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everythingpresley · 1 year

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Don't You Kiss Me Once or Twice - Chapter 21

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Prompt: Jessica Anderson is Elvis Presley's assistant and after months of working together, slowly something sparks between them. Friendship? Or is it more? [ Fem!Reader ]

Rating: Explicit/Mature (NSFW, 18+), Slowburn

|| Word Count: 5,251

Masterlist

Don't You Kiss Me Once or Twice - Chapter 21

Two months later

I pour some coffee into my work mug as I stood in the little break room of our office. I had my hair in a little half up half down style dressed in my pencil skirt, blouse and blazer. Two months ago it felt odd to go back to wearing corporate clothes, it seemed slightly foreign after two years of not wearing them. I had some of my old ones but chose to buy new suits for my new job. I thankfully got the job and didn’t have to move back in with my parents. I had to cut down on some of the things since I blew my money on the apartment lease and furniture. My apartment was fine and it wasn’t in the best neighborhood but it was good enough. I had a pretty good kitchen and in house washer and dryer, it was a compromise I was willing to take. Also, it was a fifteen minute walk to work. So… good enough. Actually it wasn’t just good enough, it was great!

Did I miss Graceland? Yes. Did I miss going out for a walk around the huge acres of land? Of course. I really missed the horses too.

My parents and siblings were very happy to see me put my bachelor’s degree back in use that they all pitched in and bought me a TV. I was sick and tired of having only books and magazines as my source for entertainment that when it was finally delivered to my apartment I ordered McDonalds. I chose to go for the McChicken rather than the cheeseburger, I wasn’t ready to have that just yet. I turned on the TV and just watched movies all night while stuffing my mouth with fries.

I was thankful that I always kept a little of my money on the side as savings. Working for the man who shall not be named had it’s perks since I barely spent a dime living under his roof. The money that wasn’t going into my savings account went to Ella’s school. However, after signing the lease and getting cheap second hand furniture except for the mattress of course I had barely anything left in my bank account. Thankfully the first month of work flew by and I got my first paycheck. I made some friends at work but I couldn't bring myself to go out sometimes.

The first two months in New York were filled with excitement of getting the job I’ve always dreamed off and tears because of a certain someone.

After two months I realized this is what I worked for my entire life and now that I was here it wasn’t what I was expecting. Especially after making my mind up and choosing to be with him. To stay with him. I realized he was my dream. But now that was shattered. I still wanted him even after the words he threw at me. He killed my soul. I don’t think I’ll be okay for a long time. It will take some time to get over him. Elvis.

Just thinking of his name instantly brought tears to my eyes in the break room. Fuck him. I blinked back the tears and walked back to my desk. I clicked on my keyboard, springing the computer back to life and typed in my password.

I still talked to Grace, Janice and Jerry a lot. Those three were a constant in my life. I cried to Grace a lot the first night I got here. She was mad, I could tell from the tone of her voice but she let me vent, she let me speak the entire time. I was sobbing hysterically into the phone and she stayed with me for hours on the phone.

The next time we talked, when I had actually calmed down, she told me what she thought. She cussed him out and did not believe a single word he told me. I made it a point to not ask about him even though my heart pounded in my chest whenever we were about to end a call, I wanted to ask about him. I wanted to ask how he was doing. But why do I care so much? He only broke my heart and destroyed me. He left me in pieces. The last two months have been so painful, I hated him. But I still love him.

I didn’t want to think about the possibility of him having a new girl now or a new assistant. He probably had no care in the world and was sleeping with a different girl each night since I left. Do I even cross his mind? After everything we’ve gone through together I sure hope so. He crosses my mind every second. I have to fight my brain to not think about him. Instead I try thinking about garbage, beer, medium rare steaks, soft boiled eggs, all of the things he hates but I end up thinking about him anyway.

“Hi Jess.” Ben, my coworker said as he leaned against my desk. He was handsome, blue eyes but more ice-y than Elvis’ and sandy blond hair.

“Hey Ben.” I smiled back.

“A bunch of us are going to the bar a few blocks from here after work. Will you join us?” He asked.

I gulped, this would take time from my going home to my apartment, turning on a romcom and sobbing hysterically at the cute little moments. Do I want to sit at home and cry the night away or drink and make friends with my new coworkers?

“Sure!” I smiled brightly “Would love to join.”

“Great, see you at 5.” He winked and left to go back to his desk.

Grace was really trying to push me to go out and get back into the dating scene. I couldn’t. Not for a very long time.

Our first conversation after I cried my eyes out went like this:

“Screw that asshole! I’m gonna give him a piece of my mind! I’m gonna punch his stupid face in! God!” She yelled over the phone.

“Relax Grace, he’s your husband’s friend and boss. You can’t do anything.” I reminded her.

“Yeah I know! That’s why I’ve been avoiding going to Graceland or else I’ll do something really bad!” She growled.

She refused for a while to go to Graceland but I told her it was fine. She should go and bond with the other wives and have fun. When she started going to Graceland again, it made me want to ask about Elvis even more especially since she wasn’t talking about him at all.

She never told me if she did end up giving him a piece of her mind. When it came to Grace I knew she probably said something because she can’t keep her mouth shut even if she tried. Bless her. I love Grace.

I was thriving in my new job I loved it but I realized it wasn’t my dream anymore. But it’s okay, I’m still young and dreams can change. I hated that I allowed my mind to wander to Elvis. Him being my husband, the father of my kids, us growing old together. I realized during the four months we were together my dreams had shifted to that. It made the hole in my heart feel even bigger than it already was. I can’t believe my dream had shifted from being a career driven woman to a wife, a mother. I wanted that. But only with him. Never with any other guy. My career always came first.

I looked out of our floor to celling windows, looking out at the city. This city. I love New York, I love being in the city. This view was everything. Every romcom was filmed in this city, it made me fall in love with New York even more.

Still even after two months, whenever I was alone I would retrace everything that happened that night. What led Elvis to say those words, to end things. I never expected it. Was my head so up in the clouds that my brain refused to realize that Elvis wasn’t on the same level as me?

Love clouded my judgment.

At 5 PM sharp Ben walked over to the elevators with his work bag slung over his shoulder. He turned and made eye contact with me before smiling and nodding his head towards the elevator. I nodded and packed my things before following him into the elevator.

We met up with the rest down stairs. Haley from legal, Sara, another consultant (one of us) and Nate also from legal. I hadn’t met Haley nor Nate before so I was excited to be making more friends in the city. It was kind of lonely in the beginning. They seemed nice. Usually people from legal were boring but these two were very funny and sweet.

We went for some drinks, my drink of choice of course being a virgin Pina Colada. Everything reminds me of him. However, I didn’t let that put a damper on my mood. I got to know everyone a little better and I actually had fun. They didn’t know about my pervious relationship, my heartbreak and they didn't have to. I got to pretend to be the old Jess. The one before Elvis.

“So..” Haley wiggled her brows at me as we all sat around the booth in this fairly empty bar. It was a weekday at 6PM so of course the bar was filled with corporate people “Any boyfriends? Or girlfriends?” She looked at me.

My heart clenched in my chest but I smiled regardless “Nope. No boyfriends or girlfriends and not anytime soon anyway.”

“Ohhh fresh off the boat?” Sara asked.

“You could say that.” I chuckled “I’m in a new place, a new job, meeting new people. I need to enjoy this time of my life without being in a relationship… or a situation-ship.”

They all chuckled, getting my drift. I didn't want to talk about it.

“Hey I’ll cheers to that!” Nate cheered “I just got out of a 5 year relationship, she cheated on me!”

We all cheered but when we heard the last sentence we all went “Oh.” mid cheers, our drinks in the air.

“No, it’s okay! I’m totally fine.” Nate said trying to give us a bright smile.

“I’m sorry Nate.” I said and squeezed his shoulder.

“Thank you.” He gave me a small smile.

Cheating really grinds my gears. I don’t understand it and I never will. Why destroy a person you claim to love? Why keep them on the back burner when you’re out messing with someone else. Just end the relationship or work on it if you’re feeling distant.

I know Elvis was the cheating type so I had my restrictions at the beginning when it came to him. But he showed me time and time again that he only wanted me. Only for that to explode in my face a few months later. He truly made me believe every word he whispered in my ear late at night. All those little kisses and cuddles. The way his eyes would shine brightly when he’d look down at me with such adoration and earnest. He didn’t cheat on me but he made me feel like I was nothing.

I wanted to give Nate a hug but I don’t really know the guy and he’s a colleague so that would be weird and awkward. He seemed like a genuinely nice guy. I wanted to hug him because I wish someone was there to hug me when everything unraveled with Elvis. I didn’t have anyone in New York to cry on, yes I cried to Grace on the phone but I wanted (needed actually) someone to just hold me while I cried. And I hoped Nate had someone to cry on.

I invited them over on Saturday because I really liked them, they seemed like genuinely nice people.

“Just an FYI my apartment is tiny.” I informed them. I had a small open living room / kitchen area and a small bedroom and bathroom.

“It’s okay, we all live in shoebox apartments.” Sara waved me off.

“It’s New York! People who don’t live in shoebox apartments either have rich parents or are old rich people.” Ben joked.

I got back to my apartment just in time to hear my landline ringing.

“Hello.” I answered.

“Hey! You sound happy!” Grace said cheerfully.

“I am. I made some new friends at work and they’re really nice!” I grinned, leaning against the kitchen counter since my landline was on the kitchen counter.

“That’s great Jess.” She said softly. I could imagine her with little smile on her face “Are you feeling like you’ll stay there for a while?”

“Um.” I sighed “I don’t know. Maybe this wasn’t meant to be but hey I’m trying it out.”

“After getting to know you for the past two years I don’t see you as a city girl.” She chuckled.

“Yeah I also realized this. I’d rather live in the country side and every once in a while come to visit the city because at the same time I love New York.”

“Sorry to say but you’re one of us now!” Grace giggled.

After a beat, I asked the dreaded question. I didn’t know anything about him for the past 2 months.

“How is he?” I asked, my voice barely above whisper. Like it was a forbidden question to be asked.

“Honestly?” She asked.

“Yes. Don’t give me a bullshit answer how he misses me or whatever the hell.”

“Jess.” She sighed “He does miss you.”

“Grace.” I shook my head, looking out at my living room “Please. If he’s happy and he’s seeing some new girl, just tell me.”

“I swear Jess. I-I don’t know how to explain it but I think he’s miserable.”

I gulped, tears springing to my eyes. I didn’t believe her. I wish it was true. I wish he’s crying regretting ever letting me go. Crying because he misses me just as much as I miss him. Crying like I cried the past two months, in absolute misery.

Am I a bad person to want him to feel just as miserable as I do?

“He’s sad and very quiet.”

“He was sad before I left. I don’t think that has anything to do with me.” I reminded her.

“No Jess. Even when I went off at him a few weeks ago he just… let me. He didn’t say anything and when Jerry tried to stop me, Elvis told him not to. I actually felt slightly terrible for saying the things I said to him.” Grace continued.

I shook my head, looking up at the ceiling and blinking back my tears.

“I-I don’t know.” I sighed “I shouldn't have asked about him.”

“Are you happy?” She asked me after a bit.

“Happy?” I chuckled, with no humor whatsoever “What’s happy?”

“Jess.” She said sadly.

“I’m okay Grace. Happy is too big of a word right now. Yes, I do have happy moments and I’m living for those right now. Overall? I don’t know.”

“You deserve to be happy, Jess.”

I smiled and nodded “Thank you. And I will be.”

“I have to tell you something also.” Grace said.

“What?” I asked, panic bubbling in my stomach.

“No, it’s good!” She laughed “I’m pregnant!”

“No way!” I yelled and jumped up “Grace! Oh my god! I’m so happy for you!” I was now crying happy tears, knowing that they’ve been trying to get pregnant for a while.

“Thank you. Don’t cry!” She scolded but I could tell she was also crying with me.

“Okay, now I’m actually happy.” I chuckled “Oh Grace, please tell Jerry I say congratulations and that I’m gonna be the best Aunt to that little munchkin.”

“Will do.” She chuckled “Happy moment?”

“Very happy moment, Grace.” I was grinning from ear to ear.

I was so excited to be hosting people to my tiny apartment. I went shopping for snacks and drinks. I got a bottle of wine, chips, chocolate, cheese, crackers and meat for a cheeseboard and then we could order pizza for dinner.

Early Saturday morning was filled with me bouncing around my apartment, clearing the kitchen from the different papers from work, books thrown haphazardly over my coffee table.

I’d been so busy the entire day, cleaning and genuinely excited to be seeing them even though I saw them yesterday at work. I was so busy that Elvis only crossed my mind once. Only when I passed the drinks isle and saw Pepsi bottles.

The conversation I had with Grace on Thursday still lingered in my mind though. Elvis being sad. I didn’t believe it but I know Grace and she wouldn’t lie to me just to tell me something I would like to hear. I felt so selfish to want him to hurt like I hurt. I wanted to be the more mature, bigger person who wishes the person they love is happy. Of course I want him to be happy. I will always care about him but he hurt me so bad, I wanted him to feel even 20% of what I felt when he broke my heart in pieces.

Why would he be sad though? He ended it. He told me I was convenient and pathetic for wanting someone who didn't want me.

I got dressed into some jeans, a white button down long sleeve, tucking it into my jeans and put a white headband on my dark hair.

Slowly everyone trickled in, the girls showing up first and the guys later. They brought beer and more chips with them. Sara brought cookies. I was liking them more already. Food is really the way to my heart.

We sat around the talked, getting to know each other more.

“Am I getting old or what, because I prefer this over going to a bar.” I joked “Except if its a honky tonk.” I said without thinking, instantly causing my smile to falter. It reminded me of Elvis. Damn this man.

“You like honky tonks?” Ben laughed.

“Love em!” I chuckled, trying not to put a damper on the mood.

“Was it something you used to do with the ex?” Haley asked.

“Why do you ask?” I chuckled awkwardly.

“You got that look on your face.” Sara added.

“Yeah, it was something we used to do together. It was so much fun.” I said.

“But yeah! I totally agree! We’re definitely getting old and loud places are just not as fun.” Haley replied.

As the night went on, we decided to order pizza and watch a movie. I heard a knock on the door and I quickly jumped up from the couch, I was filling up on snacks so I couldn’t wait for the pizza to get here, chips and chocolate was making me sick and I couldn’t control myself. Although greasy pizza is bound to make me feel even more sick.

They continued talking as I dashed into my bedroom to get cash and then went over to the door. I don’t swing the door fully open just in case. I did live in a sketchy neighborhood and I always made some scenarios up in my mind of people dressing up as delivery guys before bursting into your house and murdering you. I kept the deadbolt on and pulled the door open.

“Hi.” I smiled and then quickly shut the door. I placed a hand on my chest, my eyes wide. I felt like I was about to puke. I reached for the deadbolt and removed it quickly before opening the door and walking out into the hallway, shutting the door behind me.

“Elvis?” I asked quietly. My heart beating out of my chest.

Was I dreaming? What the heck is Elvis Presley doing standing in the hallway of my apartment complex. Here he was, looking like a dream as usual. Screw him for being the most beautiful man on the planet. His dark hair was pushed back, he seemed paler than usual but he stood tall. He was dressed in black pants and dark green button down. My eyes were wide in confusion.

His eyes were glassy “Hi.” He whispered. The corners of his mouth turning down slightly, his lower lip trembled slightly. It’s as if just seeing me brought instant tears to his eyes.

“What-” I let out an audible breath “What are you doing here?”

“I missed you.” He whispered, taking a step forward.

I scoffed and took a step back “No. You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to show up here two months later claiming you miss me. Cut the crap, Elvis.”

“But I did. I do miss you.” He gulped.

I scoffed again, shaking my head, looking down the hall to make sure no one was just standing around watching us.

“Jess!” I heard Ben’s voice shout from inside the apartment “Are you okay? What’s taking so long?”

Shit. I quickly opened the door and peaked my head in “I’m fine, it’s not the pizza. Give me a second.”

Ben gave me a thumbs up before I shut the door again and faced Elvis who now had a panicked look on his face, his eyes wide and his jaw slack.

“Who-who was that?” He asked, his face morphing into something of heartbreak.

“No one.” I said with a clenched jaw.

“A-Are you seeing someone?” He whispered.

“None of your business.” I was getting really pissed off because who the heck does he think he is, showing up here and being upset that I could possibly be with someone else after he dumped me.

“Oh my god.” He whispered, a placed a hand over his chest, his eyes getting even wider. He gulped and pulled on his collar as if it was suffocating him. He took a loud breath, turning away from me and leaning his head against the wall “I can’t breathe.” He choked out.

Shit. I reached for his shoulder and pulled him to face me “What’s happening right now?” I asked, I cupped his cheek and looked into his eyes.

“I can’t-“ He was trying to take deep breaths but was failing. And I started to panic.

“Come on, let’s get you outside.” I said and quickly pulled him down the hallway and down the stairs, out onto the street.

“Hey.” I cupped his cheeks with both of my hands. He placed his hands above mine “Breathe please. Follow my lead. In.” I took a deep breath, Elvis copying me “Out.” And we did that several times before he visibly relaxed.

“Are you okay?” I asked, rubbing my thumb over his cheek. I missed him so much. I missed holding him like this.

“No.” He said quietly. His eyes looking directly into mine.

“I’m not seeing him. I’m not seeing anyone.” I told him. He leaned his forehead against mine and I let him for a second. I closed my eyes, I missed this closeness with him and only him.

I let myself get lost in his touch before I remembered the words he had thrown at me two months ago, it doused me like ice cold water. I sighed and pulled away from him. He eyes snapped open and once again he gave me those puppy dog eyes when he was looking for forgiveness.

“Why is he in your apartment?” He asked.

“You have no right to ask me that.” I reminded him before walking up the steps that lead to the small lobby of the apartment complex “And it’s not just him, it’s a group of colleagues. Girls are there too.”

“Jess. Please don’t go.” Elvis said and grabbed my hand.

I turned towards him and shook my head “You need to go Elvis. You’ve hurt me enough. Please leave me alone.” I whispered.

“I’m so sorry.” He whispered, his eyes getting glassy once again.

I pulled my hand out his grasp and continued walking before I turned around to face him “How did you know where I live?”

“I can’t say.” He gulped, avoiding my eyes.

Was it Grace or Jerry? They’re the only people in Elvis’ circle who knew where I lived. Grace wouldn’t say anything though, would she?

“Wait! You forgot these at the house.” He said and pulled an envelope from his back pocket.

“What’s that?” I asked, confused. I checked every drawer and nook and cranny a million times before I left, there's no way I forgot something.

“You left our photos in the drawer and I also got the pictures from Hawaii developed.” He said.

I clenched my jaw, narrowing my eyes at him “I left them on purpose. I don’t want them.”

“Why?” He whispered “Do you want to forget we ever happened?” His voice wavering as he spoke.

“Yes, Elvis. I want to forget we ever happened.” I gulped, tears springing to my eyes. I wanted to forget that we ever happened because the pain of it all was too strong.

His face was so hurt, as if I was the one that ended it. As if I was breaking his heart right now “Jess.” He said, his lower lip trembling, his eyes mimicked mine and filled with tears and sorrow.

”In fact I want to erase the past two years out of my memory.” I said, my voice cracking slightly “And you don’t get to come here like an injured little puppy, like I was the one that hurt you.”

It pissed me off that he would show up here and act like he didn’t break me, giving me those eyes when he knows he fucked up and is looking for forgiveness. I don't think I can ever forgive the words he said. Those words ran through my mind all the time.

Pathetic. Convenient. Desperate.

They haunted me before falling asleep and they haunted me in my dreams.

“Don’t come back here, Elvis. I don’t want to see you again.” I said as a tear slipped out of my eye and rolled down my cheek before I finally went back in. That was a complete lie, my heart did not want that but I let my brain take the wheel this time. My heart did enough damage to itself.

I wanted to get into bed and cry. Instead I took a deep breath, leaning my head against the wall, closing my eyes for a second. Then I wiped my tears and forcibly plastered a smile on my face before walking back into my apartment and pretended I was fine until they left. That’s when I allowed myself to cry again over him, like I do almost every night. But this time it was different. It hurt seeing him. It still didn't register in my mind that I actually saw him today after two months, that I touched him, that my lips were a few inches away from his lips. It hurt to see him hurt. I thought I would feel better if I knew he was hurting like me. Why was he hurting? He had a full blown panic attack at the thought that I had moved on with someone else.

I fell asleep while crying, I decided to stay at home on Sunday and just sit around my apartment. I know I should go out and go for a walk but I was scared that Elvis was outside and at the same time I was hoping he was still outside. I just chose to not find out if he’s still here or if he went back to Memphis. I had a day in, I baked some cookies and watched movies. Really just took a day for myself. Opened up the windows and sun bathed in my living room. Also a bonus of this apartment, I got direct sunlight.

The next day I got up super early, made myself some breakfast and coffee. I put some music on and got ready for work. I hated Monday mornings but starting your day right definitely helped.

I swung my bag over my shoulder, dressed in a matching sage green pencil skirt and blazer and a white button down. I had my hair down and pushed back by a headband. I locked my door and headed down stairs and out onto the street.

“Good morning.”

I turned, my face scrunched up in confusion “You’re still here?” I asked when I spotted Elvis leaning against a pole.

“Yeah and I’m not going anywhere. Not without you.” He said.

I scoffed and shook my head at him “What do you think you’re doing Elvis?”

“I got you coffee.” He said and moved towards me, he had two take away cups of coffee and handed me one.

“I don’t want coffee.” I grumbled, hating my heart for beating faster and the butterflies that erupted in my stomach at the fact that he was still here. He didn’t leave. I hated myself right now.

“Take it Jess.” He said.

I frowned and took it from him, turning to walk down the street towards my job. I heard his footsteps following along “What are you doing?” I asked turning my head to see him walking behind me.

“Walking you to work.” He replied.

“Don’t bother.” I grumbled and as I passed a trash bin, I threw the coffee he gave me.

Was I being petty? Yes. 100%. Did I care? Not really.

The same thing happened when I got back from work 8 hours later. Elvis was still standing there. I rolled my eyes and passed him to get into my building, pretending like he wasn’t there leaning against the lamp post like he did earlier.

“I’m gonna stay here no matter how long it takes.” He said when I walked past him “If it takes weeks, months or years. I’ll be here.”

I bit my lip and pushed the door open, walking into my building. He didn't follow me, he stayed outside. He was respecting my boundary at least.

I unlocked my door and walked into my apartment to see a dozen bouquet of flowers in vases covering my floor. My jaw dropped at the amount of sunflowers that covered my living room and kitchen. My favorite flowers. How the heck did he put them inside?

I frowned and opened the window, peeking my head through the window to look down at him. I was only two stories up.

“How the heck did you get into my apartment?” I called out with a frown on my face. Forget about respecting my boundaries.

“I’m Elvis Presley.” He called out, grinning as he looked up at me. That damn shit eating grin on his face pissed me off.

I huffed through my nose, shaking my head at him “You’re an asshole.” I said and took one of the bouquets out of the vase and chucked it out of the window, aiming at him.

“Hey! At least I didn’t stay in there!” He said, dodging the flowers. I kept the rest because they were too pretty to throw away “I could've stayed in there and surprised you!”

“Oh thank you so much for that consideration! I am so thankful!” I said sarcastically.

“At least you’re talking to me, I’m taking whatever I can get.” He shrugged.

I huffed again and slammed the window shut.

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jodilin65 · 32 years

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FRIDAY, JANUARY 31, 1992 I am on the phone now with Bob but he just hung up. He’s got a new job and is tired and must get up at 5:00 this morning. Lucky for him he’s so tired. I wish I could say the same for myself. The truth is, I got myself on a screwy schedule again as I knew I would.

I’ve got to call Carol back tomorrow. I called the DA’s office that’s been jerking me around since day one and they will not speak to me. Only Tracy can call them but she hasn’t called them, the PD or me. So I told them fine, defense wins in this case and I’m going to take matters into my own hands now and handle the rest of this case by myself. I will get those tapes back.

As usual, I only spoke to Kim for two seconds. She was only home an hour and God only knows if she’s home yet. For her to be out at 2:00 in the morning, though, would mean she’s on an ambulance all.

I started to pack a little more but I wish Tammy would hurry up and call with a definite date. That way I can get started with all the bullshit I’ve got to do both here and when I get there. Here, I must go to the bank, figure out a way to transfer my prescriptions, call SS and food stamps, put in a change of address at the post office. I’ve also got to get groceries and figure out what the hell to do about Sheila. She has to be able to see me Tuesday as that’s one day Kim’s free. I will call her tomorrow. When I move I’ll have to get a new doctor like Dr. Leitch, get that lactose test, see a dentist, call SS and food stamps and get a new bank.

Later…

I just had some cereal and looked through my photo album. I opened up my skylight and some other windows after I put the ceiling fan on and aired this dusty place out. I sure am gonna miss the ceiling fan, the skylight, the Jacuzzi, the dishwasher, garbage disposal, washer, dryer and all this space. And central AC, too.

As soon as I move, I will save up to buy a secondhand washer.

Later…

I am sitting here listening to my tapes of Andy calling the CC. He’s having a “major problem” with looking out his window and seeing cactuses and palm trees. He also says it is very warm out with lots of sunshine. Everyone else is telling him it’s dark out and very cold out. He also has a very very strange sister who has a crazy laugh and says all these things that make no sense at all.

I took an old bathing suit which is too big, cut the material and covered one of my not-too-attractive journals with it. Sort of like how you put a book cover on a book.

Later…

I’m doing much better at changing my schedule than I thought I would. I called Sheila and she’s moved my appointment from Mon. at 4:15 to Tues. at 10:15. I will fill out the transfer papers with her. Mon. at 6:30 I see Cassandra.

I called Sally and Jill. Jill answered and she now has her own room. She said she’ll be having lunch with Sally and will give her my new number. They never got my new number after they returned from vacation as Jill said the system was down. They both sound super nice and who knows? Maybe I can get a little fun before I move. Of course, the question is, will I get so lucky again as far as sexual attraction? And so soon, too?

I called Carol, who got a call from the DA’s office. I’m gonna call Chief B next Mon.

I spoke to George too, who said it was fine with him if I drain the waterbed out the bedroom window in the front. Kim was paranoid about that and insisted we do it out the back. I told Kim that water wouldn’t destroy the planet. It rains and snows, doesn’t it?

George emptied my barrel outside and it broke cuz it was frozen so he gave me a new one. He said I could take it with me and that they’d give me boxes.

I think I’ll go now and listen to some more tapes.

Mark’s awake. I just heard him flush the toilet. Mark played a funny prank on me the other day. I also played one on him in return. I will write all about that later. Current Location: Massachusetts

THURSDAY, JANUARY 30, 1992 Kim was over earlier and she got all my stuff out of the attic. Boy, is that thing dusty! She gave me 3 more boxes, too.

Dad called at 11:00 this evening, and I also had a nice chat with Tammy.

In the morning I must call the DA about my tapes. Tracy never returned my calls. Carol told me to call the DA. God, I hope and I pray all goes well with that! Please, God! Let me have all my tapes back. Please! Know what they mean to me. Know they will not be abused. I have learned my lesson once and for all. Please, if there’s a God and he can hear me, please let me have all my tapes as they were.

I don’t know just when I will go to bed, but I should soon. That way I won’t sleep too late.

TUESDAY, JANUARY 28, 1992 I’m only gonna write a little as I am very tired. I met with Cassandra today and that was nice.

The American Music Awards was on and to my surprise, Gloria wasn’t even there or nominated. Yesterday Jessie called to tell me Gloria was on channel 3 but I can’t get that. Gloria’s gonna be on the Disney channel for 3 different nights and I want to try to get Tammy to tape it for me. I doubt she’ll want to bother, though.

Around 8:00 this evening I got two pranks from that same guy who called the other number. It figures I’d get a call while I was taping channel 40 and watching channel 22. I told the guy to call me in a few hours. Meanwhile, he could entertain my machine. I was hoping he’d call back after 11:00, but he failed to after all. Bummer.

I’m 99% sure it’s an associate of Maliheh’s. There’s no way it could be Fran as this is the same person who mentioned the CC. Knowing I was there, I mean, and Fran never knew I was there. I doubt it’s tied in with the cops or anyone else who works downstairs cuz how would they know? Mark would admit to it for sure if he’d put a friend up to it. The only other possibility is someone who works at the CC, but that’s highly unlikely. It’s Maliheh.

Later…

Well, I got my schedule all fucking screwed up again. Whenever I do go to sleep, I’ll have to allow myself only two hours of sleep. I hope to hell I hear the alarm. I’ve got to go to the store for some cigarettes.

Earlier this evening Kim made us some popcorn. I watched TV and typed a letter to Nervous. I have a letter for Fran, too, along with my bills. I’m gonna also send Andy a letter and pretty much count on only me sending letters. He’ll only send one once a year. Maybe twice if I’m lucky and I hound him for it. He tried calling yesterday around noon. He left a quick message singing part of one of Gloria’s songs.

It would be nice if I could hurry up and get an exact moving date. That way I can begin with all the transferring. Such as my bank, SS, and I’ll have to make several other calls.

What the fuck is taking Tracy forever to return my call? I’m just gonna call the police station myself. I’ve got to get my stuff back.

SUNDAY, JANUARY 26, 1992 Kim got home the other day and she has a great tan. She gave me this really cute satin pillow which is small and has silk flowers on it. It also has silk ribbons all over it such as the ones that are in my journals that I made bookmarks out of. It’s got lace outlining on all sides and it can be hung on the wall. She also gave me a glass butterfly and an elephant. A tiny porcelain-like heart-shaped jewelry box. Or for whatever you want to use it for. Lastly, she gave me a 10”x10” or so heart that sticks on both sides. So I peeled them both off and stuck on an old blue glittery type material from a shirt Andy gave me before he left. When I move, I’ll put the yellow bow Kim made for me in the center of it and hang it.

The reason why I’m not gonna put anything together here anymore is cuz I’m finally moving. Tammy was able to get the girl at the NHA to move me to the top of the list. Also to get mom to keep her word about paying for the move. Tammy’s got some friends to help move me and she’s gonna rent a U-Haul.

George mailed Tammy a note which she gave to the girl in the office there about how the other people he rented my place out to are hounding him to move in here.

I called and spoke to a woman named Mary Jane. She told me a few things about the apartment. One thing is that it’s on the 1st floor and that makes me a little nervous. I haven’t seen the general layout inside and outside but I hope no one rips me off while I’m out. Also, if I want to leave my windows open at night while I’m asleep, will it be safe? Who knows, but I’ll mind my own business even though that sometimes doesn’t work. I will not associate with my neighbors even though the girl said there’s only one family near me. There are 4 apartments side by side and I’m on the end. The people next to me are a husband and wife with 4 kids. Even though I’ve basically had excellent neighbors, I’m out to avoid people like Bonnie and Brenda. Plus, I always start off with a problem or a fight with someone, then we’ve become friends. Yet I no longer care to stick it out and go through that again till the happy ending comes around. For example, I don’t want to be at a female neighbor’s house, get along with her very well and have her brother who’s a pervert bother me. I’ll only go off on a rampage and start a fight with the guy. I will not kiss ass or try to be friendly and resolve any problems or misunderstandings. I will not let any problems or misunderstandings start in the first place. That is if I can help it, of course. If a guy knocks on my windows, that’s a different ballgame. I will open the door and do my best to bash his head into dog meat. Overall, I do like the idea of having no one above or below me. Only on one side of me and there’s probably a firewall there. There was a firewall between me and Anna and Julia on Oswego St. but not between me and Mattie so who knows. The girl told me music is no problem. The people next door play it, too.

It has no apartment number or letter, I guess. It has hardwood floors, no dishwasher or disposal. Not even laundry facilities on the premises. She said there is a hook-up for a washer and a huge clothesline out back. They’re gonna be installing dryer hook-ups. Tammy said for now I can do my wash at her place and save up for a second-hand washer. I can do that in a couple of months as the rent’s only $138! Heat and hot water are included. The electricity, I’ll still have to pay. Tammy saw it and she said it is small and definitely not what I’m used to, but what do you expect for $138?

Tomorrow sometime, I’ll write more about the move and about Cassandra who I am gonna desperately miss even more than Kim. I’m going to miss her most of all and I have become very fond of her and I wish there were more people like her. The world could use that.

Later…

Well, I sure as hell hope I’m not up all night. I didn’t get up till 1:30. I have to back my schedule up quite a bit if I’m gonna go for that test on Wed.

Kim gave me some trash compactor bags I bought from her as well as gave her the money she left me. She had left me $30 till Tony was able to bring me to court and back. I gave Mark $20 while Kim was in Florida. Tonight I wrote out a check for the remaining $10, plus the 2 trash compactor bags. That was a total of $11. I owe nothing to no one now. Just $21 to the phone company, $58 to the electric, and $260.52 to Peter. I’m only paying him half of the rent as I’ll be gone in the middle of Feb.

I’ve got to get ahold of Tracy about my tapes. She’s so hard to reach and takes forever to return your calls.

WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 22, 1992 Bob’s on the phone now and he’s watching his sign language tape. I just hung up with him so I could write. I know I have several things to write about but my mind sort of went blank.

Last Sunday, or last Saturday actually, I did quite a bit around here. First, I made a plant hanger from the ribbons Kim gave me. I put it up by the attic inside the alcove, on the side sticking out. It looks nice there and it’s out of Shadow’s reach. Plants really do something for apartments, houses or any place. I want to get into plant collecting as it really makes the place look nice.

I also took some round coasters and cut out pictures of Gloria to fit in them. They look nice.

