#i need fuel to finish a fic about their dance and one about his mom

[darveyfics]

COuld you please write a 7.12 fic related please plaease im sorry for bothering you

So this is the scene of the two of them drinking together and listening to his father’s records. The one piece of context somebody might not know is that during a flashback to Harvey’s childhood in this episode Gordon’s band is playing a song called “Boppin’ with Donna”.

Sometimes I like to write a fic that starts on nothing and goes nowhere, you know, like the show. I hope it’s not too bad - Maria

Reticent

“Rememberwhen-”

“Ido.”

“Youdidn’t let me finish.”

Shechuckles, looks over at him with an eyebrow raised cockily “Really?”

Hersmugness stirs something beneath his chest, a warmth, a momentum only she canprovoke. It makes him feel guilty, the intimacy and precision in the way sheaffects him, dangerous. He swallows it down, dry and thick. Feigns indifferencehe figures she sees right through.

He rollshis eyes, “Sure, what was I saying?”

“Youwere going to ask if I remember another time we heard this song,” there’s notease in it but perhaps a little nostalgia, she understands his resistance tospar, she always understands.

Henods unspoken gratitude even though their agreements are supposed to beentirely elusive. A tired sighs pours out of him feeling the weight of theirrecent misunderstandings then, like fifty pounds sitting on his chest, stealinghis breath. He forces himself to shake it off “With my dad,” he meant todistract from the choking way he thinks about her now, in these increasinglyrare moments, like the two of them, as a unit, are fading, but it outs in awhisper like it is holy. In some ways, he figures it is.

“Withyour dad,” She agrees quietly, lovingly, a reflection of the sanctity in hisvoice refracted and divided like light into purer, more colorful sentiment.

Shehas always been better at this than he, better at feeling his feelings.

Therecord gasps and stops, saddling them with imperfect silence, the hum of thecity, ghosts and blurred edges. Harvey reaches over and lifts the needle beforeit can sing again.

Heleans back into the cushions, rolls his wrist until the amber in his tumblerspirals like a drain. His mind swirls and sinks with it, struck by a memory.

“Firsttime you heard it, right?” He asks almost sweetly; halting the swirl by rollingthe glass the other way he turns to her slowly.

Pastblends into present, he blames the scotch for seeing two of her overlapped. Oneexists minus ten years with longer hair and brighter clothes, bangs and a lotless complication; the other has been wearing black for the last week andhasn’t made him coffee in a year.

Hewonders who he would pick, fleetingly; knows without a doubt he would chooseher now, whenever now is. The most important thing has always been that she stays.

Donnasmiles, “Yeah, and he had the brass to say it was for me,” She reminisces,leaning forward. She pours herself another dose. The crystalline sound of thebottle touching the edge of glass ricochets across empty space prettily; theirtheme song.

“Itis your name in the title,” Harvey argues with faux gravity, still seeingdouble. In his mind’s eye, her dress is purple and his father’s voice ischarming, he never missed a beat with her.

“Itjust happens to precede my arrival by a couple of decades,” She counters.

Harveyscoffs, “Your arrival?”

Shenods “Yes, the amazing, life changing day, you met me,” she declares grandly.

He agreesbut cannot agree, “Seriously?”

Sheputs one hand on her chest, mouth agape, the picture of over-dramatic outrage“Oh, I’m sorry, we just established I was prophesied.”

“Inever said that.”

“Ithink you did.”

“No,I didn’t.”

Donnastraightens herself, crossing her legs and resting her hands on top of eachother on her knee, she stares him down seriously “Your honor, I think thedefendant is aiming for a perjury indictment.”

Harveysnorts a laugh, surprised as she sparks to life the old routine, there’sdelight but also an ache to it as they flex muscles they haven’t used forlonger than he had realized, “I believe the prosecution is distorting theevents,” he rebuttals setting down his glass to focus.

Donna narrows hereyes, pretends to look down at imaginary papers and push up glasses she doesn’tneed, “Mr. Specter, do you deny the day you met me was life changing?”

Harvey rolls hiseyes, “Really?” He whines.

“Plead the fifth?”She offers defiantly.

“Coward’s move andyou know it,” he chastises.

“If the shoe fits,”she says, reaching for her glass and taking a sip that does not break eyecontact. He watches the glimmer of humor in her hazel eyes and only marginallyremembers this is exactly what he was supposed to be avoiding.

“Whether you did ordidn’t is not the point, the point is I never said it,” he argues smugly.

“Well, well,” Donnastarts, leaning back with poise and pride, resting her forearms on the arms ofthe chair and drumming her fingers on the edges reflexively, “I see we havelowered ourselves to technicalities. Cheap.”

Harvey smiles, “Aslong as it gets results.”

“No honor,” she nods disapprovingly,though a laugh is edging behind her lips.

It is something elsehe has not seen in a while, this specific expression, he wonders if they reallyhave been fading or if he just hasn’t been paying attention. Which reminds him.

“My father did writea song for you,” he blurts out.

Donna lets the laughfly, he has heard it plenty but it is still welcoming warm familiarity, “No, hedidn’t,” She tells him like it is sure and obvious, like he has had too much todrink.

“He did,” Harveyinsists, wondering how he could forget, though maybe he is stretching thetruth, “He kinda did,” He corrects himself.

Donna raises aneyebrow, sustaining her suspicion “Kinda?”

“He never recorded it.It was a draft,” he reveals, “He said he got inspired out of the blue one day,”Harvey sinks into the memory, he himself only heard it once.

It was at his father’sapartment during a damp New York summer afternoon and they had run out of otherthings to talk about. Gordon hesitated to play him the song, kept explaining himself.Harvey mostly thought it was funny, “He asked me not to tell you,” He hadn’tand then it had never come up again, “I’m sorry, I forgot,” he apologizes and turnsto find her eyes, they’re glossed over with unshed tears. He blinks andrealizes so were his when wet warmth rolls down his cheeks.

“Did he write itdown?” It moves the very ground he stands on that that is the first thing sheasks, that she misses his father too.

It hurts all the moreto have to answer, “If he did, I never found it.”

She sighs, “If you do,it’s mine,” assertive but kind.

He sees the purple dressagain and bright red hair cascading over it as she throws her head back tolaugh at Gordon’s blunt flirting, “Of course,” he whispers so gravely it feelsmore binding than any contract. He could not deny her most things, much lessthis.

Donna nods, takes adeep breath and lets it out slowly, “You really killed the casual mood,” shejabs.

Harvey smiles, shakeshis head, “Sorry.”

“It’s okay, I wantedto know, I just wish you hadn’t done the job halfway,” she says it between asmile, it is a joke, an absolution, but he can see the edge of disappointmentin her eyes. He cannot read them as perfectly but that is a look he has alwaysbeen afraid of and paradoxically only grown more familiar with. He needs to dissolveher ache.

“Hey,” he whispers,reaching for one of her hands and stopping short of touching, they have kissedand hugged but he doesn’t know where they draw this new line, if meaning it toomuch violates its borders, “I am sorry,” he tells it from his core and watchesher drink it into hers.

“It’s okay,” sheanswers, her fingers tremble, itching to bridge the gap between them, insteadshe recoils not wanting the blame for breaking them again just for trying toinch closer, “It’s okay.”

They are too tangled,metaphorically, sometimes he wonders if he can even shake her off withouthollowing himself out, wonders if she feels the same. He is selfish enough towish she does, it would mean some kind of barrier from the searing pain ofbeing left. He is selfless enough to also wish she doesn’t for a chance tonever hurt her again with his careless needs.

He should not be thinkingabout any of that, “We finished the bottle,” he points out flatly, stealing aglance at the half inch of scotch left inside the glass.

She follows his gaze,“We almost did,” Donna says andreaches for the neck, downs the rest in one gulp, “There, now it’s done,” Hewatches with bemused surprise as she sets the empty Macallan back on his centretable, turns it between her fingers to ponder the label, “At least it was justa 12 year.”

“You say that like itmakes us less drunk,” he remarks, covering her hand on the bottle with hiswithout thinking, without pretense, just to turn it to him so he can also read.Hers falls away a second later, he wonders if it means she is afraid to touchhim now, hopes not.

“It doesn’t,” sheagrees, “I think I’m tired,” she says and points it with a yawn.

“You think?” Harveysmiles affectionately, “Are you brewing a hangover?” He asks, mildly worried.He knows scotch can upset her stomach and that she hates to vomit, he alsoknows she has some secret hangover cure she never told him about because itwould ‘encourage his bad habits’. How the tables have turned; he is barelydizzy.

“Are you asking thatas my boss or my friend?” She interrogates, side eyeing him suspiciously.

“Both,” because he isboth, needs her there tomorrow morning but also cares if she will be miserablethe entire night.

“I’ll be late, butI’ll be fine,” she bargains.

His eyebrows knighttogether, “You don’t have to come in,” the complacency is immediate, so muchfor thinking he can accept her misery.

One corner of herlips pulls up, she wants to say that is not the business-wise decision “I’ll behere,” she reassures him instead. She is a little disappointed in herself forbeing so averse to letting him down even in small ways.

Donna smoothes outthe skirt of her dress and stands on surer legs than the half bottle she drank wouldhave anyone guess.

“Already?Lightweight,” He teases, sneaking a glance at his watch, a quarter to midnight.

“I thought you had tobe home an hour ago,” She bites back, the implication is a double-edged sword,reminds him he has someone waiting; reminds her that she does not.

Harvey presses hislips together and watches his hands intently. She sighs, taking pity on him,like always.

“Sorry, I need Advil,”she breathes out tiredly.

He nods, “You’reright,” he says without meeting her eyes, “Good night.”

Donna considers him,them. She is tired and dizzy and has a headache brewing behind her eyes; it isnot her job to heal him, it never really was, “You know, I was wondering,” Shestarts and waits until he looks at her again, “Would I make a good lawyer?” ahand outstretched, it isn’t her job,she volunteers to save him.

Harvey allows himselfa small smile, “Thinking about going to law school?”

She scoffs, “God no.”

His eyebrows shootup,”Excuse me?”

She rolls her eyes,“You know what I mean.”

He does. He takes apause to think on it “You wouldn’t,” he answers earnestly.

She is mildlysurprised; Donna narrows her eyes at him, “Not smart enough?” As if, she isfishing and he knows it, she wants him to know it.

Harvey snorts alaugh, “You’d overachieve I’m sure,” it is what she wanted to hear, theexpected, but he isn’t done “Too good,” He adds, “You’re… too good,” headmits softly, with candid admiration.

