#i should give benny one the next time i draw him actually

[automatonknight]

id: a digital drawing of will nutter and tanner texas from lisa: the hopeful. will is on the left, doing his signature pose. he's crouching with one leg out-stretched, one hand is on his hip and the other is pointing forward. he's grinning. tanner stands on the right. one of his arms is hanging at his side, while he's pulling at his belt with the other. the background is an off-white. end id

[m-o-o-n-thatspellsblog]

The Drawing of the Fool- Part 1/2

Summary: Years after renouncing the Dark Tower, the ka-tet of the 19, now living as a true family, comes across another door. Fearing a resurgence of Tower business, the group grows apprehensive. Roland Deschain, their Dinh--their father--grows excited. It seems renouncing the Tower in favor of love is not without reward, after all.

Word Count: 13,255

Relationships: Roland/Cuthbert, Eddie/Susannah, Jake/Benny

AO3 LINK

She found him sitting in the grass in front of a thin stream, staring straight ahead. Eddie lay asleep, not far behind, in the place in which they had set up camp.

"Trouble sleeping, Suze?" Roland asked with a weary smile on his face. Although he looked right at her, his eyes seemed to be in another world entirely. This far away look, along with some other concerning signs, was precisely why she followed him.

"Not me. I've been sleeping just fine ever since I picked up that new bedroll in Calla Amity". And what a fine bedroll it is, she thought. They’d done good work for the Callas and the folken had been grateful.  "Actually, I wanted to check on you, sugar,” she said, placing her hand lightly on Roland’s shoulder and settling in beside him. “It seems to me something's been troubling your mind."

It seemed Roland hadn't heard her approach until the moment just before she crawled up next to him. Susannah was glad. During the years since renouncing the Tower, Roland's walls have come down, one brick at a time. That is, when he's with his family. When called upon to be a gunslinger, those killer instincts returned with frightening speed. These last few years have been spent freestyle gunslinging, as Eddie calls it. There hadn't been anything major since their Tower days, but they still lent their talents to the occasional town when requested to do so. After all, that's what they had all been made for and it was hard to give up. But, between the five of them, three now that Jake and Oy are visiting Calla Bryn Sturgis, Roland has become much more relaxed and Susannah could think of no one who was more deserving of a little peace.

Roland nodded noncommittally, still looking straight past the landscape. "Mayhap you're right about that."

"Is it Jake? Are you worried he'll want to stay in the Calla?" Jake was due to arrive back any day now. He’d promised not to make them wait too long, although he’d now been gone for quite a while. He’d gone there with a purpose, to see a certain boy and tell him something he hadn’t gotten a chance to back when they had first stayed in (and saved, say thankya) the Calla, years ago. With him being gone this long, his confession must have been well received. There was no doubt that he would come back to them, but Susannah thought he’d be returning with news. This was something she and Eddie had discussed in depth. Both she and Eddie agreed that if the Slightman boy reciprocated Jake’s feelings, Jake would likely wish to return to the Calla, permanently this time.

"No, that doesn't worry me in the slightest. That is what I hope for him. He loves the Slightman boy, and I want him to settle down if that is what he desires. He has missed so much of his youth and for that, I am responsible." Roland looked down and sighed deeply. When he spoke again, it was with a wistful tone. "When I was young, I dreamed of eventually giving up the guns forever, trading them for a quiet, comfortable life with a loving partner. Before that could happen, the Tower invaded my mind and forever changed the course of my life. Jake has a chance at the life I gave up, and I wish it for him very much." 

"I bet all of this stuff with Jake has gotten you thinking of Susan, huh?" That explained the sad, distant Roland that had come with Jake's absence. Jake went to be with his love, so naturally Roland longed for his lost love.

A pause. And then softly, "No, not Susan. Perhaps it should be Susan that comes to mind, but it's not. When I think about who I'd do anything to have back, who I'd like to spend my life with, I think of someone else entirely."

"Oh?" Susannah responded. This admission had taken her by surprise. She cast her mind back trying to think of another woman of significance in Roland's life. Over these last few years, she and the others become quite familiar with his long history. "Aileen, then?"

"Not Aileen. Although my love for each of those women was true, it is another who has captivated my mind and has been causing me such frustration. And why should I be surprised when this person was a dab-hand with frustrating me?" A cheeky, almost sarcastic smile appeared on his face as he said this last. A smile that Susannah recognized as it seemed to appear whenever he talked about--

And then it dawned on her. Suddenly it made perfect sense as to why Jake's love of Benny had brought this on.

Susannah was careful not to let her realization show on her face. If she was right, she wanted Roland to discuss this at his own pace. Feelings had always been a tough subject for him to speak of and she had no desire to discourage him from doing so.

They spoke for a long time, into the early hours of the morning. Roland had opened up in a way that made Susannah proud of him. That didn’t make it easy to hear, however. It seemed every thing she learned about Roland made his backstory just a little more heartbreaking. So much was wasted on the way to the Tower. 

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

“Susannah, do you see something?” Roland asked, pointing toward the horizon with one hand and placing the other on her shoulder. 

They had been drifting between the Callas, biding time. A few weeks had passed since his and Susannah’s conversation near the stream and Jake had recently returned to them. He came with the news that they all had simultaneously feared and hoped: He was going to be returning to the Calla to live with Benny, who was now officially his partner. But first, he had decided to spend time with his family, not ready to say goodbye just yet. He was content to travel and camp with them until they decided to move on, away from the Callas.

They were going nowhere in particular, simply enjoying their time together.

Susannah stepped up, looking toward the horizon in the direction Roland had pointed. “Hmm I might see something, but I’ll be damned if I can tell just what it is.” 

Five minutes later, Eddie spoke up. “Oh now I see something.” He’d been the last of them to notice it, Jake having spotted it just after Susannah. Susannah kept her eyes fixed upon the speck in the distance, waiting for it to take the shape her heart told her it would. 

Roland had already known what Susannah only suspected. It was a door. And in their road.

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

By the time they decided to camp for the night, they had all seen the object on the horizon for what it was- a door. After they ate their dinner by the fire (gunslinger burritos à la Roland) they knew it was time to talk. Neither Eddie, Susannah, or Jake knew how to start. Acknowledging the door would inevitably lead to discussion of whether or not they should approach it. This was something they were apprehensive about. All of the previous doors they had come across were part of what Eddie had dubbed their ‘Tower phase’. Certainly all of that was behind them, wasn’t it?

“I’m sure you all recognize the object which lies ahead of us.” Roland spoke. It was not a question, but they all nodded in confirmation.

“I recognize it, but I don’t understand it,” Jake said. “It’s a door.”

“Door! Ake!” Oy chimed in. Jake reached over and scratched behind his little friend’s ears. Oy didn’t speak much these days; He was getting up in his years for a billy-bumbler. 

“Roland, why, after all these years, is there a door? Is it for us, do you think? Or maybe it’s just always been there. Not related to us at all,” Eddie seized this idea with hope. “Do you think that's possible?” 

“I cannot say,” Roland responded.

“Oh, it has something to do with us for sure. I don’t know how I know that, but I do. Don’t you guys?” Jake asked. They all nodded. He was right of course, they all felt it.

“We must now decide, as ka-tet, whether to approach the door or turn away from it. By my estimate, if we continue on as we have, we will reach it overmorrow” Roland stated, knowing that no matter what the others decided, he was going to get to that door. He’d been having vivid dreams over the last few nights. Dreams in which he’d been living as someone else. It seemed to him that he’d been sharing khef with someone across worlds, someone he thought he might recognize. These dreams, paired with the appearance of a door, implied something he couldn’t possibly ignore.

“What if we open it and get sucked back into the quest for the Tower? Do we really want to run that risk?” Eddie asked.

“We have free will, Eddie. We cannot be pulled into Tower business unwillingly. Any door that opens can also be shut. If it’s Tower business, we will leave it.” Eddie nodded but was privately doubtful. He wasn't sure he was confident in Roland’s ability to resist the Tower if something truly tempting presented itself. He had been the original Tower junkie, after all. 

There was some discussion after that, but not much. Tower business or not, they were all too curious about the door to ignore it.

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

As the door drew nearer, Roland’s pace increased. As reluctant as the rest of them were, Roland appeared to be anxious to reach it. They had to fight to keep up with him, until suddenly, when the door was only about 100 feet away, Roland came to an abrupt stop.

“What’s wrong, Da’?” Jake asked, disconcerted by Roland’s strange behavior. Addressing him with any form of the word ‘father’ usually brought a faint smile to his face, but he appeared not to notice this time.

“Nothing. I’ve just come over a little dizzy. I’m getting too old to be moving so fast for so long. You three keep going.” Truthfully, he needed an extra moment to prepare himself for what they were about to find. If his suspicions were correct, everything was going to change. If he was wrong, it would be a disappointment for which he would need to be prepared. Even though he had tried not to let his hopes rise, keeping them locked away in the deep depths of his mind, he nevertheless knew that the disappointment would hit him hard. The others walked on and reached the door while Roland watched nervously.

"Uh-oh Roland” Eddie called with amusement. “Looks like this one's for me. It says ‘The Fool’."

Roland looked up sharply and fixed his eyes on Eddie's. Eddie didn't care much for the frenzied look in Roland's eyes, it reminded him too much of their Tower phase. "Read it again for your father's sake!" Roland shouted.