Now for what really looks super cool. I went and got that huge glassed-in picture that I had put in the little hall between our doors. I busted it out of the frame, took the cardboard backing, the picture itself and made a huge picture collage. I have 36 pictures on one and almost 40 on the other. These are of the family. And friends too. There are Lisa, Becky, Sarah, Tammy, Bill, Mom, Dad, Andy, Kim, Mark and me.

Yesterday was a horror story. Due to the fact that I don’t have a lease, the landlord can ask you to move for no reason at all. I spoke with Peter, who says he’s giving me till March 1st, as these people are pressuring him about moving in. I told him it’s not my fault that last December I was 100% sure I was moving and that my mom backed out. I said I’d take him to court if I had to and the law doesn’t allow you to fuck with someone who’s on SS or SSI so easily. I went through this with Russ and even though I won him over, I wasn’t about to put up with it all over again. I’ve been through so much shit in the last year, both my fault and not my fault.

He spoke with Tammy and he’s gonna “work with her” so to speak and try to have a little compassion and understanding. I spoke with George today and he said, “You could stay forever and ever, it’s just that you did say you were moving.”

So, I explained to him what’s going on and he said to just hang in there as things do get better and he’s sympathetic to both sides. These people are living with their in-laws and are going crazy. I’m isolated with nothing and nobody and going crazy myself.

A part of me was telling myself, keep calm, it’ll work out, you’ve been through so much shit already, you can handle one more piece of shit, relax and don’t let them win. The other part said - I’ve had it and I don’t give a shit!

That was when I cut myself.

FRIDAY, JANUARY 17, 1992 Andy may be calling tonight. I forgot which nights he said were his nights off.

Fran must’ve forgotten my new number again as I have not heard from him. It usually takes 2 or 3 times for him to remember stuff like that.

Andy should’ve received his letter along with his bracelet by now. I’m working on several letters right now. I got a postcard in the mail from Kim today. She says she’s really enjoying herself and has a nice tan. That I can surely believe. She tans easily and is darker to begin with. She included some lines on the postcard. The mailman must’ve been quite confused. Kim will be back in 6 days. That’ll be nice as seldom as I see her anyway.

I’ve spoken briefly to Bob yesterday and I’m gonna give him a call soon.

”Shauna D” was enrolled in the Mystery Guild book club by Andy. Shauna’s getting two free books now for enrolling “Saundra C.”

I spoke to Ann Marie last night. We had a very pleasant talk. However, I don’t have a car and it’s just oh-so easier to be alone. We discussed her coming up for a visit which is nice but we’re gonna remain friends. She needs to find someone, ready, able, willing and not afraid or insecure. I feel I have nothing to offer her or anyone else other than friendship or sex. I was open and honest with her. I had to be. We discussed how my therapist says I push people away subconsciously but I can’t help it. I have to do what I have to do. I can’t be changed into relationship material. It is too late. The damage is done and the way I am is the way I am. There are some things that are so much a part of us and we cannot change. I can’t handle too much closeness. Also, I don’t have any real desire or will that one needs if they do want more than friendship and sex. What can I do? At least I was upfront about it. I had to say hey, this is who I am. I really admire her a lot. She’s so beautiful, too. Therefore, I hope she meets the right woman and settles down with her. She really really deserves it. A person like her shouldn’t have to be alone. She has so much to offer. A hell of a lot to offer.

THURSDAY, JANUARY 16, 1992 Boy, did I have a great day. They dismissed my case in Northampton and are going along with the Greenfield disposition. I will not have to go back to Northampton court again. All I have to do is see Sheila every now and then and continue with Cassandra. That’s no problem.

Tony and I went to a Chinese restaurant after.

Yesterday I got an unexpected surprise in the mail from my parents. A $10 bill along with some cigarette coupons.

I had a very positive talk yesterday with Tammy, too. We got a lot of stuff out in the open.

WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 15, 1992 Andy called earlier this morning. At 8:30.

I’ve been up since 4 AM. I fell asleep last night at 8:00. I feel groggy, though, and I just can’t seem to shake it. Part of it is boredom.

I’ve got to go to court tomorrow and so that’s on my mind. I tell myself not to worry yet I have a bad feeling about my tapes and all the other shit like the wrong way the investigation was handled. I have no idea what the hell’s going on. But I do know this, when I go to Greenfield court to see Sheila, I am gonna file charges on both Maliheh and Jenny. It’s about time the treatment’s fair. I’m not letting anyone ever again get away with not paying for something they’ve done while I have to pay for what I’ve done. Fair is fair and that’s how I operate. I give what I get. That is within reason, of course. Now it’s time for Jenny and Maliheh to have to take a timeout here and there to be dragged through the mud. Face up to what they’ve done wrong just like I had to.

TUESDAY, JANUARY 14, 1992 Today’s been pretty good so far. I got up at 5:00 and at 5:45 Bob called. He said he had a car till 2:00 this afternoon. Some guy loaned him the car so Bob could pick his wife up at work at 9:00. Then, bring her to a doctor’s appointment and back to work. I took a shower, straightened my hair and put on some makeup. By 6:45 Bob was here. He brought two plants called Wandering Jews. He also brought over some pound cake, banana nut bread and sample packets of my favorite coffee.

We were both so thrilled to get the hell out so he took me to Food Fart. I needed very badly to go. Cassandra was going to take me last night but I was too tired and I really needed to talk. This all worked out for the better and I spent $101 in food stamps and $18 in cash. I still have almost $60 left for the month.

Besides cigarette money, I still got to get Gloria’s songbook, and Linda has a new album out. It’s in Spanish. The last one was Canciones de mi Padre. I believe this one is Canciones de mi Madre.

Yesterday I spoke to Tracy and my court date isn’t this Wednesday, it’s Thursday. I got in touch with Tony who says it’s no problem. Great.

When Cassandra was here last night, we discussed certain family issues that I’ve written about. She told me her 20s were the pits. Her teens were worse and things really didn’t get better till she reached her 30s. She’s 42 now. She’s very pretty for her age, too. She told me to call her at home and let her know about shopping and court.

It’s good that I got to go to Food Fart today cuz Cassandra wasn’t able to take me until Thursday and that only would’ve been if there was enough time.

Man, is it pouring out! It’s so dark, too. I opened the blinds in the bedroom and it was still too dark to write without the lamp on.

I just came out into the kitchen. If it weren’t for the skylights, most of this place would be quite dim.

This year I’m really anxious for summer to hurry up and arrive. I’ll be seeing Andy in July and if I’m in CT, I can tan at my sister’s with that huge kiddy pool. Also, I can wear my summer clothes.

Even though everyone says I’m nuts, I want to lose 10 pounds anyway. Or basically, pull in my muscles so they’re tauter rather than lumpy and bulky. That way I’ll have a nicer shape.

Well, I think I’ll go see if Mark’s up. Then I’ll call Bob.

SUNDAY, JANUARY 12, 1992 Well, my schedule’s definitely gotten better. I slept till almost 3 AM. I woke up at 10:30 with just a little wheezing so I got up, took my meds, went to the bathroom, then went back to bed.

During the night I spoke to Bob. Or actually, I didn’t speak to him till 7:30 cuz after I woke up I watched the shows that I had taped.

I changed Shadow’s box, vacuumed out the stairwell and took a walk down to Cumberland. I saw an article with Gloria saying that she was abused sexually at age 9. I wouldn’t be surprised if it were true, even though 95% of the stuff in Star magazine’s bullshit. Also, I wouldn’t be surprised if it were true cuz it’s so common.

I only had $2 and needed milk. I got a microwave hot dog and a candy bar too, but as soon as I can, I’ll get the magazine. I’ve got to spend my cash sparingly, but I’m well held over till I go food shopping. That’ll be tomorrow evening, but I don’t know the exact time.

I had one message when I got up. It was from Mom saying she’ll get in touch with me sometime this week, don’t call her back, and did I get my coupons?

Later…

I did some singing both with and without records.

When I went to call Bob, I dialed wrong and began singing as soon as I heard what I thought was Bob pick up. It was a guy around his age that said, “I like that singing. Do it again.”

Later…

I did more singing and I’m so happy to say that it was truly great. For a while there, I wasn’t exercising my voice regularly and it was either just good or ok. I didn’t really get into the exercises, but nonetheless, it was super good today. It started off a little raspy due to congestion but before long it opened up and cleared up.

About an hour ago I went to call Bob back but Sandra says he took a walk to the store. We spoke for a while and she told me a little about her background and her family. Since she’s got terminal cancer, she’s hoping she can hold out long enough to visit her two aunts in Fort Lauderdale, Florida. That’s so sad.

I wish Mark would be kind enough to call or come over and say hey, I know you’re alone and bored half the time, so how about some company? Or going out for coffee and donuts or something, but no. Do people care anymore? What does he spend all his time doing when he’s not at work? Is he even home now?

Later…

Tony just called. He will be able to drive me to court and back, too.

I think I’ll give Bob a call now. I’m sure he must be back home by now.

I want to try to stay up till 8:00. In order to stay up a while longer, maybe I’ll write some letters. Maybe I can also cook some of that shrimp Tammy gave me.

SATURDAY, JANUARY 11, 1992 As time goes on, I wish more and more I lived where it’s warm all the time. I’m sick of snow and I hate winter clothes. I like to run around in shorts and skimpy tops. I like the thought of being able to swim year-round and being near a pool or a beach. Something tropical and beautiful like where my parents live. I’d never want to live in their mobile home, though, as you can’t make any more noise than a whisper without the whole island hearing you.

Of course, I’d definitely have to have an AC constantly.

It sucks knowing I’ll never have the money to move or travel. Other than moving to CT, of course. Too bad I can’t get to Old Colony Beach by bus. That would be the perfect thing for me in the summer. I’d be out more and it could really occupy my time in a fun productive way. How often is Tammy gonna want to go? I’m sure she can bring me to her house so I can tan on her deck. That great big kiddy pool is nice to use so you can cool off. I get sun heated very very easily. I guess it’d be cooler there in the woods and with all those trees. I hope the trees don’t block out the sun’s rays. It would probably have to be at a certain angle at a certain time of day. Here in the parking lot, you have to wait till around 1:00 in the afternoon. Before then, the sun’s on the other side of the building.

Later…

I’ve finished Andy’s bracelet and written him a letter. I will go throw it in the mailbox later. Since I still have so many stamps, I may as well write Andy, Fran and Nervous more letters. Maybe Mom, Dad and Tammy, too.

In the center of town here, someone’s bound to have a copying machine. If so, I’d like to photocopy my drawings and send them to Andy. Maybe Peter has a copying machine.

I wonder if Bill at the CC will take me up on my taping offer. Editing offer, I should say. I spoke to him earlier in the week. He was in Canada on vacation but says he hasn’t forgotten.

Earlier, I spoke with Bob. I told him to call me anytime and that if I didn’t answer, he could entertain my machine. He left a message making these funny noises. Another message with Linda Ronstadt singing Tracks of my Tears.

As many problems as Bob has, he’s really a nice person. Late at night, we’ve had some good talks. He’s not only up all night, he’s up all day, too. He only sleeps an hour or so due to so much back pain. Last May he had major back surgery. That’s how he met Kim. She was his nurse. He met her 6 months after I did. I had originally thought they met around the same time Kim and I met.

Guess not.

Later…

I am trying my best to keep awake. I’ll manage, but it’ll be hard.

I’m writing at my kitchen table. At this time of day, the sun is directly in front of the window/door. Boy, is it ever bright here but the warmth of the sun feels nice. These windows are about 6 feet tall and almost 6 feet wide. At the same time, you feel like you’re outdoors as it is so bright and sunny, the warmth of the sun makes you feel as if it’s summer out.

The neat thing about the heating system here which is hot air blowing up from the floor is that it sounds like an AC. They are not noisy, though. All you hear is air softly blowing. It’s better than radiators hissing and clanking like an old-fashioned cash register. I hate radiators. There are only 5 floor vents here. They’re only 8 x 6 inches yet it’s amazing how well they heat a 1400-square-foot apartment.

I spoke with Bob about a half-hour ago. He wishes he had his car fixed. So do I. That way we could get the fuck out. Maybe go to Dunkin Donuts or someplace like that to talk in the wee hours of the night while the rest of the world’s asleep.

I wonder if Mark’s up yet or if he’s even home. Kim gave me 3 pictures Bob took of him in his uniform standing by his cruiser. I called him at 1:30 last night when I heard him come home to tell him I’d be up if he wanted company. Or to hear more edits and have coffee. He said another time would be better as he had a busy night. Two arrests and other shit went on, too. Wouldn’t Mark love to be a cop in Springfield?

I better go get Shadow and leash him down. I have a bad feeling he’s gonna wake me up. I’ll fucking kill him. I’ve got to get on a schedule. If I can somehow sleep past midnight, then till 5 AM on Monday morning, I’ll be all set to go grocery shopping with Cassandra Monday evening.

Later…

I am still up and oh so exhausted.

I forgot to mention that yesterday I got some mail from my parents. I had sent them 10 pictures. Three of them Bob took on my birthday after Kim took me to Ponderosa. Two were of me and Mark setting stuff up when I moved in. One was just of Mark. One of Kim and I. One of Mark and I. Two of me sitting on Kim’s piano bench with Shadow.

They sent them back as I asked them to along with some coupons for cigarettes, cat food, coffee, chocolate pudding, and pads. They also sent this little calendar in which you peel the back off so you can stick it wherever. That was nice of them as I had one stuck to my waterbed shelves last year. Shortly after I moved here, Kim gave me a calendar like that.

I hope Kim is enjoying herself in Florida.

If my parents were to invite me to their place, I’d have to be sure not to be dumb enough to go. Can’t let the thought of tanning and swimming block out my mother’s shit. I’m dying to go swimming and get a tan, but it isn’t worth dealing with her bullshit. Unless I avoided her all the time, that is, but it still isn’t worth it. A person passing up a vacation that’s all paid for is telling you something, huh? With someone like sweet Dureen O included in the package, forget it.

I’m just so drop-dead tired. I don’t think I’ll be able to hold out much longer. I feel like shit, too. I hope I sleep later.

Later…

I put Shadow on his leash down at the bottom by his litter box. From now on, I go by my very strong “feelings.” My feeling told me I’d be woken up by him clawing on the door if I didn’t leash him down.

Ann Marie hasn’t called and frankly, I don’t know if she should call me. She was beautiful, great in bed and was a super nice person, but there were a few things that bugged me. At first, she told me she too, liked the idea of the person not living close by. That way she can have space and not feel smothered. She also told me to be myself yet complains that I’m so sensitive. I told her I’m not used to being touched. When you’re deaf in one ear your other senses are sharper, I told her. There were also things she’d point out about me that she’d call weird, but she’d do the same thing herself. The last time we spoke she says she wishes the person was closer as she’s sick of driving.

Then, she went on and on about my not having a car, yet I told her this when I responded to her ad. Then she went on and on about her grandmother regretting never getting her license and having to depend on a bus or other people. As if she was trying to make me feel guilty and as if I have the money for a car and no fear of driving.

I thought she was gonna accept me the way I am. I told her not to try to change me and that my door’s always open for her to walk out and stay out. I’m not gonna go through it again. The contradictions, I mean. She’s pretty and I like her, but I don’t want to bother. I’ve learned very well that the deeper you get in, the deeper shit you get in. The sexual experience was what was important to me and what I wanted. That, and that only was very very worth it. I only hope there’s no price to pay for that moment of happiness. In 4 more days, we’ll see.

FRIDAY, JANUARY 10, 1992 I thought I’d do a little writing while I was waiting for my pork chops to cook. I’m really bored right now and I was hoping to hear from Andy who left a message while I was asleep. I tried to call him collect so he’d refuse it and call me back but his voice mail came on. He probably thinks I made it to New York after all.

Last night I woke up at 9:00 and I was bummed out as I was unable to beat that tonight. I got up at 7:00 and I’m still pretty tired. I doubt I’ll be able to go to sleep for a few hours. Once I’m up, I’m up. Tired or not.

I tried to call Bob, but Sandra says he’s all upset about Kim’s trip to Florida. She leaves tomorrow. She’s lucky cuz she’s not gonna have to deal with anyone like my mom to spoil her vacation. At least not that I know of.

Speaking of my mom and my whole family, well, I’m really disappointed. Just when I believed they were beginning to believe in me and understand me, I feel just the opposite. These people think they have me all figured out yet they don’t even know me.

Later…

I know now that I’ll never sleep and that there’s no use in trying.

I hate how my family is so sure I want something due to a certain reason when in fact it is for a whole different reason. And they just cannot, for the life of them take my word for some things I say. I wish they’d realize that if I have something to say to them, I have no reason to lie. Granted every now and then we all tell little white lies but for me to do so would require a damn good reason. Rather than lie to them, I just wouldn’t say anything at all. An example is if I paid $20 for a necklace and I didn’t want to tell them that, I’d not say a word, rather than lie and say it costs $10.

There’s a reason why I’ve run around giving them a taste of their own medicine lately. When my mom accidentally knocked over my guitar, I knew it was an accident. Despite how rude she was about my wanting to play in MY house. She was ignoring me anyway so I figured I’d just do my thing. Despite her antics and her dramatics, I accused her anyway of doing it out of spite. With anyone else, I could never do that and I’d feel guilty and she begged me not to tell anyone she did it deliberately cuz she didn’t. I asked her how it felt to be accused of something untrue and reminded her of the knife story. Or hammer. Or whatever the fuck they said it was I was supposed to have attacked them with in my teens. The truth of that night was that they were provoking me and saying some nasty, cruel, false, vicious and unnecessary shit about me. Therefore, when I told them to fuck off, they couldn’t handle it and didn’t want to hear it. That’s when dad came charging at me. He’s got to hit when he can’t get his way and gets frustrated and we disagree. He can’t communicate. He can’t speak rationally, honestly or listen to my true honest feelings. He can if he agrees with them and they meet his standards but I have a mind of my own. And no two minds are alike. So what was I supposed to do? I had to defend myself and I most certainly wasn’t just gonna stand there and let the bully swing at me. When they asked me why I wouldn’t lie to them, I told them I have nothing to fear from telling them the truth. What are they gonna do? Come and spank me? Ground me? Take away my stereo? Cut me down verbally? Send me away? Of course, in their opinion, name-calling like calling me a sicko is always a brilliant way of settling our differences.

Later…

I just got done listening to music and now I have another winner to write about. Here’s exactly what I mean about people putting false ideas into my mind. When my father and I discussed my having a kid, he insisted my only intent was so I could run around telling people I have a kid. Now, anyone who knows me well enough knows I know that’s a hell of a reason to have a kid. And just who would I tell? How would it impress them? He makes it sound as if I meet 20 new people a day. That is one of the reasons I no longer want to have a kid. Oh, I still want to, but not nearly as much as I used to. I don’t need to hear their opinions 20 times a day. I don’t need to be told how to do this and how to do that unless I ask. I don’t need to hear over and over how much I should be just like them. I don’t need the kid caught in the middle. Plus, there are other things to consider. I’m not rich or near rich. With all the drugs and war and crime in this world, I don’t know. A parent can only tell their kids so often what not to do. From there, it’s up to the kid to say yes or no to drugs and other stuff. My parents warned me about cigarettes. Even if they never smoked, I’d still have started anyway. Of course, I wouldn’t be puffing away on a cigarette in front of my kid, telling it not to ever smoke.

My parents tell us how hitting or any kind of violence isn’t a way to solve disagreements, but what do they do when they have a problem with their kids? Hit them.

Also, another reason not to have a kid is cuz I have no car. You can’t keep a kid cooped up in an apartment day after day. They always need doctor’s checkups and I would be, too.

Lastly, the idea of pregnancy and childbirth is too overwhelming. I’d be excited and maybe enjoy the experience but I’m so sensitive to pain and I’m small. I don’t think I could get through it. If my kid was born with a severe handicap, then I’d really feel helpless with no car and no money in spite of Medicaid.

In all situations, I do not kiss ass. I do what I want with this as an exception. This way I don’t have to go through any shit and everyone else is happy.

There are also many other things about the family that bothers me. Talking to them does no good as they get impatient or they’re in a hurry. They’re unable to really hear me out, give me a chance and keep an open mind. They’re just so set in what they want to believe. Certain people’s beliefs make sense and other ones just don’t cut it. Especially when it’s only the family. Other people see things differently and are less judgmental. And these other people are honest and would never lie to me. These people will give me constructive criticism on days when I’m not singing well. I will also come out and say when I feel it’s not my day vocally. They think every singer in the world’s got to have a great voice when I can name about 6 “famous” people off the top of my head that suck. Obviously, they have connections, money and other related talents that they’re good at. Or they slept their way. I never claimed to be a great singer but I know I sing well enough. When Tammy told me I sang well but do I really think I’m good enough to sing on tape, I told her to think back a few years ago. Knowing I had yet to develop my voice and that it’d take time. When I was 18, no way was I ready for that. She then said she wouldn’t buy the tape. She’s also never really sat down and listened to me and she’s never heard me on tape. So, before she’s given me a chance, she has her mind set that I’d make a sucky tape.

Why is it only the family’s been saying this since I was 21? The rest of the people, before I was 21, told me they felt I had potential, go for it and try to develop it. Why do I also have the feeling that even if I was a great singer, she’d still say I’d make a lousy tape? And then, of course, be positive the next day. Every singer has their good and bad days, but come on, make up your mind. They go back and forth. Me and 5 other people could each sing a song perfectly for my parents and Tammy, and while they told everyone else they were great, they’d still say I sucked.

It just seems as if everything I do is wrong even if it’s right. Nothing satisfies them. And if I decide something’s not for me like manicuring, I’m called a failure and punished for it for the rest of my life.

Other than my phone calls, nothing’s right. The way I dress is either too bummy or too dressed up. They define flashy as trashy. Do they think I’d wear clothes that don’t fully cover my privates? If my mother or sister were at a party and someone wore a sexy dress, they’d love it and probably compliment the woman. But I’d get called a whore if I wore the exact same dress. Why is it always me? It seems as if others can do whatever they want and everyone’s happy.

Later…

About an hour and a half ago, I spoke to Andy. We discussed a lot of the stuff I just wrote. I played him my latest edition of edits. He was cracking up over the girl with the CP.

According to Kim, Tony lost his job and is bored. I don’t know why he lost his job and it really doesn’t matter. What matters is that hopefully, he can bring me home from court as well as to court.

Speaking of court, am I simply paranoid or having a bad premonition? Remember how I always believed that certain things are ok for some people? Certain things aren’t ok even if they’re not wrong. Well, I always felt that after I have sex, male or female is irrelevant, that there was a price to pay. Sort of like taking the bad with the good even though the good was never really all that good. Never worth doing it again. Not even sex with the women I’ve been with. Including Kacey. But Ann Marie was a big deal sexually. I was attracted to her and really enjoyed sex with her. She was a far cry from all the others.

What if I do end up in jail on the 15th? Maybe if I never had sex, I wouldn’t have gone to jail and Northampton would’ve gone along with Greenfield’s disposition. But cuz I did have sex, maybe jail’s gonna be my payback. If I were to end up in jail and miraculously get out alive, I’d never be the same. I’ll probably get beat up so bad that I’d wish they’d killed me. As if they’ll care that I may get a death sentence for prank phone calls? If the judge says jail, he’s letting me walk into a death trap. Will they isolate me from the other prisoners? Will I be protected? Will they give me my meds?

THURSDAY, JANUARY 9, 1992 I’m on the phone now with Fran. He’s calling people he knows so they can hear the tape of Rick and Nervous.

I have to clean my place as well as go out for some groceries as soon as the stores open. I have to polish my nails and finish my letter-writing, Andy’s bracelet and do some editing. I also should try to finish the drawing of the kids on their swings so I can send it to Lisa for her birthday. She’s gonna be 9 on January 20th.

Once again I’m swapping my schedule around. I hope to stay up until early afternoon if possible. Around 8:00 this morning, I’m gonna take a walk to Sugar Loaf Market to pick up some cat food along with stuff for myself. I’ll call in my Theodur refill and Kim says she’ll pick it up. She’s going to Florida Fri. and won’t be back till the 23rd. If she doesn’t pick me up my refill, I’ll run out while she’s gone.

Tony’s gonna take me to court and I’m gonna take a taxi back. It’s gonna cost $25 but maybe I can get Tracy to take me home.

Later…

In about an hour, I’m gonna take off for the store.

Fran called earlier as I mentioned and I’ve had several talks with Bob. His car is still not fixed.

Jessie called me a few nights ago and I guess she has gone to New York. Her father was gonna be on the set for 4 more days, then go on vacation to his other place in Hawaii. Jessie hasn’t been to the set since she was pregnant and her father was paying for her and her sister to stay in a hotel. It’s right in Times Square and they also got shopping money and all their expenses were paid for. Their food and gas and stuff like that. Jessie had told me she’d call me in case Melissa decided not to go. I guess she went. Bummer. Jessie better call me when she gets back about coming up before school starts again.

Andy never called last night but we did speak the night before last. I played him some edits from about a week or so ago.

Right after I got my phone back, Fran called Nervous. Boy, did they go off on each other. It was great, though, as it’s been so long. I edited them chewing each other out as well as Andy and I. Also some girl Fran knows who talks so funny. She sounds like she’s drunk but she really has CP. Poor thing, but she’s funny as all hell anyway.

Later…

After I smoked a cigarette, I went down to Sugar Loaf Market. I got $20 worth of food. When I got back I fed Shadow and had a bite to eat. Also, I called in my refill and verified my new SSI and SS checks amount with Kathy at my bank. I get a total of $556.39 now between the two checks.

I’m so sick of this fucking waterbed. It’s a major pain in the ass. Lovemaking, or sex, I should say, would be a heck of a lot easier on a regular bed. You know, firmer ground for better balance for those who already have good balance and are flexible. Being sure-footed and flexible doesn’t really help much.

I threw in a small load of laundry and I also called Bob and played him the new 20-minute edition of edits.

As for Ann Marie, well, there really isn’t much more to say. She’s attractive, great in bed, and a nice person. She’s open, honest and understanding, but I told her up front that I don’t want a relationship. All she wants is sex, too. She did say that even though she’s never met an equal, but if she were to, she may stay with the person. Only if it were right, she said, otherwise she’d be bored quickly. That sounds logical. She says she’s had 4 relationships and a million one-nighters. The one-nighters, she explained, were due to the fact that it was one-sided. Either she was the one into it and they weren’t or vice versa. I told her I could relate to that. I told her never to expect to change me and that I was gonna be myself. If she didn’t like myself, I told her my door is always open for her to leave and find someone else to fool around with. I’m really proud of myself for not telling her anything personal. I learned sex really complicates the emotional part. That’s why your friends and family are the ones you talk to and get your love from. And you keep sex purely sexual with nothing emotional tied in. At least I do cuz the two don’t mix. If Ann Marie never were to come back then I’d have no hard feelings. If she were to come around every now and then, that’s cool, too. She called two nights ago and we had a good talk but there were a few things she said that bugged me.

MONDAY, JANUARY 6, 1992 As everyone who knows me well enough knows, there are two things I’ve been wanting bad. One is to be a singer. Two is to meet another gay woman who’s just as feminine as I am and that I’m attracted to. Also, to have it be mutual and get into bed with this woman. Well, one has happened! Yes, it has actually happened. Up till last Saturday night at 9:30, January 4th, I was still sure I was a fluke of nature. I swore up and down, left and right I was the only gay woman on earth who looked 100% like a woman. Totally ultra-feminine.

Her full name is Ann Marie P and she’s 27 years old. Her height is 5’ 3” and she weighs 120 pounds. She looks less, though, and is solid as a rock. I mean what a body! She’s got an absolutely gorgeous figure. And I thought I was solid and that Kacey and Brenda had nice shapes! Well, Kacey did, but not like Ann Marie. Kacey wasn’t as solid either and Brenda and Lisa were too thin. Diane was fat and even ugly compared to Brenda and Lisa. She has a nice shade of green eyes and long dark curly hair which is styled just like Gloria’s. Her face looks nothing like Gloria’s but her style does. Gloria’s only an inch shorter, too. She wore an awesome pair of black tights, trimmed with lace on the ends and waist, and had a tiny matching tank top. Over that, she wore a tie-dye T-shirt that was white and blue and turns pink with heat. She had a nice brown leather snakeskin-like coat. Beautiful rings, earrings, and a gold chain around her wrists and neck. It didn’t look tacky at all. It looked nice. She’s Italian and has dark skin and a nice smooth complexion. With her long brown curly hair which is about to the middle of her back and her black tights and a tank top, she looks like Gloria from behind. What I mean is, if someone took her picture from behind and said it was Gloria, one would find it easy to believe. She’s madly in love with Gloria, too.

One thing I will say, though, is damn she’s good in bed! She knows her stuff. Talk about creative and adventurous. She’s the best. Didn’t participate, though. Meaning, she didn’t have me do anything to her and she never got off. She wouldn’t go down on me either.

She was here from 9:30 PM on January 4th to 7 PM January 5th and I will write more another time.

FRIDAY, JANUARY 3, 1992 Tammy saw the efficiency and said it was too small. I figured as much. Now I have to wait longer for a 1-bedroom. That could be anywhere from 1-8 months. There are now 4 vacancies which means I’m number 8 on the list rather than number 12.

I’m tired and feeling confused right now about people and life. I’m angry and a little upset. I’m extremely frustrated, though. God, am I sick of being contradicted and knowing a certain thing is a fact with living proof to back it up. People are gonna be people. Ignorant, stubborn and set in their beliefs. Oh well. I’m not about to try to prove myself anymore. Or defend myself or anyone else against something I know I should. Some people, no matter how obvious the facts are right in front of their faces, are gonna believe what they want. Especially if the truth hurts them that bad. I’ll write more about this later. Right now I just want to go listen to music. I’m just sick of people saying one thing, then another. I’m so fucking sick of it!!!!!!!

THURSDAY, JANUARY 2, 1992 I had a long sad boring talk with Bob who’s freaked out about Kim going away to Florida. She’s going to the same area that Bob’s second wife was murdered. Supposedly Bob and Dorothy were only married for 3 days when Dorothy’s sister became ill. When she went to the sister’s house, her brother-in-law came onto her. The guy shot Dorothy, her sister and himself too, I think.

Andy called and said that things were excellent now. His financial status has improved. Now he won’t be evicted. He also is very happy at this new Denny’s he’s at. He said thank God as just a month ago he literally wanted to drop dead. He’s quite happy now. I wish I could say the same, but at least I’m feeling better than before and told him all about the phone.

He told me Donna was taking care of this old man in Paradise Valley where Stevie Nicks lives. A rich guy and I guess this particular area is all fenced in and you got to go through security to get in. Sort of like where my parents live. Donna told him to go take a walk and he came up to this house where he heard someone singing live. Also, a real drummer or a drum machine. He said at first he wasn’t too sure if it was her but this woman was definitely recording something. He pulled a garbage can of hers into some bushes and pulled out an envelope with her name and address. He said he’s gonna keep it and write her a huge letter with some videos of him doing her in drag. So, she then continued to sing louder and clearer and he knew for sure it was her and this was her house. He said it was nighttime so he couldn’t see much but the house wasn’t too spectacular. He said it was only 1 floor but very long in length. He could see a gold record on the wall and two housekeepers. He never saw her and she never came up to the front part of the house. One housekeeper was vacuuming and another came out of a room with a baby. He walked up to her door but had no intention of knocking on it. He said there were security signs all over and that he respected her privacy but he was outside her house for two hours. He said the kitchen and dining room area were all lit up. At one point he heard what he thought was a plate drop and he first thought - run! But then he told himself it was dark, no one could see him, just quietly walk away and he did.

That’s pretty darn cool. I’d love to see Gloria’s house. Then see it on the inside. Then meet her. Then have the grandest time in bed with her!

Oh well. It’s always fun to dream. Especially when dreaming’s all you can really do.

Later…

I got up too late today but when I did there were 4 messages.

Two from Andy singing. He had called at around 7:30 AM my time. I fell asleep at around 6:30 this morning.

The third message was from Tammy telling me the Norwich Housing Authority called. They have a studio available now, and as soon as a 1-bedroom is open across the street, I can move in. She called back at 5:30 as she said she would, saying she’s gonna take a look at it tomorrow as we’re not so sure I can fit in. I have a lot of stuff as well as furniture. She’ll let me know more about it soon, she said.

The fourth message was from Ann Marie, the girl claiming to be feminine from the Advocate. I did a third-party billing deal to let her know she’s got to call me due to my blocks.

We’ll see, but her voice sounds like she may be just a wee bit too serious for me. I also hope she’s as feminine as she claims to be and isn’t career-oriented. People on disability or stupid little jobs never mix. She lives in Enfield, but depending on how much she wants sex, we’ll see if she calls back to come here. Hopefully, she at least has a car.

I hope I don’t get put on the spot and she asks me what I’m looking for. Then, if I say I’m looking for sex, she may tell me she’s looking for more than that and want to forget it altogether. I’ll try to get it out of her first but I know that no matter what she looks like, I’ll feel no real attraction. No real thing. No spark. She’ll either be repulsively ugly or another Brenda. God, I hope not another Brenda! All I need is to go through that again and meet another girl like Brenda. At least she won’t live right next door. I like the idea of the person not living in town.

Kim and I had some good talks yesterday and today. Later tonight she’s gonna come over to hear the heated conversation between Fran and Nervous.

I just tried to call Bob to play with his head, but his line was busy. He’s probably playing with Kim’s head. This guy’s as fucked up as you can get. Kim told me that I’m totally sane compared to him. That, I can confidently agree with.

