didn't cook very often, if at all and he couldn't help but wonder what it was like to have someone take care of things like that for you. Roman was proud to be able to stand on his own two feet; knowing how to cook and clean the two things he always helped his mother out with as a kid. 

"Careful of the oil", he warned. He took a spoon and began breaking up the meat, crumbling it so that it could cook faster. "What you want to do is just keep an eye on it. You don't want it to burn, but you don't want it to move  it around too much so that it doesn't cook evenly through. Go ahead." Roman offered her the spoon, handle out, making it easier for her to grab.

Harper swatted at him. "Shush," she muttered, as she watched him expertly start breaking up the beef into little chunks. When she was little, she used to spend a lot of time in the kitchen watching their various chefs cook and bake, but as she'd grown up she'd had less and less time since she devoted more of her spare hours to her other interests. She could barely remember anything they'd explained to her at this point. 

She took the spoon from Roman and nodded as his words, biting her lip as she started to slowly prod at the meat. It sizzled as it slid around and she flipped a few chunks over, curious. "What colour is it supposed to be when it's done?"

Roman bumped his hip against Harper, smiling at her fondly as she began stirring the ground beef around in the pan. He took a second to give her a once over, although it had been a tough few days, it looked like she was actually able to relax for a minute. Or so it seemed, he didn't want to assume how she was feeling, maybe she was just good at masking her emotions. Either way, Roman just wanted Harper to enjoy herself while she was here. Whatever that took.

"Brown?", he questioned , his tone slightly incredulous. His eyebrow went up in disbelief and he turned to face her, "You really haven't done this much, huh?". Roman took another pan out from the cabinet and set it on the stove top, he filled it up a quarter of the way with corn oil before turning back to Harper. "It's kind of cute", he admitted

Harper flushed at his tone, shrugging self-consciously. “There are different shades of brown,” she defended. “How dark are we talking?” She carefully broke up the beef so more, mixing it some more before leaving it to rest as she turned her head to look at him. 

“Not really. I can press microwave buttons if I must but I’m kind of hopeless otherwise.” His compliment made her chest feel warm and she had to look away again to hide her blush. “I used to watch the chefs when I was a kid. Sometimes they’d let me pour or mix but I was too little to do much more than that.”

Roman shook his head in amusement, his brain conjuring up images of a young Harper, age 5 or so, mixing a bowl for cookies or something similar. His mind was stuck on one particular word, chefs, meaning multiple. He’d knew the Claringtons were rich, but apparently they were rich enough to have an entire Michelin 3-star staff. 

“Like, fully cooked through brown. No signs of pink at all, but not burnt kind of brown.” He took a small packet of Sazón seasoning and ripped it open, tossing it on top of the ground beef. 

“I was in the kitchen with my mom whenever I could.”, he said, his eye on the pan. “I still go over and cook with her sometimes”

Harper nodded, focused on mixing in the seasoning with the beef. The meat definitely needed some more time so she felt like she could relax a bit without burning it and ruining everything. 

When Roman started talking about his mom, she couldn't help but smile. It sounded very sweet. Her own relationship with her mom was superficial at best. Bonding with the Clarington women was a lot of shopping, a lot of lectures about etiquette and being ladylike, and a lot of expectations about her place in the world. Harper was not very fond of it. "That sounds really nice...spending time with her like that, I mean."

Roman’s shrug was noncommittal, a small smile spreading across his lips as he reminisced on different times. He took the spoon from Harper and set it to rest on a paper towel while the meat cooked. 

“You don’t have any memories like that with your mom?”, he asked curiously. His hand moved to Harper’s hip and his eyes glimmered as he stared at the girl before him. “We did stuff like that all the time...still do.”

Harper shrugged, turning away a little so she could watch the food and not his face. It felt weird to talk about something so personal...the only person that really understood the frustration she felt about her parents was Hunter and that was only because he shared a lot of the same frustrations. 

"I mean we spent and still do spend time together," she said, slowly, not exactly sure how to phrase what she wanted to say. "I just don't think we do it for the same reasons you and your mom spend time together. Naomi Clarington really wants to have the picture perfect daughter and that means a lot of shopping and a lot of lecturing and all sorts of things like that."

Roman frowned, his eyebrows furrowing with confusion when Harper turned away. He withdrew his hand and stuffed it in the pocket of his jeans, shaking off whatever Harper had going on. 

He didn’t like-like this girl, so why did he have such concern for his feelings? Shrugging internally, Roman made a mental note to bed someone else so he wasn’t so hyper focused on Harper. He didn’t need to spend his time and attention on this girl when they would surely be over in less than a month. 