"It says ‘The Fool’, although I don't see--" Before he could finish, Roland darted for the door, moving with an eerie quickness that also didn't sit well with Eddie. He started to say so, but before he could, he was hit with a sudden intuition. The Western Sea was on the other side of that door. If Roland went through it, he'd be back at the beginning of his quest for the Tower. 

"No, Roland, Stop! Jake, Susannah don't let him get through!" Eddie screamed, but it was a wasted effort. Roland had been determined to get through that door, and when Roland of Gilead set his mind on something, nothing could stop him. Eddie grabbed him tightly and was rewarded with an elbow to the face. He felt Roland slip through his fingers. Roland yanked the door open and launched himself through. Eddie had time enough to catch a brief glimpse of what lay on the other side, confirming his intuition, and then the door slammed shut. Not good.

"No!" Eddie yelled, pulling desperately on the doorknob. It wouldn't open, the door had locked behind Roland. Another bad sign in Eddie's view. He started banging as hard as he could, actually attempting to break it down. "Guys, come on," he shouted at the others, "We need to go after him! We have to find a way! This door opens to the Western Sea! He's doomed to repeat it all!"

Jake moved to help Eddie, but Susannah stayed him with a firm hand on his shoulder. "Eddie stop."

Eddie appeared not to hear and went on ramming his shoulder into the door, all the while shouting Roland's name. Blood was running down his face, from where his nose had caught Roland's elbow. Susannah moved closer, and waved Jake over to help her.

“The door is locked!” Eddie yelled. “Roland always said not to let these damn magic doors close, because once closed they might not open again. And now it's locked and he’s gone! We can’t leave him there. There has to be something we can do. If we could just FIGURE! IT! OUT!,” the last three words were each punctuated with a hard slam of his fists on the door.

“Eddie please--” 

Eddie suddenly whipped his head around and looked into Susannah’s eyes. “You don’t get it! You don’t understand!” He was getting ready to yell some more, but Susannah cut him off.

“No,” She yelled, “I don’t understand! But neither do you, Eddie. Never think it! This business--ka’s business--has been and always will be over our heads!”

“Why are you being so calm about this? Why aren’t you helping me? Do you know something, Susannah, is that it?” She didn’t like the fierce accusation in his eyes, but it was deserved wasn’t it? After all, she did have an idea as to what, or rather who, the door led to, vague as it was. After the discussion she’d had with Roland near the stream a few weeks back, the appearance of another magic door was too coincidental to be, well, to be a coincidence. It had been years since they last came across a door, and they all thought they had seen their last. But even so, she could be wrong. She thought it best to withhold her hunch. 

Eddie continued: “If you know anything about what is going on you need to tell me! And Jake! Now!” He distractedly swiped some of the blood off of his face and then turned toward the door once again, raising his fists.

“The only thing I know is that your outburst isn’t helping anything!” Susannah leaned over and finally grasped Eddie’s hands as he was getting ready to bang on the door again. This was a rather difficult maneuver with the bulk of her wheelchair between them, a rather archaic creation that they had picked up from one town or another. Luckily, Eddie had been distracted enough for it to work. With a little help from Jake, she managed to pull Eddie into her lap. She wrapped her arms around him and held him securely. 

He half-heartedly wriggled around, trying to break free, but gave up quickly. He didn’t wish to hurt Susannah, and his anger was starting to fizzle out anyway. Now, he just wanted to understand the situation. “Suze,” He said apprehensively, “do you know something?”

“I know two things. The first is that the door is locked. All the banging and shouting in the world isn’t going to help anyone. The second is that the door is still here.”

“I don't understand what you're getting at,” Eddie said quietly, but Susannah knew that he did understand, he was just being stubborn. Perhaps he sensed that she was not telling all she knew. Regardless, Susannah’s embrace had calmed him, and she felt that the worst of his panic had passed. She loosened her grip on him and started rubbing his arms, from shoulder to elbow.

Eddie wiped his hand across his face again and finally seemed to notice the blood there. Jake handed Eddie a piece of cloth that Roland had saved from some old garment. Perpetually thrifty was he. Eddie pressed it to his nose.

“The door’s still here," Susannah said, "Meaning its magic has not been used up. And genuine, magic doors- not the cheap copies produced by North Central Positronics- open both ways. This one’s the real deal. Roland may still be able to come back through.”

“Is that our best bet, then? That he might be able to come back through?” Eddie responded, his voice muffled. When no one answered, he signed resignedly, “I guess it is, huh? What do you think, Jake, old pal? Anything to add to this discussion? You’ve been awfully quiet.”

Jake thought for a moment and then spoke: “On the way to the door, I tried to reach Roland, you know, with the touch. I wanted to know what he thought about the door.” Jake was embarrassed admitting that he intentionally read Roland’s mind. He didn’t normally like to use the touch that way. It felt wrong. “All I got from him was a sense of hope. I couldn’t see what he was hoping for because he was blocking it, maybe even from himself. Whatever is behind that door, all I know is that Roland thought it would be something good. And I trust him.”

They were all quiet for a moment, contemplating this information. Then, Eddie spoke up again: “That’s it, isn’t it? You know what he was hoping for.” Susannah was relieved not to hear any more anger in Eddie's voice, only dispirited acceptance. 

“I might have an idea,” Susannah replied, “But, I’d just as soon not say. For one thing, I could be wrong. And for another, if I am right, this is something that is very personal to Roland and he should get to choose when to share it. And he will, when he comes back.”

“How can you be sure he will?” Eddie said. “Come back, that is.”

“I guess I’m not.”

“So, what’s our plan? What do we do?”

“The only thing we can do. Wait.” Jake said solemnly. The possibility of Roland, his true father, being lost forever was unacceptable to him. He would come back. Of course he would. He wouldn’t leave them, Roland wouldn’t leave him.

Eddie looked at Susannah, who nodded in return. “Alright, yeah, I guess we wait,” Eddie said. “But for how long?”

“As long as we can. But you better get up off of me if we’re going to be waitin’ around a while. You’re starting to crush me, love.”

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

Roland slowly came to a state of confused consciousness. He was at the Way Station and the boy was pouring water over his face. Waking him. He felt the water run down the sides of his cheeks and felt a deep, aching sense of regret. He'd have to go through it all over again. The Way Station, Walter O’Dim, the lobstrosities, even Blaine the Mono. Gods help him, he was back at the beginning of a book he believed he’d finished and cast away forever.

But when he opened his eyes, he saw he was wrong. This was not the Way Station after all. No, this was the Western Sea. And the person attempting (desperately, as it appears) to wake him with water, was much bigger than Jake had been.

The confusion started to dissipate as his memory of springing through the door came back to him. Before he had time to fully process this, a face swam into view and blotted out all coherent thought.

"Roland?" Cautious. Confused. Hopeful.

"Cuthbert!" Even with the battered eye patch and the road map of years upon his face, it would've been impossible for Roland to mistake him. This was who he’d hoped to see, why he moved so quickly when Eddie read aloud the words writ upon the door. And could he have been privately hoping, in the underlayers of his mind, to come across a door that would lead him to Cuthbert even before that? Aye, it may be so.

They leapt towards each other and embraced tightly. Each man grasping desperately at the other as though he might disappear at any second. Before long, there were tears running down both of their faces. They sat like that, almost fused together, for several moments. They didn't speak during this time; they only held each other. Once it seemed he decided that Roland wasn't going to dematerialize any time soon, Cuthbert spoke.

"Gods, how cheered I am at the sight of you! Yet more than a little baffled. In truth, I fear I may have gone delirious. How could this be? You-- Roland, you died."

"I know not of this, but I believe I can explain much. We shall palaver and I would hear of your journey. Perhaps we can trade stories."

"You wouldn't believe it. I've come very far. I'm close to reaching it. Much closer than I ever would have expected, even in my most far-fetched dreams. I saw it. I saw the Tower! In a vision. I didn't understand it all, but with you here..." He paused in thought. "Yes, with you here, We can reach it. I know we can." Roland recognized the frantic compulsion in his old friend's voice, he knew it all too well. 

"We could, but we mustn't."

"What? But Roland, something is wrong there. And getting worse. You know it better than I do. We must persist. Not for our own sake-- our world has moved on-- but for worlds that have not yet been lost." His uncovered eye took on a conspiring look and he dropped his voice to a whisper, despite the endless emptiness of the beach. "I've come to suspect that all of existence may balance in its axles."

"Yes, we've much to discuss. Delah. But first, how long have you been here? For, there are creatures on this beach--"

"Oh I've been here long enough to grow quite friendly with those fuckers. Friendly enough that I let one borrow 2 of my fingers," he said sardonically, raising his right hand. "Although, I'm starting to think it won't return them."

Roland looked at Cuthbert's raised hand and something clicked in his mind. It could be that it won't be necessary for Cuthbert to share all of his story. "Bert, did you come here from yon cavern?" Roland asked, pointing toward a foggy mountain on the horizon.

Cuthbert looked a little surprised but nodded his head. 

"Were you traveling alone when you reached the cavern?"

Cuthbert cast his gaze downward and was uncharacteristically quiet for a moment. "No, not alone," he said with a shaky voice, and would say no more. This, said with a tone of deep sorrow and shame, was all Roland needed to confirm his suspicions. Enough to take a chance with his next words, anyway.