Her breath hitches,he can do that sometimes, when it’s almost midnight and he knows she will dohim the courtesy of not bringing it up in the morning.

“You’re a goodperson, Harvey,” their lives might be easier if she could not read him sofluently.

He presses his lipstogether and shifts his eyes to the floor, index anxiously thrumming the glassstill in his hand, “Not always,” he made a lot of mistakes, can’t tell whichone is knocking on his conscience the loudest right now, “Not like you.”

“Well,” she startsgood-naturedly, “Nobody is like me,” Donna brags jokingly.

Harvey smiles andshakes his head “I’ll drink to that,” he announces and empties his tumbler.

She watches and sighs,feeling the prickle of the headache intensify, “Now it’s good night.”

He nods, “It is,” heagrees without looking.

She can feel histhoughts, his regrets, makes it hard to detach, “Are you okay enough toremember your address?” She teases, hanging back, a subtle way to ask if he isokay.

He snorts, “Sharp asa razor, I just…” he lingers, deciding if he wants to keep her “I think I’lllisten to a few more,” He admits, “Since nobody else will from now on.”

He hardly ever makesit easy on her.

Donna sighs, crossinghis office to pour herself a glass of water. She takes a pill from her bag nextto it and swallows it down with one sip, then moves to the window where therecords are stacked and lifts two of her favorites, “Which one?”

Harvey almost offersher an out, but there is no point in pretending he does not still need herthere, that he didn’t choose the words to make her stay “Left,” he picks andshifts on his seat, reaching for it.

She pulls the vinyloff the sleeve and hands it to him, waits until he gently trades the one on therecord player for it before going back to her seat. Once she’s settled Harveylets the needle drop and his office fills with his father’s music.

“I miss him,” hewhispers like he is trying to hide the confession in between the notes.

Donna closes hereyes, leans her head back until she’s facing the ceiling and breathes it in, “Iknow,” she answers.

They don’t speakagain except to mumble simple goodbyes an hour later, giving life permission togo on unhinged at dawn.

Being understood isenough.

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

O’ Captain, My Captain

Thanks to the Old Me music video, I unearthed this old fic. Here is Football!Calum. With a hint of Artist!Calum. 

Calum took his chance. To be selfish. To have both things. Football and Art. 

if you like what I write and post, consider supporting me on ko-fi. It helps me save up for graduate fees! 

_________________________________________

The grass feels different beneath his sneakers. He’s already walked with the team to put the equipment up. The coaches have already clapped him on the back, smiled at him, told him that he made his team proud. Though most importantly, they had hoped he had done himself proud. His mom and dad have already wrapped him in hugs, grins plastered to their faces. They’ve already taken him out to dinner, stuffed him with the fanciest thing on the menu. He’s already cheered in the locker room. His voice is still a little hoarse.  Three championship games in a row under his belt. This game, that took place less than three hours ago, was his last hurrah. His freshman and sophomore year weren’t total defeats. They made it to the finals, but didn’t quite make it all the way. And now with junior, senior, and this first year as a postdoc have felt like fever dreams. 

 It’s amazing to go out on such a high note. He can’t help but smile at the thought, the adrenaline that fueled him as he drove the ball downfield with just seconds left. They were up by one goal. It’s not like they needed another one. Calum was greedy for it. No, he was starving for it. It was the fire in his bones that kept him running down that field. The goalie, normally pretty good at reading fakes, took the bait as Calum juked left a little. He dove a second too early, clearing the right side of the goal and Calum watched the ball sail before hitting the back of the net. Time did not exist. He wasn’t breathing. Just watching the ball, praying it didn’t hit the beam. 

Folding his arms behind his head, he stretches out onto the grass. It’s cool even beneath the hoodie. He’s had some good memories on this field. The summer before he started his undergraduate career, he conditioned with them. He was picked up by his team at his secondary school. He could’ve gone pro. School was never supposed to be his thing. It never was his thing if he was honest. He was bored one day in school and decided to crash one of the art classes, skipping the ever so important free block built into his schedule so he could study and work on homework that was coming up or forgotten until the last minute. The teacher knew him fairly well and he wouldn’t rat him out. They broke out another sketchbook and some pencils. “If you’re going to avoid the other schoolwork, just doodle. I’ll give ya extra credit.”

So Calum figured what the harm, besides a potentially insurmountable stack of after school detentions. He could skip class, fuck about in a sketchbook and get some extra credit. He was all for it. But he found himself skipping his other classes more often. He wasn’t terrible at drawing. He definitely wasn’t great. It was just something he wanted to get better at. He came by the art hall after class and sat, sketching the lockers lining the walls. He sketched classrooms. He was getting good and he was enjoying it. The next year he made sure he was taking art classes. Calum never thought he’d give a shit about school, but he gave a shit about art. While he cared for art, he never saw it as viable. Football was his only option. 

“You thought about uni?” His teacher asked right at the end of Year 11. 

“Not much. School’s not my thing.”

“But art is.”

“So is football,” Calum countered. 

“Aren’t some schools looking to give you a scholarship?”

Calum looked up from the sketchbook, back out the window to the benches for lunch when the weather permitted. “Yeah, some in the States. A couple in the UK, a few local schools. But I can’t. You know, football’s my thing.”

His teacher sat down next to him, gently sliding the book out from Calum’s hand. He already knows what’s on the inside but flips through the pages gingerly. The football field, his friends, his parents and sister, scenes of everyday life. The way Calum captured light was amazing, and normally took years to get just right. It was so easy to see the sort of knack Calum had for it. “What if both could be your thing?”

It wasn’t as easy as just having both things. He needed to keep his grades up in order to play at a university. He had to give a shit and it was quickly showing in his first years that he wasn’t. He was nearly dropped from the team for his grades. The general education requirements were ridiculous and all he wanted to do was run on the field and draw not the other bullshit between. But a chat with his mother changed all that. She was never unfair but always firm. He went to the tutoring center. He got off academic probation. He kept his head above water and pushed through the general education stuff. 

Now here he is, going into his second year of graduate studies for studio art. Here he is, at the end of his football eligibility. Here he is laying in the middle of the field. 

He can still hear the roar of the crowd. The sidelines are still packed with people. His body is sore no doubt. Even the cool down stretch can’t take all the pain away. When he goes to sit up, he’s definitely going to feel it in his quads. Right now in his memory, he is still dribbling downfield. He is still sweating, panting, praying he can get that final goal. Right now he is the little boy in his parent’s backyard, grinning ear to ear as his mother takes a picture before his first game. He is twelve again, running drills after practice until his legs felt like they would collapse beneath him. The only thing that matters right now is the echo of his heart thundering in his chest. He will always miss this feeling, everything on the line. Blood, sweat, and pain all pushing him to keep his eyes open, pushing him to be two steps ahead. 

“Hey!” Calum hears the shouting but thinks nothing of it. “Hey!” the voice calls again. It’s closer to him now. The sounds of running over grass hitting his ears. He’s all too familiar with the sound. “You’re Calum, right? Calum Hood?”

He opens his eyes, squinting up to the voice. He sits up with a nod. “Yeah. Yeah, I am.” The girl’s dressed in a leotard and leggings, duffle bag hiked up onto her shoulder. 

“Sorry to interrupt. I just wanted to say congrats on the win. My brother’s on the team.” Now as the sun clears and he can see her face a bit more properly, she does resemble Hawkins. Sophomore. Good guy, pretty kick-ass center fullback. 

“He never mentioned having a sister.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not exactly cool to go to the same uni as your sibling. But I got picked for academics and he got in on football.”

“Looks like you play something? Maybe the dance team?” he questions, gesturing to the bag. 

She nods. “Yeah, sort of.”

“Sort of? Either you dance or you don’t,” he laughs. 

“I do, dance I mean. I also do baton twirling. But didn’t mean to interrupt your moment too much. Just wanted to say congrats. I’ll miss you on the field.”

Calum nods, hugging his knees to his chest. He glances over the opened field. “I’m going to miss it too.”

“It’ll always be here though. In a way, you know?” He hums in agreement with her statement. It will be. Just won’t be quite the same. “We’ll be practicing at the other end of the field. But if it’s too loud or anything, don’t be afraid to shout at us or anything.”

He smiles. “We are outdoors. Only so much I can really complain about it.”

She grins, a small tuft of laughter escaping her. “Touche.” She takes another step. “Well, congrats again, if I don’t see you at the party later.”

“Thank you. It means a lot.”

Calum watches her cross the field for a few seconds longer and continues to sit, knees to his chest. His legs are still sore. They will be for a couple more days. He’s alright with that. Calum reaches into his bag, pulling out his sketchbook and pencils. He tries to capture the scene from memory, the packed crowd, the anticipation, the desire. His chest squeezes and his grip on his pencil slacks. 

The sting behind his eyes confirms the tightness of his chest. He brings his gaze back up to the slightly clouded sky, blurry due to the tears. He’s won. He actually won and he’s leaving. The end is sweeter than he imagined. It’s bitter too, to know that he won’t ever step back into his jersey. But it’s somehow sweeter. To know that his legacy will leave on, for at least one more year as he finishes out his degree in studio art. It’s sweeter to end like this. To end on top, to end knowing that he followed a path that allowed him to chase both loves. 

_________________________________

The house is loud, even from the end of the block. It’s a good thing that the football house is situated pretty close to the rest of the frat houses, or else issues would ensue. Calum’s sure something is up as he closes in on the house.  The ruckus isn’t from the football house, it’s from the house next to it. He’s unsure if he should try the door. The lights are on, maybe he’s early. The text he got told him nine. He’s only a few minutes late. Public transit was a little late getting him from the stop near his apartment, which isn’t terrible. 

The door’s locked. So he knocks, stuffing his hands back into the pocket of his jacket. When it opens, he’s greeted with cheers, slaps to the shoulder. “The man of the hour!” 

“Nah, nah,” Calum smiles, slipping out of his coat. He drapes it over the pile forming in the corner, over the back of one of the chairs. He turns to the kitchen. There’s a fixing for just a beer hitting him. He freezes though, staring at his coaches. “Coach Ball, Coach Hobbs, what’re--what’s happening here?”

They grin at him. Coach Hobbs steps forward. “We know. It’s not cool of us to crash a party like this. But, we figured you might want to know this before ya get sloshed.”

Coach Ball steps in. “We can’t extend your contract. Shite we know. But what we can do, is make sure you always keep a part of us with ya.” He extends a white box with a red bow wrapped around it. 