He turned his attention back to Harper who was talking about her mother. She seemed cold and uninviting, completely different than his own mother. “Well, who says you have to be picture perfect? That puts a lot on you, doesn’t it?”

Harper sucked in a breath, picking the spoon up again just so that she had something to hold on to to ground herself. She was not going to get emotional about her family standing in a goddamn trailer trying not to fuck up cooking food. 

"We're Claringtons. It's kind of part of the job description. Perfect marriage, perfect kids. Hunter's going to be the perfect son who inherits all of dad's stuff and I am expected to marry well and become a pretty little housewife who exists to boost my husband's ego and makes him look good," she said, trying to keep the edge of bitterness out of her voice. She wasn't sure if she succeeded. 

How was she supposed to explain that when she spent time with her mother, it mostly involved a lot of polite criticism about her body and her choices? That she was too skinny, spent too much time on school, and oh, Harper darling, are you  /sure/ you don't want to fix that nose of yours?

Roman shifted on his feet, wanting to reach out to Harper but not ready for her to pull away from him again. His previous thoughts on the North Side were changing in front of him, just hearing how Harper talked about her mother. Despite the fact that she came from wealth,  Harper seemed to have a specific set of unrealistic expectations that she was supposed to reach. And by the looks of it, that wasn't what Harper wanted. 

"But--What do you want?", he asked, cocking his head. From his first conversation with Harper, he knew that she had an affinity for dance, but in all the time that he had spent talking to her and spending time with her, he had never once asked her anything real about herself. "What about dance? Ballet? You like that shit, right? What's the point of going to college if you're just meant to be some side piece? "

Harper wrapped an arm around herself, running her other hand through her hair as she watched the beef sizzle. There was hardly any pink left as far as she could tell. It was kind of nice to just be allowed to relax and cook and talk with no expectations of anything else. 

But his question caught her off guard. No one had really asked her what she wanted before. They just expected her to do what was asked of her. Even going to school had been something she'd fought for. 

"I like dancing. I've loved it since I was a kid... but if it doesn't work out I don't want to just sit at home," she explained. "My parents didn't think I needed college. Like a degree looks good...a lady with an education is worth more than one without....but a career was never on the cards. Mom thought I should just get a fluffy type degree like art history or humanities, but I wanted the interior design double major so that if I can't dance I can still do something. I hate the idea of just sitting pretty at home like she does. She's just a trophy for dad and she's perfectly happy to do it."

Roman glanced over at the sizzling pan and lifted it off the stove, the residual heat pressing into his hand. The meat was finished cooking and he needed to drain it so it wouldn’t get the empanadas too soggy on the inside. With his one free hand, he held a paper plate covered by a napkin and poured the meat, the excess fat getting soaked up by the napkin. 

 Roman hadn’t seen Harper dance, but he could see the passion that she had for it with every reply about the hobby. He didn’t think it should be something that should just be tossed to the side so lightly. “Whose to say that it won’t work out?”, he asked. Roman had big ideas for one day—whenever he could get the hell out of Riverdale. He had wanted to be a chef as a young boy, evident by his fascination with food, but real life stood in his way. It didn’t have to be like that for Harper though. 

“Worth?”, Roman repeated, a slight flush rising up his neck out of irritation. “You’re not—what? Do you have a price tag on you or something?” Roman shook his head, utterly surprised that this was apparently how the higher class treated their kids. “Harp—“, he started, before stopping himself short.

Harper pushed herself up on the counter, so that she could swing her legs again while she watched Roman cook. There was something peaceful about just being in his tiny kitchen with him, watching him putter around and make food.  Everything smelled so good already...she couldn't wait to try it once it was ready. 

"I want it to.... I want to be a principal dancer somewhere huge but the arts are.... you can't exactly rely on them. That's reality," she said, shrugging. It wasn't a fact that upset her. She enjoyed interior design too. Having a career in it would be something she wouldn't mind. "And hell, even if you do make it, one bad injury and you're out forever. It's good to have a back up and I like interior design even if my parents think the idea of me working is ridiculous." 

At his words she paused, looking down at her hands instead of meeting his eyes. When he put it that way, it felt even worse. "I'm not like... going to be sold. But there are expectations that are put on me and one of those expectations is that my main goal in life should be to better the family. I'm a woman so of course that means through marriage. It's stupid but....that's the Clarington thought process for you."

Roman took out the empanada discs and laid them flat on the counter top. He took a few spoonfuls of the ground beef and placed that on the side and topped it off with a handful of cheese before folding it in half. Taking the back tines of the fork, Roman closed the dough so that none of the filling could escape.