"The boy, Jake- He said something to you just before you let him fall. Something important."

"The boy... How could you-- Roland, how could you possibly know about that?" Even after all these years apart, the look of such utter despair still looked out of place on his friend's face.

"Because what he said was true. There are other worlds than these. I've just come from one, through that door. I've seen a few and if I were to leave you, I suspect you would see just as much. But it would come to you at a great cost."

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

Roland started walking and gestured for Cuthbert to follow. They walked in the opposite direction of the shore, away from where the lobstrosities would cluck their perpetual questions once darkness fell. After a moment, Roland spoke. 

"I know your story because I have lived it. I am from a world in which you died at Jericho Hill and I went on in search of the Tower. We must compare stories, although I suspect we'll find our experiences to be much the same.”

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

They start with the Battle of Jericho Hill, each recounting their version of events. They find the circumstances leading up to each of their deaths to be the same- Alain Johns dying by their own guns the night before, Jamie De Curry being shot down by a sniper, the overwhelming ambush. Roland tells of Cuthbert’s death. He speaks of calling for the gunslingers and Cuthbert responding that they two were the last. Despite knowing this, neither chose to cry off. Bravely, they went head-on into the battle, fighting as though they had a chance. Cuthbert had been shot through the eye with an arrow, but fought on with his wounds for as long as he could. Roland made sure to include that when Cuthbert finally went down, he went laughing until the very end. 

Roland had made it out by pretending to be dead, knowing that, above all else, he must find the Dark Tower.

Although Cuthbert remembers being shot through the eye- and presently bears the loss of said eye- he survived in his version. After being shot, he heard Roland start to yell, undoubtedly about to call for the gunslingers, but his call was cut short. Roland had been shot. Cuthbert watched in horror as Roland, appearing to be missing the top half of his head, turned in the direction the shot came from, and struggled to stay upright and moving. He went on for two more steps before being shot thrice more, knocking him to the ground and splattering the grass with blood and a gray substance that had to be the that which makes up the brain. Still, he lifted his gun, earning another shot, this time marking the permanent end of Cuthbert’s best friend’s life. 

Cuthbert made sure to include that when Roland went down, he went fighting until the very end, had in fact died with his finger pulling the trigger, firing off a final fatal shot at the enemy.

With Roland’s death, Cuthbert had been suddenly struck with the inarguable knowledge that he must make it out of this battle alive, for the fate of the world may depend on it. With Roland gone, he must take over the quest for the Dark Tower. He escapes by pretending to be dead, as Roland had done.

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

"Many things occurred after that. However, the real journey started in the desert. With the pursuit of the man in black." Cuthbert nodded and Roland went on. "Did you visit a town called Tull?"

"Ah yes. Visit, slaughter, what's the difference? I'm familiar."

“The man in black left a trap there,” Roland said.

“He certainly did. Brought the weed-eater back to life and set a trap. A man of many talents, though I must say, I am not fond of his work.”

“He impregnated the religious leader,” Roland stated bluntly. “I assume we both took action.”

Took action, Cuthbert thought, that’s one way to put it. Abortion is another. “Yes. I had to. I’m not proud of it,” Cuthbert said defensively. How often had his morals been corrupted in search of Tower? Enough to damn his soul, he surmised.

Roland, as always, had no use for shame over actions which cannot be reversed. Especially when the action in question truly was necessary. A forward thinker was he. “I understand. For she was the trap. She turned the town against you, did she not?”

“Yes, you say true.” Still, the shame did not leave him. 

There was a moment of silence as they each reflected on their experience. Then, a question occurred to Roland. "There, did you also meet a woman named Allie?" Roland asked with genuine curiosity, wondering just how similar their stories may be. Certainly not every detail could be the same, right? They were, ultimately, two very different people.

"Allie…” Cuthbert repeated, trying to place her. It didn’t take long, for he had always been good with names. “She with the scar. She was the proprietor of the saloon, was she not?"

"Yes," And then hesitantly, almost embarrassed, "You didn't, uh, you didn't... spend a night or two with her, did you?"

"Oh, uh, no, not me. I presume you did?" And why should he feel resentful that Roland had evidently slept with this woman? Roland had been solitary for years; it was natural for him to seek partnership, however brief it may be. Gods knew Cuthbert had done the same from time to time. And, of course, he had no right to feel anything about Roland’s romantic pursuits.

Roland nodded. "In any case, I'm certain this part of our intertwined history ends the same. The entire town...?"

"Dead. All dead," Cuthbert agreed.

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

"After Tull, did you make acquaintance with a dweller who had a bird?"

"Brown, you mean. And his raven, Zoltan. 'Beans beans the musical fruit, the more you eat, the more you toot'," Cuthbert sing-songed in a raspy voice that was actually a decent impression of the bird in question. "Yes, I met them. Charming bird." 

Cuthbert didn't need to ask Roland if he'd had the same experience with Brown as he had. He knew the answer. They had both met Brown and told him of Tull. After that, Cuthbert knew, his story temporarily branched off from Roland's. It seems Roland had Allie and Cuthbert had Brown. Although Roland had been curious enough to ask about Allie, Cuthbert knew better. For all he knew, the shock of Cuthbert having... relations with another man could send Roland straight into a coma. He had always carefully hidden this part of himself and saw no reason to stop now. This aspect of his identity was between him and the occasional man with whom he'd pass the night. Only one other person had ever known and it was not Roland. 

What mattered was that the major details were the same. They stopped, they talked, they ate. Each had passingly wondered if Brown would kill them. And then, as was their way, they moved on.

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

At some point during their exchange of stories, Roland suddenly interrupted Cuthbert as something critical occurred to him.

“Wait!” Roland said, digging through the purse that he had on him when he went through the door. The rest of his gunna was on the other side so he could only hope that he had what he was looking for. It probably wouldn’t make much of a difference if he had to wait but Roland would rather not risk it. The medicines of his family’s world were still a mystery to him. His hand hit the object he sought after, and he pulled it out feeling immensely relieved. Plenty left. “Let me see your hand.”

Cuthbert held out his hand and Roland turned it over, getting a good look at the veins in Cuthbert’s wrist. Infected, just as he had been. “Here,” Roland said, holding out the package he had taken from his purse. 

Cuthbert took it, flipped it over, and then looked back at Roland uncomprehendingly. “Ah, many thanks, Roland. Now, do you care to tell me exactly what this is?”

“Cheflet. It’s medicine. Good medicine. You’re infected from the lobstrosity’s bite, as I’m sure you’re already aware,” Roland said, knowing that the infection was going to get a lot worse without treatment. He hoped to save Cuthbert from the near-madness that he experienced. “It comes from New York,” Roland added with a hint of pride. Cuthbert had no idea what New York was, but Roland sure seemed to believe strongly in their alchemy.

“Alright,” Cuthbert said, “but if this kills me I’d like the recording angels to note that you gave me the medicine and are thereby responsible for my death.”

“I would not risk your life,” Roland said seriously. “I’ve just gotten you back. I lament the years we’ve spent asunder. I’d not lose you again so soon. Never, if I can help it.”

Cuthbert was dumbstruck. Had Roland ever said anything like that to him before? Perhaps he had, but Cuthbert could not recall. They had a lot on their plates when they last knew each other. The circumstances at the time did not allow for many heartfelt moments. And Roland had never exactly been open-hearted. He felt his heart rise with Roland’s words and internally rolled his eyes at himself. Now was not the time for a recurrence of such foolish, juvenile feelings. He took the peculiar medicine as Roland had directed.

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

Cuthbert continued to describe his journey. When he got around to his palaver with the man in black, Roland listened closely. It seemed their experiences with the man had been quite different.  

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

The first card was turned.

“The Fool,” the man in black tittered. “It signifies adventure, optimism, and beginnings. You, gunslinger, are The Fool, a rather fitting title for you I must say, and you will soon be given the chance to start anew. You must decide for yourself whether you are worthy. You have already dropped one co-traveler into the pit, have you not?”

He turned the second card. “The Hanged Man. In conjunction with The Fool, this signifies a fork in the road, a divergence of paths. You’ll be faced with the decision to continue on as you have been, or go down a different path. The Hanged Man shows a change of perspective after facing hardship and acquiring new knowledge. He has been set free. Your paths may converge.” 

These two cards were followed by The Sailor, The Prisoner, The Lady of the Shadows, The Tower, and finally, Life. When Cuthbert asked for the meanings of these cards, the man in black gave no answer. 

After sending Cuthbert a vision of the universe, there was time for a short palaver. The man in black told him that he must go to the sea, which lay no more than twenty miles to the west, and there he would be granted renewal.

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

When Cuthbert finished recounting this part of his tale, Roland took a moment to mull over the differences. 

Their stories thus far have been much the same. They followed the same exact sequence of events. Of course, because they were two different people, some small differences were to be expected. However, from the end of Jericho until now, there were no major differences. And the palaver with Walter O’ Dim was a key part of their story. If Cuthbert was to go on as Roland had, why would their talk be so different? There was no talk of renewal with Roland. And had Walter not mentioned the power of drawing to Cuthbert at all?

As intriguing as it was, Roland dropped this train of thought for now. He wanted to finish this talk and get back to the other side of the door (with Cuthbert in tow) as quickly as possible. 