I tried calling Sheila to reschedule our January 8th appointment, however, she was in juvenile court. I’ll call her tomorrow. I still haven’t heard from Tracy, but I think Tony’s gonna drive me to court. I’ll taxi my way home.

Food shopping can be worked out by either Tony or Mark. Mark’s not going to Florida with Kim.

I called Cassandra two nights ago and she was happy and relieved to hear from me. Saturday at 2:00 is when we’ll meet.

Andy’s gonna be calling me late tonight. That’s great, but I’ve got to watch my schedule.

Since I may very well be paroled out of this cage soon, I’ve got to start to round up as many boxes as I can.

Tammy told me she gave Mom and Dad my new number, but I have yet to hear from them. I hope she kept her mouth shut about the phone bill. I told them to keep it between us and to tell the whole world other than Mom and Dad. Mom’s hard enough to talk to over the phone and they cannot deal with shit like that. Therefore, so as not to make it any more difficult than it already is most of the time we talk, I told her not to mention it. She only half-bullshitted me about Andy’s phone. Andy said it almost got disconnected.

WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 1, 1992 Age 26

The first 10 minutes of 1992 flashed some unpleasant thoughts through my mind.

What have I accomplished?

Nothing.

Where is my life going?

Nowhere.

Why do I feel as if I’ve accomplished so much but am getting nowhere in life? Silly question, huh? I still don’t know that I want to live a life of nothing or second best. Should anyone try to pretend and make themselves settle into a life they’re not happy with? If you knew for sure all the things you really want and that matter to you will never come true? If you knew you’d live your life either miserable or in between. Never really happy. Never any kind of life, fun, adventure or excitement. Just a nothing nobody on disability who knew what she wanted but couldn’t have it. Just a girl who’d like a little lust here and there and nothing more as she has self-respect, enjoys her space, can’t tolerate head games, lies and geeks. But all I get are offers from people I’m not attracted to. God just can’t allow me a person who I’m turned on by for one lousy night. A decent person and say, “ok, I’ll send her someone fairly decent that she wouldn’t be good enough for on a regular basis. All she wants is sex and that way that “decent” person won’t have to put up with her and she can have her space without this decent person trying to change her and condemn her.” Yeah, right. But I should be allowed at least some lust rather than be sent all the uglies or so-so people that are keeping me celibate. I need some fun, too.

Boy, am I mad at myself upon reviewing all the dumb things I did during 1991. The phone calls, the phone bills, losing my tapes, moving here and reality slapping me in the face.

Fucking Kim couldn’t have offered to do something with me seeing that Mark’s at work.

I have lost so much both material and non-material-wise.

My New Year’s resolution is a deal with God or whatever the fuck’s up there. I still can’t bring myself to settle happily and willingly. This was gonna be my “settlement” year. Doing all the stuff I don’t want to do and letting go of my dreams and having good sex. Instead, God will either grant me my wishes by sending me an attractive person as well as help me get my foot in the door (appropriately) with my music. Then I’ll work my ass off from there. If none of the above starts happening for me this year, I exit this boring life. As if God’s gonna answer my prayers for once and for all?

I am so pissed off at Kim and my parents never called. Has Tammy given them my new number yet?

Fran called at around 11:20. Some girl showed up at his place and he said he’d call me later or during the week.

I know I’m cursed. I know for sure. Forget about why though as I’ll probably never know why. What do I do to get rid of it? Goddamn, do I hate this life! Being sure in my mind of the things I want and knowing I’ll never achieve things. I’d never know where the fuck to begin. What an ass for believing I’d get connections somehow just cuz I could sing. This idiot thought that two years from now (1994) she’d have her foot in the door. Man, do I feel like a complete jackass!

Can’t I have just a little more than a nice place to live and some decent clothes? Material things are great. It doesn’t replace being a singer and sex, though. I’m only human and I can’t help the way I feel. I have a right to my feelings and if God’s determined to make me settle, he’d better miraculously change those feelings of mine or else I’m gone before 1993. I mean it too, as I have hung on long enough to see that nothing will ever change

Later…

I am listening to the tape that was made earlier with Fran and Nervous. It’s pretty funny.

Fran at the CC and I spoke for a little while.

Again Fran insisted that Nervous lives in a “complex.” Since he has no phone, Fran couldn’t insist the phone company was in his building ready to snatch his phone. Rather than that story, he insisted that Carabetta was buying out his building. I love Nervous’s line to Fran at one part of the tape. He says, “There’s gonna be a dead P.” Also, I was reminding Nervous about his wonderful cooking. He was cooking bacon for me when I lived on Oswego St. When he got through with it, it looked like cigarette ashes.

Later…

Not much has been happening. Still the same old boring shit. Andy hasn’t called, but I called Jessie. She’s been trying to call me but didn’t know the machine wasn’t here for a while. She then tried after that but got the recording saying the phone’s disconnected. She was eating dinner and says she’ll call me back. Kim, naturally, isn’t home. I haven’t heard from Mom and Dad either so maybe Fran will call later.

I think I hear Kim home now. It cracked me up how she feels so guilty, she tells me, and how she should’ve known better as far as her busy schedule’s concerned. Not only am I angry with her and feeling very let down and led on, but I’m also angry with myself. As much as I love this place and wanted badly to get out of Crack Alley, I should’ve known better. Never fall for anything someone tells you, you’ll only end up trapped.

0 notes

shop-korea · 9 months

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TRIED - 2 - FIND - BETTER - THAN - LIGHTSHOT

SCREEN CAPTURE - THE - REST - HORRIBLE SO

WAS - JUST - HERE - 4 - LATE - LUNCH - ITS - AT

DOWNTOWN - MIAMI - KATHY - BROUGHT - ME

BY - CAR - THE - MOST - DELICIOUS - BBQ - YES

CHICKEN - EVER - SWEET - GRILLED - AND - SO

DELICIOUS - IT'S - PUT - IN - BOWL - I - CHOSED

COLD - CLEAR - NOODLES - ASIAN - AMAZING

GRILLED - BROCCOLI - INCREDIBLE - SALSA 2

ASIAN - GINGER - DRESSING - ON THE - SIDE &

BEST - UNLIMITED - REFILL - ROOTBEER WOW

THEIRS - DOES - IT - HAVE - HIGH - FRUCTOSE

DON'T - KNOW - BUT - OH - SO - GOOD - SO XO

THE - BEST - BETTER - THAN - MEXICAN - YES

CHIPOTLE - PIZZA - IN - BETWEEN - THEM AND

FRESH - KITCHEN - INSANELY - GOOD - AND ITS

NOT - YOU'RE - SO - FULL - U - CAN'T - WALK BUT

AFTER - WENT - 2 - TRADER JOE's - GROCERY NO

LOTIONS - CHEAPER - THAN - PUBLIX - LIKE WAY

SO - HAD - A - GREAT - TIME - PREPARING - 2 YES

LEAVE - BUT - BEST - BBQ - CHICKEN - WILL - BE

BACK - LOTS - OF - APTS - SURROUNDING - BUT I

MISS - PUBLIX - ALREADY - BRICKELL - IS - 2 ME

WHERE - I - NEED - 2 - LIVE

SOMA - AT - BRICKELL

SW 13TH ST

FRONT - OF - LARGER - PUBLIX

ALSO - NEAR - PUBLIX - 9TH ST

BEST - PLACE - 2 - LIVE - BECAUSE

HAVE - GUESTS - NOVOTEL - ALSO

HAMILTON INN & SUITES

GREAT - LOCATION - CHEAPEST APTS

BUT - MOST - BEAUTIFUL - KITCHEN

DK - BROWN - WOOD - SO - LIVING IN

SOMA - AT - BRICKELL

WILL - HAVE - FLORIDA - STATE - ID

CAMILLUS HOUSE - HELPING - ME

GET - JOB - $1,900 - HIGHER THAN

MIN WAGE - $1,600 - IN - FLORIDA

SO - WITH - NEW - JOB - MORE $$

4 - TABOOLA - ADS - TIK TOK - ADS

MY - GUT - IS - SO - EXCITED - ME

CAN'T - WAIT - OCTOBER - OPENING

AGAIN - SHOPIFY - ONLINE - STORE

NEW - ( com ) - ADDRESS - EXCITED

SO - SHOP - CAILEY

COMING - AT - LEAST - OCT - 2023

PRAY - PRAY - 4 - ME - BUT - HAPPY

WILL - HAVE - JOB - HOPING

HILTONS - RESERVATIONS - COMPUTER

PRAY - PRAY - PRAY - 4 - ME - MIAMI - FL

NEW - MAILING - ADDRESS

NEW - SSI - RESIDENCE - ADDRESS

RENEWING - EXPIRED - FL - STATE ID

GETTING - ELECTRIC - CAR - FREE FL

PLUGS - AT - SOMA - AT - BRICKELL

SWIMMING - POOL - WASHER AND

DRYER - DISHWASHER - CAN'T YES

WAIT - PRAY - PRAY - 4 - ME - NICE

TRADER JOE's - BLOCKS INTERNET

HAD - 2 - GO - OUTSIDE - SO - SAID

VITAMINS C AND E - HEALS COLD SORES

VIT C - CHEWABLE - 100 - ONLY - $5.99

VIT E - OIL - FACE BODY LEGS - FEET SO

$3.99 - SO - GOT - BOTH - PLACED - ON

MY - DARK - PINK - YESTERDAY - RED

SURROUNDING - FACE - CHEWED THE

DELICIOUS - VITAMIN C - CAN'T - WAIT

4 - BOTH - 2 - HEAL - MY - DRY MOUTH

AND - COLD - SORES - CAUSED - BY

AMAZON - BACOPA - SUPPLEMENTS

4 - BRAIN - HEALTH - MY - MOUTH AS

I - ATE - SO - PAINFUL - OPENING MY

MOUTH - SO - PAINFUL - WHEN - DRY

BY - JESUS' - STRIPES - I AM HEALED

IN - THE - NAME - OF - JESUS - WHO

I - AM - OF - WHO - I - SERVE - CAN'T

WAIT - 2 B - HEALED - OF - VERY PAINFUL

SIDE - EFFECT - OF - BACOPA - REAL BAD

PRAY - PRAY - 4 - ME - MY - FOLLOWERS 2

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persephinae · 1 year

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i really love my apartment (except not having in suite washer and dryer, and having to shlep up 2 flights of stairs)

but man i wish i lived somewhere where i didn't have to worry about being too loud, i really miss singing my fave songs and i'm so paranoid about bothering my neighbors

#personal blah blah //

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hockeylvr59 · 2 years

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Honest Love - Bonus 1 || Cale Makar