Finishing the first one, Roman turned to look at Harper sitting on the counter. “I’ve not seen you dance”, he said matter of factly, tilting his head in her direction. “I think you’re smart as shit to have a back up plan, just in case.” He rest his hand on Harper’s leg, “So, if you think it’s stupid, then what’s to come after graduation?”

Roman moved to add the filling to the second empanada, following the same order as the previous one. His stomach growled again, louder this time and he laughed to himself. “Wanna help?”, he asked.

Harper smiled at his touch as she watched him fill the discs. "You need to do that. I'm quite good at it." At the mention of graduation though, she sobered up considerably. She hadn't really though about what was next. Hunter was expected to follow in their dad's footsteps but she knew he didn't want to do that. If he could push back, so could she, right? 

But she'd always done her rebelling in the shadows. She was daddy's little girl. She'd never had to confront her difference in opinion with her parents head on.  "I'm...I'm not sure. I know they have plans for me but I don't think I want to do it. I just...I just want to be Harper." 

She slid back down to the ground, and went over to him, peering over his shoulder as he filled the discs, and then wrapped her arms around his waist, leaning against his back. "Alright, alright, show me what to do, Gordon Ramsey."

Roman daydreamed for a second about sneaking into one of Harper’s rehearsals to watch her dance. With how flexible she was in the bed, he could only imagine what she was like on the stage. He made a mental note to add that to his calendar before he came back to. “I think ‘Just Harper’ is pretty great”, he said with a playful shrug. 

Chuckling as Harper wrapped her arms around his back, Roman lifted one arm so that she could move to his side. “Can’t do anything from back there, chef.”, he joked. He handed Harper a spoon and continued with his previous movements, explaining the steps as he did so. “Meat first on one half of the dough, then a sprinkle of cheese. Close it off and then use the back of the fork to close it completely”

Harper flushed a little, and elbowed him as she went around to his side. "Shut up, nerd. That's cheesy as hell." But she could admit to herself that his words made a warm feeling spread through her chest. Maybe Just Harper was good enough. 

She listened attentively as he explained how to fill the empanadas and then she tried to imitate what he was doing, spooning in some of the meat and then adding cheese, before closing it and forking it shut. 

She looked from his to hers. Hers was....kind of similar? She probably needed more practise with closing them. "Is that...passable, teach?"

The empanada that Harper showed to him looked somewhat flimsy and Roman knew it would fall apart in the oil. He didn't want to judge her work, but he was a perfectionist in the kitchen. He sidled up behind her, taking her hands in his own and reworked the edge of the dough flat with both of their hands. His heart was beating faster than it had ever been and he couldn't help but take a moment to ogle at Harper from the side. 

He took the fork and made small indentations on the empanada dough with the back tines. "Like that", he whispered into Harper's ear, lingering there for just a moment.

Harper flushed when Roman took her hands in his, but she allowed him to guide her though what the empanada was supposed to look like. She smiled a little as he helped her push down on the dough, and then admired his finished work, before spinning around so that she could lean up and kiss him, slow and sweet. 

"You're a man who takes charge in the kitchen, who would've thought?" she murmured against his mouth, before darting out from his arms and sliding back onto the counter, acting as if nothing had happened. "What's next, chef?"

Everything stopped the moment Harper slid into him and kissed him. Time slowed as did his movements and the kiss, although it only lasted a mere second, felt like it lasted a lifetime. Harper's lips were soft and smooth and she smelled like strawberries--her shampoo, he remembered. His mind supplied him a memory of the shower they shared together no more than a week ago. Oh, how the turns had tabled. Fuck 

As Harper pulled away from the kiss, scampering across the kitchen, Roman shook himself out of his daydream. A small smile played on his lips, the corner just turning up, and he laughed. "Two more and then we can fry 'em", he answered, moving back to the counter and taking the next disc to be prepared.

Harper nodded, unable to hide her smile at the look on Roman's face. Part of her wanted to kiss him again, but it was also nice just being here, watching him do what he was good at. "It's probably faster if you just finish them," she admitted, shaking her head a bit at her own incompetence. "I'm an excellent mixer though, so if you have anything you need me to stir, I am so good at that." 

All thoughts of everything going on outside of the kitchen, outside of her and Roman, were a distant memory for a brief moment. There was no murders, no darkness, no dead best friend, no secrets. Everything was just....this.

Roman made quick work of preparing the final two discs, quietly filling and closing them up. He turned on the burner on the stove, allowing the pan he had filled with oil earlier to heat up. Frying anything was always an ordeal and it was quite easy to get burnt, so he figured they should move across the kitchen . He walked far enough away so that he could still see the stove, but any excess oil wouldn't pop and burn him. "Unfortunately, there's no mixing with this one.  Maybe next time.", he added with a shrug. 