Cuthbert carried on, taking it all the way through to coming across a door marked ‘The Hanged Man’. Roland’s side was of course marked ‘The Fool’ and Cuthbert was amused to learn that Roland had immediately known who that had meant.

He inquired about what came next in Roland's story, for it was clear it went beyond his current situation on this seemingly endless beach.

"In order to hear of what comes next, Bert, you must come through the door with me. For I cannot tell this on my own."

"But the Tower... Roland I can't just leave now, not without knowing why." He had been through too much, had given up too much of himself, to turn away now. How could Roland not understand this when he had been through it himself?

"Trust in me, Bert. I have been where you are; I have felt what you feel. We will go through this door and you will hear every word of my journey. Should you decide to go on in search of the Tower thereafter, I would not stop you. You'll find that this door will bring you much closer to reaching your goal." 

"Will I be able to come back through?"

"That I cannot say. Not for certain." 

Cannot say is not quite the same as do not know, Cuthbert thought. "My progress will not be lost?"

"Beyond this door lie the Borderlands which mark the beginning of End-World, the land in which the Dark Tower resides. By going through this door, you would skip over a great distance, bringing you to the final stretch of what would be your Tower journey. Should you choose to continue, of course." Roland was being as truthful as he felt could be. He knew that after hearing their full story, Cuthbert would come to understand, but first, Roland had to get him through the damn door.

A moment passed, and then hesitantly Cuthbert responded, "Okay." 

"Okay?" Roland asked, wanting Cuthbert to be sure, but needing him to come through either way.

"Okay", he repeated, firmly this time. "Let's go before I realize how absolutely mad this is and change my mind."

"Ah, but are you not accustomed to madness?" Roland said, with a slight glint in his eye.

Cuthbert smirked, "I suppose I am, at that." He turned to look Roland fully in the face, steeling himself. "Go ahead then, brief me. What must I know before passing through?" He asked, flapping his hand vaguely toward the door.

"Three people and one billy bumbler wait for my return on the other side, for they would not have given up on me yet." Roland said this with a smile, knowing it would take a lot longer than a few hours for them to give up on him. "They are my family."

Family? Cuthbert thought. His brow furrowed but he said nothing in response.

Roland nodded as if Cuthbert had voiced his confusion out loud. "Aye, so they are. You will meet them."

They moved toward the door and Roland grasped Cuthbert's wrist, earning another questioning glance from his friend. "These doors can be unpredictable. It's best to maintain contact to ensure we arrive at the same destination."

Cuthbert, never one to let a prime opportunity get past him, turned his wrist so that he could properly grab Roland’s hand. “If there’s a chance one of us could get lost,” he said, I’d not risk it”. Each relishing the other's contact more than they would care to admit, they stepped through.

From the other side, the ka-tet--the family--watched as Roland stumbled back through, clinging to a weather-beaten man with an ancient eyepatch. This man appeared to be laughing wildly, and despite never having seen this man, each thought he seemed familiar.  

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

After a brief, but powerful, dizzy spell, Cuthbert could indeed make out a small group of people. His laugh tapered off. They seemed to be standing ready, guns drawn and prepared to fight if necessary. Roland saw this and raised his hands, a gesture of safety, and they put their weapons away. Cuthbert scanned the group, his glance momentarily coming to rest on the billy-bumbler, but just behind the animal-- 

"Jake!" Cuthbert exclaimed, staggering over to the boy, still a little dizzy. He ran over to Jake, who was more than a little confused but did not appear to be alarmed. Good for Cuthbert, because if Jake thought he detected any danger from the man ambling toward him, his trip to another world may have ended right there. Cuthbert briefly hugged the boy, and then pulled away to get a good look at him. "Look at you! Gods, you're nearly a man! Last I saw you, you were about 9 years old. Not to mention falling to your death." 

Jake winced and shot a confused look towards Roland. Roland did not acknowledge the look and instead responded to the man with whom he had returned. Jake thought he had a pretty good idea as to whom this may be, despite not understanding the situation unfolding before him.

"He wasn't 9, although I thought the same back then. He was actually 11 at the time, and currently 17." There was a faint, but unmistakable tone of pride in his voice.

"Wow," Cuthbert said, still openly staring at the boy in disbelief. "Jake, you don't know me, but I am so glad to see you."

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

"Come, sit," Roland said, gesturing for his family to gather around him and the familiar newcomer. Roland's face, normally an emotionless mask, sparked with frantic excitement. And for good reason. If this was the person they all suspected it may be, Roland's exhilaration was well justified. "We must speak an-tet, as we've done before, for the wheel of ka always comes back around, as you all know." None missed how the man next to Roland gave an eye roll at this.

They gathered close and sat in a circle, so all may speak face to face. 

"Alright, alright. Come on now, the suspense is killing me. Who's this guy? How does he know Jake? And what the Hell happened on the other side of that door?" Eddie said, with exaggerated impatience. This brought a smile to Roland's face, because for once, the man Eddie's dramatics always brought to his mind was sitting right next to him. Somehow alive and back in his life.

Cuthbert looked to Roland for direction, who gave him an open wave, palm to the sky, telling Cuthbert to go ahead. Only, go ahead with what? He mentally ran through the young man's questions again and realized he would of course need to start by introducing himself. He took a second to collect his thoughts and then addressed the group of strangers.

"Hile gunslingers. I come to you as Cuthbert Allgood of Gilead. Son of Robert. Ancient friend of Roland Deschain from days agone. As for your other questions, I will address them in time, but may I know all of you first?"

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

They went around their circle, making their introductions, beginning with Jake with whom Cuthbert was already familiar. “Jake Deschain of New York, son of Roland,” he said. Cuthbert looked momentarily surprised at this, though he stayed silent. “Former son of Elmer Chambers. Unfortunately.” He lightly tapped the billy-bumbler who was now sitting right against his leg. “Introduce yourself, Oy.”

“Oy! Eld!” the bumbler said.

Cuthbert watched astonished as the animal stood up and gave a bow. He turned to face Roland with a look of disbelief. “A billy-bumbler that still speaks?”

“Not just speaks, but communicates,” Roland responded with obvious pride. “Continue your introductions,” he said, turning back to the group. Eddie was surprised he hadn’t yet broken out the old twirling gesture.

“Susannah Dean of New York. Wife of Eddie Dean. Daughter of Dan, and now, Roland. I love my birth father with all of my heart, but he has gone to the clearing, as they say. I am proud to embrace Roland as my adoptive father.” Roland could not help the smile which lit his face as she said this. It never failed to touch his heart when they regarded him in such a way.

“I’m Eddie Dean of New York. Doting husband of this beauteous lady right here,” he said with a big smile, wrapping his arm around Susannah. “And, well, I guess Roland is the only father I've really ever known. I wouldn’t know my birth father if I passed him on the street. Although, I guess that isn’t very likely. I mean, can you imagine--”

“Ki-yet!” Oy barked cheerily. They couldn’t help laughing at this. It seemed the arrival of a new person had enlivened him.

Once the laughs started to die down, Eddie said: “Damn. Well, I guess it’s a pretty obvious sign that you’re running your mouth when even the goddamn dog tells you to shut up.”

“Aye, it would seem so,” Cuthbert spoke with a bemused smile and the hint of a laugh still in his voice. “In any case, we are all well-met. Very well-met”

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

“I suspect I will not have to tell you much of my history, for I believe you are all familiar with most of it,” Cuthbert said, raising an eyebrow at Roland who nodded in response. “I’ll share what I must, and you all may ask questions as you see fit.

In my world, Roland died at Jericho Hill and I went on in search of the Tower. I’d not go into details for what came between, for it’s not important and you would likely know a goodish portion of it. I’ll start with the true beginning of my quest for the Tower. Following the man in black across the desert.”

He then recounted for them his tale of tracking and catching up to the man in black. It didn’t take long for each to understand that he essentially lived the same life as Roland. Down to letting Jake drop. No matter how many times the tale of this betrayal had been told, it never got any easier for Jake to hear. His heart went out to this other version of himself that had been betrayed by Cuthbert, and who, evidently, would not be getting any redemption considering they poached Cuthbert.

Each recognized The Way Station, the Speaking Demon, the betrayal, The man in black, the vision, and even the lobstrosities (although Cuthbert had inexplicably referred to them as ‘patrolmen’). They actually knew a little more about some of these events than Cuthbert did, as they had been given some context over the years. For instance, the fact that The man in black had doubled back and was behind him and Jake for a portion of their travels. Assuming that Cuthbert’s journey would have taken the same course as Roland’s, which, on further rumination, it may not have.  After all, the door Cuthbert had found on the beach did not say ‘The Prisoner’, but ‘The Hanged Man’. As Roland had been wont to say ever since Eddie taught him the expression: “to assume makes an ass out of you and me”.

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

“After losing two of my fingers and part of my big toe--my favorite toe, mind you--to the fucking lobster-osities, as Roland calls them, I started to get feverish. I still kind of am, although Roland here gave me some kind of medicine. He was pretty cryptic about it, but it seems to be fast-working so I can only hope it won’t kill me.”

“Nah, he gave you the good stuff. T’wont kill you,” Eddie said. He spoke with faint admiration. This has been a truly surreal experience for him, meeting the man he had been continuously compared to. A man whom he had come to idolize. Kind of, he supposed, like meeting your favorite celebrity and finding out that they really are just like you. Don’t meet your heroes, they say, but Eddie was enraptured to meet his. “I saved Roland’s life with that stuff once upon a bye.”