A/N: This little vignette popped into my head as soon as I saw Cale with the A last night. This is definitely a jump in the future but it doesn’t give anything away regarding the main story so hopefully you enjoy this little sneak peek.

~~~~~~

Cale felt exhausted as he turned the key in the lock to the front door of the house. Not because it was after midnight, in fact the sun was presently high in the sky, but because he’d expected to get home last night after the game in Chicago - not mid afternoon the following day. He hated being away from his girl and little one any longer than necessary and the extra twelve hours on the road were some of the most exhausting in his life. And that said a lot being that he’d had plenty of sleepless nights recently.

Dropping his back off to the side in the entryway, Cale surveyed the house. The faint sound of the washer and dryer going reached his ears from the laundry room and the sound of baby babbles rang through the monitor in the living room coming from upstairs.

Following the latter sounds, Cale strode up the steps and popped his head into the nursery. There, his eyes fell on the tiny body of his child sitting up in the crib. Seeing him, the little one cooed loudly and kicked tiny legs in excitement while waving something stuffed in those chubby hands.

“Hi…” Cale greeted, moving closer. “How’s my little pumpkin?”

A string of babbles were returned to him and that chubby hand continued waving whatever the little one so tightly gripped trying to show it to him. As Cale picked his baby up from the crib he released that the toy of choice today was a stuffed alphabet letter a.

“What do you got there?” He asked, smiling as the string of babbles continued and his pumpkin’s head rested against his suit-covered shoulder.

“Aaaaaa.”

Kissing along soft, fine hair, Cale paced back and forth just enjoying the moment. This was what he missed most when on the road for sure. After a moment, a soft voice appeared behind him and he turned to look at the love of his life standing in the doorway.

“Well look who’s home…” She stated softly. “I see pumpkin showed you already.”

Stepping into the room, she closed the distance between them and pressed up on her toes to kiss him softly.

“Don’t know what you mean…” Cale murmured against her lips.

“Pumpkin hasn’t let go of that letter since last night. So proud of daddy.”

Cale’s face softened and his cheeks flushed as his brain started to piece it all together.

“Did you…?” He asked curiously looking at her for clarification.

“Nope.” She smiled back brightly. “Pulled it out of the pile and just started waving it at me saying da.da.da.”

“So smart.” Cale whispered in awe. Nodding in agreement his girl looked between him and their little one again.

“We’re so proud of you. You absolutely deserved it and I may have cried a little while I saw it.”

“It’s only temporary…” Cale reminded her, causing her to just shrug.

“That may be true but you do deserve it and it certainly won’t be the last time there is a letter on your shoulder. You’re a leader on your team, a leader for this family, and we love you so much and are so ready for you to nap with us if you’re interested.”

Laughing softly, Cale nodded.

“Always ready for a nap with the two of you.”

#cale makar #cale makar imagine #hockey imagine #hockey imagines #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #colorado avalanche #colorado avalanche imagine #cavalanche #039

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peakyscillian · 3 years

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What You're Missing | Part Three

Summary: Reader & Cillian have been so busy, spending time together hasn't happened, Reader needs to show Cillian just what he's missing over the course of a week. Pairing: Cillian x Fem!Reader Part: 3/4 Warnings: Smut & Language. Requested: No. A/N: This has been sat in my drafts for a while, so I've decided to actually post it.

What You're Missing

Masterlist | Part One | Part Two

Part Three

'got an early finish planned today baby x' You glanced at his text, you'd finally had an idea for your article and didn't want to be distracted. You already had your plan for this evening. Finishing up in the bathroom, you made sure your hair was perfectly waved, light on the make up, his favourite lingerie set fitting your body perfectly. You padded into your shared closet looking for one of his shirts, ideally his favourite navy one, that was soft and nicely oversized on you. You grabbed some laundry from the hamper and made your way back down the stairs, loading the washer, you made sure beers were chilling in the fridge. ~~~~ Cillian froze at the front door, the picture of you filled his screen, his eyes lingered on the shot of you in the bathroom, a t-shirt scrunched over your breasts and a high waisted thong. His eyes flicked to the guys behind him as he opened the door "Y/N?" He called out, hoping your reply came from the bedroom as the guys piled in behind him. You stepped out of the kitchen, the high waisted thong sat on the soft flesh of your hips, the low cut bra was fitted on your breasts leaving a small amount to the imagination, his shirt thrown over you, he loved you in his shirts. Your eyes widened at the sight of Paul and Anto behind your husband "shit" you cursed a blush rising up your chest to your cheeks. Cillian ushered the guys into the lounge. "I mean we can go Cills" Paul chuckled "yea we don't want to interrupt you getting laid" Anto jibed at him. "ah fuck off you three I'll be right back" he closed the door behind him striding down the hall. He found you in the bedroom tugging on some sweats, hair now piled in a messy bun "I'm sorry" he started you glared at him still in the bra, his shirt discarded on the floor just a warning text would of been enough Cillian" you huffed pulling open the door to the closet "I didn't get the picture or text until just now" he was holding back a smirk. You reappeared from the closet pulling a cropped sweat over your head "wipe that smirk off your face Murphy and go have boys night" you rolled your eyes. "but I can send them home" he protested pulling you into his arms, you shook your head "surprisingly not in the mood" you pecked his cheek. Cillian nodded kissing you on the corner of your mouth "if you're sure" he pouted a little. "I'm sure Cill, I have work to finish off anyway" you nudged your nose against his "I guess there's always later" he whispered against your ear "maybe if I'm over my embarrassment" you laughed lightly. You stopped in the door way of the office "there's beers in the fridge and can you switch the dryer off" you blew him a kiss "anything love" he blew one back, skipping down the stairs. ~~~~ Cillian made his way up to the bedroom a few hours later, kicking the guys out finally after a lot of teasing from them. A smile pulled on his lips at the sight of you in the bed, laptop in front of you, friends on the tv, glasses perched on your nose "hey baby" he lent over you kissing your temple "hey" you smiled up at him "just going to get a shower" he mentioned to the en suite "I'll be here" he nodded making his way to the bathroom. You closed your laptop, resting it on the bedside table placing your glasses on the top as Cillian slipped into the covers smelling fresh and comforting, his hair still slightly wet. "Really am sorry about this evening darling" he lifted his arm so you could slide up next to him, you shook your head "it's fine Cill, just felt stupid" you mumbled hand on his chest. He sighed "no need to feel stupid love, should have told ya" he dropped a kiss to the top of your head. You looked up at him, eyes searching his face "what's wrong?" He asked brow furrowed in concern "nothing" you kissed his chest. Cillian shook his head he knew youso well "somethings up, don't get me wrong baby, I've loved these past couple of days, love having you love on me and being able to love on you, but even with our healthy sex life it hasn't been like this" he gave you a small smile as you buried your face in his

chest with a groan. You moved sitting up, taking his hands inyours "I guess I just felt like we haven't been together in so long and I just don't want you to forget about me" you felt the blush creep on to your cheeks, the smile dropped from his lips "forget about you? Darling I could never" he pulled you on to his lap hands on your hips "I don't think it's possible, I think about you every second of the day whether I'm with you or not and have done since the day I met you seven years ago" he continued. You kissed his lips softly "I just missed you, all of you and wanted to show you" you shrugged as he nodded understanding you "I get that pet, a few more weeks and we can have some downtime" His hands were roaming up the back of your pyjama top "also for the record I love those outfits and all the fancy stuff but my favourite you is like this, relaxed and comfortable in our home" he kissed your neck as you held back the tears in your eyes "sweetest thing you've ever said Murphy" you giggled softly as he huffed out a laugh. *** Taglist @missymurphy1985 @janelongxox @queenshelby @heidimoreton @being-worthy @elenavampire21 @cloudofdisney @datewithgianni @magicalpieex @uchihacumdump @vhscillian @otterly-fey @inkandpen22 @pocket-of-possibilities @cilleveryone

#Cillian Murphy #Cillian x Fem!Reader #Cillian x y/n #Cillian smut #Cillian Series #Mini - series #my writing #peakyscillian updates #Fluff #requests open #taglist #masterlist

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mollygetssherlockcoffee · 4 years

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Thirty Seconds

Pairing: Spencer x Fem!Reader

Summary: (Five Minutes, Part 4) Y/N enters the maze

Warning: Blood, kidnapping, maths (yes there’s a warning for that because it kills me)

Words: 2,360

A/N: I hope no one looks at my search history because... not good

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Five Part Six

Master List HERE Permanent Tag List HERE

You look at the LED display which gives you your instructions.

Unlock the door at the top of the stairs. Enter the maze. Forty-five minutes.

You don’t bother to step over the pictures, not caring about the dirt from your shoes transferring. The steps are framed by a washer and a dryer, both in a dishevelled state from where you had searched them. Gripping the key tightly, you climbed the stairs and slid it into the lock. You turned the key, unlocking the door and pulling it open.

A wall extended from each side of the door, floor to ceiling and, once again, made completely of concrete. The path extended away from you, but the ceiling lights showed that it veered into two different directions.

With the walls being floor to ceiling, there was no way for you to see above them and determining how big the maze was. The forty-five-minute timer set could be wholly unrealistic but what choice did you have? You had to at least try.

You put your right hand on the wall, just like Spencer had said back in October, and take a final deep breath. You stepped into the maze, ready to begin your next task, one that you hoped was both your last one and not. Last, if it meant your team finding you. Not your last, if your team didn’t find you and you needed to survive.

You kept your right hand on the wall as you travelled through the maze, the concrete scrapping at the delicate pads of your fingers. It wasn’t a painful feeling, but it was slightly uncomfortable. You ignored it, concentrating on keeping a level head as you walked through the maze.

You had been close to death. You had barely found the key in time before the timer had run out. You had thought you were going to die for sure, that you would fail the task and the unsub would appear and kill you.

You could have died and you would have never had seen your friends or family again. No more well-meaning lectures from your parents. No more worrying about how your younger sibling was fairing at college. You wouldn’t have Penelope dragging you shoe shopping again, and Emily wouldn’t be able try and convince you to have a drink with the team. Hotch wouldn’t stand behind you during interrogation sin a silent display of support, and there would be no more dinner parties or personal conversations with Rossi. Derek wouldn’t tease you about your ‘twin telepathy’ with Spencer.

And, oh, Spencer. You’d miss out on so much, you had so many plans. You were going to take him to a concert your favourite band was holding. In return, he was planning on taking you to a lecture on molecular physics. You wouldn’t be able to bounce ideas off each other again, he wouldn’t be able to supply the words you couldn’t quite grasp when trying to describe something.

No, stop it. You were going to be okay. You had made it this far. As long as you followed Spencer’s directions and kept right, you would make it out of the maze. You were not going to let some unsub beat you.

You had went up against unsubs before. Everyday of your career was full of them and you hadn’t lost yet. You were not going to lose this time. You had been there to help stop Tobias Hankel, Mason Turner, and Robert and Linda Reimann. If you could get through them, you could get through this.

Your nose scrunched up as a rancid odour filled your senses. Your left hand lifts to cover your face as you choke on air, the smell turning your stomach. The smell is strong and sharp, and almost seems to burn your nose.

And its coming from your right.

You have no choice, you have to follow it around, you can’t detour from your path or you’ll never make it out of the maze.

You turn the corner.

There, on the floor, is a large stain. It’s a dark, rusted red. Smeared across the floor, as if someone had half-assed trying to clean it us, the blood was easily identifiable. Someone had died here. It could only have been the second victim or the fourth. However, the second victim refused to participate and the fourth completed it… maybe the second victim refused to continue and was then killed? Or did the unsub have more victims he didn’t advertise?

You stepped over the blood stain and continued on.

From the stain, you know that the method of death wasn’t pleasant. You knew the unsub killed his victims by stabbing them but with the large stain on the floor, you knew it would be overkill. That means it would be painful but hopefully quick. If you were going to die a painful death, you hoped it would be over quickly.

You turned right again and ahead of you; you could see a door with a LED display above it reads;

Seven minutes and eleven seconds.

You had made it. You were about to finish the maze, the second task. You breathed a sigh of relief, rushing for the door and twisting the handle, pushing it open and stepping inside.

Spencer stood with team as they delivered the profile of the unsub who had taken Y/N. He stood at the back, arms folded across his chest and remained uncharacteristically quiet as the other members spoke.

“The unsub we’re looking for will be a white male in his thirties.”

“He is probably a man who is of average height and build, and is able to appear unassuming and non-threatening.”

“He most likely works in a profession relating to science in some way. Perhaps as a chemist, a schoolteacher even.”

“He’ll live in the north west Washington area and will be single with no children.”

“His interactions with women would be awkward, perhaps limited. He stabs his victims to get sexual release that he can’t get any other way.”

“He’ll probably drive a hatchback or sedan, nothing that would stand out, nothing flashy.”

Spencer didn’t know how this profile would help. They currently had no witnesses, no suspects. There were multiple men in Washington who would fit the profile. They’d solved cases like this before but now it was personal, and Spencer couldn’t see the light here.

Derek’s phone rang he quickly answered it, putting it on speaker. “Talk to me, baby girl.”

“Okay, I got a hit off the car and the partial plate. I’ve followed it back to two separate cars, with single differences in their plates” Garcia informs them. “Lewis Rakers and Bailey Peterson.” “Rossi, Prentiss, you go to Rakers. Morgan and I will go to Peterson’s” Hotch orders. “Garcia send the addresses to our cells and I want a full background check on both of them.”

“Yes, sir” she hung up.

Hotch turned to Spencer, “Go over all of the victim’s schedules again and see if their paths crossed in anyway, make sure we didn’t miss anything.”

Spencer knew they hadn’t missed anything, that Hotch was just trying to give him something to do because he refused to let Spencer into the field. He nodded anyway, moving back to the room which held the case files while Hotch instructed JJ to visit the ME to find out more about the newest body found, that of Lydia Webb.

Lewis Raker opened the door to his basement, his arms full of washing as he climbed down the stairs. He shoved the dirty laundry into the washing machine, adding the detergent before pressing it on. He sighed as he looked around the messy basement, he’d have to clean it up soon. A knock sounded from upstairs and he left the basement, closing the door behind him as he went to the front door.

Bailey Peterson put away the final item, looking around his basement. Once a mess, he had managed to tidy it up in less than an hour. It had involved moving some items, picking up rubbish off the floor but it was done now. The bell for his front door sounded and Bailey quickly hurried to answer it, pulling the door shut behind him.

David Rossi and Emily Prentiss climbed back into their car. Lewis Raker had answered their questions without hesitation. He had, however, denied them entrance into his home. It was a one storey property, made with grey bricks and had a wooden porch. Thirty minutes outside of Washington, it was in a quiet area with limited neighbours.

“Do you think its him?” Prentiss asked, not looking away from the house.

“I don’t know, but its strange that he won’t let us inside” Rossi comments, eyes narrowed as he eyed the house with equal scepticism. “Call Hotch, see how he’s getting on.”

Emily pulled out her phone, dialling Hotch’s number and putting it on speaker.

Aaron Hotchner and Derek Morgan walked away from the Peterson residence. A two-storey building made of bricks, it was an eye catcher in the neighbour-less area of north west Washington. They climbed back into their car, not bothering with their seatbelts as they stared at the building in front of them.

Hotch’s phone rang and he pulled it out of his suit pocket. “Hotchner.” “Hey, we just got done with Raker. He gave nothing away and wouldn’t let us into the house without a warrant” Emily informed him.

“We just had the same interaction with Peterson” Hotch confirmed. “I’ll patch in Garcia and see if she’s found anything.”

Putting the phone on speaker, Hotch dialled Garcia’s number and added her to the call. She answered the call on the second ring, greeting the team with her usual quippy comment before jumping straight into giving them the information they needed.

“Okay, only one of our duo matches the profile. He’s not a chemist or science teacher, but his dad was. He works as a janitor at a local high school though, so he could get access to the ingredients to make the chloroform. No wife, girlfriend, boyfriend or anything that can be seen. I also went over CCTV of the areas where the victims went missing and it took a while, but I found the car in every camera. Sometimes the times aren’t exact, but its within half-hour either way.”

“Who is it Garcia?” Hotch demanded.

Garcia took a deep inhale of breath before she told them the name.

You were in a new room. It was tiny, if you were to reach your arms out in either direction, you’d be touching the wall. Ahead of you is a door, an alphabetical keypad beside it. Above the keypad is a laminated piece of paper and a timer counting down from three minutes.

The laminated paper held a riddle and you stepped closer to read it.

‘I speak without a mouth and hear without ears. I have no body, but I come alive with wind. What am I?’

You know the answer to this riddle. You, Spencer and Penelope had a game you would play with each other. You would tell each other riddles, hoping the others wouldn’t know the answer. It was a playful game, something to occupy the downtime when you didn’t have a case. This had been Penelope’s first riddle and she had been annoyed when Spencer had guessed the answer correctly before she had even finished telling it.

‘Echo’ you typed into the keypad.

The door slid open and you stepped through. The new room is exactly the same as the first, the timer reset to read three minutes and it was already counting down. You turned to the riddle.

‘I have cities, but no houses. I have mountains, but no trees. I have water, but no fish. What am I?’

This was a riddle you had given to Penelope and Spencer. You had spent ages on Google looking for the perfect riddle before finding this one. You had been proud because Spencer hadn’t been able to answer the riddle straight away. It hadn’t taken him long, only a few minutes, but you still counted it as a victory.

‘Map’ you typed into the keypad.

The door in front of you slid open and you stepped through again. Its exactly the same as the first two and you groan. Riddles were fun but under pressure, you already knew you were going to struggle.

‘How can the number four be half of five?’

This one stumps you. You’re not the best at maths and would admit to that any day. This was not a riddle which was made for you. While you struggled with large sums off the top of your head, you knew that half of five was two-point-five. The math was impossible. Maybe it doesn’t mean the literally number though. The numbers are written as words, maybe that was a clue. It could be ‘fi’ or ‘ve’ or…

Roman numerals. They used letters, didn’t they? You hated Roman numerals, they were stupid and confusing, not following a logical order which you hated. What was the answer? IIII or IV… wait, IV. Those are two letters which are in five. You couldn’t be certain that they were the Roman numerical version of four, but you were running out of time.

‘IV’ you input into the keyboard.

You hold your breath but then the next door slides open and you walk through. There’s another riddle.

‘Find the next three parts of the sequence…. OTTFFS’

What? You didn’t understand. What was the sequence? It made no sense, there was no method to the layout of the letters. What could they mean? You didn’t even know what the letters could stand for.

You would have to guess because you had no way of knowing. You looked at the timer, thirty seconds. What were you going to put? You bit your bottom lip and reached for the keypad.

“SOO” you typed.

The timer reached zero and the door remained closed. You held your breath, turning around in your spot. The lights went out and you were left in the dark.

A/N: What’s the answer to the riddle? And, who is the kidnapper/killer?

Permanent Tag List: @sskhair @sammypotato67 @spencerreids-wife @yoongi-holland @bucky-babygirl @youareperrrfectls @alexxcorona113 @tired-draculina

Five Minutes Tag List: @you-got-me-starry-eyed @kkoch-pdf @yourlocalnorah @mandapanda8 @gia-kerks @hailmaryyramliah @reidsmyhusband-emilysmymistress @mailikestruecrimetoomuch @fandomgirl17 @eldahae @kianagilder-blog @ilovecriminalmindswithallmyheart @loki-an-idiot @cevxns @andiebeaword @thatsonezesty13 @peaxhyjaes @mydoctorwho13 @yorkeylover @spencerslatte

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artificialqueens · 3 years

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Galactica, Chapter 43 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: Hola muffins! Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫

Last Chapter: Adore threw a tantrum, but it may have been justified.

This Chapter: Bianca has some ‘splainin to do, Courtney plays pretend, Violet gets some exciting news, and Fame has a workplace scare.

***

The first thing Bianca did when she got home on Friday was kick off her stilettos, giving her poor feet a break after the long week. The second thing she did was feed the dogs, her beloved chihuahuas jumping around like crazy while she filled their bowls and freshened up their water dishes. And the third thing? She emptied almost a full bottle of Cabernet into a wine glass, carrying it upstairs to her room.

She opened the door, flipped on the lights, and that’s when she nearly had a heart attack.

Adore, who was on the sofa in her bedroom sitting area, had apparently been waiting for her in the dark.

“Jesus fucking christ!” Bianca said, clutching her chest, a wine stain already spreading on her area rug where she’d spilled in fear.

“Hello Bianca.”

“What the fuck are you doing sitting here in the dark, you psychopath?” Bianca crouched down, examining the stain. “Fuck.”

“I need to talk to you.”

“Normal people use a phone!” Bianca sighed, standing back up. “This rug is destroyed, by the way.”

Bianca pointed, doing her best not to spill again, the thought of having to make arrangements with a decorator already putting her on edge, but she guessed she’d just have Joslyn take care of it.

“Thank you for that.” Bianca shook her head, sitting down in the armchair across from Adore. “So, what’s going on?”

“I thought,” said Adore, “that you didn’t have any secrets from me.”

She looked wounded, like a child, and Bianca groaned internally. This had to be about Pearl.

“I don’t, pussycat.” Bianca set her wine down and leaned forward. “I’m an open book for you.”

It was true. There were things Adore knew that Bianca would never tell another soul--and vice versa. Bianca would never, for the life of her, lie to Adore. On the other hand, there were things that she just didn’t feel right bringing up.

“Oh yeah? Then why didn’t you tell me about Fame and Pearl? Huh?” Adore accused.

There it was.

“That wasn’t my secret to tell,” Bianca offered, hoping that Adore would believe her. She wouldn’t have lied, not if she was asked a direct question, but why open up a can or worms if she didn’t have to? Why risk hurting Adore, why betray Fame’s trust, all for this ill-fated, hopefully short-lived relationship with Pearl fucking Liaison?

“Bullshit!”

“Adore…”

“No, I don’t understand. Because you say you love me, you want to protect me, but you lied to me, you lied, for months, and-”

“I didn’t lie, I just didn’t tell you-”

“I’m gonna strangle you right now, bitch,” Adore said, seething with anger. “You fucking lied!”

The semantics argument would never work--Bianca could see that. So instead, she sighed, rubbing her temples, and changed tactics entirely. “Would it have made a difference?” she asked.

“Huh?”

“If I had told you everything. Broken Fame’s trust, told you all about everything I knew. Would it have changed the way you felt about Pearl? Would it have stopped you from liking her?”

Bianca knew her sister, knew that Adore would most likely have dug in her heels and wanted Pearl even more if a pseudo-parent figure had sat her down and tried to explain all the reasons why she was a terrible choice. If it was guaranteed to stop Adore from getting hurt, Bianca would probably have told her and risked Fame’s wrath.

“Well…” Adore paused, considering the question. “Probably not, but-”

“Well, there you go.” Bianca picked up her glass again and took a large sip. In all honesty, she felt a lot better that it had come out, especially without her having to be the one to tell. Maybe now, Adore would start to see Pearl for who she truly was.

“B…”

“Yes?”

Adore’s lip quivered, eyes shining with tears, and Bianca knew that she’d cave. She always did.

She moved to the sofa, wrapping Adore into her arms, her younger sister curling into her lap the way she used to, even if it was a bit ridiculous now, considering that Adore was so much taller than her.

“I’m sorry, baby girl,” she murmured into Adore’s hair as she rocked her.

“I need to trust you, B,” Adore cried, clinging to her. “I thought you were the one person who would always be honest with me.”

Bianca brushed her tears away, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I know. I’m sorry.”

Adore sniffled, nodding.

“What can I do to make it up to you? Hmm?”

“Can Pearl come to Thanksgiving?” Adore asked, perking up a little. The little rat seemed to have that answer ready awfully quickly.

“Ughh, Adore, you’re still with her?”

“Yes! She’s not the one who lied to me. She assumed I knew all along,” Adore said. “And besides, some of us are mature enough to handle real relationships.”

“Ouch.”

“Sorry. But…” Adore shrugged, “When’s the last time you dated someone longer than a month?”

“Fine. Pearl can come to Thanksgiving,” Bianca said. Anything to avoid the dreaded ‘why don’t you ever commit?’ conversation.

Adore’s face broke into a happy grin, throwing her arms back around Bianca’s neck.

“Thank you, B! I always knew you were my favorite sister.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah…”

***

Pearl was humming along to the music in her headphones as she made her way towards the laundry room, basket under her arms. Normally, Katya was the one who washed everyone's clothes, even taking Pearl’s too, but this weekend, Trixie had taken her to Coney Island, and Pearl was nothing if not a good roomie.

At least when it suited her.

Pearl pushed the door open, fully expecting the basement to be devoid of anyone she knew, but instead of bumping into some random neighbor, she saw Violet bent over and pulling her clothes out of the washer.

Pearl smirked, leaning against the doorframe for a minute to watch Violet stretch, her ass absolutely delicious in the tight yoga pants she was wearing. Violet stood back up, still not noticing Pearl, and while Pearl didn’t mind peeking, she didn’t want to upset the truce between her and Violet, so she coughed, causing Violet to turn around.

“Oh.” Violet looked genuinely surprised, her hands filled with workout clothes. “Hi Pearl, I didn’t-” Violet paused, looking at the basket under Pearl’s arm.. “... Are you washing clothes?”

“Yes?” Pearl smirked, “Did you think I didn’t?”

“Honestly? I did… Think you didn’t?” Violet bit her lip, tilting her head. “I’ve never imagined you doing chores, ever.”

“Good to hear that you’re thinking about me, Chachki.” Pearl grinned, satisfaction curling up her spine.

“Sure.” Violet snorted, moving aside so there was room for Pearl to walk into the small room.

“A girl can dream.”

“Don’t get too full of yourself.” Violet smiled, pouring her own clothes into the dryer. “It doesn’t suit you.”

“I think you think it suits me fine.” Pearl wiggled her brows. She knew that she probably shouldn’t be flirting with Violet, but it was impossible not to, least of all when it was so fun.

“Whatever.” Violet rolled her eyes, but she still looked amused. She started the dryer, but didn’t make a move to leave, Pearl noticing that she had a thermos and a stack of magazines, Violet grabbing one of them.

“My my Vivi,” Pearl closed the lid on the washer. “Planning to sit on the dryer?”

“What? No, ew, Pearl!” Violet slapped her on the shoulder with the magazine. “Shut up!”

“You can’t make me.” Pearl grinned, getting up and leaning against the small table Violet had put her setup out on. “So what are we reading?”

***

“Tati!” Courtney called out, waving to get her friend’s attention in the crowded Port Authority bus terminal. They’d both realized how much they missed each other at the Halloween party, with Courtney working crazy hours and living all the way up in the Bronx, and Tatianna staying with her cousins in New Jersey.

The truth was that Courtney had felt a bit disconnected from all of her friends recently. She still managed to at least text with Adore every day, but it was hard to keep up with everyone else--something she was determined to fix.

The girls hugged fiercely, then headed out, towards the cute brunch spot that Ivy had recommended. Courtney noticed right away that Tatianna seemed a bit reserved, not all all like her usual bubbly self.

“Is everything okay?” she asked, squeezing her friend’s hand as they waited for the light to change.

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s been alright. I’m just getting a little bit frustrated with the whole modeling thing. I still haven’t found a decent agent, and all I keep on getting are these cattle calls. I just...ugh, sometimes I wonder if it’s all just a mistake.” She heaved a sigh, shoulders slumped, face dejected.

Courtney knew exactly how she felt. She’d gone through the exact same thing when she moved to New York, trying desperately to go on as many auditions as possible. It was so disheartening to feel invisible. But she knew that Tati would make it--she was so beautiful, one of the prettiest girls Courtney had ever known, and the photos Courtney had seen were amazing.

“Don’t give up. I know it’s hard, but...I really think you’re gonna get a break soon.”

“Yeah?”

“Absolutely. And actually… Well, I don’t know what their casting process is, but I’ve gotten really friendly with the head of our makeup department. Maybe I can give her your photos?”

“Are you kidding? That would be the best fucking thing ever!” Tati exclaimed, beaming at her.

Courtney smiled, hoping that she wasn’t over-promising, but thrilled that she seemed to have turned her friend’s mood around.

“That’s honestly so cool though, even if they don’t use me. You’re really making friends in high places!”

“Yeah,” Courtney said, a dry chuckle slipping from her lips. “Actually, there’s a show coming up in a few weeks too, like this private thing at the showroom for the holiday collection. I could try slipping you into the casting pile for that too. Raja is in charge of that and her assistant is super nice.”

“You’re such a fucking goddess, thank you!” Tati said.

“Anytime.”

“So then, are things going better at work? I mean, you’re liking it more?”

“Ummm…” Courtney sighed.

“Uh oh. That doesn’t sound good.”

She really tried to be positive about work. She tried to keep a good attitude, tried not to cringe in fear every time her work phone buzzed after hours. But sometimes, like on a Sunday afternoon when she just wanted to enjoy brunch with her friend but couldn’t keep the racing thoughts about everything she’d have to do in the coming week from intruding—sometimes it was hard. She hadn’t confessed this to her friends yet, for fear of it getting back to Adore. She just didn’t want to seem like she was ungrateful for the opportunity. But something told her that she could trust Tati.

“Well...it’s just...it’s really stressful. All the time, and I keep thinking that it’ll get easier, you know? But instead there’s just more and more and the hours are always long and even when I’m supposed to be sleeping, I’m always thinking about work or worried that I forgot something. Plus, I don’t think Miss Fame likes me very much and it’s just…”

“Shitty?”

“Yeah,” Courtney exhaled, surprised at how much of a relief it felt to unburden herself. “Sometimes I feel like...I’m barely holding on. It’s like I can’t...find the solid ground, you know?”

Tati nodded solemnly, stopping mid stride to turn and give Courtney a big, comforting hug. Then, she suddenly grasped her by the shoulders, a sly smile on her face as she said, “I know what you need!”

Courtney laughed, curiosity distracting her from her troubles as Tati dragged her down the block, right into a high-end boutique filled with clothes that they could never afford in a million years. In that moment, Courtney knew exactly what she was up to--a perfectly ridiculous game they started last year when the stress of school was getting overwhelming.

She had to bite her cheek to keep from laughing when Tatianna found a sales clerk and “introduced” herself.

“Helloooo!” she crooned in a terrible British accent, sticking out her hand as if the woman should kiss it. “Tatianna Buckingham, Duchess of Hamptonshire, pleasure to meet you. This is my friend, Courtney Vanderbilt-Rockefeller, and we need gowns for a gala next week.”

The sales girl smiled patiently, asking them if they wanted some champagne.

“Sounds lovely, darling. Thanks ever so.”

The moment the clerk walked away, Courtney began laughing, whispering, “She totally knew you were lying.”

“So?” Tati challenged. “Maybe she likes to play, too.”

“Maybe,” Courtney giggled, pawing through a rack of floor-length beaded gowns. “Ooh, Tati dahhhling, this turquoise one would look positively diviiine on you!”

“I don’t know about that one, I was planning to wear the rubies and it might clash.”

“Then wear the diamonds, love!”

“Great idea! Alright, let’s try it on!”

The clerk returned with champagne, and Tati held out her glass for a toast, her arms already full of clothes to try on.

“To solid ground,” she said solemnly, and Courtney toasted her back enthusiastically.

“Cheers!”

They spent nearly an hour in the store, trying on gowns, resort wear and pristinely tailored ensembles, taking turns styling each other and then strutting around the dressing room as if it was a Paris runway. The whole thing was silly and fun and made Courtney feel like she used to: young and happy and free.

When they finally left the store to head to brunch, Courtney couldn’t help pull her friend in for a hug, whispering, “Thank you,” into her hair.

“Anytime, buttercup,” Tati told her, pressing a kiss to her temple.

***

“It’s here!” cried Kandy, and a murmur went through the whole design floor, everyone reaching for their respective tablets.

It had been almost an hour since the department head meeting ended, Trixie informing them all that Miss Fame’s office would be sending the team the final prêt-à-porter sketches that had gone to tailoring for production.

Of course Courtney would be slower than death, but Violet had still spent the whole 30 minutes constantly refreshing her email. She knew it was petty considering the number of people that were trying for it, but she really really wanted that jacket spot and she had a few other looks she thought were promising as well.

One, a breezy dress that could be dressed up or down depending on styling, and a top with beautiful sleeve detailing. But the jacket...if the jacket was chosen, then it boded very well for her chance of getting the opening or closing couture look, since the dress she was currently working on used some of the same techniques.

It was probably a pipe dream to even hope for a spot like that, being the newest designer, but Violet was going to give it her best shot.

Violet clicked on the attachment, lip between her teeth as she carefully looked through, doing her best not to skip anything.

The first sketch of hers that she recognized was a skirt, one of the simpler submissions that she hadn’t even felt 100% about, but it fit in with the casual separates. The dress that she liked was in there too--with a note to lengthen the hemline. She wrinkled her nose, hoping that the extra fabric wouldn’t make the skirt look dowdy.

Then, she found it on page 38 among the other outwear--her jacket.

She grinned happily to herself, beyond pleased and excited to have this major success under her belt and more determined than ever to perfect her couture submission.

***

“Courtney! I need the tailoring budgets now!”

Fame shrugged her coat off as she walked into her office, taking her coat and letting it fall, trusting her assistant to catch it before it touched the ground. Fame had just finished her weekly yoga and therapy, talking with her therapist over the phone while stretching out. She didn’t like the therapy, hated doing it actually, but she couldn’t discredit the fact that it did make her feel slightly less anxious to unload on someone once a week.

“Have you talked to Shangela yet?” Fame looked at Courtney, her assistant holding the budget out for her. “I want-” Fame paused, realizing that this was the first time in weeks that she had actually looked at Courtney, the pastel pink no longer in the blonde hair.

Or rather, in what used to be blonde.

“What’s that?” On top of Courtney’s head, was the most disgusting half inch of severely neglected roots, the hair making Courtney’s entire appearance look cheap and tawdry. “Where do you get your hair done?”

Courtney’s hand flew to her hair, covering up the roots as the color drained for her face.

“I do it myself. I’m sorry, I know I need to touch up-”

“Yourself?” Fame tried to remember if she had ever had to reprimand Violet like this, Courtney looking like an absolute disaster. “And how do you think your current hairstyle reflects on the company? And most importantly me?”

“Um...well, I-” Courtney bit her lip, and Fame sighed internally.

For the most part, Courtney had been doing alright. For one thing, she was no longer skipping around the place like a child, and seemed to be taking her job seriously, at least. But in spite of her meager progress, she still had so much to learn. Drug store dye? Did she think this was a strip club instead of a top tier fashion house?

“Remember. Only perfection is acceptable.” Fame said, her tone clipped and pointed as she strode into her office, then turned around and proclaimed, “That’s all,” finally shutting the door in Courtney’s face.

***

Sutan was sitting at his desk at work, a smile on his face as he was reading the email that had just ticked in from Violet.

Normally, it was nearly impossible to get a hold of the woman during work hours, the task even harder now that she didn’t have a work phone anymore, but judging from the excitement that radiated from her email, Violet had been unable to wait until she was off the clock to tell him that she had gotten not one, not two, but three pieces into the prêt-à-porter collection.

Sutan was just about to email her back with congratulations, his mind already racing with how they should celebrate, when he heard a tap on his door.

He was one of the only agents who had an always open door policy, his models and coworkers always welcome, Sutan more often than not getting visits from models that didn’t even belong to him when there was trouble on the horizon, girls coming by to share their frustrations or worries with someone who listened.

Today, however, it wasn’t a model who had shown up at his door.

“Oh,” Sutan smiled. “Tamisha, hello.”

Tamisha Iman was the current CEO of Elite Model with over 30 years of experience in the business. She looked gorgeous as always, her skin perfection even though she was in her mid 50s. She was wearing a red pant suit, her brown hair perfectly styled.

“What can I help you with?”

“Do you have five?”

“Of course.” Sutan raised an eyebrow as Tamisha stepped inside, closing the door behind her. It was years since Tamisha had last been upset with him, and even though she was a firm but fair boss, you never really knew. “Anything wrong?”

“Can I bum a cigarette? I just had the most terrible meeting with the L.A. office-”

“Ah.” Sutan smiled, leaning back in his chair and folding his hands over his stomach. “And who says I smoke?”

“Oh please,” Tamisha rolled her eyes. “I know you got the goods Amrull.”

“I thought you quit last year?”

“Don’t care.”

“Ouch.” Sutan laughed, opening the bottom drawer and pulling out the packets of cigarettes he always kept there. “I only have Camels.”

“That’s fine.” Tamisha had already walked over to his window, opening it and hiking up her skirt to crawl out onto his fire escape. “Are you coming?”

“Course boss.” Sutan smiled as he grabbed his lighter, listening to one of the few people he considered a friend bitch not the worst way to spend an afternoon.

***

Pearl climbed the stairs from the subway, she and Trixie having a rare weekday dinner without Katya since she was busy with parent-teacher conferences, so they’d opted for their favorite dim sum place downtown. As they began walking up the block, Pearl stopped short, her eyes opening wide.

“Oh my god…”

“What?” Trixie asked.

The whole time Pearl was speaking to Dahlia at Adore’s last gig, she was certain that she’d seen the dark-haired beauty somewhere before. Now, looking at the giant XXX LIVE NUDE GIRLS XXX sign, she finally figured it out. She used to use the seedy strip club as a meeting place, whenever she was trying to get info from a straight guy. Granted, that didn’t happen terribly often in the fashion industry, which was probably why she hadn’t thought of it. But as soon as she saw that sign, she knew. Dahlia worked there. Pearl could picture her clear as day, in nothing but a tiny little thong, chest glistening with glitter.

“That strip club,” Pearl said. “Let’s go in!”

“What?” Trixie sputtered a laugh.

“For a drink! Real quick…”

“No way bro, not on your life.”

“Come on!” Pearl begged, reasoning, “Katya wouldn’t care, she’d probably think it was funny.”

“Maybe so, but I’m not interested,” Trixie told her firmly.

“Please, Trix? There’s a girl there that is just like...so fucking hot. I just want to see if she’s working tonight.”

“I’m not interested in helping you cheat on your girlfriend with a stripper, either.” Trixie looked absolutely disgusted with her. He was really the worst wingman in the world.

“It wouldn’t be cheating! We talked about it and agreed that we should be open.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah!” Pearl grinned, spreading her arms. “I’m living the dream.”