The air’s not even pressing itself into his lungs it feels. Calum’s hands shake a little as he takes the box, pulling on the mesh bow. Pulling the top off, there sits a white jersey, decorated in his number, 11, staring back at him in green. The school’s name and logo also printed onto it. He pulls it out of the box, tears still slightly blurring his vision.  As he turns it over, he notices his name also written across the back. He’s normally got a crier. Not that he’s crying right now, it’s just a few tears. It’s not like they can retire his number. But the ability to still hold onto it, the memories make him happy. The fact that he can still hold onto this. 

“Thank you,” he whispers, putting the jersey back. He pulls both of them into hugs. His lungs can now fully expand as his coaches pat him on the shoulder, whispered praises falling gently between the three of them. Both coaches leave after that, but not before taking a beer each with them. The room chants for Calum to don the new jersey. He sheds the black tee, draping the white material over his body. A can is passed to each of them. 

“This round’s for Captain Hood,” Trundle shouts. He’s taking over as captain now. “He always sailed this ship to success.”

The words catch in his throat. “It-it wasn’t me. It was the team. You guys sailed yourselves.” There are another round of cheers, cans clinking together and the first seem is bitter as always but Calum gets choked as his throat seizes attempting to not let any more tears fall down his cheeks. 

The party continues, the music thumping throughout the house. Less dancing but more mingling is the call for socialization. The same girl from early comes up to him, leggings traded in for distressed jeans and a lacey cropped top. “Drink looks a little low,” she grins at him, before holding out another can. 

He has no clue if she’s younger than Hawkins or not, so he politely declines the drink. “Thanks though. Gonna drink up on some water right now.” She nods and then shimmies through the crowd. 

When the party dies down, around one in the morning, Calum lingers around to help clean up some before his ride pulls up. The driver is nice, keeps conversation pretty short during the five-minute drive.  As he walks back into his apartment, the first of his roommates to arrive from their nights of mischief, he settles onto the couch. He unzips himself out of his boots, pulling the jacket off his shoulders. He inspects the jersey, thankfully no spills, no stains. He pulls it off, walks to his room and drapes it over the back of his chair at his desk. He’s unsure of whether or not to frame it. Though, his brain is completely sober right now to even consider that. He shimmies out of the jeans and lies across his bed, sleep finding him fast.

 His alarm blares, the next morning. He groans, partially cursing himself for leaving it set. But he knows he needs it. Even though his shift is later in the evening, he’s still got a paper to finish up and his portfolio to clean up. It sucks to have to worry now about tuition, his scholarship covered him for all his years as a player, but now, with one last year and no more sports eligibility, him and his parents are figuring out the best way to cover the costs. 

Calum sits up, the jersey staring back at him. It’s real. He didn’t really dream up the coaches handing him that jersey. He didn’t conjure it up in his subconscious as his own selfish desire to never part from it. That jersey is real and his, his number with him forever. It continues to hit him that his time is up during the week. More and more people stop him in the hallways, on the paths that lead to buildings, in the library, in the cafeteria to congratulate him. The older ladies serving him, heap his plates with extras, smile at him in the way that only older ladies can that make you feel fuzzy on the inside. 

He settles down at the benches in front of the library and works on sketching the fountain. He’s been working on it for his final portfolio for a long time. He watches some kids, kicking a football around. His chest warms as they laugh amongst themselves. He decides to put them into the drawing too. He wishes he could capture their laughter, the way they grin at each other and shout at what should be a foul. He wishes he could capture the smiles on their parents' faces as they watch their children. Glancing down to his watch, he notes that his whole break is just about up, so he packs up his things and starts towards the art building. 

In his brief walk, he realizes he could’ve chosen pro. That would’ve worked out for him. But he wouldn’t have these opportunities to still feel human, to chase for that rush of getting the lighting just right in a drawing, in the huge release when his brush hits that canvas. Art is the same need to emote like on the field. It’s just on canvas this time. He could have both things and he’s glad he got them. 

[voidselfshipp]

Chaotic family dinner

Cw: food, ask to tag

Ok to rb

Summary: thor, loki, starlord, pietro and dr strange go to a family dinner with Tony, pepper, Peter and jerico, Shenanigans ensue.

A/n: I cracked up so much writing this fic, enjoy!

Strange stopped the car infront of tonys house.

-- now remeber-- he said-- behave, or jerico Will get in trouble

-- ah dont need to worry wizard-- thor said-- loki is taking all the mischief with him

Loki looks at his brother-- oh its on now

Meanwhile jerico waits in the porch with Peter.

-- what do you think they are talking about?--Spiderman asked putting an arm around his sister in reassurance.

-- probably stephe is lecturing them-- jer said-- god, I hope they behave, Last thing I need is them making a bad impression

Peter snorts-- hey the dinner with natasha and Carol went well

-- yeah because those two are the only civilized people on my relationshipp

-- ah Peter!-- pietro said lifting up jer--nice to see you Man whats up, didnt stay in the car, strange was getting boring--Jerico laughs as he kissed her-- I missed you

-- I missed you too

-- is the food ready?-- the sokovian Man said putting jerico back on the ground so she can say hi to the rest of her boyfriends

--almost-- Spiderman answered opening the door

Tony was happy to see most of them, but as soon as loki entered he scowls-- oh look who it is

Thor softly pats iromans back-- he'll behave

The god of mischief closes the door, pietro sets the table as jerico and both peters play videogames with Morgan.

--how was the dinner with natasha and Carol?-- dr strange asked serving the food-- jer dear the foods ready!

Everyone sits on the table Tony just shrugs-- fine, I never seen jerico that flustered

Jer sighs eating her food, pietro grins-- I did one time i--

Spiderman stomps on the speedsters foot looking at him with his eyes Open wide.

-- no no, let him finish-- ironman said.

-- Tony-- pepper said looking at her husband who grunts.

Thors food starts to Act up, he looks at loki who has a huge grin from ear to ear.

-- so, I know you all went to stay at the compound for a while-- Tony said-- anything interesting?

Jerico plays back in her mind all the chaotic Shenanigans that went on.

Loki, not missing one opportunity to rail thor up said-- thor Fell on the threadmill

Thor, already upset becuase hes been trying to eat his moving food who tried to scape his fork goes-- well, brother-- Spiderman takes jericos hand as both facepalm knowing whats Next-- If I remember correctly, I wasnt the one who got caught in the middle of--

Jerico and Peter Parker jump in-- lETS CHANGE THE SUBJECT!

Dr strange snorts eating his food enjoying the chaos before him

Starlord tries to help his girlfriend out-- me and jerico danced the night through to old 80s songs, we had such a Blast

-- oh you guys also saw footloose right?-- Peter P added.

-- you bet!

Pietro smiles mischeviously-- well you also slipped and fell flat on your ass

-- did you now Peter-- thor added.

Pepper looks at jerico who at this point is with her forehead against the table.

It quickly Turned in an argument between thor and starlord with loki putting more fuel to the Fire.

Jer looks at Tony, who in return just gives her a compassionate look--and you have to put up with this every day?-- he asked.

She nodds standing up.

Pepper leans in to Morgan-- remember when you told me you wanted to see your sister use her powers?well here you go-- Morgan smiles happily.

Jerico stands up, using her powers to knock out both Peter Q and thor.

She looks at loki-- you and I are gonna have a talk

-- you look so hot when you get angry-- pietro added winking at jer.

Stephen takes Jericos hand as she sits down again-- how long Will these two be out?

-- five more minutes I think-- she said eating her food.

Stephen nodds and keeps eating, the talking resuming into soft Adorable anecdotes and some more embarassing ones.

When both starlord and thor wake up jer pulls them outside with loki.

-- guys-- jer said putting her hands on her face-- you need to behave, two out of three of you have a bad record already okay? Just please...--she sighs leaning on the wall.

The three look at eachother and hug her tightly.

-- we're sorry dear-- thor said putting his chin ontop of jericos head-- we let our temper get the best of us

Starlord nodds-- yeah, ill just go back to making references with your brother, we Didnt mean to cause you any distress

-- we just want you to enjoy yourself, the most important people in your life getting togheter and we messed it up, we're sorry-- loki agreed.

Jer smiles hugging them tightly-- come on, our food Will go cold

They all go back inside and the night goes on without much fuss.

Peter Q stands up raising his glass-- a toast, for our lovely jerico, who is always there for Us even if we drive her up the walls...

Pietro stands up-- for accepting us rejects, from the most with unstable powers to the misunderstood

Loki raises his glass getting up from his Seat-- because she sees past the walls we put up

Thor copies his brother-- because she stays through good and bad, and loves us no matter what

Sighing dr strange also stands up, looking at jerico with tender eyes--to the best girlfriend, for everything she does for us, even when shes tired, who keeps Us in mind even when she shouldnt, we love you dear

Jer starts to bawl her eyes out, Peter Q, pietro and thor panic slightly as Spiderman hugs his sister.

Morgan softly hits dr strange-- you made my sister cry!

Pepper and Tony chuckle-- its happy tears honey -- they add.

-- you all are the best-- jerico says drying her tears.

--no dear-- dr strange added-- youre the best

She giggles and pepper looks at her-- something tells me you might need that chocolate Icecream now

Jerico nodds-- please mom

After dessert jer says goodbye to all of her partners and goes upstairs to sleep.

Stephen stands on the porch with Tony-- you raised her well Tony, shes a great kid

Iroman smiles-- well, you guys do a great job at making her happy, just one more thing, before you go strange

--Yes?

-- Keep her safe for me Will you?

He nodds-- of course

As Stephen walks to the car Tony adds-- and I dont want one more pop culture reference or innuendos!there are kids here!

Pietro rolls down the window-- We'll Keep it in mind mr stark!-- he said before being yanked Back into the car.

As they drive off jerico gets into bed,texting both natasha and Carol.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nat: so, howd it went?

Jer: not bad, we had a good time

Carol:Next week its date night ladies,dont forget that!

Nat: yes we know ms burnt popcorn

Carol: oh come on it happend once! Anyway, night jer!

Nat: uh-huh,anyway goodnight babe

Jer: night you two, dont get into trouble okay?, love ya♡

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jerico plugs her phone going to sleep,waiting for Next week to roll around to see all of her partners again.

Today was a good daym

[greekowl87]

Angst 5 and/or 10 I’m craving some angst

“I can't believe you did this, how could you?” / “This, us, was a fucking mistake and I should have known the second things went further than planned.”