“Do you say so?” He hadn’t thought the infection would get that bad, but if it had for Roland, it probably would have for him as well. “Well, anyway, I’ve been quickly losing strength since the infection started, and while stumbling across the beach, I came upon a door. It was marked ‘The Hanged Man’. I’ve heard of such magic doors in our teachings as children, but I had never believed in them.

I was still circling the door, trying to decide if it was real or a hallucination brought on by the infection, when this one,” he said, jerking his thumb at Roland, “came bursting through like a bullet out of a gun.”

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

“Did you know what to expect on the other side?” Eddie asked, directing his question at Roland. “You did, didn’t you? I mean, why else would you hightail it like that?”

“Not at all. I had dreams, vivid ones, but I thought I was simply reliving my time on the Western Sea. Only, in these dreams I was not myself. I thought I might recognize this other person that I was living as, but I could not understand what my own memories had to do with it. But of course, now I understand why I was living in the past. It was not the past at all, not for the person with whom I had been sharing khef.” He paused for a moment to collect his thoughts. “As I said, I thought I recognized him, but I didn’t quite allow myself to believe that it meant anything. They were only dreams. When we saw the door, I still told myself it was merely a coincidence. When Eddie read the words on the door, however… I knew it had to be him. In my heart, I knew it. For hadn’t I always called him my very own ka-mai?

All the same, I cry your pardon for dashing off so suddenly. Especially you, Eddie, for I see the dried blood around your nose and it shames me. It was not my intention to hurt you.”

“No sweat man, I didn’t even notice. I was mostly just worried about you,” Eddie said, smiling sheepishly. “I kinda had an idea you weren’t coming back.”

“Yeah, we were real worried about you. Eddie told us that the door opened to the Western Sea,” Jake added.

“Say true, Eddie? You knew where the door led?” Roland asked, astonished. 

“Not until you started running for it. Once you took off, it hit me. I have no idea where the intuition came from, but it sure was strong. I thought it meant that you would be back at the beginning of your quest,” Eddie said, sounding embarrassed. He went on jokingly, as was always his way when he felt uncomfortable. “You should’ve seen the way I was banging on the door, trying to get to you. If I had an ax, I would have tried to cut through it like the crazy guy in ‘The Shining’.” Eddie jumped up on knees and smiled crazily. “Heeeeeere’s Eddie!” he shouted at Jake, not seeming to mind the fact that out of everyone here, only he himself could understand this reference. 

Jake laughed and pushed his brother’s face away from him. “Shut up, asshole.”

Susannah rolled her eyes fondly. She reached for her beloved’s hand and pulled him back down to the ground. Once he was seated again, she placed her hand on Eddie’s thigh. He immediately covered it with his own, taking comfort in the contact. It seemed he was more than a little embarrassed about his outburst over the door, and was covering it with humor. And he shouldn’t be, Susannah thought, for he reacted out of love for their father. 

Roland, having long been accustomed to Eddie's nervous bursts of foolishness, went on. “I must have hit my head on the door in my rush to get through, for when I arrived on the other side, I was unconscious. Cuthbert woke me with water and then we spoke. We quickly realized our shared history, and then he agreed to come back through the door with me.” Neither spoke of their long, sentimental embrace, for that was between the two of them. Too meaningful to be casually shared in such a setting. 

“Yes, I agreed, on the condition that you all explain to me why you have renounced the Tower. I cannot give it up without an explanation. If I find that explanation to be insufficient, Roland has promised me that I can pick up my quest from here.”

They all looked at each other in silent conference. And then, Susannah spoke: “I don’t believe we’ll need to worry about that. I’m sure it’s hard for you to imagine, but all I can say to sum it up for you is that there would be no satisfaction in reaching the Tower. There is, however, satisfaction in finding a family.”

“We will now tell our story,” Roland said, looking at his children. “I will start, telling my brief story of coming across the door, and then Eddie, you may pick it up. From there, we will take turns telling the story, much as we have done before. I warn you Bert, this is a long story. It's not unlikely that we will need to break for the night and pick it back up in the morning.” This was possible, however, Roland thought it wouldn’t be necessary. Although their tale was long, stories had a way of expanding the bounds of time. 

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

“Feverish and weak, I came upon a door on the beach, just as you had. This door, however, said ‘The Prisoner’ and although I had never seen a door such as this before, I knew I had to open it. I didn’t know if there would be anything that could help me on the other side, but I knew that there was certainly nothing to help me where I was. After examining the door for a while, I opened it. What I saw terrified me, and I immediately slammed it shut.” Roland paused to take a sip of water from his canteen.

“I sat, thinking about what I’d seen. It was the Earth, from what seemed to be an impossible distance in the sky. It terrified me so, because to step through such a door would be to fall to my death. Then, the voice of Cort spoke up in my mind, telling me that I had seen more. I recalled something he used to say about using the eye of your memory to see, because ‘the difference between seeing and not seeing can be the difference between living and dying’.”

"Aye, I recall how he always used to harry us about that,” Cuthbert said. “Took you long enough to make full use of your eyes. Always wanting to rush into things without a complete look, that was you. The both of us, really. Two foolhardy kids.” He smirked, “You eventually grew out of it, though."

Roland was nonplussed for a moment. He was struck with a fresh wave of fondness for the man before him. How many years had it been since someone shared an experience from his youth? Hundreds? Thousands? Long enough for him to forget what it felt like. Long enough by many-a wheel.

“Nevertheless,” Roland said, “the eye of my memory did not fail me this time. I realized that the view I had seen was framed with white edges. It was only a window. I opened the door again.” Eddie picked up the story from here, telling of his drawing, followed by Susannah with the tale of her own. 

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

Cuthbert listened raptly as they recounted the many adventures that preceded renouncing the Tower, each seamlessly picking up where the previous person had left off. Cuthbert followed each turn of the story, growing more incredulous as the tale went on. 

The tale of Blaine the Mono and Eddie’s heroism particularly stood out to Cuthbert, as Roland had suspected it would. “Good on you, Eddie!” He cheered, reaching over to clap Eddie on the shoulder. “Take that Roland! With your haughty attitude toward all forms of humor!”

Roland had accepted this ridiculing without comment. Cuthbert had meant it lightheartedly, but Roland knew it was well-deserved. He had been arrogant in the matter of Eddie’s jokes and it could have cost them dearly. He tried not to take it too hard though, for it had been Eddie himself who had pointed out that Roland couldn’t help his own nature, was in fact a prisoner of it as much as he was a prisoner of ka.

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

So much, Cuthbert thought. They have seen so much. And done more. This had been after Susannah spoke of the Green palace, their confrontation with Flagg, the reappearance of the pink glass, and finally waking up back in Roland’s world--their world--on the path of the beam.

“This next part is the sort of story with which you are familiar. A town in need, calling upon a group of gunslingers,” Roland said. It was the first time he had spoken since he told of going after Jake in the underground tunnels of Lud. He was content to let his brood take over the story-telling whenever possible. Speaking had never been his favorite thing. “As we continued our course along the beam, we soon became aware that we were being followed. Jake picked some muffin-balls and noticed that he was being watched.”

“Sure,” Jake said. “But you already knew about them. You knew about them as soon as they started following us.”

“Aye. ‘Twas a small group and posed no danger to us, so we decided to ignore them and let them follow. Before we speak of them, Eddie and Jake must tell you of their first time going todash.”

Jake took over this part of the tale and then Roland briefly told of following Susannah into the woods, to what she, or rather Mia, had seen as a banqueting hall. The implications of this, paired with Susannah’s experience with the incubus, were not lost on Cuthbert. Although Roland hadn’t gone into great detail, Susannah was embarrassed. She knew what she had been doing out there, even if she hadn’t known at the time. Once that had all been told, Roland circled back to the group that had been following them.

“One member of this group was a man who became an integral part of our ka-tet. When we come to his part in our story, Eddie will tell it, for this man has since come to the clearing at the end of the path. For now, know that his name was Donald Callahan, a man of honor and a priest of the Man Jesus. Known in the Calla as Pere Callahan or The Old Fella."

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

It was an easy enough story to follow. The town, finally fed up with losing their babbies, decided to make a stand. They couldn’t do this on their own, so they had enlisted the help of gunslingers. The Pere, knowing that he was in possession of something they would need, was the one to initially make contact with them and explain the situation. The gunslingers, bound by duty, agreed to lend their aid. Cuthbert had been horrified to learn that the Black Thirteen had a part to play in their tale. But, oh, there was so much about their tale that horrified him.

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

Eddie had just finished recounting Father Callahan's story, starting with Salem's Lot and ending with Lupe's death, when Cuthbert spoke up. Not for the first time either; filled with questions was this one. 

"So when you say he was in love with this... other man, what exactly do you mean?" Cuthbert was bewildered, he couldn't possibly mean what Cuthbert was thinking. 

"Well, you know, like, romantic love. Like how I'm in love with this beautiful lady," Eddie replied, putting his arm around Susannah and earning a smile from his beloved.

"You should have heard the way he spoke of Lupe. It was beautiful, but difficult to hear considering how things ended. That man was truly in love," Susannah added.