Hearing the oil start to crackle, Roman moved swiftly across the floor. "You should probably stay back for this", he warned. He added the empanadas two at a time into the oil, each of them cooking within 3 minutes. Every time one set was finished, he'd add the next until they had all 6 of them made and ready to eat. He turned off the stove and brought the plate over to Harper, "You ready?"

Harper couldn't help but grin at the idea of another cooking or baking session. She was already looking forward to it, as strange as it felt to admit, even to herself. "Alright. Maybe we can make soup. Or bake a cake. That's not hard, is it?" She scooted back a little farther as he prepped for the frying. It's like her body was waking up a bit from her haze of grief, and she'd only just realized she was kind of starving too. 

She inhaled deeply as Roman fried the empanadas, excited to eat them. "Uh yeah. They smell delicious," she said, reaching out carefully for one of the first one's he'd fried so that it wouldn't be as hot. She held it between her fingers and took a small, dainty bite, chewing and swallowing before sighing happily, her eyes fluttering shut. "This is so good. You're a wizard."

"I'm really not, but I appreciate the compliment", he quipped. The aroma of the empanadas--of his childhood,  were making his stomach growl with anticipation.  With the hot plate in hand, Roman moved quickly back towards the living room and set them down on the coffee table. He shook his hands to cool them down and took in a breath. "Can you grab some drinks from the fridge? Beer or water, whatever you want?" 

Roman took a seat on the couch, sinking into the couch cushions for a minute before taking a bite of one of the empanadas. He hummed at the taste, exactly how his mother made them and smiled. "I take it back, these are delicious. I think it was because of you" Roman winked and grabbed the remote in his hand, turning on the TV. "Got something in mind you want to watch?"

Harper nodded, opening the fridge and grabbing two beers. She wasn't normally fond of it, but she kind of wanted some alcohol in no matter how small of a quantity as she could get. She followed him into the living room and set the beers down on the table  before sliding onto the couch next to him, unsure how close she was allowed to get. She kind of craved some cuddling but they weren't dating, and she wasn't sure if that'd be weird.

"Oh shut up, I didn't even do anything. You are a wizard." She glanced at the TV and shook her head. "As long as it's not super gorey, I'm fine with whatever," she said shrugging and leaning back into the cushions. She reached over and took another empanada, taking another careful bite.

Roman sensed something off with Harper, but whether it was uneasiness or discomfort he wasn't sure.  He thought that up to this point in their evening he had done a pretty decent job at keeping her mind occupied off of everything that was happening in Riverdale. He studied her mannerisms for just a moment, she was close but not too close. Roman took another bite of his empanada and started to scroll through Netflix. 

"You don't have to sit all the way over there", he exaggerated, patting the little bit of empty space between them.  Finishing his first empanada, Roman kicked his feet up and popped the cap on his beer. He sorted through his Netflix watch list, trying to determine what he thought Harper would like. "I'm still like way behind on Stranger Things, if you wanted to watch that. Or well, I'm open to whatever"

Harper tried not to look too eager as she sidled over to him, pressing against his side, but she needed his warmth to ground her in the moment. She curled her legs under herself and leaned against his shoulder, going a bit red.  "I like Stranger Things. The kids are adorable. Especially Will. He's my favourite. I'm glad they've been giving him more screentime in season 2." 

She went quiet, focusing on her empanada and the comforting feeling of their bodies pressed together on the couch as he loaded up the show, curious to see what episode he was on. It was easy, in that moment, to forge,  however momentarily, that her best friend was dead and never coming back.

Roman lifted his arm, allowing for Harper to slink next to him and bury herself  in his side. He couldn't help but run his thumb across her arm as she got comfortable. As she spoke about the show, he took another swig of his beer, nodding in agreement but laughing slightly. "Ok, so don't hate me but I'm still on Season 1."  Setting his beer on the arm rest of the couch, Roman queued up the show. 

 He didn't have a lot of time normally to watch TV, so he fell behind quickly, failing to keep interests in shows once the hype had died down. But, having someone to watch it with him made him a little more eager. "Will's the one who's all wacked out, right? In the Upside Down or whatever."

The feeling of arms wrapped around her made her relax even more. She could easily see herself drifting off here. Despite everything going on, she felt safe with Roman, like nothing could hurt her. It was a scary feeling but an exhilarating one all the same. "That's okay. Even though I love that we get more of Will in the second season, the first one is objectively better. Even if season 2 also sort of explores the will they/won't they of Nancy and Jonathan a lot more." 