A/N: I love me some good, old-fashioned angsts. Diana fueled angsts are my bread and butter so I thought I would try my hand at it. Again. So set around ‘Two Sons.’ I suck at smut so sorry if it sounds dumb :( And I apologize for it sound rushed. No beta. I just wanted to get this idea out while it was in my head. @today-in-fic @suitablyaggrieved @improlificinsarcasm @baronessblixen

On the bottom of the world in winter sunlight, Mulder gambled and won the thousand to one odds. He had found Scully in the maze of an alien ship, given her the vaccine, and somehow, they still escaped with their lives. Except, when they arrived back in D.C., they still didn’t have their old office back. The events in Dallas resulted in them being relegated to the bullpen where they were stuck doing background checks.

Mulder was certain, that despite the dire situation, Scully would have been transferred to Quantico either by the higher-ups or of her own accord. But each day he dragged himself to the office, she was sitting right behind him in the bullpen performing endless background checks. And things remained glacial between them; cold and frigid and unlikely to change anytime soon.

But he sensed it; they both did. They wanted to change. Whatever was left unspoken in the hallway of his Alexandria apartment before that blasted bee ruined everything hung in the air between them. You don’t go around professing that the person is their one and five billion without meaning it. But the tension between was palpable.

This Monday was no different.

Scully was already at her desk that morning when Mulder came in. He smiled and offered her a paper bag proudly. “What is that?” She arched her eyebrow. “A peace offering?”

“Breakfast. I stopped by the bakery you like so much in Old Town and picked it up on my way in.”

She took it cautiously. “What do you want?”

“What makes you say that?”

“No catch.” 

She took the offered pastry wearily. “Thank you, Mulder.”

“I actually wanted to see if you wanted to come over tonight,” he said slowly.

“Why?”

Mulder sat in his chair and choose his next words carefully. “No reason. Maybe watch a movie, enjoy a six-pack of Shiner Bock…discuss what I told you in the hallway.” He looked down at his hands. “I want there to be an us,” he finished.

“Mulder, not here,” she whispered sharply. She averted her gaze to focus on her computer.

“Scully, come on. We both can’t dance around what happened.”

Mulder watched her body language as she sighed and barely nodded. “Tonight. Seven. I’ll be there.”

He recognized the need for her control; if she at least came to his place, she could also choose to escape back to her Georgetown apartment if she wanted. He would take it. “Sounds great. I could order takeout? Italian?”

“Just pizza, Mulder,” she whispered. “Pizza and beer.”

He smiled and turned his chair around. Victory.

*****

The morning progressed agonizingly. Neither Mulder nor Scully was able to break away from the phone and the endless background checks. By eleven Mulder wrote, ‘I’m going to get something from the vending machine. Want your usual?,’ on a post-it note. Scully nodded shortly and mouthed ‘Thank you.’ “No, ma’am. I would never insinuate that. It’s a regular question,” she said softly.

Mulder smiled. A trained medical doctor who could easily leave the FBI and pursue a career in medicine choose to stay and with him no less. She really was his one and five billion. He got up and padded his back pocket for his wallet. Scully slammed the phone down angrily. “Everything okay?”

“I don’t remember my own background checks being so nasty,” she told him. “The woman basically called me a bitch and hung up on me!”

“Well, forget about it. Do you want a Butterfinger instead of the M&Ms?”

“No. I get that stuck in my teeth. Milky Way?”

“You got it,” he laughed. “Be back.”

“Thank you, Mulder.”

He was truly blessed with her. As he made his way to the vending machine, debating what to get for himself, a soft voice called, “Fox!”

He stopped dead in his tracks. No one called him that except one: Diana. He turned and gave a feeble smile. “Hi, Diana.”

“What are doing down here?”

Mulder awkwardly gestured to the vending machine. “Grabbing something to eat for Scully and me. Doing those background checks is hard work.”

Something changed in her demeanor. Diana stood taller, straightening her back so that her chest (and breasts) jutted out slightly. Mulder took a step back automatically, unused to someone else sharing his space beside Scully. “Well, if you are free today, I was wondering if you wanted to catch up over your lunch break down in the cafeteria today?”

Mulder was quiet for a second briefly thinking about Scully. He wasn’t stupid; he knew there was some tension between his partner and ex-wife. But Diana could be trusted. She had been there at the beginning. He understood that. Scully’s suspicion was in the wrong place. “Um, give me fifteen minutes and I’ll meet you there.”

Diana smiled and squeezed his arm affectionately. “See you in fifteen.”

Mulder quickly got his wallet and bought Scully’s candy bar. He walked back to his desk and deposited the candy bar on her desk and grabbed his jacket. She arched an eyebrow in surprise and put her hand over the mouthpiece of the phone. “Where are you going?”

“Ran into an old friend that is only here for a day. Gonna have lunch with them.” One little white lie couldn’t hurt. “I’ll be back at one. Don’t worry, we’re still on for tonight.”

“Mushrooms and green peppers?”

“And pineapple for me.”

She wrinkled her nose with a smile. “Have fun.”

God, Scully could torture him with her little quirks.

*****

Despite the Milky Way Mulder had gifted her at 11 that morning, by noon, Scully’s stomach was grumbling. She eyed the clock as the bigger hand hovered at 12:02. She was entitled to her lunch break and didn’t have to worry about it since she no longer worked out in the field. Scully typed a few quick things out before she grabbed her card and headed down to the Hoover’s employee cafeteria. 

Her stomach continued to grumble and turn as she took the elevator to the first floor. Scully decided against her yogurt and bee pollen and wondered what healthy options she had. She checked the menu and decided on a Cobb salad before she proceeded into the line to get her lunch. Her mind was fluttering around the meeting with Mulder that evening. Were they going to finish that conversation? Her blood rushed with excitement.

As Scully went through the motions to purchase her Cobb salad, she clenched her lunch tray when she saw Mulder laughing with Diana.

Diana.

Scully prided herself in not trying to cast judgment, blame her Catholic upbringing. But she couldn’t help it. It was something about Diana that crawled under her skin. Then she saw Mulder laughing, grasping her hand as she leaned against his shoulder laughing too. Then there was the hand holding. What did it for her was the chaste kiss on the cheek that Diana did and Mulder didn’t stop it. Her blood crawled, growing icey. Suddenly, Scully’s appetite was lost and she dumped the contents of her lost lunch in the trash can wastefully. Scully wondered if she was dumping her lunch or her baggage regarding her potential relationship with Mulder.

*****

Mulder smiled at Scully as he came back from lunch. “Hey, Scully,” he greeted.

“Mulder.”

It was the change in her tone that caught him off guard. “Everything okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“Sure?”

“Peachy, Mulder.” She looked up from her work. “I can’t make it tonight. My mom called. I’ll be in Bethesda tonight.”

Mulder did a double-take. “What about our plans?”

Scully didn’t look at him as she replied, “Maybe next time.”

Mulder sat down at his desk. What had gotten into her? “What about our plans?”

“I can’t tonight, Mulder. Maybe next time.”

Mulder frowned as she avoided him completely for the rest of the at.

*****

Scully’s apartment was her refuge. It was her domicile, her kingdom; it was all in her control. As soon as five o’clock hit, Scully quickly left and took the Metro back home to her apartment leaving a puzzled Mulder behind. As soon as she locked her door that evening, she dropped her briefcase by the door, kicked off her heels, and immediately went to their bedroom, changed into black leggings and an FBI gray sweatshirt and collapsed on her overstuffed couch and flipped it to HGTV. Let her be dissolved in fixing and flipping houses rather than fixing her relationship with Mulder.

*****

Mulder knew she took the Metro that day but instead of going straight home, he sat in his car, watching her apartment building before the light in her living room turned on. He downed a miniature he had gotten at a Virginia ABC store. Liquid courage. He took a deep breath, locked his car, and marched to her apartment door.

She pulled it open before he could knock.

“I saw your car,” she answered. She stood aside so he could enter. “What is it that you want?”

“I thought we had a date tonight.”

“We had no date,” she answered cooly.

Mulder scoffed accusingly. “I can’t believe you did this, how could you?”

“What on Earth are you talking about?”

She went to her fridge and dug out a bottle of white wine.

“So my mere presence drives you to drink?” He snapped.

“You’re being selfish. No. What I saw at lunch did it for me.”

Oh, Scully was ready to scorch and burn everything between them. “Lunch?”

“Diana.” She cast her typical questioning left eyebrow before pouring her own glass. “Want some?”

“Sure you won’t burn it?”

“Quit being an asshole.”

She pulled down a second glass and poured some wine into it as well. “I’m not.”

“You are.”

Mulder took the full glass wearily as sipped the pinot grigio. “You aren’t helping.”

“I’m mad.” She gestured between the glasses. “This doesn’t help but at this point, I’m sick of your shit and backtracking.”

“What the fuck, Scully,” he asked.

Mulder was still standing in the doorway with a glass of wine. He groaned and set it aside. He stormed toward her couch as she sat down and crossed her legs. Scully murmured, “What the fuck indeed.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

She sighed and pinched her brow. “This, us, was a fucking mistake and I should have known the second things went further than planned.”

“What further things?”

“Beer? Talking? The hallway?”

“You aren’t making sense.”

Scully stared at him, narrowed her eyes and huffed. “You fucking kissed her, Mulder. Don’t give me bullshit lines that I’m your one and five billion when you’re off kissing other women.” She set down the glass of wine on the table with a thud. “If you want there to be an us, Mulder then come clean with me.” She stood up. Even without her heels, she was a giant. “I will fight for us but I won’t do it unless you’re all in too.”

Mulder eyed the glass of wine enticingly. “Diana is my ex-wife.”

“She’s your what?”

Fuck it. He downed the wine in one gulp. It numbed him briefly against Scully’s verbal assault.

“And you didn’t think that was important to mention?”

“Scully…”

She was on her feet now, pacing like a shark. “Don’t.   Mulder, I’m pissed. You’re dragging me along for months, pretending that I’m the only thing that matters and then boom, out to lunch with your ex.”

Mulder found himself floundering, stuck in the moment. “What do you want me to do?”

“I want you to be honest with me, Mulder. What happened to trust no one???”

“I trust you,” he defended.

“Trusted. Past tense,” she shouted. 

Mulder was stunned. “Scully…”

“There is no us!” She continued. “You know I don’t trust her. I don’t like her but go around strutting with her.”

“Scully, she’s my ex-wife. She was there when I got the x-files.”

“And I was just assigned.” She scoffed. “I get it, Mulder. Loud and clear. You can leave.”

“I’m not leaving, Scully.”

“Mulder, leave. Please.”

“I’m not.” In frustration, Mulder stormed across her living room and grabbed her. He tried to use all his expertise to put his feeling into his body language. A kiss. They were both breathless. “I’m not leaving, Scully. There’s you and you only.”

Scully was dumbstruck. The power of their kiss paralyzed her. “How can I believe you?”