"And is that considered normal in your world? A man loving another man?" Cuthbert asked, genuinely curious. He fought to keep his voice normal, but he couldn't believe what he was hearing. And how casually they spoke of something he could have easily been killed for! 

Eddie saw Jake wince at Cuthbert's question, and although he didn't detect any disgust from the man, he still felt a little uneasy. After all, he had no real idea what the people of Gilead thought of gay people. Roland had never seemed surprised or bothered by the existence of gay people, but perhaps he was an exception. Was Cuthbert going to have a problem with this? 

Eddie looked at Roland and raised his eyebrows, wondering if he should waste time delving into what could possibly become an issue.

Roland waved his hand unhurriedly. "We come from a much different world, Eddie. If he wishes for more details, you may provide them."

"Alright then. It's normal, yeah. Nothing wrong with being gay. But not everyone jives with that. Some people hate gay people, and they point to things like the Bible to excuse their hatred, but I think they really just don't like people being different from them. The virus that Lupe died of, the one he got from the vampire- It disproportionately affects men who, uh, have sex with other men. You know, like, gay and bisexual men," he paused for a moment wondering if he would need to explain these terms. When Cuthbert said nothing, he continued. "Homophobia has always been around, but this made the homophobes worse because they had a new reason to stigmatize gay people" Eddie had no idea how much of this Cuthbert was even capable of understanding. He didn't even know if Roland understood it all. But he didn't exactly know how to explain it in Mid-World terms.

Although he was unfamiliar with some of the language Eddie used, Cuthbert was able to figure most of it out through context. There was one term that he could not decipher, though. "Homo Phobia?" he asked, carefully pronouncing this foreign word.

"Homophobia's when someone is prejudice against gay people, sugar," Susannah said softly, momentarily placing her hand on Cuthbert's arm.

"And for the sake of clarity, I would understand this very well, you--all of you--are against Homo Phobia?" 

"Of course," Roland said simply, completely oblivious to the rest of his ka-tet collectively holding their breath, nervous to see how Cuthbert would react.

"Okay, very well. You may continue on with your story," Cuthbert said with a smile. Despite being hard to read for most of that conversation, Eddie thought he seemed almost relieved now. As they all were. Had Cuthbert been, well, homophobic, it would not bode well for his place in their group. Jake is gay, and recently started seeing a boy. They were all very happy for him. Eddie wouldn't tolerate any hate toward his little bro, even if it was coming from the legendary Cuthbert, who their dinh--their father--dearly missed over all these long, strange years.

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

When this palaver had initially started, Cuthbert asked many questions. Eddie thought it would take half of forever to get through their entire story with how often they were interrupted. Not that he didn’t understand it. Hell, if someone recounted this story to him a few years ago, he’d certainly have had a lot of questions, the first being: ‘How stupid do you think I am?’

Cuthbert had been trying to wrap his brain around everything they had been through, but eventually gave up. There was just so much and after a while, he realized that it was easier to just sit and listen. Comprehension would come later, over time. A corporation to protect the rose--the rose which may also be the Tower? Sure. A spider baby with four parents? Okay. The death of this baby at the hands of none other than Walter O’Dim? Alright. A writer who created books--make believe books--about their lives? A group of telepaths working to break the Beams which hold the Tower, using the force stolen from the twin children of the Callas to enhance their abilities? Sheemie, Cuthbert’s dear friend, alive after all those years?

It’s the truth, Cuthbert thought. I know it’s the truth. That’s what makes it so hard to believe.

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

“We have come to the most important part of our story,” Roland said solemnly. They had just been speaking of freeing the Breakers and the chaos which broke out around them. “See this, Cuthbert Allgood. See it very well.” Roland said and proceeded to describe the spot in Pleasantville, the alley between the movie theater and the hair salon, where blood from the battle still ran into the gutters. This was where they had finally made their stand, the one that changed everything: Their stand against ka.

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

“Come here, Gilead,” Susannah said. “This is a group hug, and you’re part of the group.”

It took Roland a moment to understand Susannah’s invitation. Part of him would forever believe that they didn’t accept him as part of their group. He would always be an outsider among them. The three of them had come from the same world after all, and even though they came from different whens, this still gave them a deeper understanding of each other. They had grown up with the same stories, made wishes on the same stars, and shared inside jokes that Roland would never understand no matter how much he tried.

When he realized that she had meant him, he went over with a cheered heart. He stopped on his way to pick up Oy of Mid-World. Whenever Roland felt like an outsider, it helped to remember that they all loved Oy, who also hailed from a different world.

They wrapped their arms around one another, embracing in the aftermath of their victory. The beam was safe and they were together. Susannah kissed Roland’s forehead, causing Jake and Eddie to laugh. Roland delighted in the sound of their laughter and the feel of Susannah’s kiss, thinking that he had never been this happy, never in life.

He shifted and felt the weight of the horn on his belt, where he had placed it before the battle began, reminding him of his dear friend Cuthbert Allgood. One person, out of many, who had been lost in search of the Tower. How many more? He looked around at his ka-tet, currently embracing him, and knew the answer. All of them. All of the people he loved would be lost. No, not lost, killed. And whose fault would it be? Who else could be blamed but the one who brought them into this world and taught them the ways of the gun?

They'd all felt the ka-shume and Roland knew it was only a matter of time, perhaps only a few moments, before he'd lose another. Unless he did something about it.

"I renounce," he mumbled. The words got stuck and he choked them out. Some kind of mass seemed to appear in his throat, making it hard to speak.

"What, Roland?" Susannah said, still smiling. She started to pull away to look at Roland, but he pulled her back into the embrace. 

"No more," he said firmly. "I renounce." At this they all pulled away from the embrace and looked at Roland, shocked. And then, head turned up to the sky, Roland of Gilead shouted at the top of his lungs: "I RENOUNCE THE TOWER!"

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

It was quiet as they all gave Cuthbert a moment to fathom renouncing the Tower. Then, Eddie broke the silence, as he was wont to do. “I was scared. I half expected the Beam to break at Roland’s very words. But… nothing happened. The sky didn’t fall, the ground didn’t split open, not even a Beamquake. Nothing.” Eddie thought for a moment, and then spoke again. “Well, not exactly nothing…” he trailed off, unsure how to describe what he had felt.

“Lightness,” Jake finished for him, eyes wide, looking at nothing in particular. “It was like a ten pound weight was lifted from my chest and a shadow left my mind.”

“The lifting of the ka-shume,” Susannah said and Roland nodded. He had felt it himself. He had also been granted one clear insight at his decision to renounce- One more job to do, this to be done with the aid of the Breakers, and then…freedom.

“Yes, you say true Susannah,” Roland said. “The despair and dread of the forthcoming breaking of the ka-tet left all of our hearts. Our ka-tet--our family--was safe.” At this, Roland lifted his arms to embrace his children. Cuthbert was surprised to see his old friend openly weeping as he held them tightly. Watching them all share such overwhelming love for one another, he felt a little like crying himself.

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

“And what of the writer? The one who you say… created us,” Cuthbert said, still not quite grasping this concept.

“Not created, but facilitated,” Roland said. “Sheemie, with the help of some of the other Breakers, made a hole for us that led to June 19th, 1999. We went as soon as we finished at Algul Siento, giving us just enough time to stop him from going on his walk. That was the last act we ever did for the Tower.

“So, you see,” Eddie said, “things are pretty much taken care of in the two keystone worlds, and that's all that matters. We started the corporation to protect the rose, we freed the Breakers, and we saved Stephen King. The Crimson King is old and imprisoned and the one created to take his place is dead. Anything else you'd do during your quest, would be, well, redundant. Because this world and the one in which Sai King lives, are the only worlds that truly matter. And those things are already done. If you were to go in search of the Tower from here, the only thing you could accomplish is seeing it. And maybe that's enough to drive you anyway. God knows it was enough for me at some point, but not anymore. To be with the people I love is enough. Anything else, ka can take care of.

“What about Walter?”

“Ever since he killed the Red King's offspring in the Arc-16 Experimental Station, he's made himself scarce,” Roland said. “I suspect we need not worry about him for a long while.”

Everyone mused on this for a moment and then Roland spoke again: “I suggest we end our palaver here for now, as we need to eat and then take our night’s rest. We’ve discussed the most crucial parts of our journey; anything else can wait for tomorrow.”

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

After they had taken their meal--during which, not much was said (food and palaver don’t mix, as Roland had been wont to say)-- they all settled into the area in which they chose to camp for the night. Without discussion, Roland and Cuthbert took their bedrolls a short distance away from the others, who seemed to instinctively know to give the freshly reacquainted friends some space.

Cuthbert stopped near a copse of trees. “I like this spot, ‘tis a good spot, I think.”

Roland nodded, although he couldn’t see what made this spot in the woods any different than the rest. He laid his bedroll on a flat piece of ground behind one of the trees and sat upon it.

Cuthbert started to lay his own right next to it and Roland looked up at him. Cuthbert caught this glance and assumed Roland was about to tease him. “Do not utter a word,” Cuthbert said, the firmness in his voice was betrayed by the wide smile on his face. “I am in a strange place, in a new world, and you are the only thing here that is familiar to me. If I want to sleep right next to my best friend, who I’ve mourned over for Gods know how long, that is to be expected.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything. I was only thinking how long it’s been since the last time I slept this close to you. If my memory serves, we shared a sleeping space the night before Jericho Hill. The night before you died.”