 She watched him queue up the episode. She couldn't quite remember what happened in that one, but she was sure it would all come back to her as soon as it started playing. "Yeah, he's the one who disappeared. They're trying to get him back using El."

Roman snickered to himself, relishing in the irony of Harper's comment. In what he had watched so far, he hadn't seen any sort of relationship build between Nancy and Jonathan, but it seemed that the tension was going to build. Much like himself and Harper, they seemed to be potentially burgeoning on the would they/wouldn't they territory. Although, Roman hoped that it wouldn't get that far. It had been years since he had actually been in a relationship and he quickly found that it just wasn't for him. He preferred the casual, laid back, hook up. Harper wasn't that. 

"I'm not going to lie...I've not seen this in months. So, I barely remember what's happening or who these people even are. " Roman shrugged, pulling harper close. Yeah, she defintely wasn't that, he thought. What am I going to do?

"You'll fall back into it. I can fill you in on any blanks," she offered, as the song's familiar opening theme started to play. "Yeah, she's pretty fixated on Steve in the first season but things don't go great for them in season two." She bit her lip, feeling a bit embarrassed, but they were already blurring so many lines, she didn't think it'd hurt to ask. "Would you....would you okay with running your fingers through my hair? It...it helps me calm down." 

 She could feel her face burning at the request, but she just wanted to sink into him and focus on the show playing in front of them and forget about everything else. "Thanks for all this. It's...it's nice to pretend the world isn't on fire sometimes."

Roman playfully knocked into her side, biting his lower lip, "Hey, no spoilers" . In truth, he didn't really care about the show, much more content to just laze on the couch a beer in one hand. As the opening theme wrapped up, Roman looked to his side at Harper, her face flush with embarrassment and her eyes on his. "Yeah, of course.", he agreed, "That was kind of the whole point of this, huh" 

Roman repositioned himself slighty, allowing Harper to do the same so that he could entangle his fingers in her hair.  He slowly ran his fingers down the length of her dark hair, content to be able to do this for her, given what she had been going through. He hoped that he could just make her world melt away.

Harper settled into his side, content to just feel his fingers in her hair and watch the show. She felt safe, and like her troubles weren't going to bother her as long as she was here. She could see herself falling asleep just curled up against Roman, and she found that she didn't really mind.

[curious-minx]

Lost Treasures

Short story based around the recently shut down Fletcher, NC thrift store called Lost Treasures. 

Memorabilia store owner Trent Darcy is heaving himself ontop of his store’s rooftop all while carrying his plastic tortoise shell strapped to his back. Upon reaching the roof Trent begins lolling towards his store sign Lost Treasures snuggling up inside of the Old English script letter O, which for a man of Trent’s capacity proved a valiant challenge. Down below, a clearly plagiarized mascot from the Nintendo corporation appears  stenciled across the store’s feeble shopping display. This spritely maintenance man with a goatee and Medterrenan swarthiness  is  waving out while holding a large gold Button behind his back like a smoking gun. His eyes crossed out and replaced with large crude Xs. The city of Hendo pleaded with the memorabilia store owner that his store could be left empty wearing a graceful expanding sticker declaring Foreclosure, For Sale! A man wearing a typical outfit most associated with the death of the working class American’s ambitions, a full khaki suit and denim jacket,  is shouting through his cupped hands heavenwards,  his man is a walking ambonation declares Trent with all of his might, which considering the strains of his orthopedic shell his declarations are only audible to Trent’s own inner ear. Trent begins pacing.

“Mr. Trent Darcy, I beg of you to please come down! I am here on the behalf of te town of Hendo to let you know that you are well within your rights to resist this demolition.  A full on demolition crew is pricey business. I get that. Once they start demolishing your former building they are then likely to spread their bulldozing onwards and outwards  towards just anywhere. They are insatiable and unreasonable degenerates, but at least they’re not the government.. Put that samurai sword down Trent. You’re making me nervous!” as soon as  the khaki denim man mentions his nerves, Marfa Poonce wirls her rifle around and  fires off several rounds, all shots missing around Trent.

Officer Poonce wipes her gun down with an offensive cloth and keeps staring down up at Trent as she says as loudly as anyone would call across a cubicle,“I’m gonna go get me some okra fried donuts do you want anything?” Trent hears each word crystal clear.

“No Marfa! Get the fuck out of here you dirty rotten cop!” spittles the demolition Crew representative, a sinewy and scarred body wearing black out goggles with a tube running from his nose to a device inside his pocket. The rest of his clothes are the same color as his flesh, a gray and chalky. He sizes up the billowing armored cop wielding fetid destruction in all of her puffy and padded horror. Marfa Poonce turns her body camera off and scratches at her badge. She  evaporates into a bile and donut soaked pit of charred organs, billowing around the shopping center, the sound of one thunderhead clapping.