What followed was a hurricane of clothes being removed and six years of tensions being resolved. On her overstuffed couch with all the lights on, in Georgetown, of all places, The tv was playing something that seemed irrelevant to what had just perspired. Mulder coiled around her bare body and pulled her afghan closer. “I got to admit.” He kissed the back of her ear soothingly. “Your couch might be more comfortable than mine.”

“Hmm…” she hummed.

From literally tearing out their throats to post-coitus, neither could complain. “You know, I meant what I said in that hallway, Scully.”

She turned to face him and gripped him tightly. He felt himself tighten with pleasure (or was it fear?). “Say it.”

“Diana is the past. We’re the future.”

“Again.”

“Diana is the past. We’re the future.”

After a moment, Scully released him. He nuzzled her hair. “Satisfied?”

“I will be once we go to bed. I hate sleeping on this couch.”

“Even with the company?”

“The bed is better with the company.”

“Where does this leave us?”

“To be determined?”

“Better than a no.”

For the moment, all anger was forgotten and they could move forward, even if for a moment into her bedroom. And of course, the pizza was forgotten.

[scribbles97]

Left Behind -- Chapter 12

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 / Chapter 10 / Chapter 11 / Chapter 12 / Chapter 13

Read On Ao3

More tissues may also be needed for this chapter... but there may also be some laughing too! 

@gumnut-logic I really really do owe you in a big way for all your help with this novel of a fic, I see virgil fic in my future as a thank you :D

Lucy pulled the duvet further over her head as the door to the bedroom creaked open. Her head ached and eyes begged for sleep, her mouth was dry and feet ached. It had been a long, alcohol fueled night but it had been worth it. 

 “Shove over,” Val uttered as the duvet was pulled back, “Pick a side.”

 She groaned in protest, blindly rolling over to her side of the bed as Val wriggled under the covers next to her. 

 “Never again,” She whispered, throat rasping, “I swear it.”

 Val snorted, sounding far too bright for whatever time it was. 

 “You said that every time we’ve gone out since college, and yet here we are.”

 Sighing, Lucy pushed the duvet back, reaching to the bedside table for her water as she ran a hand through her hair that had long since fallen out of its delicate updo. The light was still dim around the edge of the curtains. 

 “I have a question,” Val started, leaning back against the headboard with a steaming mug of what looked like tea in her hands, “Since when were you and Hugh a thing?”

Lucy turned to face her fully, frowning at the suggestion. Sure, she had spent some time with the man that night but it wasn’t anything to make anything of… unless she was forgetting something. 

 “We’re not-- what makes you say that?”

 Val sipped her tea, eyes not leaving Lucy as she shook her head. Fear clenched at her heart, yes, she got on with Hugh, yes, they had sat and had a laugh and joke the previous night. She was grieving though, missing her husbands company in a way that she couldn’t quite coherently explain. Surely, even drunk, she would remember if something had happened between them. 

 “I’m just saying the pair of you looked awfully cosy when I came and dragged you away to dance. You’d certainly got Scott and Virgil’s attention.”

 “Shit,” She winced, rubbing her face with her hands as she fell back to her pillow, “No, Val, I didn’t… we weren’t… I swear, he’s a friend is all. I’m not looking for anything like that right now.”

 Val shrugged, “All I’m saying is you looked pretty close last night.”

 Guilt twisted in her chest. That hadn’t been the intention at all. It was just, Hugh had been there, lost his wife to her work and left him grieving with a daughter to care for. He had offered a shoulder and she had taken it without thinking anything more of it. He had made her smile when the world seemed to have forgotten to stop raining. He had been one of the best friends she could have asked for in the last few weeks and that was all she had thought it was. 

 A sob broke out of her throat without permission.

 “Aww Luce,” Val sighed, shifting next to her before there was a clink of her mug on the bedside table, “It’s okay, I believe you were just being friends. I just wasn’t sure how the boys were going to see it.”

 She nodded, clutching onto the arm that wrapped around her as she sniffed, “I want Jeff back, Val. I don’t want anyone else. I want him and his company and his conversation but it’s not… I’m n-- he’s gone.”

 Val rocked her gently, murmuring nothings into her hair softly, “I know Luce, it hurts. It’ll get better though. Not every day will be a good day, but not every day will be bad either. You’ve just got to remember that Jeff would want you happy. He only ever wanted to see you happy.”

 Reaching up to wipe her eyes, Lucy shook her head, “What do I tell the boys though? They’ll be upset and--”

 Val kissed the side of her hair, “You tell them the truth, that you were drunk and Hugh was being a friend. There’s nothing wrong with that at the end of the day.”

 “Mommy?”

 She was quick to wipe her eyes at the voice of her youngest, forcing a smile as he clambered up onto the bed and into her lap. Val moved back, giving her space to hug him close and kiss the top of his soft downy hair. 

 “What’s wrong?”

 She shook her head, “Just tired after last night kid.” 

 Pulling back from him she ran her fingers through his hair, smiling at his wide blue eyes. So like his father in his intelligence and aspirations. So full of love for those around him and a typical stubbornness that, yes, he would manage to keep up with them despite his younger age. 

 “Did you have fun?” Val asked, tilting her head with a smile. 

 Alan was quick to nod, “I can’t wait until it’s my turn to pass out. Do I have to wait until I’m Scott’s age though Mom? He’s old.”

 Lucy had to snort, shaking her head at him, “We will see. You’ve got to finish school before you can even start thinking about it young man.”

 The youngster sighed as he leant into her, face falling slightly in what she imagined was disappointment. 

 “That’s ages away though.”

 A small part of her hoped that it stayed ages away for a long time, her little boys were all growing up. Where had the time gone? When had Alan gone from a space mad toddler to a tween ready to join the rest of the family as a rescue operative? 

 “It’ll come faster than you think, kid,” Val told him, “Promise you that.”

 “A bit like bedtime,” Alan sighed, his mouth twisting. 

 Lucy couldn’t help a chuckle as she squeezed him tight, “Exactly like bedtime kid.”

 He grinned up at her, “Then I'll be able to fly Thunderbird Three and spend all the time I like in space.”

 The thought jolted Lucy slightly, all but one of her sons having clear set plans to fly the Thunderbirds. Too young for a few years or not, Alan would get there eventually, Lucy wasn’t sure how long it would take for her nerves to be shot and her hair to turn a full and permanent grey. 

 “You’ll be the best astronaut the world has ever known Allie, and that space has ever known too!” Val filled in for Lucy’s silence. 

 Alan giggled, “Just like Daddy was, right Mommy?”

 Swallowing hard, Lucy nodded, all any of her boys would ever want would be to make their father proud. It was what made their drive and determination so strong. 

 “Right kid.” She smiled, “Perhaps even better.”

 His face fell as he leant back into her, his arms wrapping as far around her shoulders as he could reach as he buried his face against her neck. It was those moments she cherished, the hugs where they clung on, reminding her very much that she was still their mother and they still needed her no matter what. 

 “I miss him Mommy. I miss him lots.”

 Rubbing his back, she rested her head against his, “We all do Allie, and I know it’s hard right now, but it’ll be okay.”

 He sniffed, shaking his head as much as he could whilst it was pressed against her, “What if I forget him Mommy? I don’t wanna forget Daddy.”

 Val reached out, stroking his hair as Lucy looked up to the ceiling to blink away her own tears. 

 “You won’t forget him Allie,” Val murmured softly, “Nobody is ever going to forget your Dad. He made International Rescue and the Thunderbirds. Maybe he isn’t here now, but that doesn’t mean we’ll forget him.”

 “Exactly,” Lucy cleared her throat with a breath, “We’ve still got all those photos at home, and all his things. But you know what’s best of all?”

 Alan pulled back, eyes red rimmed as he looked up to her, “What?”

 She brushed the tears from his cheeks, watching the familiar blue of his eyes as she forced a smile for him, “We’ve got our memories kid, like his aftershave, and his flamingo shirt, and all those barbecues he did.”

 Alan grinned, reaching up to wipe his nose on his sleeve, “Dad’s barbecues were the best.”

 “He’s still with us.” She nodded, “Never forget that, okay? He’s always with us all, kid.”

 Alan frowned, and something told Lucy that he didn’t quite understand the sentiment behind her words. Still he nodded though, wiping at his eyes as he smiled. 

 “Love you Mommy.”

 She hugged him again, smiling slightly more naturally as she murmured back, “Love you too baby.”

 Out of Alan’s line of sight, Val reached out and squeezed her shoulder, a tired, sympathetic smile saying so much to Lucy despite no words being exchanged. 

 ***

The boys didn’t say much to her over brunch, but she caught more than one knowing glance pass between Scott and Virgil as they picked at the fry-up Lee had been working on all morning. She had decided to give them a little bit longer, wondering if perhaps they would come to her and say something of their own accord, as the afternoon wore into evening though, she knew that was becoming less and less likely. 

 “Gordon, why don’t you take Alan to the pool for a bit?” She suggested, setting her tablet down as the teenager closed his school work book. He hadn’t done any work for the most of the day, and the sunglasses he’d been wearing despite the overcast sky suggested he was as perhaps as hungover as the rest of them. 

 Scott and Virgil both looked up at their board game at the suggestion, each frowning in her direction as Gordon stood. 

 “Only over sixteens are allowed in the pool though,” Gordon frowned, “Alan--”

 She nodded, glad that despite his tendency to ignore the rules he did at least listen to them. 

 “Stay out of the diving pool, and if anyone says anything tell them to call me. Only an hour though, I want you both back and washed before dinner.”

 When it came to swimming, the blond didn’t need to be told twice. With a quick nod he turned to the steps up to the back door, calling for the youngest brother as he went. 

 “Something tells me that wasn’t you just trying to wear them out before bed?” Scott asked softly.

 Lucy picked her tablet back up, only half returning her attention to stock prices and shares as she sighed,

 “I just thought it might give you two the space you need to say whatever’s been bothering you all day.”

 Both gaped, each trying to find words that she knew they wouldn’t have an issue with firing at each other. She was their mother though, not someone they could so easily lecture without getting into trouble themselves.

 “Mommy?” Alan asked as he crashed through the screen door with Gordon, “Can I really go to the pool with Gordy?”

 Turning back to face them in her seat, she smiled and nodded, “Sure, just don’t go too deep okay? And when Gordon says it's home time you’ve got to come straight back.”

 The youngest’s face lit up as he turned to Gordon, shouting that they had to leave immediately and dragging his big brother with him. 

 They all heard the front door of the house slam and the excited chatter of the two youngest as they headed towards the indoor pool. Lucy gave the older boys a moment more to speak before she locked her tablet and sighed.