“Aye, we did. Only, for me, ‘twas the night before you died. We needed all the comfort we could get, what with the upcoming battle. Not to mention our condemnable deed.” Cuthbert said, thinking of Alain, who had been their loyal friend to the very end. Had, in fact, died while trying to help them. And at their hands.

“Those are bygone days. And we look ahead, not toward a battle, but at unencumbered time. No duties, no fight, no killing. You may choose to go on gunslinging, as we have been doing for the past few years, or I suppose you may even choose to go after the Tower. But we can rest knowing that tomorrow, at least, will be free of all such worry.”

“When did you get so blithe?” Cuthbert asked, bemused. He was rather amazed (and impressed) at how different Roland was, how easygoing he sounded. “The Roland I knew was always raring for a fight.”

“The Roland you knew died. And good riddance because that Roland had no soul. I didn’t get that back until I met them,” Roland said, gesturing toward the direction in which his children lay. “Eddie said something to me once. He said that I saved more than just his life, I saved his soul. But he had it the wrong way around. Bass-ackwards, as he would say.”

“Bass-ackwards,” Cuthbert snorted a laugh, “I like that.” He chose not to comment on the rest of what Roland had said. It was too much for him to think about right now. If he thought about it for too long, he’d start wondering how much of his own soul was gone, and how much he could hope to get back. 

“I thought you might,” Roland said and lay back all the way, perhaps preparing to fall asleep. 

But Cuthbert wasn’t quite ready to try to sleep. He knew what little sleep he could hope for would be plagued by nightmares. “Do you know why I like this spot?”

“Nay. Looks like any other spot in the woods to me.” 

“Of course, for you’re just as dense as the woods. But it brings to my mind one particular place that held some significance to us.” Cuthbert watched as Roland worked this over in his mind. He seemed to be about to give up and ask when understanding suddenly washed over him. A bright smile took over Roland’s face, that slightly mad smile that Cuthbert had always cherished.

“The woods of West-Town,” Roland said with whispered excitement. “How could I have forgotten?” He was genuinely delighted by this memory, for those woods had been a sort of haven for the two of them. One of those secret places that only childhood friends could hold in such reverence. Whenever one of them had needed an escape--be it from a parental scolding or difficulties with their training--the woods were there for them. They had even used it in their young adulthood, whenever they were in need of a temporary reprieve from the many responsibilities and expectations placed upon them.

“Aye, behind the uprooted bush, right between the trees. That was our little hideout.” To Cuthbert, it held an extra significance because this was one of the few places that he could be alone with Roland. When they were there, he had Roland’s full attention. It was their little secret. Deep down, a part of him had always secretly hoped that one day, they might share a romantic moment there. And it would become a new kind of secret escape. “We thought we were right trig going down there.”

“Mayhap we were. No one ever caught us, did they?”

“Not that we were aware. Cort had probably known the whole time and oh, how he’d laugh at how clever we thought we were being”

“Nay, if Cort had known, he certainly would’ve used the knowledge to shame us.”

Cuthbert thought that sounded about right. “I’m keeping you up, aren’t I? Usually you would have told me to shut my gob by now. Honestly, it's kind of strange that you haven't."

"Bert, I have gone hundreds, maybe even a thousand years without hearing your voice. I wouldn’t mind if you never stopped talking." There it was again, that almost blunt sentiment, spoken with such a casual ease that the Roland he had known from days of old could never have pulled off. Not, at least, when speaking to Cuthbert. Perhaps he spoke so with Susan, or even Aileen, but when it came to friendships, expressing feelings had been difficult for Roland. As it was for them all; friendly affection had been effectively trained out of the crop of gunslingers. It seemed Roland's family, as a part of saving his soul, had helped him recover his emotional side.  

"Be careful with what you wish, Ro'," Cuthbert said, smirking. "For you never know what Gods are listening"

"I always am. I'd not utter a wish I did not mean."

Cuthbert considered this, reckoned he was reading too much into Roland’s words, and decided to change the subject once again. “Earlier, when you were speaking of the sky-carriage, you gave me a funny look. What was that for?”

Roland cast his mind back. They had discussed a great deal today. The sky-carriage though, that had been one of the first things. And now Roland knew what Cuthbert must have been referring to. He probably had given him a strange look, because for a moment, he felt like he had seen a ghost. 

“It was because I mentioned Cort, and not only did you know who he was, but you actually shared my memory. I'm used to talking to folken who weren't around during that time. I think that’s when it first started to sink in that you’re actually here. I am no longer the only one who has to bear the memory of Gilead as it was, before the world moved on.”

“Aye, I understand what that feels like, so I do,” Cuthbert said. “Sometimes it feels like those days never really happened.” Again, Roland was startled, because this was exactly what he was trying to say. He supposed he shouldn’t be surprised. Cuthbert had always had a way of articulating the thoughts and feelings that got stuck in Roland’s mind.

“When we had first arrived in the Calla, Ben Slightman the Elder said something to me. Something that troubled me. He said, ‘I heard of Jericho Hill and such blood-and-thunder tales of pretend’. To my face, he said that. What was the end of the world for me, was only a bedtime story to him.

“That careless statement would not leave my mind, Bert. I had known that the Battle of Jericho Hill and all the other events of that time were not simply tales of make-believe. I had lived through them. Piece by piece I lost everything. My mother, my teacher, my father, my home, my friends, each loss burning another scar into my soul. I still felt the effects of the ancient wounds that would never heal. But deep down, in a part of me that is immune to logic, I started to believe it. Maybe it had been make-believe, for who did I have around me that could confirm my memories? And would losing everything in such a tumultuous, chary succession ever truly seem real?

“But now, I have you. Finally, someone else who remembers what life was like in those days before Gilead fell. Someone who knows what it’s like to give up your youth to fight a losing battle. And to spend the rest of your life trying desperately to find a way to bring back the life you once knew.”

Cuthbert racked his brain trying to figure out how to respond to this. He wasn’t used to such heavy subject matter. He came up with and discarded several joke responses, figuring Roland wouldn’t appreciate humor at this moment (he rarely appreciated humor at any moment). He needn’t have worried so much, because after only a few moments, he realized he could hear soft, even breathing coming from next to him. Roland had fallen asleep.

[late-to-the-party-81]

Avengers babysits Morgan or ben while Tony and peter go on a date during valentines day

AN: Hey nonnie - sorry this took so long! I hope you all enjoy this fluff. I decided to go with the new/younger avengers for this, as I thought they'd find babysitting more of a handful.

PSA - I envisage Ben at about 12 month's here and this is written very tongue in cheek - babies aren't capable of this kind of manipulation, but they do understand a lot more going on around them than most folk give them credit for.

Master list

Unbeta'd

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Word Count: 1k

CW: It's just fluff. Alternating POV.

Ben gurgled and smacked his sippy-cup against the side of his playpen. Three pairs of eyes turned to regard him and his mouth opened in a gummy smile at the attention. He was less happy when Dadda snapped his fingers at his new audience, drawing their attention away.

“So, we’re going to Rezdôra, and we should be back by 11pm. He has his bath at 7.30pm, water temp should be 98.6 degrees, and don’t forget Ducky. Then he can have his bottle whilst one of you reads him some stories.” 

Tony counted the points off on his fingers.

“Don’t forget to burp him, ensure his sleeping bag is properly fastened and then turn on his singing night light. If you’re lucky, he’ll drift off during the stories, but don’t worry if he doesn’t. He generally goes to sleep fairly quickly after. Oh, and…”

Peter walked up behind his husband, wrapping his arms around the older man’s waist.

“Tony, stop fretting. They’ll be fine. Ben will be fine. It’s only a few hours. And it’s not like it’s the first time we’ve left him.”

Tony turned in the embrace, raising an eyebrow as he regarded Peter.

“Yes, but the first time it was May who had him, and last time it was Clint and Laura. They know what they’re doing with babies.”

“Hey!” Yelena’s outraged cry had the two men turning. “I’m right here, you know. If you’re that worried that Kate, Joaquín and I can’t handle this, why did you ask us?”

Tony opened his mouth, but was stopped from speaking by Peter clapping his hand over his mouth.

“I don’t think you ought to answer that, honey. Come on. Let’s say goodbye to our Bubba and get going, or we’re going to be late, and I’ve been looking forward to this evening-out for months. Months, I tell you.”

Taking the lead, Peter pulled away from Tony and crossed to the playpen. Reaching down he heaved the wriggling and smiley little boy into his arms.

“Hey, Bubba. Dadda and Papa are going out for a while, but Auntie Yelena, Auntie Kate and Uncle Quín are gonna look after you and pop you to bed. You be a good boy, yes?”

Ben burbled and took hold of a handful of Peter’s curly hair and tugged on it. 

What was Papa wearing? He should be getting his bath ready.

Peter winced, but smiled at his son and pressed kisses to the chubby neck in front of him, blowing raspberries and making Ben laugh. Tony crossed the floor, tutting, and plucked the boy out of his husband’s arms.

“Peter, don’t wind him up so close to bedtime. He’s supposed to be calm and winding down.” 

He reclined the baby in his arms, running a finger tip down the small nose. With his caramel eyes, and messy chocolate locks, Ben really was the spitting image of his Papa. 