Trixie snorted and shook his head. “If you say so.”

“So will you come inside?”

“Still no.”

Pearl sighed, continued to follow him up the street to the dim sum place, all the while entertaining herself with images of what Dahlia looked like on stage… Her tall, luscious body wrapped in silky lingerie. The subtle scent of her perfume lingering even as she walked away, swaying her perfect hips.

***

The scent of spices was filling Sutan’s kitchen, music playing while he chopped up the last of the chili, humming to himself as he rocked back and forth to the music, a glass of wine getting picked up once in a while.

“What are we listening to?”

Violet was sitting at the table, filing her nails and drinking her own glass of wine as she watched Sutan, but most importantly his ass in those jeans, cooking dinner.

“What?” Sutan looked over his shoulder. “Are you seriously asking that? It’s the Temptations? They’re the only band from the 60s that matters.”

“Really?” Violet looked at Sutan, actually a little surprised at how passionate he seemed to be about music. If Violet was being totally honest, she always preferred instrumentals, vocals often only distracting.

“Yes, really?” Sutan huffed, “Youth these days.”

“I’m sorry,” Violet laughed, the man sounding genuinely offended.

“You better be.” Sutan smiled, tipping the last of the chili into the pan. “Or I might not give you your present.”

“My present?”

“Yes.” Sutan wiped his hands on the tea towel. “Watch the stove, would you?”

Violet was about to protest, but Sutan had already walked off. She wasn’t exactly sure what she was supposed to watch, the pasta dish Sutan was whipping together way above her level of cooking skills.

“Here we go.” Sutan walked back into the kitchen, holding a white box, a white ribbon wrapped around it, the word Dior printed on it in gold.

“Is-” Viole stood up, suddenly feeling boiling hot and overwhelmed. “Is that what I think it is?”

“Well,” Sutan grinned, putting the box down on the table in front of her. “Depends on what you think it is?”

“Sutan, I-” Violet didn’t know what to say, didn’t know what to think.

“Come on,” Sutan gave her a gentle push with his elbow.

“Are you serious?”

“Open it.”

Violet's hands were shaking as she reached for the ribbon and opened the box. Violet pulled the white paper away, her fingers making contact with the soft purple leather. Her hand flew to her mouth, covering it as she looked into the box, completely overwhelmed before she snapped to Sutan, a look of surprise and confusion on her face.

“Congrats on your designs being picked, lovely eyes.” Sutan smiled. “After getting a good look at your bag at the park the other day,” He raised an eyebrow, Violet remembering that she had shown it in his arms when she had spotted the pug. “I figured you needed a new one.”

“Oh my God, oh God.” Violet could feel the tears gathering in her eyes; she didn’t want to cry, but she was simply so overwhelmed.

Sutan always paid for their meals and their dates, refusing even the sight of Violet’s credit card, but it had never been anything like this before, never a gift that so obviously said, ‘I’m your boyfriend and I care about you.’

“Don’t cry darling,” Violet felt Sutan’s arms around her, pulling her against his chest as he pressed a kiss to her temple. “Take a look at it.”

Violet nodded, crying as she pulled the Dior Diorissimo in the most gorgeous pale purple leather out of the box.

“A cool designer bag for my cool designer girlfriend.” Sutan grinned, pressing yet another kiss against Violet’s hair. “Hopefully, it’ll be able to withstand the abuse of all the things you insist on lugging around.”

“This is,” Violet didn’t know what to say. “I-” She turned her head, looking up at Sutan. “Thank you. This is… Thank you. I love it.”

#rpdr fanfiction #thedane #veronica #galactica #vitan #adore x pearl #bianca del rio #adore delano #pearl liaison #violet chachki #courtney act #tatianna #miss fame #raja gemini #tamisha iman #trixie mattel #lesbian au #m/f au #fashion au

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slippinmickeys · 4 years

Text

Seeing as how the world is basically ending, I figured I may as well post the whole thing now. If Tumblr lets me. Tagging @storybycorey

You can also read the whole thing on AO3 here.

Dana Scully was running late. Flustered and out of breath from running the few blocks from the Metro stop, she pushed through the doors of the coffee shop, startling a young mom who was pushing a stroller out the door.

“Sorry,” she said, apologizing, and then held the door open while the woman slowly navigated the stroller through the narrow doorway. When she was out, Dana finally stepped in and scanned the store, looking for familiar auburn curls.

Her sister Melissa held up a hand and stood as Dana approached.

“Missy!” Dana said, relieved to see her.

Melissa gave her a long, tight hug before reclaiming her seat. Melissa’s hugs were the kind you always wanted to get. Like she’d cultivated them in a field, each one grown in a tidy row, just for you.

“Everything all right?” Melissa said, as Dana, huffing and out of breath, shrugged off her jacket and swung her purse over the back of a chair.

“No,” she said, laughing at herself and Melissa’s eyebrows came together in

sympathy, “but tell me about you first. How was your flight? God, it’s been so long!” She reached across and squeezed her older sister’s hand.

Melissa had flown back to the States only the day before, having spent the last two years living in England.

“I’m great!” Missy said, “living abroad has been incredible. I almost hated to come back.”

“Oh, I’m so glad,” Dana said.

In truth, she was glad. She’d missed her sister terribly, but Missy had needed a big change. She’d dropped out of college several years before, much to their parent’s horror, and Melissa had been too spirited to live long under their father’s roof. Her sister looked wonderful. Clearly the time abroad had been good to her.

“But, what’s happening with you? What’s going on?” Melissa said.

Dana blew a raspberry.

“I’m in a tight spot,” she finally said, “We just found out this morning that Ellen got the internship in Seattle for the summer. It’s the one she wanted, and I’m really excited for her, but it’s not paid, so she won’t be able to cover her half of the rent -- she leaves in two days and rent for next month is due in five. We’ve got three more months on the lease. I’ve got to find someone to sublease her room, like yesterday.” She felt panic bubbling up in her gut. “I don’t suppose you have any interest in staying in DC for the summer?” she asked Melissa hopefully.

“Oh, I wish I could,” Missy said, “but I’m registered for massage therapy classes at the National Holistic Institute in Baltimore for the summer. Mom and Dad have calmed down and I’m going to stay with them while I get certified.”

“Missy, that’s wonderful!” She tried to smile at her, but she knew it didn’t reach her eyes. Dana was excited for her sister, but had been holding out a hope that maybe Missy coming back Stateside would be an answer to her prayers.

“What about Ethan?” Melissa asked, lowering her voice unconsciously, “Couldn’t he move in with you for the summer? It’s only three months, Mom and Dad don’t need to know.”

Dana bit her lip.

“We broke up,” she said. Melissa’s eyes widened.

“June and Ward Cleaver broke up?” Melissa said, in shock. “When? I thought….”

She didn’t need to finish the sentence. Dana knew what Melissa thought. What everyone had thought. She and Ethan, together since their sophomore year of high school and enrolled in the same post-grad program at Georgetown, were the all-American couple. They, and everyone else, had assumed they would be engaged after they got their PhDs, and married not long after.

“Last month,” Dana said, looking down at her hands.

Melissa reached across the table and put her hand on Dana’s arm.

“What happened?”

“We grew up,” Dana said simply, “we’re different people, now. At least, I am. I’ve been thinking about making some changes at school and Ethan… was not supportive.”

Melissa squeezed her arm.

“What kind of changes?” she asked.

Dana looked up at her sister, “I’ve been seriously considering med school for some time.”

“But you’re so close to your degree!” Missy said.

“That’s what Ethan said,” said Dana, “but he was just so… dismissive. Like he had this plan for me. Like what I wanted didn’t matter. It was bad, Missy.”

“God,” Missy said.

“Yeah,” Dana went on, “he found out I took the MCAT and lost it. I broke up with him then and there. I haven’t seen him since. Not even on campus.”

Melissa gave her a shrewd look.

“Can I say something that you may not want to hear?”

Dana nodded morosely.

“I’m so glad,” Dana shot her sister a look, surprised. Melissa went on, “I never liked him, Dana. I know Mom and Dad loved him, but he’s had a stick up his ass since high school and he always thought he was better than everyone else. I used to sneak out and sprinkle catnip under his bedroom window in the summers.”

Dana’s jaw dropped.

“He used to complain all the time about-”

“-Tom cats in the neighborhood gathering outside his house and howling all night? Yeah, that was me.”

“Missy!”

“He deserved it,” Melissa said, sitting up with an air of moral superiority, “I’m glad you broke it off with him.”

“To be honest, I am too,” Dana said, “but I’m in a real lurch with this roommate situation. I don’t want to take out another student loan and I don’t think I can ask Dad for more money. Especially when he finds out I’m abandoning the program.”

“So you’re quitting for sure?” Melissa asked.

Dana nodded. “I just got the MCAT results and I did really well,” she couldn’t hold in a smile, “I told my advisor last week. I’m finishing out the summer. I’m going to start applying to med schools.”

“Well,” Missy said, “I’m glad you’re following your heart. And I wouldn’t worry much about Dad. He’ll be thrilled to have a doctor in the family. But maybe not so thrilled about bankrolling a degree you don’t intend to finish.”

Dana squirmed in her chair.

Melissa leaned back, thinking.

“What about…” she stopped, assessing Dana for a moment. “I have this friend. Someone I met in England last year. Moving to DC to be closer to family.”

Dana sat up straight.

“Do you know if she needs housing? Oh my God, Missy, you’d be saving my life.”

“The thing is,” Missy said, “it’s not a she.”

Dana made a face.

“He’s a great guy, Dane,” Melissa went on, “PhD in Psychology from Oxford. I met him when he was dating my friend Emma. His parents passed away recently and he’s putting his sister through school. She was a freshman at American this year. I can call him if you want.”

“I don’t know…” Dana said.

“Dana Scully, you are a 25 year old woman and it’s almost 1990 for God’s sake. Surely you’re not so old fashioned that you wouldn’t consider a male roommate. Particularly one that I can personally vouch for.”

“I don’t suppose he’s… gay?”

“You heard me mention my friend Emma, right?” Missy said, “No, he’s most certainly not gay, and no one is going to care that he isn’t. This isn’t Three’s Company, Chrissy. You need a roommate, and he--last I heard--needs a place to live. It’s perfect.”

It was only three months. Surely in this day and age having a male roommate wouldn’t give her some kind of reputation. And she was desperate--she would at least meet the guy. She leaned back in her seat.

“He isn’t cute, is he?” Dana asked.

Melissa narrowed her eyes.

“Cute?”

“Attractive. Hot. Someone with pleasing facial symmetry who other people like to look at.”

“Like you?” Melissa said. Dana gave her an exaggerated eye roll, and her sister asked, “Why?”

“Because it’s the last thing I need right now,” Dana said.

Melissa took a demure sip of coffee.

“No,” she said, not making eye contact, “he’s not cute.”

Dana considered her sister a long minute.

“Okay,” she finally said, “call him.”

XxXxXxXxXxX

At precisely 3:00pm, there was a knock on her door. Shave and a haircut.

He was punctual -- more than she could say for herself that day -- and that usually boded well.

Instead of sticking around to introduce them, Missy had said she had other friends she was supposed to see while she was in town and had taken off after setting up this meeting, though she promised Dana she would still come over for dinner.

Dana opened the door. He was tall. At least a foot taller than she was, and he stood in the doorway with a smile on his face. He was wearing a black leather biker jacket, jeans and black boots and was carrying a motorcycle helmet under one arm. Dana was momentarily taken aback by his good looks. She would kill Melissa.

“Dana?” he said, expectantly, reaching out for a handshake, “I’m Melissa’s friend. Fox Mulder.”

“I thought you’d be British,” she said, the words fumbling out of her mouth before she could stop them.

He smiled.

Dana shook herself, embarrassed, and extended a hand.

“Dana Scully,” she said, “sorry. Come in?”

“I met your brother when he came out to visit Melissa,” he said as he shook her hand, “one more Scully and I win a set of steak knives.”

“You’re in luck,” she said, smiling, “we Scullys come in sets of four.”

He laughed and wiped his feet on the welcome mat before stepping past her and into the apartment. He stood a few feet in and looked around.

“Wow,” he said, “this is a really nice place.”

Dana nodded and closed the door. It was a nice place. Much nicer than two broke grad students had any business living in. It had cathedral ceilings, hardwood floors and a large, spacious living room framed on one side with immense sliding glass doors that opened to a long balcony that ran the length of the room. On the other end of the living room sat a modern kitchen with a large island countertop that sat three people on the living room side, and had a 4 burner cooktop on the other. The appliances were pretty new. There was a hallway leading from the other end of the living room that led to one bathroom and a bedroom (Ellen’s), with a small in-unit washer/dryer at the end of the hall. Stairs led up from the left of the doorway to the master bedroom (Dana’s) and en-suite bathroom that had a separate tub and shower. The place was filled with hand-me-down furniture from various parents and siblings, but was decorated well and was quite comfortable.

“Rent controlled,” she said, by way of explanation, “my roommate’s brother had lived here for years. We got really lucky.” He nodded, still taking in the space. “You want a tour?” she asked.

“Sure,” he said, smiling.

She showed him the living room and the trick to opening the sliding glass door, then ran him through the kitchen and on down the hallway to Ellen’s room, which was a disaster area filled with half-packed boxes.

“This would be your room,” she said, “I promise to clean it before you move in.”

“Nah,” he said, peeking his head in the closet, “I’d be happy to do it. When would move-in be?”

“You could be in in two days,” she answered, “Ellen flies to Seattle tomorrow night, though you wouldn’t know it to look at her room.”

He smiled.

“I don’t know if Melissa told you about my situation,” he said, “everything has been happening kind of quickly. You’d really be saving my bacon, here.”

“She told me a little,” Dana said, “I’m really sorry about your parents, Fox.”

“Thank you,” he said softly. He cleared his throat. “Though, I uh, prefer to go by Mulder.”

“Fair enough,” Dana said. “Though there’s no way you ever got Melissa to call you anything other than Fox. I bet she was delighted.”

He laughed, a melodious, warm sound. Upon hearing it, she decided she liked him.

“And then some,” he said. “So what do I need to know?”

“Well, it would be a sublease for three months, until Ellen gets back. I may or may not be moving out in the fall, and our lease goes month-to-month after that.” He nodded. “Otherwise,” she said, “I mainly do a lot of studying. I have office hours and classes three days a week. I’m not big on house parties, and I like things quiet.” She looked at him, and he didn’t seem thrown by anything she’d said so far. “Do you…” she was sure how to put it, “have a girlfriend or anyone who would be coming over a lot?”

He smiled.

“No girlfriend at present,” he said, “though my sister is at AU and she may come over every now and then if she’ll deign to visit her stuffy older brother.”

His eyes crinkled with affection when he talked about his sister, and Dana found herself involuntarily charmed.

“And what do you do for a living?” she asked.

He winced.

“I’m currently looking for work,” he held his hand up when she raised her eyebrows, “I have enough in savings to more than cover three months of rent,” he said, “so you don’t have to worry about that. But I only got into town a few days ago. I’m still trying to figure everything out.”

“Melissa vouches for you,” she said, “that’s good enough for me.”

He fiddled with the helmet, which he was still carrying, and took a long, slow turn, looking around the apartment, as if making a decision. He finally turned back to her.

“Well, Scully Number Three?” he said, holding out his hand once again. “You’ve got a new roommate if you’ll have me.”

“No need to remind me of my place in the pecking order,” she said, “if you’re Mulder, I think just Scully will suffice.” Scully. She let it roll down her spine and liked the way it felt. She reached out and gripped his hand firmly. It was warm, dry, and completely enveloped hers. “Welcome home, Mulder,” she said.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Melissa breezed past her in the doorway without a word, arms laden with plastic bags.

“I brought take-out!” she said over her shoulder, kicking off her shoes and making her way to the kitchen to unburden herself of the bags. “Is Fox still here?” she asked, looking around, a little out of breath.

“He left about an hour ago,” Dana said, coming to stand in the doorway of the kitchen. “Melissa,” she went on, and Missy wouldn’t look at her. “You said he wasn’t cute.”

Melissa opened the fridge and helped herself to a beer.

“He’s not cute,” Missy said, finally turning to her, “he’s gorgeous. You’re welcome.” She twisted off the top and then shoved herself up to sit on the counter, taking a long pull.

“Make yourself at home,” Dana said sarcastically.

“Thanks,” Missy said, brushing her off. “How’d it go?”

“You’re right, he was really nice. He’s going to take it,” Dana said, and then decided she could go for a beer as well. She opened up the fridge as Missy punched the air in a yes! gesture.

“What did I tell you?” Melissa said, “kismet.”

“Yeah,” Dana said, tamping down her own enthusiasm, “I hope it works out.”

“It’s going to be great!” Missy said, “He really is the best guy.”

“Did you guys ever…?” Dana asked, wondering if she really wanted to know.

“Me and Fox? No,” she answered, “not that I wouldn’t have liked to,” she went on, “but I think the whole ‘thou shalt not date your best friend’s ex’ rule is pretty universal. Even across the pond.”

Dana was surprised to find herself relieved.

“I am privy to some information, though,” Missy said, arching an eyebrow.

“Do I even want to know?” Dana asked.

Missy ran her tongue along the corner of her mouth.

“He’s very well endowed,” she finally said with a grin.

Dana felt herself blushing and took a deep swig of beer to cover for it.

“Unless it’ll help him pay the rent,” she said, swallowing, “I don’t see how that’s any of my business.”

Melissa shrugged, looking coy. “I’ve also heard he loves to eat out,” she said.

“What does that have to do with-“ Dana finally looked at her sister, caught her eyebrows in the air, suggestively. “...Jesus, Missy.”

Melissa smiled, took a sip of beer.

“I’m just saying,” Melissa said, “a generous lover is a generous man.” Dana looked to the sky as if for help. Her sister was clearly enjoying Dana’s discomfort. She finally jumped down off the counter and turned her attention to the bags of food. “You could do a lot worse than Fox Mulder.”

“I’m not going to do Fox Mulder, Missy,” she said, and Missy let out a bark of laughter. “I need a roommate, not a boyfriend. And anyway, I’m going to be in med school soon. I won’t have that kind of time.”

“Make time,” Melissa winked, and then dug around in the bags, pulling out carton after carton of Chinese food. “You hungry?”

Dana set down her beer and hugged her from behind.

“I’m famished, you snot,” she said into her sister’s hair.

XxXxXxXxXxX

On move-in day, Mulder showed up at her (their) door at 9:00am sharp, wearing a ratty Oxford University sweatshirt and an anxious expression.

“Hey,” he said, when she opened the door, “I got a buddy downstairs with a truck. Where should he park it?”

“Follow me,” Scully said, and grabbed her keys off the hook by the door. She led him down the stairs and around to the back of the building.

“We’ve got two parking spots,” she said, “though I don’t have a car. You can have him pull in here. The one next to it is yours. You ride a motorcycle, right?”

He nodded and then jogged to the corner and called out to the friend he had waiting, who pulled into the alley and then leaned out of the open window.

“Frohike, Scully, Dana Scully, my buddy Melvin Frohike,” Mulder introduced them.

“Last name basis with everyone, huh?” Scully said to Mulder in a low voice. He smiled.

“She’s hot,” was all Frohike said, and Mulder flipped him off and then directed him into the narrow space.

Scully looked down at her jean cut-offs and baggy, laundry-day tee shirt. She wasn’t exactly dressed for Prime Time.

Frohike cut the engine, jumped out and they all gathered around the back of the truck. There were about a dozen medium sized boxes and no furniture.

“Is this it?” Scully asked.

“I am but a humble nomad,” Mulder said, “taking only what I can carry.”

“What he means is that he sold almost all his shit when he left England,” Frohike said, “I hope you have pots and pans.”

Scully laughed.

“I do, and you’re welcome to use them,” she said, “Five bucks a pop for utensils, though.”

“I like her,” said Frohike, hooking a thumb at Scully as he pulled down the tailgate.

They had everything up and into Mulder’s bedroom in less than ten minutes.

“I’m off,” said Frohike, the second he set the last box down on Mulder’s floor. “It was nice meeting you, Scully.”

“Likewise,” said Scully, who was leaning against the frame of Mulder’s door.

On his way out, Frohike paused by Scully and leaned into her confidentially.

“If he tries to seduce you, let him down easy. The man’s got no game,” he said.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Scully said and then cut a look to Mulder who looked more than a little glad to see the back of Frohike.

“Where’d you pick him up?” Scully said, once the front door had closed behind him.

“I collect strays,” Mulder said simply, peeling the tape off of one of the boxes.

Scully took a step back into the hallway.

“I’ll leave you to it,” she said. Then, “Oh! Here’s your key,” she stepped back into his room, and handed over the single key. “It works on the building doors and the apartment deadbolt. Sometimes you have to wiggle it a bit on the lock by the garage.”

Mulder nodded his thanks and she backed out.

“Let me know if you need help or anything,” she called out over her shoulder.

XxXxXxXxXxX

A few hours later, she knocked on his door.

“I come bearing gifts,” she said, holding up a pizza box and a six pack of Shiner Bock.

“Marry me,” he said, and she smiled, looking around the room. He’d hung clothes in the closet, and had all his other meager possessions in various small stacks around the room. He’d broken down the boxes and had them sitting neatly by the door. He looked exhausted.

“There’s Spartan furnishings, and then there’s this,” she said, and he shrugged, chagrined.

“I’ll need to do some shopping in the immediate future, I’ll grant you,” he said.

“The good news is, I have a real table with real chairs not eight yards from your bedroom door.” She held up the pizza and six pack once again, “Come on,” she said, “your piles aren’t going anywhere.”

He followed her to the kitchen and she gave him a quick rundown of what cabinets held what, pulling down plates and glasses. She pulled out two beers and slid the rest of the six pack back in the fridge.

She opened them both and handed him one. He clinked the bottles together.

“Happy housewarming,” she said.

“Slainte,” he said, and they both took a slug.

A semi-comfortable silence descended on them, and Scully filled it by sliding a couple slices of pizza on her plate. Mulder sat back and pushed the sleeves of his sweatshirt up his forearms. They looked tanned even in the washed out light of the kitchen and were roped with muscle and sprinkled with dark hair.

“Ever wonder why they call it a housewarming?” Mulder asked.

“I never really thought about it,” she said, and then leaned forward. “But now I want to know.”

She looked at him and he smiled back.

“Fire is a classic symbol of strength and purity, which is why many European traditions involve lighting a candle or a fire on your first night in a new home. Doing so is said to ward off evil spirits by casting away darkness. It’s fallen out of practice with modern conveniences like electricity, but the name stuck.”

“Well,” said Scully, “aren’t you a wellspring of random and arcane facts.”

Mulder held up his beer.

“You have no idea,” he said, and she laughed.

She peeled off a piece of pepperoni from one of her slices of pizza, and popped it into her mouth.

“Be right back,” she said, and came back a moment later with a large white pillar candle and a box of matches. She struck a match and lit the candle, then held out her beer. He clinked the neck of his to the neck of hers.

“To warding off evil spirits,” she said.

“And casting out darkness,” he replied.

They smiled at each other, the silence turning easy.

XxXxXxXxXxX

A few days had passed. Enough for them each to get to know the other’s routines and for the excessive politeness of two strangers sharing a space to fade a bit.

Scully was sitting on the couch going over classwork when Mulder emerged from his room in running shorts and a ratty tee shirt with the sleeves cut off. The skin on his upper arms was paler than that of his lower arms, but had a delineated curve where deltoid met bicep. It took a minute to look away.

“Going for a run?” she asked a little too brightly.

“I was hoping to,” he said, sitting down in front of the front door to put on his running shoes. “Are there any good places around here?”

She set down the paper she was holding, thinking.

“There’s a park a few blocks away, over by the… you know what, it’ll be easier if I show you. Mind some company?”

“I’d love some,” he said, smiling.

“Be right back,” she said, and ran upstairs to change.

When she got back to the living room, he was stretching, one leg held up in a quad stretch, standing with the graceful ease of perfect balance.

“Ready?” she asked, pulling an old baseball cap over her messy ponytail.

He lowered his leg to the floor and swept his eyes over her once.

“As I’ll ever be,” he said.

They walked the first few blocks, with Scully taking the opportunity to point out various neighborhood hot spots -- the local gas station, the corner market.

When they got to the park nearby, she ducked under a low hanging tree to find the running path that ran near the outskirts.

“This way,” she said, and they started to jog.

After a few minutes, she threw him a look.

“I’m slowing you down,” she said, guiltily.

He was taking short strides next to her, keeping pace with her.

“Nonsense,” he said, staring straight ahead.

“Muder, your legs are about a foot longer than mine, you could run circles around me,” she said.

“Sounds like a good idea,” he said with a glimmer in his eye, and then pulled the hat off her head and started running in literal circles around her, hooting at her while she grabbed at the hat -- every time she got close, he’d pull it away, holding it behind his back or far above his head where she could never reach it. After a minute of keep away, they were both laughing and she pulled up, out of breath but with a smile on her face.

“I knew I was slowing you down,” she laughed, and bent to put her hands on her knees.

“Aw,” he said, putting the cap back on her head and pulling it low, “you’d have caught up eventually.”

He gave one last tug on the brim of the cap and they stood looking at each other, a moment passing between them. Scully felt something low in her belly, and there was a sharp look in Mulder’s eye.

“Why don’t you go ahead and get your miles in,” Scully said, taking a step back and breaking the moment. “You know how to get back?”

Mulder nodded at her.

“Sure you don’t want to come along?” he asked.

“Pass,” she said, “I’ll see you at home.”

He took a few steps backward, holding her eye and then turned and loped off back down the path, eating up the distance in long, even strides.

XxXxXxXxXxX

The days turned into a week and then two. Their schedules were pretty compatible, and they usually woke up and ate breakfast at about the same time, and then Scully would leave to head onto campus.

She came back on a Thursday afternoon, holding a folder full of medical school applications, her gut churning in nervous anticipation. Her MCAT scores were good. Hopefully good enough to secure at least one full ride scholarship. She closed the door to the apartment with her head in the clouds, and it took her a moment to notice Mulder, who was standing in the middle of the living room, holding the telephone. He was just lowering it from his ear and he had a queer look on his face.

“Mulder?” Scully said, “Everything okay?”

“I just accepted a job,” he said, looking a little surprised.

“What? That’s fantastic!” Scully said, swinging her backpack down to the floor and plopping the folder of applications on top of it.

“Yeah,” he said, and then moved to the wall to hang up the phone.

“You seem surprised,” Scully said, walking toward him.

“I am,” he said, turning toward her from the wall. “It’s the one I was hoping for. I did not expect to get it.”

“What’s the position?” Scully asked, moving to stand in front of him.

“I’ll be starting at one of the best Psychology practices in the Metro area. Low on the totem pole, but they’ve offered to train me until I get licensed.”

The surprise on his face melted slowly into happiness as the news started to sink in.

On a whim, Scully wrapped her arms around him in a hug. He returned it, warmly.

“Congratulations,” she said into his shirt, then looked up into his face. “This calls for a celebration.”

“Yeah?” he said, looking down at her with a smile. She felt color spreading up her cheeks. After a second they let their hands fall away from each other. “What’d you have in mind?” he asked, taking a step back.

“Drinks,” she said, taking a step back, herself. “There’s a great dive bar right down the street.”

“When can we leave?” he asked.

XxXxXxXxXxX

They were at least four drinks in, not counting the two tequila shots she’d insisted on when they first arrived. They’d both agreed their third drink should be water, and Scully had lost count after that. She had ordered a glass of the house Chardonnay (“It’s terrible, but also four dollars,”), and Mulder appeared to be pacing himself through a large gin and tonic, while Scully told a story.

“And then we said ‘follow that car!’” Scully said.

“You didn’t,” Mulder said.

“We did,” said Scully on a laugh, “but to our surprise the cabbie didn’t share in our excitement and instead slammed on the breaks half a block down the street and told us to get out.”

Mulder threw his head back and laughed.

They had started at the bar, but moved to a dark booth in the back when the place started filling up with the after-work crowd. Rush was playing too loud on the jukebox nearby. The drinks were cheap, the tables were sticky and the lighting was bad.

“I love this place,” Mulder said, looking around.

“Me too,” said Scully, watching the way his adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed his drink. “It’s the perfect dive bar.”

Mulder leaned back in the booth and leveled a look at her.

“Tell me about Dana Scully,” he said.

“There’s not much to tell,” she said, humbly.

“Nonsense,” he said, “a smart, beautiful woman like you? I bet you’ve got a lot going on.”

She ducked her head at the compliment. She’d noticed that he peered rather than looked. There was a ribald quality to his gaze, though she found herself more intrigued than intimidated. Mulder looked at her as if she were a question to be answered and she found herself hoping to be worthy of his inquiry.

“Boyfriend?” he prodded, taking a big drink. She rolled her eyes just thinking about Ethan. “Ha!” he went on, “there’s a story there. Tell it.”

He crunched ice from his glass, the dull sound brushing across her skin like a memory. He held the dewy tumbler in long, elegant fingers and for a moment she felt like a real, live grown-up.

She told him about Ethan. She probably shared more than she should have. How they’d started dating in high school when her father retired from the Navy and they moved to Maryland. She told him about her dreams of becoming a doctor and how she’d broken up with Ethan over it. When she finished, he held up his glass.

“Fuck that guy,” Mulder said, and clinked her glass with his.

“I did,” Scully said, and Mulder choked on his drink, laughing. While he recovered, Scully handed him a napkin and leaned back. “I tell you,” she went on, “I’m thrilled to be single right now.”

Mulder cut his eyes to her.

“Tell me about Fox Mulder,” she said, diverting the conversation, “smart, handsome guy like you? I bet you’ve got a lot going on.”

He smirked at her as he brushed the front of his shirt with the napkin.

“You said no girlfriend, right?” she asked, feeling brave.

“I’m thrilled to be single right now,” he said, giving her a look she couldn’t read. The silence stretched for a moment.

“Missy said you moved back for your sister?”

“That, and it was time to come back,” he said, sighing. He started shredding bits of the napkin onto the tabletop. “Sam is doing well in school, but that’s about it. She’s at the age where you leave home and strike out on your own but always have that parental support, that thing to fall back on, that place to go home to. Mom and Dad died just after she left for college, and… I think she feels like she was just expelled into the world before she was ready. She’s sad and angry, and I don’t quite know what to do for her. PhD in Psychology and here I am flapping in the breeze, not even able to help my own sister.”

Scully reached across the table and squeezed his arm.

He smiled self-consciously and stood. He looked brooding and slapdash in the half-light of the bar, stippled with 5 o’clock shadow and flecked with chips of light from a distant, dusty disco ball. She found herself wanting to run her hands through his sable hair and brush her lips over his cheek. She threw back the rest of her wine instead.

“We need another round,” he said.

“We really don’t,” Scully said, reaching up and feeling the end of her nose. When she had too much to drink, it went numb. She couldn’t feel it.

“Are we out celebrating me or not?” he said.

“We are.”

“Then I say we need another round,” and with that he walked to the bar, though when he came back, he was carrying two waters.

“Bartender insisted,” he said.

“He’s a good guy,” Scully said, waving in the direction of the bar. A nod from the bartender.

They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, drinking water and watching the bar fill up. Then Spirit of the Radio came on the jukebox and Mulder leaned back his head as if in ecstasy.

“I love this song,” he said.

“I had you pegged as an INXS guy,” Scully said.

“You wouldn’t be wrong,” he replied. He looked at her steadily. “Let’s dance.”

Scully looked skeptically towards what passed for a dance floor.

“Mulder, no one has danced here in at least a decade,” she said, thinking of a fifty-something barfly swaying by herself to Jolene.

“All the more reason,” he said, sliding out of the booth and holding out his hand. There was a rakish glint in his eye and his renegade jaw clenched once.

“I’m not drunk enough for this,” she said, though she put her hand in his and let him pull her up.

“Yes, you are,” he laughed and led her to the middle of the floor.

She was definitely drunk enough because it took nothing at all for her to start dancing. The bartender, who knew her from more than a few nights out with Ellen, smiled at her and bent down under the bar. A second or two later the volume of the music went up and he stood, giving her a thumbs up. She laughed and let herself go.

When the guitar solo started in the middle of the song, Mulder leaned back and started playing an air guitar, throwing his head into it with enthusiasm.

“You’re such a dork!” Scully yelled to him over the music.

“You love it!” he yelled back.

She had to admit, she kind of did. She liked that he seemed to live his life not caring what other people thought of him. It was a lesson she should probably learn herself.

When the song ended and Tom Sawyer came on, she took a step back, and looked up at him. She was sweaty and suddenly self-conscious, feeling like a goldfish in a bowl.

“We should go home,” she said, feeling a lot drunker than she thought she’d been, “get some food.”

He stood up straight, as if gauging how he felt and swayed just a bit.

“You’re right,” he said, “we should.”

They strolled to the bar to settle their tab, and he wouldn’t hear of letting her pay.

They walked out of the bar and were surprised to find that night had fallen. The sudden silence settled over them like a heavy blanket. The air was so fresh it almost hurt to breathe it.

“You should have let me pay,” Scully said, speaking too loudly, her ears ringing with a brief tinnitus from the music. She lowered her voice, “we’re celebrating your accomplishment.”

“Well, my accomplishment is going to pay a lot better than your post-grad stipend, I guarantee you.”

“Still…” she said, and then tripped over the curb.

Mulder reached out and grabbed her arm, saving her from a face plant.

“All hands on deck!” he said, and she smiled and looked up at him gratefully. He slid his hand down her arm and took her hand. “Two blocks to go,” he said, “we got this.”

His hand was warm in hers, dry. She squeezed it. Inhibitions lowered, she could feel herself falling for him a little, against her will.

When they got to their building, there was a young woman sitting on the steps out front with her arms crossed, looking like she was on the verge of tears. When the woman heard them, she turned to look and her face registered surprise and, when her gaze dropped to their linked hands, unhappy confusion.

Scully suddenly wondered if Mulder actually did have a girlfriend and she felt her stomach reel.

“Sam!” Mulder said, dropping her hand. He lurched forward and grabbed the woman in a bear hug.

“Get off, Fox,” she said, pushing him back, “you smell like a frat party.”

Mulder’s face fell.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“What’s wrong?” the woman’s voice went up an entire octave, “you told me to come here at 7:30. I’ve been sitting out here for an hour and a half!”

“Shit,” Mulder swore. “I’m so sorry.” His apology did nothing to improve her demeanor.

Mulder then seemed to remember Scully’s presence.

“Oh,” he said, “Sam, this is my new roommate Dana Scully. Scully, this is Samantha, my sister.”

“Scully?” Samantha said, and made no move to shake hands. “You’re still doing that last name thing?” Her eye roll was implied.

“Let’s go inside,” Scully said, for something to do, and pulled out her keys to unlock the building’s door. When she got the key close to the lock, she dropped the whole ring. She could hear Samantha sighing in annoyance behind her.

“So, you went out partying instead of meeting me,” Samantha said, her voice flat. “Awesome.”

Scully recovered, got the door open and they all trooped up the stairs to the apartment in silence.

Once inside, Scully knelt to pick up the backpack and envelope of applications she’d dropped by the door earlier and made her way to the stairs.

“I’ll let you two catch up,” she said, excusing herself.

Mulder threw her an apologetic look. She flopped on the bed when she got to her room, applications forgotten until tomorrow.

XxXxXxXxXxX

The next morning, Mulder met Scully in the kitchen and wordlessly handed over two Tylenol and a glass of water. She threw back the dusty pills, and assessed him over the rim of the glass.

“Thank you,” she said, and he nodded. “Did your sister forgive you?”

“I’ve been granted a temporary reprieve,” he said, and Scully walked around him to pour herself a bowl of cereal. “She’s interning with the local police department this summer, she asked me to come down to the station in a few days so she can show me around. I’m not sure if I’m supposed to be scared straight or if she’s letting me off the hook, but either way I promised to be on my best behavior.”

“What kind of internship?” Scully asked, spoon halfway to her mouth.

“I’m not exactly sure. Some kind of Women in Law Enforcement thing. She’ll mostly be getting coffee for dispatch, I think, but occasionally she’ll get to shadow a female detective, so she’s pretty stoked.”

“Sounds cool,” Scully said. Then, “...I don’t think she likes me.”

“She was just upset last night. Totally my fault. She’ll come around.”

Mulder plopped down next to her and poured a bowl of cereal for himself.

“What’s on the docket for today?” he asked her. He poured milk into his bowl slowly until it submerged the flakes like a rising tide.

“Med school applications,” she said, her mouth half full.

“And who are the lucky schools?” he asked.

“Stanford, UCLA, Michigan State and Columbia,” she said, “they’re amongst the few still accepting applications for this fall.”

“Not Georgetown?” he said, casually.

“Georgetown, too,” she said, “I love it here. I would love to stay. I do plan to apply, but…”

“But?”

“But when I inquired, they said their spots were filled and that they rarely make exceptions.”

“Too bad,” he said.

“Too bad,” she agreed.

They ate the rest of the meal in silence.

XxXxXxXxXxX

It had taken days to fill them out, but Scully had left the post office after mailing her applications and felt as if a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. She was finally going after what she herself wanted and felt jubilant at the prospect. For too long she’d let other people’s expectations for her guide her life. She walked down the sidewalk feeling lighter than air.

The dull roar of an engine on the street pulled her attention and she turned to see Mulder sitting on his motorcycle next to her, pulling off his helmet.

“I thought that was you,” he said with a smile, which she returned. “You get all your applications out?”

She nodded, grinning.

“You make it out of the local police station without having to post bail?” she asked with a smirk.

“Just barely,” he said, then reached back and unsecured a second helmet, holding it up to her. “Want to go for a ride?” he asked.

She looked at the bike skeptically. Motorcycles had always freaked her out a bit.

“Come on, Scully, it’s a Saturday, live a little.”

She narrowed her eyes at him.

“Why not?” she said.

“Atta girl,” he said, grinning. He helped her fit the helmet over her head, securing it under her chin. He lifted her visor before putting his own helmet on, and said “Hold on tight, okay?”

He mounted the bike and she climbed up after him, wrapping her arms tightly around his waist. The leather jacket he wore was warm from being in the sun.

He kick-started the bike and it roared to life beneath her. She felt a thrill as he pulled away from the curb and picked up speed, the wind teasing the hairs on her bare arms. She wondered if Mulder could feel her heartbeat as it pounded against her chest and into his back.

They crossed the river and he merged onto the parkway, the bike surging forward like a tracer round. She rested her helmeted head onto his back and watched the city give way to forest, neither knowing nor caring about their destination. After about ten minutes, he pulled off into a the small parking lot of a scenic overlook, the brown water of the Potomac rushing past them at the base of the hill they were perched on. He cut the engine and she slid off the side of the bike, reaching up to take her helmet off.

Mulder followed, his gaze piercing as she shook out her hair. She set the helmet on the seat, and he did the same. She turned to look around.

“This is pretty,” she said, “I’ve never been out here.”

“Me neither,” he laughed, and shook the jacket off his shoulders.

The June day was approaching full heat and the breeze that came up off the river was muggy and rich. They walked a little way past the lot and into the shade of several large maple trees. There was a neat rock retaining wall that ran the length of the lookout, and they each hopped over and sat down on it. Far below them the river purled off toward the Chesapeake, dotted occasionally with a kayak or sailboat. The air held the decadent smell of petrichor from rain the day before.