 “Your Aunt Val said that you saw me with Hugh last night.” She started, watching the pair as they looked to each other and then back to her. 

 “Well,” Virgil started, stumbling slightly as he rubbed the back of his head, “I mean, you spent time with a lot of people last night Mom.”

 “And perhaps a bit more time with Hugh than others,” She admitted with a shrug, “I just wanted to make it clear that that didn’t mean anything.”

 Scott’s eyes had narrowed as he frowned, the groove between his eyebrows deep as he watched her, “So you’re just friends?”

 She rolled her eyes and sat forward, “Boys, I’ve been with your father for near enough thirty years now. How many men have you seen me talk to and laugh with in that time?”

 “We didn’t--” Virgil started, looking to Scott for backup as he sighed, “Mom, we just… we weren’t sure what to make of it. I think everyone was drunk last night and…”

 “And he was looking awfully friendly.” Scott finished, a sting in his voice to match the look in his eyes. 

 “Scott.” Virgil warned softly, frowning at his older brother, “We weren’t going to fall out over this you said.”

 The younger of the two looked to her, apology in his eyes, “We just didn’t want you to get hurt or wake up this morning and regret something or… y’know. We were worried about you Mom and if Aunt Val hadn’t have...”

 “Hugh is a friend that has been in the position I’m in. He lost his wife in the same mission that he lost his eye. He is a close friend that was offering me some comfort on a day that was hard for us all. Neither of us would have let anything happen.” 

 She shook her head with a shrug, “I’m not in a position where I want anything like that right now. Nobody is going to replace your father, thirty years doesn’t just vanish because he has.”

 Scott’s shoulders fell, his anger and questions dropping from his face as he nodded slightly in admission, “Sorry.”

 Tilting her head he watched him with a small smile, “I appreciate you’re both worried about where things could have gone, but I promise you, that’s not going to happen any time soon.”

 Scott smirked as he looked up to her, “You know those rules you and Dad always had when I was dating in high school?”

 She knew what he was getting at, the rule that he could date whoever he wanted as long as he was home before eleven and his parents knew who he was with. 

 “Yes,” she answered slowly, eyes narrowing on him, “what about it?”

 “Can we reinstate those rules?” He grinned cheekily, “Apart from the home before eleven bit, that might be a stretch living on an island and taking leave on the mainland.”

 She had to laugh at the suggestion, shaking her head at the simple thought of it. Not that she planned on being the one going on any dates in the future.

 “Well, seeing as you’re more likely going to be the one going out on dates, I have absolutely no problem if you want to keep me updated.”

 Scott leant back on his elbows with a grin, “Done deal.”

 Virgil shook his head as he looked between them, “I’m glad we cleared that up.”

 Picking her tablet back up, Lucy smiled and nodded in agreement, “Me too boys, me too.”

[southsidewrites]

The One with the Red Sweatshirt (Sweet Pea x Reader)

PART TWO to The One with Betty and Jughead’s Wedding

Summary: Betty’s revealed that she’s not pregnant, and now, in the middle of the wedding, Toni realizes that the pregnancy test belonged to you.  Now, you need to tell the father.

Word Count: 5649

Request: From anon: “ Do you know the friends episode, after Rachel finds out she’s pregnant, and the gang tried to find out who the father is bc Rachel won’t tell them?? Could you do that with the reader and Sweet Pea??“

Author’s Note: Another Friends imagine, and my first two-parter!  This is definitely a follow-up to The One with Betty and Jughead’s Wedding, but if you’re familiar enough with the show, you probably don’t need to have read it.  This is also one of the longest things I’ve posted, so buckle up.  It’s also a bit more angsty than I’m used to, but I promise it has a happy ending.  Enjoy, and let me know what you think!

The Southside Serpents as Friends Masterlist 

My Masterlist

Read this fic on A03 or Below!

~

Jughead’s eyes shot open. “Wait, if you’re not pregnant, then what were Toni and Y/N talking about?” he demanded, looking over Betty’s shoulder at us.  His face was a blend of confusion and anger. “Why were you guys saying Betty was pregnant?”

At that, Betty shot around, and the whole room went quiet.  It may not have been a big wedding, but at that moment, it felt like there were a thousand eyes fixed on scene unfolding.  Your breath was caught in your throat. Luckily, Toni sprang into action.

“It was me,” Toni said, her voice hurried and low. “We found a pregnancy test in Betty’s bathroom, but it was mine.  I panicked and tried to hide it.”

Thankfully, Toni’s voice was low enough that only those in front of the church could hear.  Across the aisle from you and Toni, the groomsmen were reacting in equally dramatic ways.  While Sweet Pea looked like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to laugh, cry, or scream, poor Archie just looked like would rather be anywhere but there.  You still couldn’t speak.  Your jaw had dropped in what surely looked like surprise, but Toni knew the truth.  You weren’t surprised that she was pregnant—you were surprised by the length she was going to in order to cover for you.

Fangs had managed to snap his mouth shut and was frantically looking at the crowd.  While they had heard bits and pieces of the conversation, no one really knew what was going on, and they were getting restless.

“Okay, well, wow.  Shit, we need to talk about this later, but right now, we need to get this wedding on the road,” Fangs managed.  He looked back at Jughead and Betty who seemed completely shaken by the new revelations. “Are you guys ready?”

“I suppose,” Betty said with a weak chuckle.

“The faster we get this over with, the better,” Jughead agreed.

“Excellent.” Fangs reached down to his waist and clicked on the mic that he had mercifully remembered to silence.  “Sorry for the slight disruption everyone.  Thank you for coming today, and…”

His words faded as your head spun.  As if hadn’t been hard enough keeping it a secret, now Toni knew, and soon, everyone would.  It’s not like she could keep the ruse going indefinitely—it would be your stomach that would start to grow, after all.  Not that you would ever ask her to do something like that.  Hell, you never would have even asked for her to cover now—she just did when you found yourself incapable of basic human speech.  

As the ceremony went on in front of you, you thought about how deep of a hole you had buried yourself in, wondered if it would be possible to crawl your way out.  More than that, though, you thought about the father—the brief, secret time you had shared. It had been a fling born out of too much alcohol and fueled by a friendship that went so much deeper than some easy sex.  You had been the one to cut it off when you saw how fast things were moving—how much he desperately wanted to tell everyone.  It had been one of the hardest decisions of your life, and now, here you were, faced with a decision infinitely harder.

The ceremony flew by, and before you knew it, Toni was dragging you to the bathroom, shoving away questions by angrily muttering about periods.  When you were locked in the family restroom, she just stared.

“Really, Y/N?  How the hell could you lie to me about this?”

You swallowed hard, trying to work up the courage to meet her heated gaze. “I mean, it’s worth mentioning that I didn’t outright lie so much as not correct you when you made an incorrect assumption.”

“Are you kidding me?” she nearly shouted.  Then, her voice dropped to a low whisper. “I faked a pregnancy for you. I haven’t even been with a man in close to a year—how do you plan to keep this a secret?”

“I don’t,” you sighed, sitting on the closed toilet seat and resting your head in your hands. “I can’t, not forever anyway.  I just—” your voice cracked, and a few small tears leaked out. “I guess I just wasn’t ready to admit it, not even to myself.  C’mon, T., I’m not ready to be a mother.”

Her voice took on a softer note, and she crouched down in front of the toilet to look at you. “Y/N, girl, who’s the father?”

You shook your head, crying for real now. “No, no way.  I haven’t even told him yet, so there’s no way I’m telling anyone else.”

She nodded slowly. “Okay, that’s fine.  We do need to get you cleaned up now, though.  I did just admit I was pregnant and that I blamed it on Betty, so I imagine everyone’s going to have questions and maybe a few choice words.”

“You’re right.” You let out a heavy sigh and grabbed a handful of paper towel to mop your face off. “Can you keep the ruse for a little longer?  Just a few days while I figure out how to tell the father.”

She pressed her lips into a tight line then nodded. “Fine, but I’m telling Betty the truth.”

“No need.  I will when we get a minute.”

“Okay.” She pulled you off the toilet and into her arms. “It’s going to be okay, Y/N, really.  We’re all here for you—me, Betty and Jughead, Fangs, and even Pea.”

You almost choked as you nodded into her shoulder. “I know.  Thanks, T.”

“Anytime, girl.” She smiled. “Now, let’s go face the everyone.”

~

“I just can’t believe it,” Betty mused.  Dinner had just finished, and the two of you were sitting the head table alone, everyone else having gone off to either dance or get more drinks. “How could Toni be pregnant?  Not to mention lie about it.  I mean, it’s 2018, for god’s sake—there are ways to prevent that.”

Her words cut to the core, and you had to bite your lip to stop yourself from snapping.  “Well, yeah, but accidents still happen.  You can do everything right, and sometimes things still go wrong.”

She gave you a confused look, but then a waiter came by handing out champagne. Betty took one, gratefully downing nearly half of it before she looked up to see you swishing yours thoughtfully around the glass.  It was only a few seconds before her eyes widened in recognition—you were never one to pass up a free drink, especially on such a stressful day.

“Y/N,” she breathed, her voice dropping to a pitch so low you almost couldn’t hear it. “It wasn’t Toni’s pregnancy test in the trash, was it?”

You let out a shaky breath—in the past few years, Betty had become one of your best friends, and you couldn’t bring yourself to lie to her.  Slowly, you shook your head.

“Holy shit.” Her blue eyes were wide with shock. “Who’s—”

“I’m not telling,” you said firmly, not letting her finish the question. “He doesn’t know yet, and I’m not telling everyone else first.”

Your tone had her thinking twice about asking anything else.  Before she could break the now-awkward silence, though, Toni sat down.  Immediately sensing the tension, she gave you both a look.

“Did you—”

You nodded curtly, taking a sip of your water. “Yeah, I did.”

“Good, now we can get on to the important business.”

“What’s that?” Betty asked, perking up immediately.

“A second pregnancy test of course.” She gave you a pointed look. “I’m assuming you did just take the one, right?”

“Yeah, but what good will more do?” You were still looking longingly at the glass of champagne in front of you.  If there was any time you would kill for a drink, it was now.

“No, no, that makes sense,” Betty agreed, nodding vigorously and moving the offending alcohol across the table. “It may be a false positive—they happen sometimes.  Polly said she did like four tests just to be sure when she suspected she was pregnant with the twins.”

“And I’m already prepared,” Toni said, gesturing down at her overstuffed purse as an explanation for her disappearance. “So, Y/N, what do you say?”