“You understand that I won’t back down. I’m putting the sword away it’s way too sentimental of a sword to be used against a  nobody like you. Now me, my enfeebled struggling botanist wife, and our clefted son are going to be gathered right here. Not inside this lettering but somewhere else nice inside the store, and then you’re going to demolish my store and only then” Trent waddles down from the rooftop and pokes inside the emptied out Lost Treasures, a lone copy of a VHS of that one movie that emotionally scarred you in your childhood that is different for everybody remains in a dust covered box. The demolition representative follows Trent inside, clicking on his head lamp calculating every movement to avoid accumulation of as much of the stench of failed capitalism as possible. The demolition representative  had to go home to his partner who said they could smell him before he’s even thinking about turning into the driveway. He will have to sleep in the underground isolation chamber and constantly hose himself off for hours, steam, rinse, eco-bleach, and then maybe even inject hair dye.

“This is ridiculous. Me and the wrecking crew can’t come swinging blaze a glory while you and your whole brood sit and munching on pocky sticks.”

“Then you’ll construct us an opera  box or some sort of observation deck  in which me and my brood can sit and watch the demolition safely and out of harms way. This is not a negotiation.” Trent begins the slow and careful descent into his car, shaped and designed after an electrical rodent that he always admired since birth but refused to say the name of the creature. The name held too much weight in Trent’s mouth.

“The demolition team build a structure?” The demolition expert is banging on the roof of Trent’s Pickachu car. The Pickachu car alarm begins off which is a recreation of the actual soundbite  of the electrical rat being hit with a rock type attack. Trent heaves himself out of the car, holding back the tears being produced from the shredding and the shocking of his muscles. The demolition representative immediately backs off of the vehicle and leans up against the storefront glass he turns around and then shouts, “Hey isn’t that a copy of Gremlins 3: Rude Awakenings? Christ alive that movie scared the shit out of me! My ma and pa got into so many fights over trying to remember who was the one to blame for exposing me to this curious nightmare. Looks like it's in pretty good condition. Can-can-I have it?” The demolition representative before spitting out the request was already tucking it away in his rubber flesh colored suit.

“Do we have a deal?” Trent scowls and turns his tough guy Doosan Bears baseball cap around and lets the folds of his face meld into one sour pucker.

“Sure sure sure, now get out of here! I will personally see to making sure that You’ll have your safety box,but I can’t say for sure it will be able to fit you and what is sure to be your beastly family. That said the Demolition Experts of Hendo are bonded to their word.” The demolition representative pushes Trent out of the store and locks him out. Trent stumbles backwards and catches himself  his flip flops sticking to the pavement releasing a squelching hiss with every heavy step taken back into his Pickachu car and then drives across the street to an opposite parking lot for a different shopping center and gets into his  actual vehicle of choice the Nerd Van. All of the action figures from franchises big and small,  bobble heads, hula hoopers, and even one Black Buddha all precariously cluttered in salute on his dashboard were shaking with anticipation for his return. Trent tried his best to ignore his icon gang whose only crime was thinking the world of him.

Trent drives the eight miles back to his unspectacular open faced neighborhood comprised with rambling shacks, mcmansions, anonymous trailer parlors and Trent’s squat one story home. The yard, much to the annoyance of his neighbors, was utterly barren rough silty clay and sand except for one proud purple cactus that towered above the Trent residence sharing a blooming bushel’s worth of shade.

Inside the house was devoid of Trent’s wife Delia and son Agnus “The Flex” were nowhere to be seen. Trent flings his shoes off his feet without bending down and collapses into his easy chair. Before allowing himself the grace of a hard earned slumber he made sure to program an alarm on his phone in the morning. He knew he wouldn’t need the alarm because Delia would wake him up anway tending to her screaming mottled plants in the master bathroom she turned into a greenhouse. Agnus would be sizzling up some kind of different egg, he made sure to have a different type of egg for every day of the week, Trent kept getting mysterious charges for parrot eggs and want to bruise Agnus’ ego black and rude, but he always managed to dodge Trent’s questioning. Sometimes he would just stuff money in Flint’s cup of chalky morning Jose.