She looked over at Mulder, at his strong profile, the chiseled set of his jaw. He turned to her and caught her looking. Smiled.

The heather grey tee shirt he wore looked overwashed and soft. She had to stop herself from reaching out and rubbing it between her fingers.

“How’s Samantha doing today?” she asked.

“Better,” he said, relieved. “She’s thrilled with this internship. It sounds like she’s really taken to it.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Scully said.

They sat in silence for a few minutes

“Hey, when do you start your new job?” she asked.

“Monday,” he said, his eyes wide. “They already have patients on the schedule.”

She put her hand on his shoulder.

“You’re about to be a real live grown-up, Mulder,” she said, “you ready?”

“Do I look ready?” he asked, pushing his shoulders back. If he’d been wearing a tie, he would have straightened it.

She turned to face him. Took the opportunity to look her fill.

“Mm… yes,” she finally said.

“There was a hesitation there, Scully,” he said playfully.

“There was no hesitation,” she played back.

“There was a decidedly skeptical hesitation.”

She pursed her lips.

“Listen, far be it from me to undermine your confidence…” she started.

“But?” he led.

“But don’t most grown men own furniture?” she teased, bumping her shoulder into his companionably.

He tilted his head back, busted.

“If that’s how you feel about it, how about you come shopping with me tomorrow?” he said.

“For furniture?” she laughed.

“That doesn’t sound like a good time?” he deadpanned.

“Let’s just go now,” she laughed again, “we’ll stack it on the handlebars and taunt the traffic cops.”

“You joke, but I’m serious. Come furniture shopping with me tomorrow.”

She narrowed her eyes at him.

“I guess it depends,” she finally said, “will we need Frohike’s truck?”

He laughed.

“How about if I borrow the truck, but not the Frohike?”

“Deal,” she said, “And all joking aside, is there any reason in particular we can’t go this evening? I mean, I’m free, and I’d hate for a newly minted grown-up like you to develop back problems from another night on the floor.”

She bumped into him again, enjoying their repartee. His face got an odd look to it.

“Actually, I have plans tonight,” he said.

“Oh?” she said, “hot date?”

“I don’t know about hot,” he said, “but I do have a date.”

She felt her stomach drop, then remembered telling him I’m thrilled to be single right now. She felt a small moment of grief.

“Oh, do tell,” she said, sounding entirely too cheerful.

“The uh, detective that Sam is shadowing, asked me out today. I felt kind of cornered, couldn’t say no.”

Mild relief.

“Aggressive, huh?” she said.

“Something like that,” he answered. “Anyway, are we on for tomorrow? I’ll buy you lunch.”

“Now that’s an offer I can’t refuse,” she said.

The warm breeze sloughed through the trees and settled between them.

XxXxXxXxXxX

True to his word, after breakfast, Mulder went out and rolled back an hour later with Frohike’s truck, but not Frohike.

“He wanted me to pass along his love,” Mulder said when Scully hopped into the cab.

“Is that all?” she asked, pulling the seatbelt across her lap.

“Definitely not,” Mulder said, “but I value my life.”

The truck was a late ’70s Chevy Silverado in metallic brown. It had a manual transmission and only got AM radio. A corner of the floor was rusted out and she could see the road flying beneath them.

“What’s our first stop?” she asked, fiddling with the radio to try to get a signal.

“I’m thinking bed,” he said, “in deference to my old man body.”

She smiled and the truck rumbled on, the transmission tacky. He had to kick the clutch at every stop light.

“Know where you’re going?”

He tapped the side of his head.

“Got it all mapped out.”

The only radio station that would come in was transmitting a baseball game, so they listened to it in silence for a few minutes. Finally her curiosity got the better of her.

“So,” she said, “how was the date?”

“Not bad, actually,” he replied, stealing a look at her as if to gauge her reaction.

She made sure to keep her expression neutral, pressed the vee of her toes hard into her flip-flops.

“Oh?”

“She’s intense, but funny,” he said. “Not sure if I see it going anywhere, but she asked if I wanted to go out again.”

She could feel his eyes on her and kept staring straight ahead.

“You should go,” she said. Stop talking, Dana.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” No.

“Oh, we’re coming up on the mattress store,” he said, “see if you can see a parking lot.”

They walked into the mattress store, eyes practically bugging out of their heads. It looked like close to an acre of nothing but bare white mattresses as far as the eye could see. There were SALE! Posters hanging above almost every section and cardboard cutouts of showcase models leaning against every third mattress.

Mulder took a step back.

“I’ll keep sleeping on the floor,” he said, “nothing is worth this.”

Scully grabbed his arm.

“Mulder,” she said, “you need, what? A bed, dresser and desk?”

He nodded.

“Then we’re practically a third of the way there. Come on.”

She pulled him along like a recalcitrant toddler.

It took about 10.2 seconds before they were met with a smiling salesman. By that point, Mulder seemed to have recovered.

The man was short, balding and entirely too chipper for his own good.

“You and the missus looking for a new mattress?” the man asked, “You know mattresses expire after eight years.”

She opened her mouth to correct him, but Mulder grabbed her arm.

“Yes,” he said, “the missus and I are looking for a new mattress. You have any newlywed discounts?”

The salesman waggled his eyebrows.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

He marched off ahead of them and Scully hissed “what are you doing?”

“Trying to save a little money,” he whispered back, “go with it.”

The salesman stopped in front of a row.

“Now, this here line is your best bet for what we like to call active sleepers,” at that he gave an exaggerated wink, “you folks looking for soft or firm?”

“Oh, my wife likes it firm,” Mulder said. Scully rolled her eyes.

The salesman moved to the end of the row.

“These are going to be the firmest on this end, getting softer as you move to the left. Why don’t you two lay down on a few and see if any of these speak to you.”

A new customer walked into the store then, and the salesman excused himself and ambled over to greet them.

“I’m not going to speak to you if you keep that up, Mulder,” she said.

“Keep what up?”

“My wife likes it firm,” she repeated in a low voice.

“What?” he said, all innocence,

“I’m leaving,” she said and he grabbed her wrist as she turned.

“Wait,” he said, laughing, “I’m sorry. He’s just lobbing these softballs out there, and I gotta take a swing. I’ll stop.”

She gave him a look.

“I will,” he said, putting on a straight face, still holding onto her arm, “just help me pick out a bed and we can get out of here. Scout’s honor.”

She relented and they cautiously sat on a few mattresses before getting comfortable. Eventually they were sprawled out next to each other, debating the merits of quilt-top vs foam.

The salesman finally came back over.

“Y’all have any questions?” he asked.

“Just one,” Mulder said, propping himself up onto his elbows. The salesman looked at him expectantly, “is that newlywed discount still on the table?”

XxXxXxXxXxX

They pulled into the parking space behind the building a few hours later hauling several large boxes containing the unassembled pieces of a matching set of a dresser, desk and nightstand. The bed would be delivered later that afternoon.

They were able to haul them up the two flights of stairs with a minimal amount of arguing which both pleased and surprised Scully.

They dumped them on the floor of the living room before plopping wearily onto the sofa.

“Oh God,” Mulder said, eyeing the mess of cardboard before them, “We have to assemble them.”

“What do you mean ‘we?’”

Mulder looked at her, his lips almost pouting and she laughed.

“Oh come on, it’s not like you have to build them from scratch, they give you directions,” she said, “If you’re lucky, they’re even in English.”

“You’re making this worse.”

“And enjoying myself immensely,” she said, “Do you have any tools?”

“Do you?” he asked.

“Of course, I do,” she said.

“Please grant a moment of silence for the death of my masculinity,” he said, dropping his head.

She swatted his shoulder.

“Stop being patriarchal,” she said, “I’ll help. Let me grab my tools.”

Three hours later they were drinking iced tea on the small loveseat on their balcony while the sun sunk slowly below the horizon, the cotton candy clouds a riot of color above them.

“I’m never moving again,” Mulder said, “tell Ellen she can sleep on the couch when she gets back. Or she can sleep with you. I’m done.”

Scully chuckled and wiggled down lower into the cushions. The temperature had dropped with the sun and she was still wearing a tank top and shorts, her feet bare.

“You cold?” Mulder asked her.

She shrugged.

“A little,” she said.

“Here,” he said, and pulled off the sweatshirt he was wearing, handing it over to her.

“Thanks,” she said, pulling it over her head. It was still warm from his body and smelled like sandalwood and a little like sweat. She wanted to pull it up to her nose and give it a big whiff, but she resisted. When he put his arms back down, he rested one on the back of the loveseat behind her. He wasn’t touching her, but she could maybe tell he wanted to.

“You nervous about tomorrow?” she asked.

“A little,” he said, smiling.

He had a tee shirt on under his sweatshirt, and it was riding up a tiny bit, the skin of his hip showing. He took a sip of tea, and she wondered for a moment what he might taste like.

“You’re going to do great,” she said.

He turned to look at her, serious.

“Thanks, Scully.”

“Don’t mention it,” she said dismissively.

“I mean, for everything.”

The moment felt weighty. She could practically feel the heat from the skin on his arm above her, and knew if she touched it it would be warm and exquisitely soft.

“Tell me another random and arcane fact,” she said, settling further into the loveseat, the collar from his sweatshirt brushing her jaw.

“In New York City,” he said, turning his face to hers, “on Broadway medians between 63rd and 76th streets, biologists discovered a new species of ant.”

She raised her eyebrows at that.

“They call it the ManhattAnt,” he smiled.

“Naturally,” she smiled back.

If she let herself, she could fall in love with him; absolutely, irreversibly. It’d be as easy as taking a breath.

He drained the rest of his tea and stood. She sat up.

“You want your sweatshirt back?” she said, her hand on the hem.

He waved her back down.

“Keep it,” he said, “I know where you live.” He then jerked a thumb in the direction of his bedroom. “Gonna try out that new bed,” he said, and opened his mouth like he was about to say something else. He shook the ice left over in the glass and looked down at it. “I… I had a good day today, Scully. Thank you.”

She gave him a close lipped smile.

“Night,” he said, drifting slowly off toward his bedroom.

“Night,” she said back.

She waited until his bedroom door closed before going inside. She slept in his sweatshirt.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Mulder had been on four more dates with Detective What’s-Her-Name (she didn’t ask) in the last five weeks (not that she was counting). He was always home by 11:00 pm, alone (not that she was paying close attention).

She’d usually be sitting on the couch studying when he walked in the door.

“How was your date?” she’d ask.

“Good,” he’d say, and wouldn’t elaborate.

Twice he sat on the couch with her after he took off his shoes, and they’d talked until they were both yawning and wondering aloud where the time went. Once, he just went to bed. Once she’d been asleep and woke up hours later to find an Aztec print blanket draped over her on the couch.

Tonight was date number five. Earlier in the day she’d gotten her second response from med schools (Michigan State had accepted her, but had been unable to offer any financial support) -- this one from Columbia, which regretted to inform her that they had already filled up all their remaining spots, but asked her to please apply again next year. That disheartening rejection on her mind, she had a nervous, anxious feeling in her gut about Mulder’s date, and was planning to go to bed early--if he came home and he wasn’t alone--or didn’t come home at all--she didn’t want to know.

At 9:03 pm, she was getting a glass of water from the kitchen in just a thin worn-out tee shirt and an old pair of running shorts from high school when she heard the key in the lock.

Mulder slid in through the door and closed it behind him. He was alone.

“Hey,” she said, surprised. “How… was your date?”

“Meh,” he said, bending over to get at his shoes. “She got a call about a case halfway through dinner and had to leave. To be honest, I was relieved.”

A lightness bubbled up from inside her, and she had trouble containing a smile.

“Oh yeah?” she said lightly.

He moved to plop heavily onto the couch, giving his lone remaining shoe a perplexed look.

“Damn lace is knotted,” he mumbled, “I can’t get it.”

She sat on the couch next to him.

“You probably need a decent fingernail,” she said, flicking hers together with the satisfying click of keratin. “Gimme your foot.”

He turned and swung his foot into her lap. She started picking at the knot, which he’d managed to pull even tighter with his efforts.

“Relieved, you said?” she tried not to sound too interested. She kept her eyes on his laces.

“Yeah,” he sighed, “She’s nice enough--pretty--but I think it’s run its course.”

“Aw,” she said, and patted his leg, “your somebody is out there, Mulder. I just know it.”

“Yeah,” he said, softly, “I’m sure of it.”

She had just gotten her thumbnail into the knot and started to get it loose when there was a knock on the door. They looked at each other, expectantly. Neither were expecting anyone.

She set his foot on the floor.

“I think I loosened it enough,” she said, “you get it from here, I’ll get the door.”

“Success!” he said, when she was a few feet from the door. He pulled off the shoe triumphantly just as she threw back the lock. She turned to smile at him, and pulled the door wide, turning toward it with a big grin still on her face.

Her face fell as soon as she registered who was standing in front of her.

“Ethan,” she said, “what are you doing here?”

“Dana,” he said, and held out a small posy of flowers toward her. She didn’t reach out to take them. “I came to apologize.”

She stood there, debating.

“Can I come in?” he asked.

She looked at him, sighed. “I don’t need an apology, and it’s late, and… Ethan, I don’t want to do this.”

He brushed past her and came in anyway. When she turned toward him, Mulder stood from the couch, his eyes narrowed. Ethan stopped in his tracks.

“What is this?” Ethan asked.

Scully sighed, annoyed.

“You tell me, Ethan. What is this?” she asked, pointing to the flowers, “What do you want?”

“I was coming to…” he looked back and forth between her and Mulder. He looked her up and down and she suddenly felt vulnerable and small. She wasn’t even wearing a bra. She crossed her arms in front of her.

“This wasn’t about school, was it,” Ethan said, his tone turning quarrelsome. “You were cheating on me.”

“Ethan, Jesus Christ,” she said, taking a step toward him.

“Fucking ‘med school,’” he said, his face melting into a sneer, “right. It was a fucking excuse. You wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for me-” at that, she went from annoyed to irate.

“Are you kidding?” she said, “I wrote half your papers in undergrad-”

“You barely proofread them,” he interrupted snidely, and turned to Mulder. “What’s she got you doing for her?”

“Hey, man,” Mulder said, taking a step forward, “Don’t.

“Oh,” Ethan said, slapping the posy of flowers against the side of his leg. A few petals fell to the floor, “maybe I should ask you what she’s got you doing to her.”

Mulder took another step forward.

“Scully,” he said, connecting eyes with her.

“Ethan, you need to leave,” she said.

He ignored her.

“Scully?” Ethan said, then reached out a hand and grabbed her arm. “What the fuck? You fucking slut-”

Before he could finish whatever he was about to say, Mulder’s fist came flying over Scully’s shoulder and connected solidly with Ethan’s nose. The force of the punch sent him spinning a few paces away from Scully almost into the open doorway, and when he turned and straightened blood was running down his face.

“Whad da fuck?” he said, his words garbled and nasally. He brought a hand to his face and looked to Mulder. “Good luck wid her. Frigid bitch.”

Scully was so furious she was shaking.

“First I’m a slut, now I’m frigid? Make up your fucking mind, Ethan. And get. Out.”

With that she gave him a shove and slammed the door in his face.

She leaned against it and took one bracing breath. Then she looked to Mulder, who was holding his right hand awkwardly.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“Are you?” he volleyed back, concerned.

She shook her hands out, trying to release some nervous energy. Anger and horror and embarrassment all fought to get out, coming together in a clod in her throat that choked her. Tears sprung out instead.

“I mean your hand,” she finally said, moving to his side. She wiped the tears away hastily, gingerly lifting up his hand. He winced, sucked in a breath.The skin over two knuckles was split, blood dripping lazily down three fingers. It was starting to swell.

“I think I hit a couple teeth,” he said.

“I hope you knocked them out,” she said. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up,” she went on gently, glad she had something to do, and pulled him lightly toward her bathroom up the stairs.

He stood at the threshold while she rummaged around for her first aid kit and looked around.

“I’ve never been in here,” he said quietly. “You have a nicer shower than me.”

She finally felt her mouth tug up into a small smile. She gingerly grabbed his injured hand and pulled him to the sink.

He let her wash and rinse his hand without words. She could feel his eyes on her, he never looked away. Finally, she sat on the edge of her tub with the first aid kit, and pulled him down next to her. She rested his hand gently in her lap as she worked butterfly bandages over his knuckles. She then wrapped it gently with gauze, securing it with a quick tuck.

“You’re going to make a great doctor,” he said earnestly, and she tucked her chin to her chest.

“This needs ice,” she said, finally raising her eyes to his. Tending to him had given her mind something to do, and now looking at him made her feel vulnerable all over again—he’d heard every accusation made in her fight with Ethan—the words were coming back to her. She looked back down, willing back the tears that threatened to spill.

Finally, she felt the fingers of Mulder's other hand lightly on her chin and she looked up. The second their eyes connected, her tears started to fall.

“You’re not frigid, Dana,” he said, his voice rumbling and soft, “you might be the warmest-hearted person I’ve ever met.”

His eyes were mossy in the bright light of her bathroom, and she felt herself tipping forward until her forehead was resting against his.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

They were still for a moment, breathing each other in. She felt a pull to him like the tide chasing the moon.

His fingers were still resting tenderly under her chin, and all it took was the slightest, smallest pressure from them and they crashed into each other, their lips tangling in a sudden, passionate kiss.

They were still sitting side by side on the edge of her bathtub, and Mulder brought his arm around her and pulled her up until they were standing, bodies pressed together in a line, their mouths all tongue and teeth.

She reached up and weaved her fingers into his hair, pulling him down to her like he was a source of water and she’d been thirsty for days.

She felt him harden against her belly, and she reached down and grabbed him over his jeans, rubbing. He moaned into her mouth and thrust against her once, twice. His injured hand was wrapped around her backside, pulling her closer, while his good hand crept up under her tee shirt and cupped roughly over her bare breast, squeezing her nipple between his thumb and the vee of his hand.

He dragged his mouth away from hers and started biting and licking at her neck.

“I want you, Scully,” he said into her skin, “God, I’ve wanted you since I first saw you.”

She was so het up in a fervor of desire and sheer wanting that she could barely form words.

“Ye-” she said, struggling to get the whole word out, “yesss.”

He leaned back for a moment and used his good hand to grab his shirt behind his head and whipped it up and off. She took the opportunity to do the same, and when they came back together, the heat from his bare chest on her nipples sent a frisson of energy down the length of her spine. Her skin broke out in gooseflesh.

“You’re cold,” he said into her mouth, and she was too interested in kissing him to answer.

Their tongues tangled together and he reached down and started pushing off his jeans and boxers, kicking them away without breaking contact with her. She was short enough that when she reached down to do the same, she had to bend down away from him, and when she stood back up, he was standing in her open shower door, turning the water on.

He turned back toward her, his cock pointing at her like a divining rod.

“I’m going to warm you up,” he said, looking at her like a cat stalking prey.

She rove her eyes over him once before he got to her, and her mouth went dry at the sight of him. He was all lean muscle and smooth skin; he looked like he’d been cut from marble.

He got to her and pulled her tightly to him, his skin like fever along the length of her. He pulled her with him slowly backwards, and when they got to the shower, it was steaming. He maneuvered her inside the stall and positioned her under the hot spray; she felt her nipples pucker in the air.

He leaned down and licked water off her shoulder and then lowered himself slowly to the floor, pausing at her breasts to suck one nipple into his mouth, and then the other, water sluicing down his face like rain. When his knees finally reached the floor, he ran his hand gently down her thigh until his hand was around the back of her knee, which he lifted slowly, his eyes going to hers for permission.

She could only look back and lick her lips as he pulled her leg up and over his shoulder. His mouth was an inch from the throbbing, aching skin at her center, water running down over her breasts and into his hair.

Ethan had gone down on her only a few times in all their years together, regarding the act distastefully as something of a chore. But here was Mulder, kneeling before her, who looked at her reverently, as though he were about to unwrap a gift.

Scully reached behind herself to brace a hand against the shower wall, feeling dizzy. When his tongue darted out to part the folds of her labia, she gasped. Her other hand went to his head, threading her fingers through his dark coiffure, which was as thick and smooth as a martin’s.

He reached his hands up and under her, pulling her by the ass tightly to his face, a long train of gauze unraveling from his injured hand and hanging limply in the wet spray.

In high school, Melissa had loaned her a romance novel where a pirate referred to his conquest’s genitals as a “cunny,” and that word was all she could think of as Mulder lapped at her, making her feel as flushed and ripe as a rum wench.

Mulder licked and licked, making small, satisfied noises, the shower pushing needles of heat into her hair and back. Cunny, she thought.

He removed his hands from her ass only long enough to yank the rest of the gauze off his hand, and before she could utter a protest, he had stuck one long finger slowly up inside of her and began rubbing at her G spot in time with his tongue. She let out an involuntary moan, and could feel Mulder’s answering smile on her tender flesh.

“Let go,” he said gently into her, and then proceeded to suck her clit against his tongue. She came so suddenly and unexpectedly that she felt her knees go limp under her, and Mulder grabbed her and held her steady while she rode out the waves of pleasure, his name a prayer on her lips.

When she came back to herself, he was standing, one arm wrapped around her middle and the other in the wet tangle of her hair, looking at her with satisfied affection.

She reached down and grabbed him boldly, his cock hot and thick in her hand. His eyes fluttered closed and he rocked into her.

“Bed,” she said, and reached around him to shut off the water. That seemed to rouse him and he reached down and grabbed her under the ass, lifting her easily up so she could wrap her legs around him. His mouth descended on hers as he walked her out of the shower, the air hitting the water on their skin. She suddenly felt cool everywhere but where their bodies were touching: their mouths, her legs around his waist, his cock bobbing up into the cleft between her legs.

He lowered her gently onto her bed, perched in between her legs, her hair fanned about her head in thick, wet ropes. He leaned back.

“Condoms?” he asked.

“Drawer,” she said, and nodded her chin toward her bedside table. She propped herself up on her elbow and pulled a hair off of her tongue.

He rolled away from her and pulled a condom from the drawer, tearing it open as he settled himself back between her legs. He had started to roll it down over himself when he paused.

“This, uh,” he said, somewhat sheepishly, “might not fit.”

She looked down at him in alarm.

“Do you have any?” she asked him, and he nodded at her, a smile coming back to his face.

“Be right back,” he said, and leaned down to give her a quick kiss before he tumbled out of her bedroom door.

Scully looked around her room and expected to see it changed. Everything looked exactly the way it had, she realized, and found that the only thing that had changed was her. Her breathing started to even out and she flitted her eyes to her bedroom door, doubt suddenly creeping into her subconscious. Should she be doing this?

Before she could plumb the depths of that feeling too closely, Mulder filled the doorway suddenly, an adonis in all his naked glory, and he smiled at her triumphantly. She smiled tremulously back and had a thought to say something when he grabbed her foot in his hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. His touch calmed her nerves and she felt suddenly re-centered.

She pushed herself up onto her elbows while he rolled the new condom down and then he was back on the bed, crawling up her body like a panther, and his mouth found hers once again.

As soon as his body pressed itself toward hers, she lifted a leg and wrapped it around his waist, her psyche entirely back in the moment.

“You ready?” he asked her, his honey-over-sandpaper voice rolling over her skin like a cat’s tongue.

She nodded and he reached down and guided himself into her slowly. As wet as she was, she still felt tight, too tight, and when she winced, he stilled instantly.

“Am I hurting you?” he asked in concern.

“No,” she said quickly, “it’s--just go slow.”

She willed her muscles to relax, one set at a time, starting at her toes and working her way up her body and after a moment she felt him slide in more and they both hissed with pleasure.

The more he moved, the better it felt, and after a while she wondered how she’d ever managed to live without this. Without him.

She bit her lip and suppressed a moan, and his pace increased, just a fraction, the look on his face one of either pleasure or pain. He hooked his thumb into her mouth and she sucked it, licked it clean. It tasted of salt, a little bit like her, the dry tang of latex. He pulled it out of her mouth and reached it between them, sweeping it urgently over her clit.

“Come with me,” he whispered into her ear, then pulled back to look into her eyes.

She concentrated on the sensations, trying not to lose herself in his gaze, and soon enough she felt another orgasm coming on, bit her lip and nodded at him. He surged up into her hard and they were both gone, eyes clamped closed, blood roaring in their ears.

He slumped down next to her, shifting his weight to his side, his penis still inside of her.

“Jesus,” he said, his tone reverential, “Jesus.”

She remained silent, feeling the bed under her, her duvet cover damp from shower water. She felt tears prick her eyes, overcome with emotion and release. She was afraid of what had happened, of what would happen, of the feelings he evoked inside of her.

He kissed her temple and then stood to dispose of the condom in the bathroom, coming back to the bed with water in her cup from the sink. He handed it to her.

“Here,” he said, and she smiled gratefully at him and drank the whole thing.

He reached for the empty cup and set it down on her bedside table, then sat on the edge of the bed.

“So,” he said, smiling at her, half amused, half anxious.

“So,” she said, and had trouble meeting his eyes.

“I think your ex-boyfriend is a bit of a douche,” he said.

At that she laughed and looked at him.

“Yeah,” she said.

He held her gaze a moment.

“You okay?” he asked, “I get that tonight,” he waved his hand around as if encompassing everything, “was a lot.”

“Yeah,” she lied, “how’s your hand?”

He looked down.

“Bleeding again,” he said.

She winced.

“Worth it,” he said.

“Ethan was lying,” she said suddenly, turning her face away, “I’m the one who carried him through school. God, that-”

“-Hey” he stopped her. Put a hand on her knee over the covers. She pulled the sheet up over her breasts, sniffling, feeling exposed. “It’s okay,” he said, “don’t give him another thought. He doesn’t deserve it.”

She took a deep breath, nodded.

“Did the band-aids at least stay on?” she asked him nodding toward his hand.

He looked down and held up his hand.

“Yes,” he said, smugly.

“Let me rewrap it,” she said, and grabbed the nearest thing to the bed to throw on. It was his Oxford sweatshirt. She put it on, realized what it was and looked to him guiltily.

“It looks better on you,” he said, “I meant it when I said ‘keep it.’”

It fell halfway to her knees, so she didn’t bother with anything else and padded softly to the bathroom. She peed quickly, washed her hands and brought fresh gauze to the bed. She found Mulder under the covers, sitting against the headboard, smiling at her shyly.

“This okay?” he said.

She paused a moment and then nodded to him. It only took a minute to rewrap his hand.

“This really needs some ice, Mulder,” she said, getting into the other side of the bed. The second she was settled, he reached for her.

“But that would mean leaving this bed,” he said, “and that is the last-” he paused to kiss her behind her ear, which sent a shiver down her spine, “thing I want to do.”

She turned in his arms so that she was the little spoon, and settled in, feeling his large hands on her stomach and his breath in her hair.

“Good night, Mulder,” she said.

He squeezed her.

“‘Night.”

He was asleep long before she was, her thoughts swirling and echoing in her mind. Eventually, his long, even breaths calmed and centered her, and she drifted into a dreamless sleep.

XxXxXxXxXxX

When she woke the next morning, it was to a soft kiss on her neck. It was the Saturday morning of the long Labor Day weekend, she remembered. She inhaled and rolled over. Mulder was kneeling onto the bed over her, wearing his boxers and holding onto the clothes he’d shed the night before.

“Morning,” he said, smiling. “I gotta go take a shower. Sam’s coming over this morning.”

“Okay,” she said, and he leaned down and kissed her on the lips.

He pulled back and gave her a long, fond look.

“Maybe we can all eat breakfast together,” he said, then shot her a toothy grin, “I’m starving.”

She hadn’t seen Samantha since that first night when they’d initially met, when she and Mulder were tipsy and Samantha was irritated with them and upset. She felt a low throb of embarrassment and anxiety in her gut. She got up to take a shower as well.

When she got downstairs, she was hit with the smell of coffee and toast and found Mulder already banging around in the kitchen.

“Hey,” he said, “I just buzzed Samantha up. She said she has a surprise. I hope it’s donuts… You want some eggs?”

She shook her head and went for the pot of coffee, fresh anxiety coursing through her. Mulder came up behind her and put his hands on her hips, kissing her neck, and she shied away sideways like a nervous filly.

“Scully?” he asked, concern etched on his face.

The doorbell rang. He backed away from her, looking confused, and Scully couldn't bring herself to make eye contact. She busied herself by pouring a cup of coffee.

She heard the door open and excited female chatter, then Samantha’s voice said “Surprise!”

“Debbie,” Mulder said, his voice filled with dismay.

Scully moved to the doorway of the kitchen and watched Samantha and another woman come into the apartment. Sam had a small stack of paper in her hand and the other woman was holding a bottle of champagne. The women were laughing and she watched as the older woman leaned in and pressed a kiss to Mulder’s surprised lips.

“Hi!” she said, sweetly, “Sam told me she was coming over here this morning, and I thought I’d tag along and apologize for last night.” She held up the bottle, “Mimosas, anyone?” She looked over at Scully expectantly.

Scully finally got a good look at her and her jaw almost dropped. Mulder had said she was pretty, but the woman was downright stunning. She was at least 5’9”, with long, thin legs that reached up into verdant hips. She had an almost pinched waist, a full, high bust, and a long elegant neck. High cheekbones, lush lips, gorgeous, big, brown eyes and a cascade of wavy brown hair completed her look. It occurred to Scully that she herself was wearing an oversized tee shirt and a ratty pair of sweatpants, her hair hanging wet and limp over her shoulders.

Mulder seemed to snap out of his surprise.

“Ah,” he said, shaking his head, “welcome. Um. Deb, this is my roommate, Dana Scully, Scully, this is Detective Debbie Winther, Sam’s mentor at the police department.”

And your girlfriend, Scully couldn’t help but finish for him in her head.

“Nice to meet you,” she said instead, feeling rooted in place.

“Oh my gosh, you too!” Debbie said enthusiastically, moving over to give Scully a buss on the cheek and a tight hug.

She even smelled like heaven, Scully thought, an expensive perfume like Chanel or Hermés.

“Can I throw this in the fridge?” Debbie went on, holding up the bottle of champagne, and then moved past Scully without waiting for an answer.

Mulder caught Scully’s eye and threw her an apologetic, horrified look. When Scully cut her eyes to Samantha, the young woman was watching them closely, a shrewd look on her face.

“Here,” Samantha said to Mulder, her tone a little frosty, and pushed the stack of papers into his hands, “your mail was falling out of your box. I grabbed it.”

Sam shot a look at Scully and then moved to the couch. Mulder shuffled absently through the stack, moving slowly into the room.

Scully felt like she’d been caught cheating and could feel her cheeks burn red.

“Oh!” Mulder said suddenly, his eyes still on the mail in his hands. “Scully.” He looked at her, held up an envelope. “Stanford,” he said.

He walked over and handed the envelope to Scully, then said in a low voice, “Do you want some privacy to open it?”

She looked at him in thankful relief when Debbie walked back in from the kitchen.

“What’s this?” she said brightly.

“A letter from Stanford, apparently,” Samantha said, her eyes boring into both Scully and her brother.

“Something exciting?” Debbie asked.

“Uh, Scully applied to med school there, she’s been waiting to hear back,” Mulder said.

“Oh my gosh, you have to open it!” Debbie said. Mulder looked pained. “What?” Debbie went on, “bad news, we drink; good news, we toast!”

Scully held the envelope in front of her.

“Yeah,” she said, unable to take her eyes off of it.

She took a breath and tore it open. She held the letter, reading it, the paper in her hands shaking. She suddenly felt weak, and sat down heavily in the chair next to her.

“Scully?” Mulder said softly.

“I got in,” she finally said shakily, “full ride scholarship.”

XxXxXxXxXxX

Mulder bent down to get a better look at her face, his eyes shining.

“You did it…” he said.

She felt a tremulous smile rise up her cheeks.

“Amazing!” Debbie said enthusiastically, then ducked back into the kitchen. She emerged a moment later with the bottle of champagne and ripped the foil off, then expertly twisted off the cork. A little bit of bubbly ran out the top of the bottle and foamed down her fingers. “To Doctor Dana Scully!” she said, and then handed Scully the bottle.

Scully took one look at Mulder and then brought the bottle to her lips, knocking back a slug. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and handed him the bottle.

“I’ll get glasses,” he said, and disappeared into the kitchen.

Scully looked back down at the letter, and continued reading.

“Congratulations, Dana,” Samantha said flatly, “will you be moving to Stanford soon?”

“Uh,” Scully said, her eyes rising to Mulder’s sister, “yes. In just a couple of weeks, it looks like.”

Samantha nodded at her and then cut her eyes to her brother, who was emerging from the kitchen with three juice glasses.

“I couldn’t find champagne flutes,” he said apologetically.

He poured Scully a glass, and then one for Debbie. He then looked at Samantha. “You’re not 21,” he said.

Samantha rolled her eyes.

“Oh, come on,” Debbie said, “we’re celebrating. Anyway, you could legally drink when you were younger than she is now. She should be grandfathered in. Pour her one. It’s not like I’m going to arrest you.”

“You can have mine,” Scully said, and held it out to her.

“No thanks,” Samantha said.

The tension in the room got thick quickly. Debbie was having none of it.

“She’s having mine,” she said, and walked her glass over to Samantha. She then took the glass that Mulder was holding and leaned into him. “We need to toast the accomplishments of your incredible roommate, Fox, I’d hop to and get yourself a glass.”

Scully couldn’t help it, she liked the woman.

When Mulder came back in, he raised his glass and gave Scully a significant look.

“To Dr. Scully,” he said.

“To Dr. Scully,” the others repeated after him.

Scully brought the champagne to her lips. It felt like fire all the way down.

XxXxXxXxXxX

When Mulder closed the door on Samantha and Debbie, he immediately turned to Scully.

“God, I am so sorry. I had no idea she was coming and-”

“It’s fine, Mulder,” she said, though it was not fine. She was not fine.

“I’ll call her later, break it off with her,” Mulder said, moving over to her, and Scully cut him off again.

“Don’t,” she said. Mulder peered at her.

The whole morning would have been incredibly awkward had Debbie Winther not been engaging, enthusiastic, and an altogether fun person to be around. Whenever she stood next to Mulder, Scully couldn’t help but think what a handsome couple they made. Samantha eventually warmed up a little under Debbie’s gentle prodding.

The only really awful moment was when Debbie excitedly told Mulder that she had managed to get a cabin out on the Chesapeake for the long weekend and hoped she could take him out there this afternoon for a romantic getaway for a couple of days.

Mulder politely told her he would probably have to move a few things around and would call her.

“Scully?” Mulder said, breaking into her thoughts.

“She’s really nice, Mulder,” Scully said, “in fact, she’s great.”

Mulder looked at her in confusion.

“Mulder, I’m going to be leaving in a few weeks and-”

“I don’t care,” said, interrupting her, “Scully last night was… I don’t care if you’re leaving, I want to be with you.”

Scully’s heart felt like it was going to beat itself out of her chest.

“It was a mistake,” she whispered. It hurt just thinking it. Saying it made her sick. “Last night was a mistake.”

He stumbled back, as if stung by a jasper.

“What?” he said.

“It was a mistake. I’m leaving for Stanford. How could this even work?”

He saw an opening. Moved back toward her and grabbed her hand.

“We’ll make it work,” he said, “we’ll figure it out. Maybe I move out there.”

“Mulder, your life is here, your job, your sister-” Scully thought of the way Samantha had looked at her that first night. How easy she’d been with Detective Winther this morning. It was almost as if he was reading her thoughts.

“Don’t worry about my sister. She’ll come around. She’s incredibly loyal— she thought I was still dating Debbie, knew something had happened between you and me-”

“How?” she cut in.

“She can read me like a book, Scully. Listen, don’t worry about her, I’ll talk to her-“ he said.

She pulled away from him.

“Your sister aside, medical school is going to be all engrossing, I won’t have time. I -- It’s the first thing I’ve ever done for myself.”

“And I would never get in the way of that, Scully. Med school can come first. Should come first. I’ll take whatever you have left, even if it’s just scraps.”

She didn’t want that for him. He deserved so much more.

“No,” she said.

“But I thought-” he said.

“No,” she whispered and took a step back.

His jaw clenched and rippled under the surface of his skin, like the groundswell before a volcano blew its top.

He put his hand on his chest. “I know you feel this, too,” he said, his voice somewhere between anger and a caress.

She said nothing, but turned and walked up the stairs, tears spilling down her cheeks. She was doing this for him. Wasn’t she?

She looked over the railing and he was still standing there watching her.

‘

“I don’t,” she said, and ran the rest of the way to her room

XxXxXxXxXxX

A few minutes later, she heard the front door slam and then the sound of his motorcycle tearing up the street. Her world felt foggy and unreal. Not knowing what else to do, she picked up the phone.

When Melissa answered her call, Scully could barely talk through her tears.

“Dana?” Melissa said, her voice tinny through the earpiece, “Dana, slow down. What’s going on?”

She told her sister everything. Melissa listened patiently, asked pointed questions.

“Missy, I feel like I made the right choice and the wrong one, all at the same time,” she said when she was done.

“Sometimes there’s no one right answer, Dana. I haven’t learned much in my short time on this earth, but I have learned that.”

Scully sighed into the phone.

“Tell me, then,” Missy said, “What have you made the right choice about?”

“Med school,” Scully answered definitively. “Everything inside myself tells me that’s the right choice.”

“Then what’s the wrong one?”

“Mulder,” she said, with equal determination. “What I just said to him. Driving him away. Everything about it feels wrong, but I can’t consolidate the two. His life is here. And mine is about to be eaten up on the other side of the country.”

“Relationships have survived worse,” Missy said.

“Are you saying I made a mistake?”

“I think you said it, Dana,” her sister said gently. “I think you owe it to yourselves to at least give it a chance.”

“I need to talk to him,” Scully said, almost to herself. “I hope it’s not too late.”

XxXxXxXxXxX

She waited hours for him to come home. She mostly sat on the couch chewing her nails to the quick, imagining every scenario under the sun. Dark clouds moved in just before sunset, and the sky took on an ominous color and mood.

She was standing to switch on a lamp when she heard a soft knocking at their door. She rushed to it, swung it open, hoping it was him.

It was a different Mulder. Samantha stood there, her hand still raised from knocking.

“Dana!” she said in surprise, and then got a good look at what Scully assumed were her red-rimmed eyes and pallorous skin. “Are you okay?”

Scully sniffed and wiped her nose, didn’t answer. Sam stood there a beat and pushed on.

“I came to apologize,” she said, her words in a rush, “I was being a shit, and what you and my brother do with your lives isn’t any of my business. I know you’re leaving town soon, and I wanted to just… clear the air.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Scully said, looking down and away, embarrassed.

“I do. So… I’m sorry.”

Scully gave her a weak smile.

“Do you... know where your brother is?” she asked.

Samantha looked chagrined.

“I haven’t talked to him, but… Debbie said he had called and said he’d go up to the Bay with her this weekend. She left a couple of hours ago, I… I think Fox went with her.”

Scully nodded dumbly. She felt like the floor had opened under her.

“My shift at the station starts in a few minutes,” Sam went on, “I’ve got to get going.” She reached out and squeezed Scully’s arm briefly, then turned away and left.