You looked down at her purse, your gut clenching and unclenching at the prospect.  No matter what the answer was, you had a feeling you wouldn’t be happy. “Yeah, I’ll give it a try. Better safe than sorry, right?”

“Exactly.” Toni placed her hand reassuringly over yours. “Seriously, Y/N, everything’s going to be okay.  I promise.”

You nodded deliberately, even though you were completely sure that was a promise she’d never be able to keep.

~

You were pacing, unable to sit down as you waited for the test to process.  Finally, the timer on your phone beeped, and you froze, your legs turning into blocks of ice.  “I can’t do it.  I can’t look.”

“I got it.” Toni crossed the bathroom and plucked the test off the sink. Slowly, she looked down at the little screen.  Then, she looked up at you, her face perfectly unreadable. “Y/N, it’s negative.”

In an instant, your heart dropped into your stomach, and you felt like you needed to puke all over again.  “Negative,” you breathed. “Like, as in I’m not pregnant.” You could feel your eyes starting to water, and your heart was racing like it wanted to beat its way out of your chest. “How can I be not pregnant?” You lowered yourself to the floor, resting back against the cool tile wall. “I felt it—I knew it—I—I—”

“But, Y/N, I thought you didn’t want to be a mom,” Betty said softly, collecting her massive skirt and crouching down next to you. “You said you weren’t ready.”

“I wasn’t,” you replied, “but I guess it was growing on me, the idea of—” your breath caught, and you started to cry again.

“Shit, Y/N,” Toni breathed, walking over to you.  Her lips had curved into a slight smile. “Good thing I was lying.”

“What?” you demanded, looking up with a start. “You lied?”

She nodded, holding out the plastic stick. “To see how you would react—to test how you really felt about the whole thing.”

You clutched the plastic stick—the small plus sign made the heaviness in your chest lift immediately. “Oh my god.  That’s a risky fucking test, Toni,” you laughed.  Your voice was still heavy with tears, but you managed a weak smile. “But wow.  I’m pregnant.”

“Yeah, you are.” She smiled and squeezed your hand gently. “Congratulations, Y/N, you’re going to be a mom.”

Betty’s smile widened, and she flopped onto the bathroom floor with you to hug you. “I know this is all so overwhelming, Y/N, but I’m so happy for you. You’re going to be a great mom.”

Lightly, you rested your hand on your stomach.  There was no sign of anything, really.  And you weren’t even sure you could tell, or if it was all just in your head.  Either way, you knew that your baby was in there. “Shit,” you breathed. “When you grow up, kid, there’s going to be a hell of a story for you.”

Betty and Toni laughed, and you joined in surprising yourself with how okay you felt.

“So I suppose I should get back to my wedding now,” Betty laughed, pulling you to your feet with her.

“S’pose so.” You grinned, pulling them both into a hug. “Thanks, you guys.”

“Of course, Y/N,” Toni replied. “Best friends forever, remember?”

You laughed, wiping away the remains of tears from your eyes. “Best friends forever.”

~

“May I have this dance?”

There was a hand with a tattooed thumb held out in front of you.  Your lips curving into a small smile, you looked up to see the face of one of your oldest friends looking down at you. “Sure, Pea.”

He grinned and took your hand to pull you off the chair. “Good.  You’ve been entirely too boring tonight.”

Laughing, you allowed him to pull you onto the dance floor.  The night had flown by, and it was nearly time to send the happy couple off.  In the meantime, you hadn’t stopped thinking about how you would tell a man that his life was about to change forever.

“C’mon, Pea,” you replied, wrapping his arms around your neck to dance. “Between Betty and Jughead and Toni, there was no more room for excitement.”

“True enough.” He hummed along to the slow, romantic song as he led you around the floor.  Then, he looked down pensively at you. “Is everything okay, Y/N?”

You nodded, wrapping your arms more tightly around him and breathing in his painfully familiar scent. “’Course it is.  Just a long night, that’s all.”

He wasn’t convinced. “Are you sure?  You know you can tell me anything, right?  I don’t care what did and didn’t happen between us—I’m still always here for you.”

Biting your lip nearly hard enough to draw blood, you nodded. “I know.”

“So never be afraid to tell me.” The song came to a close, and it was time to send Betty and Jughead off. “Promise?”

“I promise.”

“Good.” Glancing around he placed a light kiss on your forehead. “Love you, Y/N.”

“Love you too, Pea.” Every part of you hurt as you drew apart.  You could feel the heat left behind by his lips on your forehead, and you ached to tell him the truth.  You couldn’t, though.  Not tonight.  Not when you had already broken his heart once before.  What would this mean for you?  For him?  You didn’t break up because you didn’t love each other.  It was the opposite, really.  You loved him way too much, and now, you had to break the news to him that he was going to be a father.

~

“I just don’t know how you’re going to do it, Toni,” Fangs said, shaking his head regretfully. “Being a single mom is just so hard—I watched my mom do it for so many years, and while I know she loved us and did the best she could, it was just so much work.  She never really got to have a life, to live out her dreams, to do anything but take care of us really.”

“I’ll be fine, Fangs, really,” Toni said, shooting you annoyed glances. “I’m a strong, independent, badass woman who knows what she wants and works hard to get it, and I will be an amazing mother.”

You knew she was talking more to you than to him, but it didn’t ease the ache in your gut. The three of you were sitting in your apartment, still reeling from the events of the previous evening.  You had a pounding headache, and you were almost certain you were nauseous.  It was like finally admitting your pregnancy gave you morning sickness.

“Well, I still don’t think you should have to go through that,” Fangs asserted.  He got up from his usual chair and started to pace. “And why won’t you tell us who the father is?”

“I told you, Fangs,” she repeated. “He’s nobody, a one-night stand.”

Fangs had a steely look on his face, but then he softened, dropping to his knees in front of Toni’s chair. “I’m not letting you do this alone, Toni. No one should have to do this alone, especially when the guy is some deadbeat douchebag who doesn’t deserve his kids anyway.” He took a deep breath and took her hand in his. “Antoinette Marie Topaz, will you marry me?”

Her mouth gaped open, and then snapped shut. “Yes!” she sputtered. “Yes, sure, I’ll marry you.”

He grinned. “I don’t have a ring right now, but I’ll get you one.  I’ll be here for you, Toni, no matter what.”

Your jaw had dropped, and you were looking back and forth between your two friends.  It was too much for you, though.  Between the lying, the secrets, and now Fangs’s unparalleled dedication to his friends, you just couldn’t take it anymore.

“I need to go,” you blurted, already out of your chair and out the door.

Toni and Fangs were left gaping in confusion.  Toni knew why, but Fangs was dumbfounded.  “What’s that about?”

Before Toni could answer, Betty was rushing through the door, completely disregarding the fact it was shut. “Where’s Y/N going?  She looked distraught.”

“Cooper-Jones!” Fangs greeted. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Betty rolled her eyes, setting her purse down on the table. “I was on my way home, and I saw Y/N storming out.  I was worried.”

“We desperately need some distance from this friend group,” Toni sighed, leaning back into the couch. “Remind me why we live across the hall from you guys again?”

Betty gave her friend a pointed look. “For real, though?  What happened?  Is everything okay?  Is the baby—” She cut off, realizing her mistake and giving Fangs a deer-in-the-headlights look that revealed more than her words ever could.

Fangs’s jaw dropped almost comically, and he finally got up off the ground in front of Toni. “Wait?  Is Y/N pregnant too?  Well shit, I can’t marry both of you—unless, of course, we move to Utah and become polygamists, but that would be hard because—”

“No, dumbass!” Toni said, standing up to smack him across the head. “She’s the only one who’s pregnant.”

“And you let me propose?” he demanded, throwing his hands in the air. “What kind of friend does that?  I was ready to marry you!”

Toni rolled her eyes. “And I never would have let it get that far—I panicked, okay?”

“Not okay!  Not okay at all!  How can Y/N be pregnant?  Who’s the father?” Fangs was pacing now. “Because I can still marry her is he’s as much of a douchebag as Toni’s made-up one-night stand.”

“She won’t tell,” Betty sighed, ignoring Fangs’s weird marriage comments like they were absolutely nothing new. “Not until she tells the mystery man at least.”

“Mystery man…” Fangs mused, “Wait, I know who the father is!” Without another word, he darted into his room, slamming the door shut behind him.

Betty’s eyebrows pressed together in frustration. “Was there supposed to be more to that?  Like, a name, maybe?”

“Fuck if I know,” Toni replied, walking to the fridge to pull out a beer. “I still stand by it, though.  We all need some space.  I vote we kick Fangs out to live with Pea, and Y/N and I get our own place in a different building somewhere reasonably far from Manhattan.”

Before Betty could reply, Fangs stormed back out, something red in his hands. “I know who the father is!”

“You’ve mentioned,” Betty drawled, “care to share your findings in a way that makes sense to the rest of us?”

“Well, see that’s the thing.  I don’t know who he is—I just know that this is his sweatshirt.” Fangs spread the sweatshirt out on the kitchen table. It was a New York Red Bulls Soccer hoodie, something that literally anyone in New York might own.

Betty’s jaw had dropped, though, and she was shaking her head in awe. “I know who that belongs to.”

“No way,” Toni said. “It’s just a Red Bulls sweatshirt—it could be anybody’s.”

“But it’s not,” Betty asserted. “Trust me, I know who the father is.”

~

“Wait, what?” you demanded into your phone. “You want me to meet you at the coffee shop?  Why?”  

“Just because,” Betty insisted. “Would I do this if it weren’t important?”

“I don’t know—maybe.”

“Just get over here, Y/N.  Seeing as I’m almost positive you’re just wandering around Battery Park being mopey, it’s really the best thing for you.”

With a muted groan, you looked up at the blurry image of the Statue of Liberty in the distance.  You didn’t want her to know she was right. “Fine.  I need to catch the subway, but I’ll be there soon.”

“Good.  See you then.”

“See you then.” You hung up the phone and slid it into your pocket. These mopey walks through Battery Park had been a recent development, so you were impressed that Betty had picked up on it so quickly.  Sighing, you sat down on a bench, trying not to let the memories of the place overtake you—it had been the location of yours and Sweet Pea’s first date, after all. “How the fuck did I mess this up so badly, baby?” you muttered, rubbing a hand lightly over your stomach. “I really hope this is a funny story for you one day.”

Before you could drift deeper into memories, your phone buzzed aggressively. Betty was texting you again, demanding that you hurry up.  Not wanting to keep her waiting, you hauled yourself to your feet and set off for the subway.

~

When you walked up to your favorite coffee shop, you were immediately greeted outside the front door by an energetic-looking Betty. “Jeez, Y/N, took you long enough.”