Trent woke up to his phone’s alarm feebly wheezing as if the phone was mocking Trent’s condition. Trent plugs the phone in and blearily searches the house  for Delia and Agnus who remain elusive. They probably beat him there. Knowing how much they wanted to see all of his hopes and dreams get flattened out was the kind of bonding time each was hoping was going to fix all of their internal familial strife. How much longer was Agnus planning on sticking around? Will his mid life crisis be moving out of his parents house? Trent hoped not  and then he found himself openly weeping, calling out for Agnus and Delia resigning to their absent responses and getting himself dressed and ready for the big day. A triple XL tuxedo print t shirt and respectable camouflage khaki trousers with a lot of zippers and pockets, all mostly functioning. He puts on a pair of black dress socks and slips them into his black flip flops and goes outside and sighs at the sight of the Nerd Van missing. He reaches into his apps and summons up a ride share. The ride should only cost $5.99 plus a tip depending on the smell of the car. Trent was willing to pay any price for demolition day.

A ragtag ragoo racer pulls up the driver, a gaunt Mexican woman that looks like a stren vampiric  boarding school teacher in a telenovela with a touch of calibrated goth. Her pouting lips said “hop in and let’s ride,” but her smoky eyes said, “but you’ll not leave the same person.” Fine by Trent who sloshed himself into the back of her sleek and shiny new car that smelled like a Tuscan Leather gimp’s kiss. Trent begins calculating an exorbitant tip.

“You know you can ride in front if you like. Especially if you’re all beat up.” the driver says in a clear and distant voice, a gossamer transmission. How could someone with such striking features, whose expressive face takes up your eyeballs’ entire attention, could have such a feeble and creaky voice/ Trent remains silent and tries to stare out the window covered in pyramid stickers. She manages to get Trent to Lost Treasure in five less minutes than it takes Trent to drive. He wishes he could just get one good glimpse outside to figure out what her route looked like. Four stars, and he tips her five dollars. The powder iceberg blue bullet of a car peels out of the shopping center and drives up into the opposing side of traffic, thankfully there are no oncoming cars and disappears from view.

“Watchu you looking at Trent?” asks Agnus who is wearing a domed helmet and heavy goggles that make his eyes look depthless.

“I think the lady who drove me here may be some kind of famous person. I missed you this morning, and last night too. Where were you and mama bear?” Trent says as he begins the ascent up into the observatory box suspended from a crane. Trent and Agnus squeeze inside the box gasping with air with Delia. Agnus is desperately trying to avoid touching either of his parents by closing his eyes and shaking back and forth.

Lost Treasures is torn down, each pillar and column displaced into rubble, the ceiling scrapped and dismantled, glass raining down in sheets, the whole enterprise is now a dust cloud and debris. The demolition crew makes sure to go about the whole process as solemnly as possible. Turns out having spectators made the whole crew uneasy and where they normally would have triumphed and gone ahead and committed acts of inevitable far reaching destruction on other doomed businesses. The exposed wall of the connecting empty for sale building was covered up with a thick fresh wall of concrete and the demolition crew slinked away without even destroying the observation box. Trent tries calling out  “You’re forgetting  the platinum rule of demolition: Make some smash em’ up fun!”  the demolition representative shrugs and silently responds that they would come back for it some other time. With no one to operate the crane Flint, Agnus and Delia were left stranded and suspended, or they would have been if not for Delia being wise enough to bring along her pocket ivy tucked in her bra. Delia produces thick and stable roping strands of ivy that provide the trapped family with a means of returning to soil.

[kootenaygoon]

So,

No matter how idyllic life was during the summer of 2014, there were plenty of people struggling to survive in Nelson. 

The lumber mill had shuttered in the 80s, around three decades before my arrival, but no reliable industry had even risen up to replace it. Though the black market cannabis industry kept certain parts of the population afloat, others were forced to innovate, move away or slip into poverty. The people who remained were talking more and more about the “affordable housing crisis”, funnelling their money towards a local charity called Nelson CARES and calling for action at the city council level. People were working two or three jobs just to make rent. 

Outside of town was the trailer park, tucked back into the trees, where the marginalized had been living for over a century according to one of the articles I read by Greg. And down even further on the social ladder were the people living in a tent encampment outside the city limits, a few dozen of them, many of them with seasonal jobs at local hotels or restaurants. The small patch of forest had collected a tribe of transients, maybe a dozen tents, and more trash and human waste than could be easily dealt with. Every year Dooley oversaw the mass eviction of its residents, and when it happened that summer Calvin sent me down to Our Daily Bread soup kitchen to see if I could interview some of the people who’d lost their makeshift homes.

After introducing myself to the pastor running the operation, Jim Reimer, he pointed out some of the people I was looking for. I ended up sitting on the sidewalk outside with a 29-year-old dude named Adam Hutchison. He was wearing a green John Deere baseball cap, board shorts and a Metal Mulisha tank top featuring an ominous-looking silhouetted skull on the left breast. He kept his beard closely trimmed, his septum was pierced and he spent most of our conversation hiding behind a cheap-looking pair of baby blue sunglasses.