When Scully closed the door and turned back into the apartment, she felt like the air had gone out of the room. Everywhere she looked, she saw a memory of the two of them. She needed out, she needed air.

She grabbed her running shoes and slid them on, not even tying them very well. She took her keys from the hook and fled out onto the street.

The sky was still lit, but barely, a yellowish ozone tinge to the air. She walked with her head down, not really having a destination in mind. She found herself at the mouth of the local park.

Moths were barnstorming the streetlamps that were scattered throughout it, and there was a steady crowd of people streaming toward the street; a soccer league had just finished for the night.

There were kids sucking on orange wedges, cleats with laces tied together draped over shoulders and around necks. A boy chased his sister, trying to get her to smell his shin guards. Somewhere off in the distance a coach or referee blew one sharp bleat on a whistle.

Scully shouldered her way past them all, feeling numb. There was a low rumble in the distance--either a truck or thunder, Scully could not tell which, and did not care. Once she was away from the thinning crowd, she walked deeper into the park and eventually sat on a bench under a large maple tree, the bottom of the leaves lighter than the tops, like the belly of a fish.

Time passed as did people, and both seemed to get fewer and farther between, the minutes slowing like dull drawn out heartbeats. A teenager gave her a disinterested glance and pulled his hood up over his head and walked on. A woman walking a pomeranian passed the other way, the dog pausing to sniff at Scully’s shoes.

One more low rumble, and Scully finally came back to herself; thunder. The wind had picked up and cooled off, the sounds of the trees above her gradually turning from a salubrious psithurism to an ominous rattle. She wasn’t wearing a coat and was starting to get cold.

She stood and looked around, trying to get her bearings. It wasn’t a large park, but it was long, and she was fairly far from the exit to the street. After a minute of walking, she thought she heard the shuffle of footsteps behind her and turned to look--there was no one there. When she turned back there was a person standing directly in front of her, appearing as if out of thin air. It was the teenager who had walked by her before--he looked older than she originally thought and his hood, which she realized now was more of a cloak, was pulled low over his face. He was holding a knife, and his gaze was intense. She felt the dump of adrenaline in her bloodstream.

He didn’t say anything, just stood in front of her, staring at her darkly.

“What do you want?” she finally asked him, sounding braver than she felt.

He mumbled something she couldn’t make out, shifting on his feet.

She had taken a self-defense course her sophomore year of undergrad, and her mind reeled trying to remember all that she had learned.

She felt the cold bite of her keys in her hand and tried to shift them as subtly as she could to get them between her fingers. He noticed and raised the knife.

“Don’t,” he said in a heavy accent, and she froze.

Scream, scream, scream the voice of her instructor came back to her, and she took a deep breath, just as the man in front of her started to twitch. She got the first “H-” of a blood curdling HELP! out before he made a move, and everything after that seemed to happen in both slow-motion and fast-forward.

He swung out with a fist which glanced off her stomach, rendering her scream mute and then slashed at her with the knife. She managed to get her arm up and out of the way and took a swing back at him with the fist holding her keys. Her punch glanced off his elbow and he moved forward towards her. Instinct took over and she brought her knee up for a groin shot. Her aim was off and she kneed him in the thigh instead, grazing it off the inside of his leg as he moved to defend himself.

Momentum carried her forward and him back, and she felt a dull blow to her left arm that didn’t hurt much. His free hand reached out with the speed of a snake and grabbed her wrist, yanking it back. Her keys went flying.

“Bitch!” he shouted at her and twisted her hand back until it was behind her and he was holding her from behind, his chest to her back. Adrenaline thrummed through her and her ears roared. She could feel the point of the knife just pressing into her side.

In one last ditch push of effort, she lifted her right foot up and slammed it down into the arch of his foot, connecting with a sickening crunch, just as her left elbow smashed into the arm holding the knife, which he dropped. It tinked onto the pavement of the path below them just as he gave a hollow grunt, his grip on her loosening.

She twisted away and ran, another dump of adrenaline boosting her forward. After a quick burst of speed, she risked a look behind her.

Nothing. Her attacker seemed to have dissolved as quickly as he had appeared, and she tripped in surprise, landing hard on her knees and hands.

It was then she noticed the blood on her arm. It was bright red and running thickly from a gash just below her elbow. The realization brought her back to herself, and the cramp that had been forming in her side from what she had assumed was running turned into a burn. She reached around herself with her uninjured hand and it came away dark with blood.

She felt another wave of panic and bile rose in her throat. She looked around. Her attacker was still gone, but so was everyone else. The park was empty and she was nowhere near the exit.

She rose to her feet and stumbled a few paces before catching sight of a small outbuilding, backlit by a dim light. The building was most likely used to store lawn mowers and the other horticultural implements needed to maintain a park. She made her way toward it, feeling a little weaker with each step.

Another low rumble of thunder cut through the air and she felt the first few stinging drops of rain start to fall. She finally got to the building and lurched around the corner toward the light.

The first good fortune of the day: a phone booth stood sentry beside the building, the blue plastic binder that should have housed a phone book hung down empty, limp as a dead bird. She threw up a silent prayer that the phone itself worked.

She floundered forward and picked the receiver up off of the hook. Dial tone. A relieved sob fell from her lips.

She dialed the operator and asked for emergency services just as the rain came down in a deluge. She slumped to the ground under the booth, giving halting, hissed information to a dispatcher, blood seeping into the ground beneath her knees.

XxXxXxXxXxX

She was separated from the rest of the patients in the ER by only a thin curtain that was occasionally thrown back with a curt shhtt! by any number of hospital personnel, quickly and at random. She flinched every time.

She was wearing an ill-fitting grey sweatsuit provided to her by the police officers who came to take her statement and her clothes, as evidence. She was allowed to keep her shoes, for which she was grateful. They were almost dry, though marked by a Pollack-like splatter of blood, mud and rain water. She had eight stitches in her arm, nineteen in her side, and a prescription for an antibiotic which she clutched tightly in her hand.

Shhtt! The curtain pulled back once again, this time admitting a nurse named Carmen--the woman was in her 50s and overweight, her hair pulled back in a dark bun with wiry strands of silver running throughout. She smiled at Scully, revealing a mouth full of crooked teeth. She’d had a tendency to call Scully “honey,” which Scully wanted to attribute to her sweet, maternal-like nature, but probably had to do with the fact that she couldn’t remember her name.

“You’re almost out of here, darlin’,” she said, mixing it up a bit as she dipped her head to look Scully in the eye. “The doctor is filling out your discharge papers, now. These,” she handed Scully a few pieces of paper that were printed in faded dot-matrix ink, “are your after-care instructions. Ibuprofen for the pain. You can take up to 600 ml safely, every six hours.”

Scully nodded mutely and folded the papers around the smaller prescription. Nurse Carmen patted her leg gently.

“Do you have someone you can call to come get you? It’s late.”

Scully glanced up at the clock on the wall -- it was nearly 3:30 am. She flipped through her mental rolodex and came up empty.

“I… I don’t have my keys,” she told the woman in a halting voice, “he knocked away my keys.”

“Do you have a Super or a roommate that can let you in?”

At the word “roommate” Scully felt tears burn in her eyes unbidden, but nodded at the nurse. Gary, their building manager, would be cranky as hell about it, but would let her in. She tried not to think about Mulder, and of course could only picture him on the porch of some oceanside cottage, sitting in a bench swing with Debbie while they fed each other crabcakes and drank red wine.

Shhtt! This time the curtain produced her doctor, who had been kind enough, but always seemed too busy or distracted to meet her eye. His head was always buried in a chart or steeped in concentration six inches from her skin, sewing her back together.

“All right Miss Scully, you’re free to go,” he said, snapping a folder closed. “Have you been assigned a detective yet for your case?”

“No, they said they’d call me,” she answered, and thought but with my luck…

He nodded and walked away, and Carmen touched her elbow and told her which way to go to get to the hospital exit. She passed by a pay phone near the door to the outside, but realized she didn’t have any change and gave the nurse at the nearest station her sob story before the woman, looking bored, handed her the station phone’s receiver and let her call a cab.

She headed outside to wait.

There was an ambulance idling just outside the emergency bay, the EMTs leaning against the side of the rig, drinking coffee and joking with each other. She couldn’t remember if they were the ones who had helped bring her to the hospital, so turned the other way and walked forty feet down the sidewalk, embarrassed.

She hadn’t asked how long it would be until the cab showed up and wondered how many were even on duty this time of night.

The pavement was damp, as if it had only just stopped raining, and it was still cold. She rubbed her hands together and stamped her feet to keep warm, the movement jarring the wound in her side. She felt close to tears.

She heard the roar of a motor coming up the empty road, but a quick glance proved that it wasn’t her cab, just a motorcycle tearing up the drive, going too fast for conditions. She wondered if maybe the driver was hurt when he skidded to a stop under the overhang directly in front of the ER doors.

The rider swung off his bike just as the two EMTs pushed off the ambulance, chiding him and telling him he couldn’t park there. The rider ignored them and whipped off his helmet, about to trot into the doors of the hospital when Scully recognized him and shouted his name.

“Mulder?!”

His head whipped toward her voice and then he came running, his face a mask of worry.

“Scully!” he shouted as he approached. He slowed only when he was nearly on top of her and reached out two hands, only to whip them back, as if afraid he might hurt her. “Scully,” he said again, “God! Are you okay?”

“How-” she said, not quite believing it was him, “what are you doing here?”

“I just found out,” he said, stopping short then stumbling into speech again. “That you were attacked. Jesus, I thought the worst.” He reached a hand out again, but didn’t touch her. “Are you okay?”

He must have driven in the rain. His jeans were soaked through and his hands looked red and chapped.

“Scully,” he said, again, “are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she said, slowly. She wanted to be dismissive, but she was in too much pain. “I’m -- I’m cut,” she said, raising up her arm to show him the stitches. “And here,” she said, pointing to her side.

“Jesus,” he said, “Will you be able to ride the bike? I need to get you home. Shit.” He looked around, “you can’t ride like this, we need to get you in a car.”

“No!” she said, and his head whipped back to her. “I can ride. Just… Please just take me home.”

He looked at her a long moment and then nodded, shrugging off his leather jacket to put around her shoulders. He helped her gingerly get it on, and then reached down to zip it for her. The inside of the jacket felt like silk, and was dry and warm. He put his arm around her and led her to the bike, the EMTs looking on silently, sipping their coffee and staring unabashedly.

He got her on the bike first, unzipped her jacket a bit to put her care instructions and prescription in the inside pocket, and then delicately lowered the helmet over her head, securing it before putting on his own. He got on, careful not to jostle her.

She was able to wrap her arms around him--luckily even the injured one--without much pain, and his body felt wonderfully warm and solid in front of her. He kicked the bike on, and he drove as carefully back to their apartment as he had driven pell-mell to get to her.

XxXxXxXxXxX

When they got back to the apartment, she was stiff, bone tired, and she wanted to tell him she’d made a terrible mistake, but she couldn’t find the words.

He escorted her to her bedroom door and hovered there, an energy radiating off of him that fairly trembled. She turned to him, one hand on the doorknob, and looked at him expectantly.

“Did he… hurt you?” Mulder asked. “Other than…” he gestured vaguely to her arm.

“Hurt me?” she asked, confused, and the look on his face broke her heart. Oh. Oh. “No,” she rushed out, and put a hand on his arm. “This is the extent of it. I got mugged, Mulder. That’s it.”

He must have rushed to the hospital without any information. She could only imagine all the dark scenarios running through his head.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“Okay,” he said, “Okay…”

“Goodnight, Mulder,” she said, and he nodded.

“Call out if you need anything. At all.”

She took her hand off the door handle.

“I’ll leave the door open, just in case,” she said.

He nodded and backed away slowly, throwing her several concerned looks as he descended the stairs.

She fell into bed and slept for 12 hours.

XxXxXxXxXxX

At 4:00pm, she hovered at the top of the stairs, her tongue thick with sleep in her mouth, her side and arm hurting. Her hair was a mess and she was afraid of what lay at the bottom of the stairs. Of facing the day, facing Mulder, facing her future. She thought of the dolly zoom in Hitchcock’s Vertigo, and placed her foot on the first step.

Mulder was waiting on the couch and leapt to his feet when he saw her.

“I was getting worried,” he said.

“Post-shock sleep,” Scully shrugged.

“How are you feeling?”

In truth, she was feeling so many things they seemed to bottleneck in her throat and render her speechless.

Finally, she just said, “Fine.”

He nodded at her, letting the silence settle around them, and it occurred to her that he was using a psychologist’s trick--waiting for her to fill the silence. She smiled to herself and let him have the round.

“How did you know?” she asked, wanting to know since he’d shown up at the hospital on his motorcycle like Steve McQueen. “That I’d been attacked? Where to find me?”

He sat down on the couch and she gingerly lowered herself next to him.

“Sam called,” he said, “ she was working at dispatch when your call came in. When I walked in the door, the phone had been ringing off the hook. She called and called. I’m so sorry I didn’t get there sooner.”

“You drove all the way down from the Chesapeake? In the rain?”

He looked at her, confused.

“I never went to the Bay,” he said, cocking his head to the side.

“You- what?” Scully said, sure she hadn’t heard right.

“I never went to the Bay with Debbie,” he said, “I went over to talk to her and break things off, like I said I would.”

Scully felt like the top of her head had lifted off and floated away.

“But Samantha said-” Scully started.

“Sam only knew what Debbie had told her the last time she saw her. We never went to the Chesapeake. I told Deb I wanted to see her before the trip, but only so I could break it all off. I ended up telling her everything. We sat and talked for hours… She helped me figure out what to do.”

“What to do?” Scully said, feeling like pages had been torn out of an instruction book she’d been trying to follow.

Mulder looked down at the floor and then raised his eyes to her.

“I’m not the kind of guy who can date a woman… when I’m in love with someone else.”

Scully felt a surge of hope and happiness so overwhelming she wasn’t sure what the look on her face was. Mulder read it as something else all together.

“Look, I’m sorry. I know you don’t feel the same way. And I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable, and I swear going forward I will keep it to myself, but for weeks I’ve felt like this and I thought there might be a chance you felt it, too. But you don’t, and I respect that. I just… I needed to say it. I needed to say it out loud. Once.”

She felt light and heavy all at once, elemental. Lit from the inside, like she’d swallowed a mouthful of ginger.

He stood suddenly and ran his hands through his hair until it stood on end.

“This is all my fault,” he said, pushing the heels of his hands into his eyes.

Scully was taken aback.

“Your fault? Mulder-” she said.

“I shouldn’t have pushed myself on you,” he said, “after Ethan was here. You were hurt and vulnerable and- you said it was a mistake. It was. The mistake was mine.”

He looked to the ceiling, shoved his hands into his pockets.

“You didn’t push yourself on me, Mulder,” Scully said, refusing to let him take on responsibility for anything that had happened in the last 24 hours. She took a bracing breath. “And the only mistake was mine. When I told you that that night didn’t mean to me what it did. When I let you think for one second that I don’t feel the same way you do.”

His eyes snapped to hers.

She stood and walked to him, his mossy eyes searching and perspicuous. He was miles deep and a fathom tall. She realised in that moment--and she would be able to look back and remember it clearly--that to love him had an inevitable feeling. Inevitable as gravity. As death and taxes. She grabbed his hand.

“My life right now is as tumultuous and up in the air as it has ever been and might ever be. I’ve been figuring out who I am on my own. I’m giving up what I thought I wanted out of my career and life for what I know I want. I’m about to move 3,000 miles away. And somewhere in the middle of all of that, I fell in love with my roommate.”

As he looked at her, a smile blossomed on his face and reached his eyes. He squeezed the hand she was holding.

“I’m sorry I pushed you away. Frankly, this,” she put her other hand on his chest, “scares me. But I also know I would regret not at least trying to be with you. I’d regret it until the day I died. I didn’t realize that until I thought I was about to.”

He leaned down and rested his forehead against hers, took a deep breath. She felt everything inside her click into place.

He leaned down and pressed the gentlest kiss to her lips.

XxXxXxXxXxX

They slept together that night--only slept. Mulder had gone out and picked up her prescription earlier in the day while she slept and the pills made her queasy.

Mulder tucked her into his own bed downstairs, brought her Saltines and ginger ale. When she awoke the next morning, he was curled around her. He helped her change her bandages and tie her shoes--she still couldn’t quite bend over.

At noon that day -- Labor Day -- the phone rang, it was Ellen calling from Seattle.

“Dana?” she said. “God, how are you?”

Scully didn’t have the first idea how to respond to that particular question, so she deflected.

“Ellen!” she said, “how are you? How goes the internship? You ready to come home yet?”

“It’s fabulous! And that’s actually why I’m calling. Dana, they offered to hire me on full-time. They want me to work out here while I finish my degree.”

“Oh Ellen, congratulations!” she said, feeling genuine joy for her friend.

“Thanks,” Ellen said, “I know you were counting on me to take the lease back over, and I can still probably help out for a few months now that I’m getting paid, but I thought I’d see how the new roommate is working out? Any chance he might want to stay for a bit longer?”

The roommate in question was currently tidying up in the kitchen, and came to the room’s doorway to eavesdrop on her conversation.

“The new roommate?” she repeated for his benefit, and then gave him a tart look, “He’s working out okay, I guess.”

At that, Mulder feigned insult and promptly whipped off his shirt and started doing push-ups.

“I take that back,” Scully said, maintaining eye contact with him while he exercised, by which she couldn’t help but get a little turned on. “He’s definitely working out.” Mulder stopped doing push-ups, sat up, and kissed his bare bicep. Scully let out a guffaw. “I’ll ask him.”

Ellen laughed too, without knowing why, and said “I’m so glad. And thank you. Oh, I’m going to miss you! Listen, I’ve got to get going, but we’ve got so much to catch up on. Talk soon?”

She watched Mulder as he disappeared back into the kitchen, still shirtless. “Sometime next week?”

“Done. I’ll call you. Bye Dane!”

“Bye!”

Scully rose to hang the phone back up on the wall and drifted into the kitchen, leaning against the doorframe to watch Mulder as he put dishes away.

“You do that a lot?” she asked him.

“Do what?” he asked, without looking away from his task, “Housework like a helpful roommate, or exercise hard to maintain my girlish figure?”

She came up behind him and kissed his bare back.

“Your figure is decidedly non-girlish, Mulder,” she said, ignoring his question, “for which I am increasingly thankful.”

He turned suddenly in her arms and she found herself staring at his bare chest. He rubbed his hands up down the tops of her arms, careful not to get too close to her cut.

“Oh yeah?” he asked, leaning his face down into hers.

She nodded into his kiss, “Yeah,” she said, right before his lips met hers. She deepened the kiss immediately, remembering the way the big muscles on his upper back had moved beneath his skin as he did push-ups, the way he’d looked at her with intent the entire time he was doing them.

He let her lead, doing nothing more than returning her enthusiastic kisses and dropping his hands to rest lightly on her hips.

She reached down and tipped her forefingers into the tops of his jeans, pulling him closer and then running her fingers to his fly. He pulled back, just as she popped the button.

“Hey,” he said, nudging her face with his nose, brushing his lips lightly against hers. “What are you up for, here?”

She looked down at him with intent, at where his erection was pressing against the fly of his jeans. “Whatever you’re up for, flyboy,” she said, and nipped at him.

“I just,” he leaned back a little bit more, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

She unzipped his fly slowly.

“You’re not going to hurt me,” she said.

“You pop a few of those stitches, your doctor might say otherwise,” he said, putting his hands on hers to still her movements.

“But I want you,” she said, licking her lips, reveling in the concupiscent lustiness he brought about in her.

He smiled at her slowly.

“We can figure this out,” he said, “we just need to be creative.”

“I have, so far, been both pleased and impressed with your creativity,” she said.

“Then allow me,” he said, and turned their positions so that she was standing with her back to the counter, then bent down to shimmy her sweatpants and underwear off, while she stood, patiently, wondering what his plan was.

When he straightened back up, he leaned forward, bracing his arms on the counter on either side of her.

“What,” he said, leaning forward to kiss her, “can you do that doesn’t hurt?”

She grabbed his head and brought his mouth back to hers for a deep, thorough kiss, then she released him.

“That,” she said, “didn’t hurt.”

He smiled at her.

“Noted.”

She reached forward and grabbed his fly again, and then started to lower his jeans down around his hips when she suddenly hissed in pain. Mulder grabbed her and straightened her.

“So no bending over,” he said. She nodded, a little disappointed. “Can you sit?”

“As evidenced by sitting on my ass nearly all of yesterday evening and again this morning, all information points to sitting being a medically approved position for Patient Scully,” she said in her best med student voice.

Mulder chuckled.

“Okay,” he said, and then surprised her by reaching down and easily lifting her up and onto the surface of the counter, which was cold against her aforementioned ass. She let out a startled yelp.

“Mulder!” she said.

“Was that pain, or the temperature of the counter?” he asked.

“The temperature of the counter,” she said through gritted teeth.

He smiled wickedly.

“The longer you sit on it, the more it’ll warm up,” he said.

She shook her head.

“Mulder, counters are for glasses, not for a-”

“Shh,” Mulder cut her off with a finger to her lips. “I promise I’ll clean up,” he said.

She tilted an eyebrow at him, but complained no more.

He put his hands on her thighs, spreading her legs apart so he could step in between them, their faces now perfectly level for kissing. He ran his hands lightly up her legs until his thumbs were just brushing at the crease where her legs met her pubis, sending a shiver down her spine.

He had pulled his jeans back up, but hadn’t zipped them, so she reached down and slipped her hand inside, grasping the silken steel of him, and he hissed into her mouth.

“You first,” he whispered, and then lowered himself to the floor, now at the perfect level to lean forward and press his face into her sex, giving her an open-mouthed kiss and inhaling deeply through his nose. “I love the way you smell,” he said, and then darted his tongue out to press into her labia. “I love the way you taste.”

She reached out and ran her hands through his hair, digging her nails into his scalp when he gently parted her labia with his fingers and started running his tongue softly over her clit, gradually with more speed and pressure.

She concentrated on keeping her torso immobile, which was difficult when all she wanted to do was gyrate her hips into his sumptuous mouth, chasing the orgasm she could feel building even now.

Just as he’d done before, he pressed one long finger and then another up and into her, and moments after he started rubbing the rough pad of her G spot, an orgasm surged up within her. She let go of his head and braced her hands on the countertop, holding herself as steady as she could as the waves crashed within her, and he gently lapped at her, slowing as she came down.

He stood when she exhaled, and she rolled her head from one shoulder to the other, letting the ringing in her ears lessen with each breath.

“How are you so good at that?” she asked, her tongue all lassitude in her mouth.

“I was a double major,” he said smugly, his cocksure grin charming as a flop-eared terrier.

She shoved him in the shoulder and he fell back a step, then moved forward to carefully help her down from the counter. She stood in front of him, still in a shirt with no pants, and he pressed a finger under her chin and tilted her head back until she was looking up at him.

“I like this look,” he said, “it’s very Donald Duck.”

She laughed and shoved his shoulder again.

“You know, I was going to push for reciprocity, but I think I just changed my mind,” she said.

“Nah,” he said, and leaned down to nip at her nose, “plenty of time for that.” He then leaned over sideways to look at her aftercare instructions, which had been stuck to the fridge. “When do you get your stitches out?”

“Friday,” she said.

“Gonna be a good weekend,” he mumbled into her lips.

She felt herself deflate.

“I leave for California the Friday after that.”

She hadn’t even begun starting to pack.

He leaned his head forward until it once again rested on hers.

“We’ll figure it out,” he whispered.

XxXxXxXxXxX

That night, they sat on the loveseat on their balcony, watching the stars wink on in the sky, Venus emerging brightly from the ecliptic. They drank iced tea (Mulder may have had a beer or two) and talked about how they’d handle being long distance, Scully tucked into Mulder’s side.

They had yet to come up with a plan that excited them both. The pull of sunny California started to wane.

“Have you ever found a place you felt like you belonged? Somewhere you just felt at home? Where you knew it was where you were supposed to be?” she asked him after a few minutes of silence.

He squinted his eyes, thinking. Then,

“It’s not down on any map,” he recited to the stars. “True places never are.”

Melville. She gave him a look, thought of her father.

“Yeah,” she said, “I’ve been searching for it my whole life. And I think… that place might be you.”

“You gotta go, Scully,” he said, looking down at her, knowing what she was getting at. “Med school is your dream, so it’s my dream, too. I won’t let you not go.”

She took a breath, knowing he was right.

“Besides,” he said, “I don’t want to be the only doctor in this house,” he said, then shrunk away from her, knowing what was coming. She swatted at him, then let him settle back against her.

They sat in silence for long minutes, until Mulder finally shifted.

“Be right back,” he said, and stood, her side going cold from where he’d been.

He came back a minute later, carrying the large white pillar candle that Scully had lit for him his first night in the apartment. He produced a lighter from his pocket, flicked it on and touched it to the wick, then set the candle on the small table in front of them.

“I’ll make you a deal,” he said, settling back onto the loveseat and gently tucking her back into his side. “Take this with you to California. I’m going to get one just like it. And when either one of us is doubting, or when things get too lonely or dark, we’ll each light the candle.”

She glanced up to look at his profile, her heart constricting in her chest with love for this man.

“To cast out the darkness?” she asked, her voice quiet.

He nodded, then rolled his head to look at her.

“I mean, we should have a go at the evil spirits, too,” he said, chuckling.

She smiled at him, and leaned her head against his shoulder, watching the flame dance in the light breeze of the DC night.

XxXxXxXxXxX

When Mulder got home from work the next day, Scully was on the couch trying to study, her stitches itching madly.

“Hey,” he said, swinging the door closed. He hung his keys absently on the hook by the door, and kicked off his shoes. He had something in his hand. He was radiating a nervous energy. “Something came for you in the mail.” He looked at her significantly. “From Georgetown.”

“Probably paperwork for the end of term,” she said, barely looking up. “I’ve got a lot of crap I’ve got to fill out. You can put it in the kitchen.”

He sat down next to her.

“I don’t think that’s what it is,” he said, and held out a standard white envelope.

She looked at the return address. Georgetown Medical School.

She felt her eyes go wide and looked at him.

“Go on,” he said, and she wasted no time tearing into it.

She read the letter twice before leaning back into the couch and finally looking at him.

“Don’t make me guess,” he said quietly.

“Accepted,” she said, the smile blooming on her face mirrored back at her. “Full ride scholarship.”

“You get to stay,” he said, mirabile dictu.

“I get to stay.”

The sunlight coming through the sliding glass door behind him glinted off his hair, turning it into a filmy halo of gold. He reached out and hooked her thumb through his pinkie, pulling her hand up until it was against his chest, pressing against his beating heart.

She felt the thump and swish of it, its heat and birr, and she knew what it felt like to be home.

THE END

#the x-files #fanfiction #MSR #AU #a companion unobtrustive #prompt #my fic #roommates

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wkngsnds · 4 years

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Dangan Ronpa 3: The End of 希望ヶ峰学園 | The End of Kibougamine Gakuen | End of Hope's Peak High School Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Major Character Death Relationships: Kuzuryuu Fuyuhiko/Pekoyama Peko Characters: Kuzuryuu Fuyuhiko, Pekoyama Peko Additional Tags: With surprise guests at the end, i would tag Natsumi but she isn’t an active character, Angst and Hurt/Comfort Summary:

“I-Is that what you do?”

Peko blinks slowly, facing the ceiling instead of him.

“I don’t feel anything when I do. Not anymore.”

—

Back at it again with my bs; I start class again today, but I haven’t slept so that’s fun. This took me a bit longer to write, so I would enjoy some feedback. This time, I’ve also included a read more so y’all can view it on tumblr if you’d like. I may have left like one or two things unchecked, but it’s the same thing (it’s a format thing, that doesn’t really take away from the story).

Two weeks ago, he never wanted a tool. Tonight, he’s grateful for his hitwoman.

He never blacked out during a fight— savoring every cut and bruise (or as many as she let him get), so he was faster and stronger the next time around. His rage was a fickle thing, and even if it he wasn’t a mafioso, he believed, it would still be consuming, vigorous, and perfervid. Never the petty type, his anger was direct; he only saw point B no matter the obstacles in the way. If he couldn’t move them with words, he thought he could smash through them as he refused to lose sight of his goal. That goal being someone’s else’s tooth, finger, blood, and sometimes all three at once.

Tonight was no different.

She never got hit during a fight— she was fast, strong, and cunning. Most of all, she knew how to hide her wounds from him; one bad day and years of training made her an expert. Her rage was restrained, and even if she wasn’t a tool it would still be kept within bounds, repressed, and leashed. She forced herself to see his point B; points C through Z were closed, because the worst case scenarios could happen if they reached points C through Z. If they didn’t cower before him when they got there, she would make them bow.

Tonight, was no different.

All it took was an oblivious idiot with a weird hairstyle in the class, and they finally put the pieces together. Of course it was that obsessive bitch who clung to his other bitch classmate. Fuyuhiko had half the mind to kill her off as well, just by association (those pictures couldn’t have been anyone else’s work), but, again, that’s what Peko was for: when he didn’t have half the mind to think. Though, to be fair, she did also hesitate in stopping his plan— preventing it if only because a trail of corpses would lead back to them.

So, he would have to make this one count.

And he did.

When the two finally returned to his dorm room (the girls had a louder lock at the entrance), they both collapsed from exhaustion: him at the foot of his bed and her at his closed door. It’s not like they went far to dump the corpse; in fact, it had been one their top priorities for clean up. Peko had suggested a copycat murder, yet Fuyuhiko argued against it. With everyone on high alert, the police (if they even bothered) had 29,998 other people to interview before they would be called in. He didn’t want to hide the body; no, he wanted her to rot— maggots crawling in and out of the holes they made of her. Such morbidity had not been his style, but it would be a lie if he were satisfied with her death alone.

They chose the bank of a nearby river.

Unsurprisingly, she stood before he could; once the adrenaline of his killing passed, his body felt sore and his muscles tensed up again. It felt as though any movement made cracked his joints, while his eyes briefly crossed over. He shook his head— he shouldn’t feel this weak, not when Peko was the one who carried, quite literal, dead weight in her kendo bag when they walked to the river. When they arrived, he waited for her to unwrap the corpse before taking its arms and she took its legs. He can still feel the force it took to swing it back and forth before flinging it down the bank. After that, they walked back to the boys dormitories. Taking public transportation was out of the question, and he couldn’t face his family by asking for a ride even if the deed was done. Perhaps if he had done things the more ‘traditional’ way, he would have been asleep by now, but that didn’t sit right to him. No, Fuyuhiko had to follow through on everything; this whole process was too personal to not get involved (although that in itself is a exact reason why he shouldn’t have been involved). He wouldn’t be able to face Natsumi if he accomplished such a cold hearted, empty revenge.

He forced himself to sit up even if made him want to throw up.

“You need to bathe.”

“It can wait until morning.”

“No, it cannot.” He watched as she reached into a separate duffel bag, “The stenches of blood and death are ones that linger if you do not remove them immediately.”

From the bag, she pulled out an antibacterial liquid body wash and shampoo. She had also brought a roll of black bags, a bottle filled with what he assumed were cleaning chemicals, and a cardboard box.

“Young master, please give me your cap and gloves.” He forgot he even had them on, “Thank you. I will burn these items, so if you have any trash you would like to dispose please place it in this bag.”

Not only were those put in the bag, but her black cap and gloves were tossed in as well; he hears her folding the the aforementioned paper she wrapped Sato in before throwing it away as well.

Sato. Even her name was repugnant and simplistic.

His arm rested on a raised knee, “Do you need to burn my clothes as well?”

Watching her fix the box and line it with another black bag— the way her movements were quick and sharp nearly gave him vertigo, but it’s her calm demeanor (doing everything as if from muscle memory) that gives him chill. This...was truly her speciality, wasn’t it?

“No, that will not be necessary. That is one of your more expensive suits, is it not?” He nodded, “Then I shall send it the manor to have it carefully cleaned.”

“What about your clothes?”

“Please do not worry about that.”

“Do you have anything to change into?”

“Young master.” She looked like she wants to say something, “Please go bathe.”

He grabbed onto the footboard behind him, and stood, albeit struggling, before she could reach to help him. She’s worried about him (always, always worrying about him), that much is obvious by her facial expressions, but he wasn’t in the mood to argue with her. He took both bottles before grabbing his nightwear, and headed towards the shower room.

“There’s a washer-dryer set in this closet. Wash your clothes.”

Normally, it took him 15 minutes to get himself clean, but the falling of hot water on his back kept him in for five minutes longer. For five minutes longer, he mulled over his ambivalent thoughts— remembering how Sato’s face contorted into shock, and then overcame by dread and terror at the sight of him...it elevated him. The way she tried to run from him, but Peko threw her to the ground; kept down by an elbow between the shoulders, yet her head kept up by her hair. He’s never felt that kind of power: having everything and everyone in his control. For once, they feared him and not her. For once, someone begged at the feet for his mercy and not his father.

Did Natsumi beg for her life?

Was she afraid?

Did she call out for him?

Then came the boiling rage once again; the jarring reality that it didn’t matter if he killed one person or left an entire town to die, he still had to bury his little sister. He knew her death wasn’t his fault, he’s not that delusional, but he thinks he could have stopped it. If he stopped running away from being compared to her, would she still be alive? He could have been a better brother if he wasn’t such a fucking child. Would that have developed her talent faster? If he tried to put in a good word for her with the recruiters— persuade them to look into her, would that have kept her safe? If he let Peko go check on her, she would still be here, wouldn’t she?

He watched as the blood from his hand (there’s only a crack on the tiled wall) washed down the drain, and then turned the faucet off altogether. He didn’t need to pass out form all the heat. As he dried himself, he noticed the basket he left in the washroom before the shower had almost been emptied save for his underwear and socks. Well that took care of that.

Exiting the bathroom, he kept a towel draped over his head, and found her meditating on her knees in the same clothes she arrived in. Everything around her had been ‘prepped’, so to speak; the box of his clothes was closed and ready to be shipped out, the ‘burn bag’ kept in her kendo duffel, and her black yukata was folded neatly next to her.

(Strike) That’s what the face of a professional looked like. (Endstrike)

“There’s an extra clean towel in the washroom. ‘Left the soap and shampoo inside the shower for you.”

“Thank you.” He doesn’t miss the way her voice sounded weaker than before. Nor does he miss the redness in the whites of her eyes.

Had Peko been crying?

She cleared her throat, and he had her attention; of course, that itself was the problem.

“Young master...please turn around so that I may undress and place my clothes in the wash. It would be inappropriate otherwise.”

Fuyuhiko didn’t verbally respond, but he complied with her wishes— the blond sat arms crossed on his bed opposite to the small hallway. Though, he only now realizes that the body mirror he used each morning aligned with said area, and created a distorted reflection. Within a second, his golden tired eyes closed to prevent the chance of seeing anything beyond the small of her back.

The gangster relaxes, somewhat, after he heard the sound of his shower for the second time that night. Slowly, he picked his feet up onto his bed and laid his head on his pillow; it felt like his head would explode with all the pulsing in his veins.

He blinked.

2:20 AM.

In three and half more hours, he will be awake for twenty four hours— nothing unusual for him, but worth noting in silence.

He breathed.

He heard his bodyguard shuffle, throwing her wet clothes into the dryer no doubt, and then returned into the shower just as quickly.

2:36 AM

When Peko finished showering, it hadn’t been as hot as when he exited— humid, yes, but he knew she liked to take cool showers. He also knew that despite all her yukatas being black, they had subdued patterns on each of them if one looked closely enough. He had gotten two of them for her birthday and Christmas last year, after all, and nearly had an aneurysm over convincing her to keep each one. For this year, Fuyuhiko had his eye on a specific thin, golden chain— one she could hide under her clothes— sold by a nearby jewelry store. Truth be told, this was only half of his choice, but it was the realistic half.

The other half had been a pendant of a crescent moon with a dragon wrapped around it strike (though he’d give her the world in a heartbeat if she asked for it, statuses be damned). endstrike

He sat up, “That’s the birthday one, right? The one you’re wearing.”

“Yes, it is. Thank you once again.” She switched sides and continued to squeeze the water out of her hair, “The material is incredibly comfortable and breathable.”

He looked he had something to say, all of a sudden.

“Peko when was the last time we bathed together?”

He’s just as surprised to ask her that as she is hear the question,

“Um...” But of course she takes the question seriously, “I believe you had requested we stopped doing so a week before your seventh birthday.” Of course her memory was good like that.

Peko told him to put his worries aside, and to sleep for the rest of the night— that it was advisable to take today off as no one would bother him for it. However, he only half listened as he saw her pack everything together. Without warning, it felt like all the gravity in the room decided to center in his chest, threatening to pull him down if he didn’t keep his head up. Fingers not his own wrapping around his heart, and clutched it as if to have it explode in chest. She’s going to go back to her room, she said.

She’s leaving him.

“H-Hey, it’s the middle of the night, there’s some pretty drunk bastard roaming a out, no doubt.”

“I’ve handled worse.”

“You’re hair is still wet.”

“The air is still warm.” Her shinai is propped onto her back, “Please do not worry me. I will be fine.”

Fucking hypocrite.

“The girls dormitories have a loud lock at the entrance, don’t they?”

“As I said, please do not worry about me. I’ll use my sword to climb over the fence and enter through my window.”

She’s leaving him all alone.

“Then, if there is nothing else you need of me, I shall leave you alone now.” But just as she reached for the handle, she paused.

“What?”