“What’s going on, Betts?  You’re being super weird.”

She took a deep breath. “We know who the father is.”

Your mouth gaped open, and you started shaking your head. “No way—how did you find out?”

“Fangs found a sweatshirt that he left behind, and I recognized it right away. I mean, the guy wears it all the time.”

Your heart felt like it was going to beat right out of your chest.  A sweatshirt?  They found him from a goddamn sweatshirt? “So you know.” Your voice was low and heavy.

“And I know you may not want to deal with it now, but you need to, Y/N. You need to deal with it.” She bit her lip, starting to look nervous. “So, I brought him here.”

“You brought him here?” you demanded. “What the actual fuck, Betty?”

“Y/N, you need to face this.” Her jaw was set sternly. “You can’t leave him hanging on this forever.”

You weren’t about to admit that she was right. “Fine,” you huffed, steeling yourself for the upcoming conversation. “I’ll talk to him, today.”

“Good.” Her smile returned, and she pulled you in close for a quick hug. “I’m proud of you, Y/N.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, girl gets pregnant, keeps it a secret, weaves a web of lies, and lets other people take the fall, what a person to be proud of.”

“You’ve got this,” she encouraged, grabbing your hand and pulling you into the coffee shop.  The warm, familiar smell of coffee overcame you, and you felt more at ease than you did just a minute earlier.  Maybe you did have this—he was one of your best friends, after all.  How hard could it—

“Reggie Mantle?”

“Hey, Y/N.” His smile was charming as he stood up to greet you with a casual hug. “It’s so good to see you—you look great.”

Your jaw had fallen open, and you looked back at Betty with shock. “Mantle? You think it was Reggie Mantle?”

Her eyes widened, and she pulled the sweatshirt out of her bag, frantically holding it up for our inspection.  “But, I—the sweatshirt, it’s—”

“This one?” Reggie asked, unzipping his coat with confusion to reveal a matching red sweatshirt. “What about it?”

“I have fucked up,” Betty said plainly. “And I am sorry.” Without another word, she turned on her heel and stormed out of the coffee shop leaving you and Reggie confused in her wake.

“So, um, what’s this about?” he asked.

You shook your head, pinching the bridge of your nose in an attempt to ward off what was sure to be a brutal headache. “Betty made a mistake.”

“Well, then.” He grinned again, running his hand through his already perfectly-styled hair. “It’s been too long, Y/N, how do you feel about getting dinner sometime, maybe—”

You held up a hand to silence him. “Reggie, I’m pregnant, and it’s not yours.”

Slowly, he nodded. “That’s definitely not how this conversation has gone for me in the past.” He chuckled slightly. “Congratulations, Y/N.”

“Yeah, that.” A deep tiredness overcame you, and you wanted nothing more than to go home and crawl into bed.

“I’ll see you later, Y/N.”

“See you later, Reggie.”

~

“You idiots,” you fumed, storming into the apartment. “What the hell was that all about?”

“I really am sorry, Y/N,” Betty pleaded. “It’s just that you were dating him for a while, and he did have the sweatshirt in my defense and all—”

“And you.” You rounded on Fangs, cutting Betty off. “Why on earth would you keep a sweatshirt that some guy I slept with left behind?  Who does that?”

He raised his hands in surrender. “It’s a good sweatshirt, Y/N.  I would have worn it if it wasn’t so damn big on me.”

You groaned loudly, rolling your eyes. “This is just too much.  I’m taking a nap, and I don’t want anyone to bother me unless the apartment building is literally burning down.”  Without waiting for a response, you hurried into your room, flopping on the bed and burying your head in the pillow in one motion.

~

As Y/N’s door slammed, there was a knock on the front door.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Toni groaned. “Who now?” She hauled herself off the couch and to the door where she opened it to reveal Sweet Pea.  While she gaped, he strolled in, unconcerned with whatever had been going on before he entered.

“Is Y/N here?” he asked, looking around. “Jughead and I were cleaning up at the venue today, and we found this.” He held up a wallet that Toni recognized immediately as her roommate’s.  She must have been too stressed by the pregnancy to even notice it was missing.

“She’s—”

Betty cut off Fangs with a slap to his mouth. “She’s out.”

Sweet Pea nodded, setting the wallet on the counter. “Well, make sure she gets it.  I have to get to work.”

“Sure thing,” Toni answered brusquely.

Just as he was about to leave, Sweet Pea saw the sweatshirt still sitting on the coffee table. “Oh man, I’ve been looking for that forever.” He grabbed it off the table and tossed it over his shoulder. “Must have left it here sometime. See you guys later.”

“See you later, man,” Fangs replied, still oblivious to what ha just happened.  As soon as the door shut, Toni and Betty burst out in a flurry of chattery shrieks. “Wait, what—” His eyes widened, and he looked between the front door and Y/N’s bedroom door. “Holy mother of shit, Sweet Pea’s the father!”

~

As Sweet Pea left work that night, his phone was lit up with five text messages.  All of them were from Y/N.

Sweets, are you working tonight?

Shit, you must be.  Sorry.

What time do you get off?

Are you doing anything after?

We need to talk.

As he read, his heart sank deeper and deeper into his stomach.  Talk?  What could she possibly want to talk about?  It had been nearly two months since they’d broken up, and it still hurt every damn time he saw her.  Whatever it was, though, he had to be there for her—he’d promised.  On that day she’d broken up with him for no good reason at all, he’d promised he’d always be there for her.  Dating or not, she was one of his oldest friends, one of his best friends, and he couldn’t bear the thought of letting her down.

Sighing, he opened her contact and hit Reply.

On my way.

~

There was a knock on your door, and you grunted in response.  Sweet Pea was still at work, so it had to be one of your roommates.

“Hey, Y/N, can we talk?” Fangs asked, his voice soft.

You rolled over, surprised by his gentle tone.  Normally, Fangs was the one who kept everything light, the one who made everything feel better.  At that moment, though, you weren’t so sure. “What’s up?”

He sat down at the foot of the bed and ran his hand through his messy hair. “We know it’s Sweet Pea.”

Your heart dropped, and you felt your eyes start to water.  Your voice barely came out above a whisper. “Does he know?”

“No, of course not,” Fangs said, shaking his head.  He crawled up the bed to sit next to you, wrapping his arm around you to let you rest your head on his shoulder.  If Sweet Pea had been your oldest friend, Fangs was a close second. “I would never tell him.”

“Thank you,” you murmured, breathing in his familiar scent. “What am I going to do, Fangs?”

“What can you do?  You have to tell him.”

“Of course I’ll tell him—what kind of person would I be to keep that a secret?”

“I know, I know,” Fangs soothed, running his hand gently through your hair. “He’s not going to freak out, Y/N.  I mean, the guy’s in love with you.”

You shot upwards. “How do you know that?”

He quirked an eyebrow. “Did you really think my two best friends could date without me knowing?  Let’s be real, Y/N.  I knew. I think we all knew—except maybe Jughead, dude’s a little oblivious when it comes to anything but Betty.”

Your lips curved into a smirk. “But you didn’t know who the sweatshirt belonged to?”

He groaned. “I’m an absolute moron, I know.  We all have our moments.”

You rolled your eyes and pulled him in close for a hug. “Thanks, Fangs. This means a lot to me.”

“Good.  And remember, he may be my best friend, but I will kick the shit out of him if he hurts you.” He smirked. “And my offer of marriage still stands.”

You laughed harder, resting your head on his shoulder. “Fangs, I would not mind being married to you at all, but I think I need to work out my shit with Pea first.”

“Oh yeah, for sure.” He smiled, that charming, comforting grin. “Good luck, Y/N.”

“Thanks, Fangs.”

~

The next time there was a knock on the door, you were ready.  You had washed your face, pulled your hair into a bun, and did everything you could to clear your head.  Of course, that was impossible, but you did your best.  When you heard the knock, your nerves skyrocketed. It’s only Sweet Pea, you said to yourself. It’s only Sweet Pea.

“Come in.”

Sweet Pea walked in—he was still in his fitted black button-down and slacks from work.  He managed an impressively popular bar, and it was quickly turning into the place to be in Manhattan.  It was a wonder he was off work this early at all, but you weren’t about to question it.

“Y/N, what’s going on?” he asked, sitting down at the foot of the bed. “Is everything okay?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted, barely able to look at him.  You could swear you felt the beginnings of a little life in your stomach, and it only made you more nauseous. “I just don’t know.”

He sensed the depth of your stress immediately and scooted closer, taking you in his arms. “You can talk to me, Y/N.  What is it?”

“I’m pregnant, Pea,” you said, your eyes heavy with tears. “And it’s yours.”

His eyes widened, and you could feel his heart starting to race. “Wait, what? What about—Toni—and—” he stuttered. “I—um—how—we used a condom.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle slightly. “Pea, they’re only like 97% effective.”

He stood up in rush.  “What? Why the hell don’t they say that on the box?”

“They do,” you commented.  Somehow, his misplaced panic had the effect of calming you down. “Like, on the front in big letters.”

He threw his hands in the air and turned back to face you. “So.” His voice had dropped back down to an almost inaudible level. “We’re going to be parents.”

You nodded as he dropped to his knees in front of you, putting you closer to eye level. “Y/N, I love you more than anyone I’ve ever loved before.  This may be absolutely insane, and you may not even want this, but I want to be here for you.  Not just the baby—you.  If you’ll have me, I’ll stick with you through whatever comes.”

“Pea.” You cupped his cheeks and pulled him to his feet with you. “This is a huge commitment—a baby’s for life, and I’m stuck with it, but you don’t have to be”

“Y/N, I’m not sure you’re getting this.  My love for you is for life.  I don’t give a damn how scared we were, how much shit our friends will give us.  I love you, Y/N, and I want to be with you for the rest of my life.”  His deep brown eyes seemed to be looking straight through you, through every wall you had ever built to keep him out.

“I love you too, Sweet Pea.” Slowly, you stood up on your tiptoes and pressed your lips into his.  He was hesitant at first, holding back, so you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling yourself closer.  Then, he let loose completely, tangling his hands into your hair and holding you as close as he could.  His lips parted yours, and he kissed you deeply, longingly, like he’d wanted to do nothing more since the day you broke his heart.  

“We’re going to get through this, Y/N,” he said breathlessly. “I promise. From now until the day I die, I will be here for you and this baby.”

Your smile felt like it would be permanently stuck on your face. “There’s nothing I’d like more.”

~ 

Thanks so much for reading!!  Let me know what you think, and check out my other stuff if you enjoyed it.  You can read Part Three here!

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