“I don’t really look like a homeless person, right?” he said, with an uncomfortable laugh. 

Adam leaned heavily against the brick wall, looking semi-conscious. His dog Duke was contentedly sleeping beside an overloaded backpack, complete with a battered-looking Nalgene hanging from a clip and a soiled sleeping bag rolled up in the top.

“I slept beside the highway last night,” he told me, knuckling his tired eyes. “I was afraid to put my tent up because I didn’t want them to take it.”

I spent five minutes talking to Adam, listening to the story of his eviction, and then took his picture. He asked me if I could send him a copy, so I told him how to find my new Facebook account. Afterwards, as I was looking through the images, I asked him about Duke.

“Aw, Duke’s fine. He’s a big guy, he loves it. He chases deer, bear,” Adam said, scratching at Duke’s neck scruff. 

“I don’t have kids, so it’s kind of like he’s my kid, you know?”

I knew exactly what he was talking about, because that was how I felt about Muppet and Buster. We were both reasonably healthy blond Canadian dudes, the same age, but I had a house and he didn’t. He’d left a lucrative job somewhere in Alberta when his girlfriend “kidnapped” Duke and took him to Vancouver Island. When he pleaded with his boss for a few days off to retrieve his canine progeny, he was given two options: quit or give up on the dog. He chose the former. By the time he met me, Adam had been living in the Kootenays for four months, trying to scrabble together enough money by picking cherries in Osoyoos and washing dishes in Nelson. As I turned to head home for lunch, where I knew Paisley was waiting with a meal prepared, it occurred to me that it was within my power to help him. This guy was standing right in front of me, within arm’s reach, and it wouldn’t take much to shove a hand in my pocket and produce a fistful of change. I felt that instinctual, gut-level kick of guilt that makes you feel like you just chugged Pepsi on an empty stomach. But I successfully ignored it. My mind instinctively compiled a lengthy list of reasons/excuses why I didn’t need to care about Adam’s problems.

“Good luck with everything,” I said. Then I left.

The interaction bothered me, though, the same way seeing homelessness up close has always bothered me. When I was a kid, I was always trying to convince my Mom to give money to panhandlers. In high school I created an imaginary dream home in which I offered shelter to the entire homeless population of the Downtown Eastside of Vancouver. I grew up Christian, and spent some time working with the homeless through our church youth group. Though I’d lost my faith by the time I got to Nelson, I hadn’t lost my empathy — and it was telling me I should’ve, could’ve done more. Eventually I decided that the first step would be to write a column, the type of thing that would make people consider the homelessness situation in a new light, and I called my little jeremiad “Looking for an excuse not to care”.

“I’ve interviewed approximately 15 homeless or nearly homeless Nelson residents over the course of the last month, and without fail all of them have made decisions that have contributed to their circumstances,” I wrote.

“They’ve made bad decisions, irresponsible decisions and unfathomable decisions. One woman bankrupted herself with credit card debt. One man I chatted with spends his time collecting returnables to feed a heavy cigarette addiction. Others can’t maintain employment due to substance abuse. Mental illness is readily apparent everywhere. But does that mean we’re allowed to not care? Does that give us an excuse to check out, morality-wise?”

This was a question I was beginning to ask myself in reference to a number of different stories I was covering for the Star, whether I was writing about a horrifying golf course plane crash or the mental health crisis — how much was I supposed to engage? How deeply was I supposed to feel other people’s pain? And if I could somehow translate that pain into readable journalism, what would that accomplish? Whether I wrote about Adam or not, the dude was going to be homeless. And even if I skillfully captured the realities of homelessness, it didn’t mean anything was going to change. For years I’d idolized this profession, after two life-changing summer stints at the Whitehorse Star, but now I was pondering the futile aspects of the whole enterprise. Could storytelling really change people’s minds, I wondered? Could the articles being produced at this small-town paper make a real difference? Or was I just taking myself way too seriously? With my slippers up on the railing of my porch, I took deep tokes from my pipe and watched the pot smoke curl into the leaves hanging overhead. Before I lost my Christian faith as a teenager I’d wanted to be a youth pastor, to spend my life proselytizing, and there was a similar self-righteous bent to the whole journalism thing. Paisley laughed as I monologued, and took the pipe when I passed it.

“Somewhere deep down you’re still that little Christian kid,” she said. “You’ve got the worst saviour complex I’ve ever seen.”

The Kootenay Goon