“That Sato deserved to die. No, she deserved a fate worse than death. Even Koizumi should...” Her shaking breath hadn’t gone unnoticed by him, “I digress. You did it; with your strength and your wits, you killed Sato. That being said, accepting the fact you’ve murdered another person is not without trouble. Regardless if they deserved to die or not, regardless of how strong or skilled you are, regardless of premeditation or in the heat of the moment. Someone’s blood is now on your hands.”

“And there’s going to be more in the future.” Of all the times and of all people to be such a miserable asshole towards

“Yes...I suppose that is inevitable. My apologies, young master.” How dare she lecture him, “Please sleep well.”

She’s going to walk out that door, and she’s going to die just like Natsumi.

“Stay with me.”

Fuyuhiko hadn’t been sure if the words left his mouth, and, if they did, he didn’t know if she heard him. Not that he had any right to make demands or give her an order after brushing her off. These mood swings of his were, no doubt, confusing for her. She just wanted to help him with something he truly knew nothing about (despite it being his birthright), and he practically told her to fuck off. She always wanted to help him. Make herself useful to him with no damn regards to her own needs.

Was he so incompetent that she couldn’t rely on him?

In the end, it seemed that she did hear him, but it’s his fault for not communicating properly when she kneels before the door placing her shinai on her lap.

“I don’t mean guard my door. I meant that I want you to stay the night with me.”

Fuck.

“Young master...?”

“That definitely came out the wrong way. Look, what I meant was,” He exhales forcibly, “What I mean is...remember when we were really small? How you stayed in bed with me when I had those horrible nightmares?”

Then, suddenly, it clicked.

“Yes, I do.”

Out came another sigh, but he’s still agitated, “L-Like that, but only if you’re okay with doing so. A-And don’t say yes just because I want it, understand? If not, I’ll take the floor and you sleep on the bed.”

“Please don’t sleep on the floor at my expense. I...I want...to.”

Fuyuhiko should know better than anyone how difficult it has been for Peko to express her desires truthfully. He knew that she thought asking him for something had been forbidden. That requesting something outside their ‘professional’ parameters meant she was an ungrateful miscreant. The fact that she agreed did not shock him, but given that it came from her will did. Still, he wanted to rule out any possibility in which she felt obligated to agree with him.

“Are you absolutely sure?”

“Yes. I want to sleep with you.” Her confidence would have fooled him if not for the blush on her pale face.

“R-Right then.” With a simple push of his arms, Fuyuhiko placed himself to the left side of the bed. The mattress itself had been full sized (yet another benefit of an upgraded dorm room), so it wasn’t as if they had to force themselves into an inappropriate position to fit. At worst, they may have ended up closer than when they fell asleep, but that did not necessarily violate his own morals. He had to remind himself that, puberty aside, they had done this before and it was no different from those times.

“Young master? You’re trembling.”

Fuck.

“I-It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

“Sir, please don’t force yourself to do this. I truly don’t mind sleeping on the floor.”

“Shut up, I told you it’s fine already. Just turn off the lights and come here.”

Within a few seconds the lights were flicked off, and now the soft glow of his small lamp was the only source of light in the room. The mattress dips when she finally sits down, and hears the faint sound Peko fixing her bamboo sword in the small space between the bed frame and the nightstand. Her glasses were the last to leave her body, and joined the lamp on said stand. However, before she could lay down Fuyuhiko stopped her with a jolt; he reached under the pillow to find the tanto knife he always kept hidden. She had lent it to him long before they arrived at Hope’s Peak Academy— when they went to different middle schools, in fact. It hadn’t been taboo to carry a weapon, but no one bothered to give him one; he even had to use part of his allowance to buy his favorite brass knuckles. The clan members assumed with Peko by his side she was the weapon he could use. Nevertheless, the silver hair girl seemed satisfied that he kept it with him for the past few years. It was one of her own, after all, that she had picked specifically for his own skills and strength.

Once he placed the weapon beneath him, their bodies collapsed on top of the blankets— each letting out an exhaustive sigh.

“Hey Peko? My bad for cutting you off like and saying shit like that.”

He hears her hair rustle as she turned her head to him, taking a moment to choose her words carefully (though, it’s his fault she can’t speak comfortably with him).

“It is no bother. In any case, the young master is right: once you ascend to your role as the oyabun, you will have even more enemies.” Her tone becomes more assertive, “Rest assured, I will be the one to dirty my hands and cut them down if they oppose you.”

“I still should let you speak.” He stared back at the ceiling, “You said something like that before, ‘Someone’s blood is my hand now’. What were you gonna say after that?”

“Simply that it would be wise to detach yourself from what you’ve done. Regret is futile, but to associate this with any kind of pleasure is dangerous as well.” In the darkness of his room he can just barely make out her face, “If you let Sato haunt you it will be as if you never killed her at all.”

“I-Is that what you do?”

Peko blinks slowly, facing the ceiling instead of him.

“I don’t feel anything when I do. Not anymore.”

At least now he knew where she was whenever he found her room empty. Or maybe, he always knew and deluded himself into thinking she was staying up late to practice.

“When was the first time,” Why does he keep pushing her about this, “That you killed someone?”

“When those men kidnapped you and I, and brought us to the mountains. Once I realized that you were unharmed, I went and killed them all. It was the only we could escape safely.”

“...” What does he even say to that sort of thing? They were five years old when that happened. At five years of age, the world (his world, their world) turned her into a murderer.

“Young master, I am sorry for not doing a better job that night.”

“Peko, what the hell are you talking about? I only survived that night because of you.”

The swordswoman sat up, feet swinging onto the floor— he couldn’t see the expression she was making, but he didn’t need to know she was blaming herself.

“But I only made things worse. If I wasn’t so afraid that night,” Her fingers grip onto the sheets, inhaling deeply, “If it wasn’t so weak, the young master wouldn’t have been petrified. If I kept my head clear, like I was supposed to, we would have gotten lost!”

“We were five— even grown adults would have been scared out of their fuckin’ heads.”

He doesn’t expect her to turn around so suddenly, and it caused him to sit up as well. Again, he could barely see her face, but he can damn well hear it in her voice.

“That is not an excuse! I am the young master’s tool, protecting the young master...killing for the young master, that is my only purpose. I should never make you doubt the safety of your life! If I were smarter that night, then the young master would not have been afraid. If I were faster, Lady Natsumi would still be alive and the young master wouldn’t have to have had dirty his hands.”

What?

Fuyuhiko’s silence worried her, and the panic sets within; she messed up. She was always messing up. Why couldn’t she just be competent for him? In a second, Peko regained control of her emotions and thinks she removed her expressions. In another second, she was back on the floor performing Dogeza...

The words flowed in and out of his ears, refusing to stay. He thinks— no, he knows she’s apologizing, but he doesn’t understand why.

...

What?

“...Stop.”

“Please do punishment unto me as you see fit for my loose tongue.”

“Stop it, already. Just stop...”

He’s tired.

“Young master...”

“You were just following my orders. I’m her brother, so it was my responsibility to check on her.” It returned again: the heavy feeling in his chest, the one that drags him to the floor and plops him next to her.

She’s tired.

“Sir, you mustn’t blame yourself. If I were a tool capable of being trusted, then I am sure your orders would have been different! If I were more sensible— young master...?”

They’re both so exhausted.

“Don’t you get it? You’re the only one I can trust.” He was suffocating, “You always put your life on the line for me, with no damn regard to your own. You're not invincible, Peko.”

“That is exactly why I intend to fulfill my purpose as your tool until I am corpse at your feet.”

“How many times do I have to tell you?!” (He’s grateful that the room was sound proof), “I don’t want a tool! Tools can’t die. They become dull, they break, and you replace them, but they definitely cannot die. If some fucking rotten cunt smashed your skull in with gravel in a swimsuit you’d die!”

She sat up, “I-I wouldn’t let that happened, I promise!”

“But you can’t know that, you can’t possibly fucking know that! What the point if you’re dead?!”

She can’t do it again to him, not now. She can’t fall apart on him. Not again. That wasn’t fair to him. She has to be strong, she has to be strong, she has to be...

“Natsumi thought she was untouchable, that’s why she was all starting shit with everyone around her. And now what? Now we have to fucking cremate her.” She sees the way his eyes plead with her, his hands desperately grabbing onto her shoulder, “So stop saying you’ll protect me until the day you die, because if I have to bury you too—”

His throated closed on him, and he nearly chokes on himself— as if his body couldn’t finish a thought he never really wanted to have in the first place.

So. This is what it felt like? Breaking their nine and ten year streak of no crying.

“...Young master?”

“Please don’t leave me! I can’t do this on my own, Peko, I need you!”

“Young master! There’s no way I would ever want to leave your side!” She struggles to steady her breathing, her hands clutching onto his arms, “There are so many things in this world that can hurt you, so many things that I cannot protect you from and I hate it. If something fatal were to happen to you...being expected to live on is just too cruel for me.”

“I wouldn’t be able to do it either, you know?” He stopped crying, but his voice still hadn’t recovered, “My little sister died because I failed to protect her, and if you died because of my actions...I seriously couldn’t...”

He couldn’t remember the last time he allowed someone else to touch him so personally— running away even from his mother’s touch. Her hands were warm on his face, and he lets himself fall into them. He knows once they wake up again, once they went home, this closeness between them would have to be forgotten. He presses his hands against hers, and sighs;

So warm.

So human.

“Peko, from now on it’s just you and me. Not as master and tool...just together, okay? We live together and we die together.”

For once, she lets him help her do something: raising her up and leading her to the bed. When they wake up later on, she’s knows this could never be brought up again. An indescribable dream or a sleep deprived hallucination, that’s all she can remember it as. Though, in raw honesty, that seemed better to her than nothing at all.

When their bodies hit the bed for the second, they do so facing each other— much closer than his morals would have allowed. It just felt natural, like how their hands intertwined wish ease.

“Then let us die of old age and nothing else.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Finally, they fell asleep.

———

A few months later

“Ugh, that’s so totally LAME! Your sister dies and you just move on with your hit-man-squeeze??? Then again, I can totally relate to that. I mean, just being within 100 feet of grosses me the hell out.”

“And you’re high pitched voice gives me a splintering headache,” But it’s said with such a loving tone, “In any case, should we separate them? That might drive one of them over the edge.”

She rolled her eyes so hard that she was afraid her contacts would get stuck behind her eyes.

“Ugh, whatever! That’s too much effort for energy I do not have. Besides, I’m over the ‘murder the lover for the shock value’ trope. It’s done and over with, so out of style!”

Junko continued to watch through her binoculars; their upperclassmen, it seemed, were getting ready to move into the new building. How cute, she thought, after the funeral came a honeymoon.

“Besides, a codependency like theirs has been brewing in the pot for years now. We just need to turn up the heat, upupupupu!”

#kuzupeko #kuzuryuu natsumi #mentioned but not an active character #references to the game

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blankdblank · 4 years

Text

Next Caller Pt 33

A deal was had and on your way back Thorin slipped into the room next to yours to use their shower and thankfully with the heavy duty hair dryer mounted up combing out your curls. Back into your jeans and a fresh shirt and underwear you hopped into your socks, at the door opening you looked up at Thorin in his fresh set of clothes with hair and beard primped perfectly. “Did I do anything weird? He didn’t make me bark or anything?”

Smirking at you he replied, “No, your hand started typing though.”

“Bet that was interesting.” You said as he walked around you to add his suit to join yours in the bath hanging from the washrag bar to dry.

“I am glad you feel better. Frerin picked a film, did you want to join them?”

“Sure.”

An actual theater was what you had walked into and with the blanket you grabbed on the way in seats were taken. Dinner again found you with the elders and desserts on the balcony came with a box of pictures brought to you luring a few glances to your friends nearby. Though the pictures actually had you more in awe of what lands they had to offer instead of their actual goal of finding where you would want to get married. All the same your interest only hinted to them and others, including Thorin, that you might actually be getting wedding planning fever.

Again though you found yourself in the same bed sitting up with your arms on the blanket pooled in your lap, on the bed next to you he asked, “Can’t sleep?”

“Last time I slept I ended up forcing you to move in with me.”

“Don’t make me come over there.”

“I highly doubt your family would take well to that.”

“It’s only going to get colder.”

“Hard not to believe that wasn’t done on purpose.”

“You and me both, come on.”

“Fine, but if we end up having to be married at dawn it’s on your head.” Out of bed you slid bringing your comforter with you that you flicked out over his bed then eased into the space he made for you by lifting up the covers. In your stretching turn over you shut off the lights and settled down facing your own bed, over you he lowered his arm that crept down around your side. “Are they really expecting me to pick a location for a reception?”

“Don’t worry about that, Frerin is making sure they get misplaced.”

“The guys won’t miss you moving out?”

“They won’t be far, Frerin picked a house between yours and Dwalin. Paid it off and there’s only three months left on the lease giving them time to plan.”

“Didn’t you just paint? Why would he move so soon after?”

“He caught the house bug, and the landlord likes the paint, should help to sell quicker.”

“Insane,”

“Little bit.”

“Have you told Roac yet?”

“No, couldn’t spot him earlier, no doubt singing Dot’s praises to his family. He’ll be thrilled, don’t-,”

“Worry?” you asked then yawned making him smirk in your settling into the bed right after, almost instantly falling asleep tugging him right along with you encouraging his slumbering curl around your body.

Vili again was sent to fetch you, though this time with you as pillow to the Dwarf nuzzling his head into your back with arms tucked around you tightly. Out of your warm cocoon you eased nearly falling out of the small bed laughing at Thorin’s fall when he tried to roll back allowing you space. Out of the mess of covers he popped and grabbed his shirt laying on top of his suitcase and the pair of you joined the golden haired chuckling Dwarf leading the way to food. A close eyed try to rub your eyes had him smirking to himself at your bump into his back on a stop to allow another Dwarf couple out of their hall first.

Food was gathered and again with full plates Thorin added tea to the mix and sat down starting with, “I think we should discuss rent and the finer details before I were to move in.” The bold topic brought up in front of his clan a clear declaration that you had accepted the compromise of cohabitation from your beard tugging night. A chance for him in front of his clan to prove his intentions openly and for them to weigh how easy a task you were going to make this on him. Excitedly Mal and the boys especially chewed on their bacon and toast eager to see how this would go.

“Ok.” You replied and in slicing another bite of your breakfast wondering why he was bringing this up now unaware of Balin’s phone out so he could take notes.

“I would like to pay half.”

“Half? I mean, we’d be splitting in a sense but isn’t that a bit steep compared to your place now splitting four ways?”

Fili and Kili said, “We don’t pay rent,” you looked at them and Fili said, “It’s a conditional term contract for our stay with Uncles. Based on schooling and work. We sort of pay into a fund from our wages at work each month and complete various clan requirements before we’ve earned the right to pay rent fully.”

Blinking through that confusing jumble you looked to Thorin who said, “I assure you with our utilities and such it would be roughly the same amount each month.”

“Wouldn’t that be a huge chunk of your wages? I mean how much, do you even get a check from the shop?” He smirked as you added, “I don’t mean to be rude it’s just a bit puzzling to me how that works.”

“We don’t get paychecks per se, but annually we do make roughly 180k, though this year looks as we might be making closer to 220.”

“And that’s split three ways?” He nodded and you said, “But you can’t pay rent with that, can you?”

Weakly he chuckled, “That is our profits, post payroll and expenses. I have more than enough funds to cover rent. Plus enough to aid in furnishing the house.”

You shook your head, “Wouldn’t that be embezzling?” Mal took a large mouthful to keep from making any sounds while Dis smirked at your verbal jab.

Thorin’s brows inched up and Dwalin chuckled out, “Embezzling,”

You sigh, “That’s not, what I mean is that’s company money you can’t go paying rent or buying furniture with that.”

Half amused with how you were challenging him on this, in the most possibly romantic way for Dwarves, through contract terms, “How is that?”

“Ok, let’s say you go to work one day and the roof has collapsed.” His brow inched up seeing how in depth you were going on this, focusing on home safety and that of his company as well, “As co owner you are up for a third of the costs. Now if you go buying things with that money then what happens to those two, they have babies. No offense but babies can eat money like a black hole.” The pair chuckled again as Dis’ grin settled as you continued your argument. “Plus while you rebuild you still have to cover the rent, the partial wages and medical for your employees-,”

Thorin, “Oh, we don’t have medical yet.”

Dwalin, “We have a family friend we send them to though for good deals.”

Balin, “We are working on that.”

Thorin said, “I have other forms of income, investments that pay monthly dividends,”

“Like the off the stock market? Isn’t that a bit changeable?”

“Actually it’s a rugby team but I have mentioned my trust before and we also have a sort of deal with a taxi service that feeds past our shop that can be used as a pick up location that we get funds from, which could also be lumped into the work funds. But I assure you that all my investments are not risk based and if you would prefer I use my trust to pay the rent I wouldn’t object for your comfort in the deal.”

Diaa asked, “You’ve discussed your trust before?”

In a glance at her you said, “When I got the trust from my father’s inheritance. To give me ideas on what to do with it.”

Again he said in an assuring tone, “We are in agreement then? I pay half the rent with work funds not to be touched for recreational use.”

“It’s your money-,”

“I understand fully, I merely mean in terms of purchases and costs for the house?”

“Alright, half, no work funds.”

“Good, and since you barely create any waste I think it best until I adjust accordingly I pay the trash fees since you’ve been there and have barely filled a bag of trash.”

“I suppose that seems fair.”

He nodded, “Alright, now as far as the furnishings go I would like to buy the mattresses for your guest rooms,” your lips parted and he continued, “You know my family and there is no doubt they will pop up so I have a charge account with a top notch mattress company. At least consider for the beds you already have frames for, let me order those and pay them off and at a later date as the other frames are constructed we could discuss my adding those as well.”

“I-,”

“And I would also add the terms that if things were to go south and I was to move out anything that I have purchased for the home in a communal area would remain in the home. I wouldn’t be repossessing anything based on who purchased them, furthermore that would also go for any investments or business ventures before this deal is struck, with only any joint investments in the future to be discussed for possible division.”

Shifting your gaze for the moment to partially awed Mal wondering if this was more of a pre-nup than a roommates agreement you drew in a deep breath and met his eye again, “I’ll give you the mattresses but you are not just going to go through my list of what I’ve found or would want for the house and buy it all.”

With a nod he smirked and replied, “Agreed.” Beside him Balin noted the term and then he said, “Now for myself I am not adept at hand washing things so I would also put purchasing a washer and dryer up for discussion as well.”

You shrugged and said, “Sure. I’m not gonna force you to use my barrel system.”

“Good,” as you took another cautious bite of your meal he stated. “The dishes in the apartment can stay with Frerin and the boys though I do want to know what sort of appliances I would be able to bring?”

“Just no blenders,” Mal said drawing his eye seeing you were still chewing.

Dis said, “Yes, Jaqi did state her birds enjoy blending through her harvested fruit. Does not allow blenders.”

Thorin said looking at you, “Surely if I got one of those single cup ones that would be acceptable. I could easily hide it when I was through with it.”

“We could try it. I could always put a lock on the chilled pantry where I keep the fruit.”

“I’ll make sure to keep it locked up and if they do manage to find it I’ll clean up the mess and buy you as much fruit as you like until you can have more to eat from home.”

You nodded again, “Sounds fair.”

“Speaking of the greenhouse, I have a supply of herbs,”

“You’re asking if you could plant them?”

“Yes,” he said finally taking a second bite of his food after several minutes.

“I have that bare planter you can have if it’ll suit them. Not like I could bar you from planting your own buds and keep the whole thing to myself. Honestly, just un-Hobbit like.”

“I didn’t think you would refuse, still I would have to ask,” he replied with a smirk.

“I suppose next you would be assuming I would make you park outside as well?” His smirk deepened and you narrowed your gaze at him, “Hmm.”

Gloin stated, “If you need aid in adding his face to your hedger’s databank I would be glad to help.”

In a lean of your head you caught the excited gaze of one of the lead BomBairns, “Thorin mentioned painting his room.” Thorin smirked when he caught your eye again and you said, “You’ll have to pick how you want your bath decorated too. Haven’t gotten to it yet.”

After swallowing he nodded, “I will.” And he asked, “Was that a yes on the garage?”

Weakly you giggled and shifted your head to get your bangs out of your face, “Yes you can park your car in the garage, I have a spare clicker and I’ll even give you a set of keys to the house too if you need to make note of that.” He was starting to blush in the spreading grins of his family on how easily this was all settled and how sharply you had dug in that jointly the goal was to ensure business and home were to protected and thrive for the pair of you. Signs of a good future and partnership to come severely hinting that you did have intentions of seeking a future settled courtship in the near future.

Alone without a clan to aid in bartering and you had so surely defended yourself and reminded him that the future was not to be sacrificed just to pacify seeking to share your dwelling. Mal especially wondered how you had managed it, knowing fully she was baffled as to how she would barter for a future dwelling with the duo in the years to come once they all had sturdier roots to broach the discussion with their clans. Fully cleaned up you were on your way up to the room again to change while Thorin remained behind with his family and Mal eagerly trotted up to your side when her dishes were added to the cart.

“You have to tell me how you did that.”

Looking up at her you asked, “Did what? Eat breakfast? Was it just me or did that sound more like a prenup than a roommate agreement.”

Mal said, “That’s what a roommate agreement is.” You stopped and looked up at her, “Especially with courting or possibly courting pairs. Even Bilbo and Dwalin had theirs, took a couple days for them to hammer out what you managed over breakfast.”

“You have got to be kidding me,” you mumbled in Vanyar.

“You were amazing. So calm, so sure and the way you ensured his future income would not cross over into the clan business. Flawless.”

“It’s just common sense I can’t just take money from his business, and I didn’t mean to step on toes with my wording or to ask about his salary in front of everyone-,”

She patted your arm shaking her head, “No, no, that was the brilliant part. Clearly he knows about your finances and assured anything before the move that’s why he added the clause that before then everything is separate and nonnegotiable for splitting if the relationship dissolves. Clearly you have him eating out of your palm.”

“Really? Then why isn’t he here?” For a moment you paused then you asked, “He’s drafting the contract isn’t he?”

She nodded in a grin, “Yup.”

“Great.” You said shaking your head. Again she was off and changed into shorts and a t shirt you curiously wandered through the Palace searching for a quiet place.

Tucked in the back of a turn between wings you found an old music room with a lounge around it just off of the massive library. Shut off from the dozens milling by in search of the activity they wanted before you were snatched off to plan the wedding of the century you ironically were off planning a proposal.

From your satchel, now holding the sticker sheets you would pass out later, you pulled a notebook and sat sideways in a deep armchair crossing your legs. Using the arm as a desk to delve into the fabled proposal speech from Durin that would ultimately be turned down only building his adoration for his One’s doubts of being accepted soon causing all his people to rally and join in on the courting welcoming her fully. It was the ultimate proposal, one every Dam hoped for and here you were, a non Dam trying to match this. Though in a usual habit a song however would take the place after an overheard comment by the relentless King. Though in your twist on the tale Durin would fall to a dark sage’s influence and rallying his forces it would be Bunny to rescue him in a bloody unforgettable siege to free him. Of course ending with bloody and battered Durin teasing her, “You saved me.”

To which she responds, “You had my favorite pen. I was saving my Twiggimins.”

Sing song he teased back, “You saved me.”

“Entirely by chance.” The tale always luring out laughs from the soldiers listening.

Soft hums followed by your try to remember the notes you had imagined in that freighter you stole escaping from Ruun.

Verse by verse you wrote out the lyrics you couldn’t forget only to try and blend out the notes again. An eventual shift to the piano was how you were caught, and how an eager elder from the Firebeard clan, Dain’s great uncle, who had heard that you were here flew out specifically to see you again after having been on that island and freighter. A usually sullen Dwarf who all but lit up hearing the familiar tale and voices once again.

Following the out of place Firebeard Thorin and his siblings and closest cousins joined in on his search only to linger in the doorway seeing your shimmering self humming around the pen between your teeth with fingers working out a melody. Lowly the grinning Dwarf whispered in Khuzdul, “That’s Durin’s song of rejection.” Parting their lips only for a sneeze heard through the open doors behind the group to turn your head. In looking at the fiery haired Dwarf up front Dain readied an introduction only to see a bright smile from you, “Djinny Djannt!” Swinging your legs over the bench you giggled crossing the room to the Dwarf who met you halfway and scooped you into a tight hug. When you were on the ground again you giggled out, “Wow, last I saw you, you were my size. Who did you eat and are they still hunting you for it?”

Loudly he chuckled and guided you to the lounge where you sat in the sea of intrigued Durins. “I knew it was you. Had to be. I’d know that story and those voices anywhere.”

You giggled again and reaching for your bag you brought out a sheet you passed to him then passed out the rest. “They gave me 20 at the station.”

He chuckled and passed the sheet saying, “I already ordered a bundle, best keep it for them. Our whole troupe still listens diligently.”

Gorgo said, “Venture Productions is actually in the process of getting the first novel of the series published.”

He laughed again, “Well I cannot wait for it. And I will let you get back to tormenting Durin,” Making you giggle again and nod. Though he paused to chuckle again looking you over, “Must have been fate, a stranger on that island telling me tales of home. I told you I’d introduce you to a Durin one day, and now I find you in their clan hearth.” His hand patted his chest in a kind unspoken gesture meaning you were always in his heart and prayers.

Out he slipped with Dis guiding the others with her leaving Thorin and Gorgo, the latter who asked, “I wondered if I might be able to come by on Monday?”

You nodded and said, “Might be a bit crowded with the moving crew.” You looked to Thorin, “Did you want to borrow some of my empty chests?”

He nodded, “That might help, yes, Gran says our plane leaves at eleven.”

“Wow,”

He wet his lips then said, “Well, the storm that came through when we left won’t be clear for our landing till then. That way I suppose you could get a nap in before the flight.”

Gorgo asked haltingly, “Does it bother you to talk about Ruun?”

“Not really. Though it seems to bother others.”

She shrugged, “It’s just hard to imagine you there.”

Pointing to the door you said, “It wasn’t hell, it was an island. A dump in the middle of an ocean full of millions of stories. Every copy of banned and confiscated Dwarf books to fill a library.”

“Really? Like the ones in the Hogden Museum?”

“The very same.” Her head tilted slightly, “When we readied to take the ship we sailed home on me and him loaded up every discarded Troll trunk we could find. I still have a few. We dropped them off on their doorstep with a note,”

She finished your sentence, “Be kind.”

“Half sun damaged but between all the copies I’m certain they got a full copy of each. It’s only a prison if you do nothing.” In a glance at the door you asked, “Am I missing an event?”

Thorin shook his head, “No, he was curious to see you. We could swim if you like, the teens are out riding our goats.”

You nodded, “Always easier to remember on my own piano, its humming sort of fills it in somehow.”

Behind the closed door to your room you looked at Thorin once at your suitcase and as your fingertips tapped across it silently he turned to face you. “The wine sort of blurred things in Rohan, you asked me about Ruun, but, I’m not too certain on how far into it I got.”

In a hopefully soothing tone he replied, “You told me that was where you met the Countess. Pretty much where you became Bunny. I haven’t told anyone, I have teased to Dwalin in who you might have been voicing, but I would never betray your trust. The wine might have eased it out and I thought you might not have remembered so I was waiting for you to share that with me on your own.”

You nodded, “Good, sharing a house would make it hard to hide the songs and recordings and the weekend late night typing.”

“You told Gorgo?”

In a sigh you opened your suitcase, “It didn’t feel right, I mean I know her husband and family we’d run into each other and she’s been waiting so long for the book and, I didn’t want it to come out and for her to feel like I had lied to her all that time.”

“I get that,” he said on the way to his own suitcase. “Did you bring another wrap?”

You looked up at him, “No,”

“Ah,” he said turning from his bag to enter the bathroom and back out again, “Seems our suits and your wrap are being washed.” Opening his bag he said, “I know I have another in here.” Shifting his clothes he searched for the second suit only to smirk saying, “Found it.”

You giggled seeing him all but waving the tiny shorts over his head giddy that he found them, “You can change first then.”

For the few minutes it took for him to change you added your satchel to your suitcase and stared at your black and neon top and navy bottom set, when the door opened you just lifted the black pair and closed the bag. Stripped again you eyed the suit only for Thorn to smirk hearing you sigh, “So many straps.” The bottoms eased on simply and hugged you perfectly, though showing off a bit of your cheek no matter how you adjusted it if you wanted your butt crack to be covered. Over your head once you removed your bra you wiggled yourself into the single piece top, inching it around yourself your lips pursed in focus until the cups sat just right hoisting your cleavage with the crossing strips over your ribs. Turning around in the mirror you subtly shook your head feeling like you were fully on display without your wrap, a single stroke of your finger over the odd shaped birthmark in the center of your back.

Out you went holding your things and without looking up you could feel the wide eyed gaze scanning over you. Adding your things to your bag you said turning to face him, “It didn’t look so, hoisty, on the dummy.”

Shaking his head he fired back, “Not hoisty at all.” In the clearing of his throat he stepped back unconsciously flexing his upper body in allowing you to pass him once he reached the door he opened for you. Instantly however from his sweep over your curves his eyes honed in on the white battle ram silhouette right in the center of your back. The mark was small but distinct and all the way down he began to ramble on about what sort of washer and dryer you would want to distract himself.

“Washers, what are you looking for?”

Peering up at him you asked, “Me?” You shrugged, “Not a clue.”

“Which features did you want it to have?”

“I don’t know, big?”

“Big?”

“But not too big you can’t reach it. Like those double stacked ones, they kind of bother me. I keep thinking they would tip.”

“Ok, no doubles, what else?”

“I use a barrel, it’s mainly yours though, just pick.”

“This is serious, come on.”

“I am taking it seriously,” you said passing another group of pausing teens at the top of the stairs.

“But they’re communal, we have to pick together.”

“When would I use them? I have my barrel.”

“What about your sheets and pillows. Comforters take a long time to air dry. Especially for your guest sheets!”

Reaching over you patted his arm instantly catching his melting gaze at you almost making you blush in confusion then say, “Just, I don’t know, if it runs well and I guess doesn’t waste water?”

“Color?”

“They come in colors?”

“I’ll look through some variations and by lunch we can decide so I can have them over nighted.”

“Ok,” past the same lounge you walked and he saw Tili looking you over in her own similar two piece with crossing straps in deep gold. A subtle nod of Thorin’s head had her flashing a grin and coming over, and her joining you both had you grinning, “Hey.”

She grinned back, “Hey,”

Avoiding a planter your gaze dropped and Thorin leaned in to whisper to her, “Look at her back.”

In her eyes catching his they darted to you and in front of you she walked saying, “I love your suit,” reaching out to touch your arm in a circle around you only to see what had caught Thorin’s attention. In a ‘tell me I’m crazy’ gaze from him she subtly nodded back confirming you had his mark on your back and since he had looked up the meaning of your last name his inspection into pear blossoms hit home to him as it matched the bunch of white blossoms on the side of his hip.

Back to your side she walked only to join you in your walk to one of the long stretches of the pool that you walked into then got to doing some laps in the empty pool wondering where Thorin had gotten to. Though by the second lap you sank lower under the water when she had climbed out, once you reached the lazy river part you surfaced up next to a slow moving floatie with a familiar red braid dipping into the water. Resting your hands on the side of the floatie you kept inching closer creepily inching your cheek closer to hers wondering how close you could get before she noticed you.

The bright blue bikini showing off all she had to offer had the boys who had come to find her again falling into the pool. The splash of water across her had her eyes open and finally sensing someone was close to her had her turning her head with a shriek. Dipping underwater you swam underneath her to her other side instantly luring her wide eyed gaze to you only to scoff at you spraying a stream of water between your lips at her. “You’ve been around those owls too long.”

“Oh you love it.” Around you the boys surfaced and you grinned saying, “back to my laps, I’ll leave you to your beaus.” Winking at her and dipping under the water to swim away. Another lap however ended at the hand dipping down in your path. Upon surfacing you saw Thorin, and you swan to the wall asking, “Where’d you run off to?”

Shifting to his side he brought a laptop over showing you what he had been looking at, “What about teal? Dwalin mentioned your teal sewing cabinet in the living room.”

“Sure, ya, if it runs the best and you like it they look good.” Poking his bent knee his brows inched up, “Oh, and I can move the cabinet, since it’s a communal space, I only broke it out for the curtains.”

“You don’t have to. There should be plenty of space.”

Looking to the screen you said, “The teal looks nice.”

He nodded, after wetting his lips he asked, “So I have a question, in my closet I have this table, from my Gramp, on the Hobbit side that he made for me years before he passed, and I wanted to ask, you have the parlor open-,”

Right away you nodded, “Ya, I mean I have no clue about what to do with the room, so ya, since you say the family will be over, it could be like a card room, or, something-,”

The suggestion alone that it could be his touch to a room now centered around entertaining his family in your soon to be joint home split a grin across his face, “We do have game nights occasionally, and it would be a perfect room for entertaining.”

“I think in that sense then you should probably decorate it to how that would work. I mean, I’ve been over every other room it seems, it would be only fair to let you have a common area that you can have your touch on. Not that I wouldn’t be open to collaboration in the living room or dining room,”

“No I don’t think that, you have great taste, and yes we can work the spaces out together if you would like. A game room sounds great to start with.” He looked you over again and said, “I’ll order these and come join you.” In his rise to his feet you watched his path back to the table where he shared with Balin, whose laptop he was using, he spilled all the news of the game room spreading smiles on the faces of the toddler watching Dwarves there. A splash on your right however had you giggling and finding Frerin smirking after having taken his own decided way to confirm the mark on your back. His distracting swimming path zigzagging across the pool soon had Thorin joining you saying, “Rin, we are switching the parlor to a game room with Gramps’ table.”

Frerin smirked saying, “Nice.”

“What’s this I heard about you buying a house out of nowhere?”

Frerin chuckled, “Couldn’t help it, though of course I would have to ask your help in decorating the place, Sis.”

“Clearly you like different styles than me.”

“Doesn’t mean you aren’t still spectacular in designing a home. I’ve been gathering ideas and in a few days I’ll bring it over for your expert opinion.”

Lunch however was called for and pushing yourself up out of the water you walked with the pair hearing, “What’s on your back?” Sharply however Frerin had his arms around his nephews’ shoulders he promptly led away leaving you to glance at Mal who shrugged in return and walked closer tilting her own head at your mark.

“You have a ram on your back.” She stated matter of factly making you peer over your shoulder.

“Is that what it is? I keep getting different answers and I can’t ever get a clear look at it.”

Thorin asked, “What did you think it was?”

You glanced at him, “Last I heard from a doctor was it looked like, you know that illusion image with the candlestick with two faces?” he nodded, “That. Before that I got a lot of naked trees.” Lunch filled with questions of what touches you might like to add to the parlor for your own place in game night bled into a curious interest in the bonfire in the distance.

Downing your drink you went up to shower and change, and came back out again, barefoot with Thorin leading you into a full blown dance the returned teens had put on. Smirking fully at the Hobbits leading this next dance you caught Mal watching the same circle being drawn and at her pout that the boys didn’t know this dance you stepped in luring out her giggles.

An outstretched hand was met by hers and backwards you stepped and like the other leads in the dance back flipped into the circle landing to offer a hand for the partners guiding them into the weaving hopping dance. Twists, switching between giggle filled arm tunnels for others to pass through and even over in a few dramatic crouches the pairs would then break off again in a dizzying mess of bodies to the high paced tune. A whip of looped arms had her spinning again while you on your toes turned around her readying for your own finishing turn. A one legged pirouette had the partners resting on the raised legs of the leads in a rapid turn with arms still arched together with shrieks and excited giggles flooding the group. Down again they hopped to spin their leads before being dipped themselves for the giggling end to the song.

It had been so long since you had danced with anyone but pushing past the occasional deliriously tired times you joined Mal in her impatient dance moods in the break room at work, this was nice and leaning together in a giggling mess you ended the dance. Then somehow in a set of nudges you were now being lined up by Thorin for the next. With Fili up to try the next Hobbit sized dance with Mal. Keeping his hands on you wasn’t hard and wine wasn’t needed for you to be a flirtatious giggling mess for the oddly bashful and yet attentive partner who couldn’t take his eyes off you or stop smiling to save his life.

Dinner though came to spoil the fun. And again at the table you were promised another set of pictures to be copied and sent to you on a usb stick. Grating you ample time and clues as to how their Blue Mountain home was perfect for this supposed wedding you wondered just how much time ‘plenty’ allowed you before having to actually plan it and inform some key members of your party especially.

Separately you returned upstairs for your designated nap time and alone in your bed is where he found you, smirking to himself he fixed your cover higher over your shoulder and went to lay in his own bed behind you since he had no invitation to join you in yours. But sleep was short lived and post gentle nudge awake you were packing up to get ready for the eleven flight home again.

Pt 34

#Thorin x Reader OC #Fili/Kili x OC Mal #the hobbit #lotr

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