“Dadda will see you later, Benny baby. Miss you already.”  

Ben looked up at him, quizzically. Dadda was also dressed strangely. He didn’t like this…

Tony could feel the prickling of tears in his eyes as he looked down at his precious boy. Yelena walked over to him, and Tony reluctantly passed his baby over. He gave her a weak smile as she jiggled her precious armful.

“Don’t worry, Stark. We will take good care of this little one. We’ll see you in a few hours. Now, go. Scram.”

It took a further ten minutes for her, Kate and Joaquín to actually ‘shoo’ the couple out of the door, but finally Peter and Tony were gone. Ben watched with wide eyes. 

This was different…

Kate sat down on the plush penthouse sofa with a sigh, next to Yelena, who was bouncing Ben on her knee.

“He’s so cute!” Kate leant forward and tickled the adorable little boy under his chin, causing him to giggle.  Joaquín strode out from the bathroom, drying his hand on a towel.

“The bath water’s ready, and I’ve triple-checked the temperature.”

Kate stood, slapping her palms onto her jeans clad thighs.

“Right, let’s get on with it. There’s three of us and one of him. How hard could this be?

Ben babbled to himself. They had no idea…

At 11.15pm the elevator doors opened and Tony practically dashed out, followed by Peter, who had a wry smile on his face and was shaking his head in amusement. Tony stopped short in the main living area, expecting to see the three babysitters taking up residence on the sofas.

“Where on earth are they? I swear, if they’ve left him alone I’ll…..”

Peter took hold of Tony’s hand, uncurling the fist that had started to form.

“FRIDAY, where are our guests? I’d like to stop Tony from having an aneurysm.”

“They are all in Master Ben’s room, sirs.”

Tony hurried along the hall, Peter following leisurely along behind, his hands thrust in his pants pockets. However, as Tony rushed into his son’s room, he stopped short, taking in the chaotic scene in front of his eyes.

There was baby powder everywhere. Several clean, but screwed up diapers were strewn across the floor, in the vague vicinity of the nappy bin and three or four damp towels littered the path from the bathroom to the nursery. Ducky looked up from between the folds of one of them.

Ben giggled from his cot, beaming up at his parents, his chubby hands wrapped around his empty milk bottle. Peter bypassed his shocked husband, tip-toeing through the carnage, and lifted the boy from his cot.

“What did you do, mister? You broke the babysitters, didn’t you?”

A raspberry was the response from the little boy, but Peter thought he looked very pleased with himself.

He retreated from the room, Ben in his arms, and dragged Tony with him, quietly trying not to wake Kate, Yelena and Joaquín, who were dead to the world, surrounded by books and cuddly toys. Joaquín was crashed out in the nursing chair, a dirty burp cloth on his shoulder, and Yelena was leaning against the opposite wall, Kate draped over her legs. 

Ben giggled again. His plan had worked perfectly - he’d won the battle against the ‘not Dadda and Papa’, and he got to sleep with them tonight. 

Win.

Taglist: @marvelstarker-mha98 @mrsmischief209 @sidepartskinnyjeans

[perlukafarinn]

sequel to this fic (read it for context. or don’t, i’m not the boss of you). i blame @hermywolf for this.

Things were tense for a while. 

Now, Dean knew why he was awkward. He’d offered himself up as Benny’s personal human juicebox and something in his fucked up, wires-crossed brain had gotten so turned on by the act, he’d been about point three seconds away from grinding on his friend like a sophomore at prom. 

He wasn’t sure what to make of Benny or Cas acting so weird.

Benny, and there was no other way to put it, had gotten really touchy-feely. Dean hadn’t realized how rare a non-violent touch was in Purgatory until it wasn’t anymore, until Benny kept putting his hands on Dean’s body, on his back, his shoulder, even his knee as they sat by the fire pit at night. Every touch casual and yet rife with some meaning Dean couldn’t comprehend, and every single one leaving Dean yearning for more. 

And then there was Cas. When he wasn’t hovering over Dean, constantly appearing between him and Benny, he was lingering somewhere behind them, sour-faced and glowering off into the distance. 

So yeah, tense. 

It was the first time Dean was actually thankful for the unending stream of monsters in Purgatory. The near constant combat didn’t leave much time to worry about anything else. Dean was almost convinced that they could get past this whole episode without mention, given enough time and distance and distraction by monsters.

Then Benny had to go and get hurt again.

It wasn’t life or death this time but it was close enough, a lucky swipe from a werewolf nearly tearing a hole open in Benny’s chest.

Cas got to him first again, heaving Benny to his feet and easily holding his weight when it turned out Benny’s legs couldn’t quite support him. Dean got there second, a few moments later, heart pounding as he surveyed the damage.

He met Cas’ eyes.

“Dean, no,” Cas said, catching on almost quicker than the idea had passed through Dean’s mind. “You don’t need to do this.”

“It’s not that big a deal,” Dean said, face growing warm for reasons he really didn’t wanna examine. “You’ll heal me after, right?”

Cas sighed. “You know I will.”

“He’s right, cher,” Benny spoke up. “Gimme an hour or two to heal, an’ I’ll be fine. You don’t gotta do this.”

Dean ignored him, stepping in close and pulling down his collar. “Shut up and let me help you.”

Benny laughed, low and strained. “If you insist...”

He leaned in and Dean closed his eyes in anticipation, one hand grasping Benny’s shoulder to steady himself. It wasn’t enough, the sudden pain of fangs sliding into flesh sending him stumbling against Benny until an arm wrapped around his waist, holding him still. 

Heat stirred in Dean’s gut and he quickly tried to focus on the pain, on the unnatural pull of Benny’s mouth, on his knees still aching from the earlier fight.

It didn’t work. Somehow, the pain just threw the pleasure into sharper relief. It was all too much; Benny’s warmth against his side, his mouth hungry and insistent, his fingertips digging into Dean’s skin as he tried to pull him even impossibly closer. 

Dean opened his eyes and oh, big mistake. Cas was right there, inches away, still holding Benny upright as he drank his fill of Dean’s blood, staring into Dean’s eyes with a look that might almost be mistaken for hunger.

Dean should have looked away but he couldn’t. He felt trapped, pinned down by the monster at his throat and the divine creature staring him down.

A pained gasp escaped Dean’s lips as Benny pulled away his fangs. He didn’t back off completely though, mouth remaining at Dean’s throat as he carefully licked up every drop of blood. Dean shivered, knowing he should be recoiling in disgust and not fighting off every instinct to lean in closer. 

Finally, it was Cas who put an end to it, grabbing Benny by his hair and pulling him off. “Enough.”

Benny shot him an annoyed look over his shoulder. “Easy there, chief. Can’t a man enjoy a meal in peace?”

He wasn’t being serious, Dean knew. He was just trying to rile Cas up. 

Did that make it more or less fucked up that hearing Benny refer to him as ‘a meal’ kind of turned him on?

“You are not a man,” Cas said, voice low and dangerous. “And Dean is not yours to consume with reckless abandon.”

Holy fuck.

Dean glanced between them as they now stared at each other, Cas all righteous anger, Benny stubborn as a mule. The moment stretched on, tension building, and as Dean was sure something was about to snap, Benny looked away.

“Son of a bitch,” he muttered, laughing breathlessly. 

Dean shot him a curious look but he didn’t say anything else, letting go off Dean and backing away. Dean stumbled on unsteady legs but Cas was there in an instant, arm around his lower back and hand raised to cover the wound on his neck.

It was too much, too fast. Dean’s head was spinning, still trying to comprehend everything that had happened in the last few minutes and drawing a blank on any plausible explanation. He felt lightheaded too, the blood loss finally catching up with him, and as warmth poured from Cas’ hand, healing him, all he could think was

Have Cas’ hands always been that big?

*

The third time it happened, it wasn’t by any stretch of the imagination necessary. 

Still, Benny had broken his leg. Even if it would only take a few hours to heal it would still slow them in the meantime. And even if he could still fight in this condition, why make an already difficult situation even worse when they had such an easy solution?

Cas didn’t protest this time. He took one look at Dean and sighed, sounding defeated. “If you must.” 

Guilt stirred in Dean’s chest, strangely enough. “It’s easier for all of us this way, right?”

Cas didn’t look like he agreed. “Let me know when you need me to heal you.”

And he stormed off. Dean watched him go, the guilt growing stronger. Which was ridiculous, what the hell did he have to feel guilty about? Cas healed him without complaint after any other kind of injury. What made this so different?

Dean looked at Benny, who was sitting on the ground with his broken leg, watching the proceedings with an odd look on his face. His expression softened when he met Dean’s eyes.

“I hope you don’t feel obligated to do this,” he said. “You don’t owe me anything, you gotta know that.”

“I know.” Dean swallowed, feeling oddly vulnerable. “I just wanna - it’s not a big deal.”

He walked up to Benny, kneeling down on the ground next to him, straddling one thigh as he tried to find a comfortable position.

“You keep saying that,” Benny said. 

He put his hand on Dean’s waist, steering him closer as if it were second nature. 

“Cause it’s not.”

Benny hummed, eyes hooded, gaze unfocused and hungry as Dean leaned in. “It is to me.”

He bit down, lighting fast, saving Dean from coming up with a response. Dean didn’t bother to silence his whimper or to resist the urge to sit down on Benny’s lap fully, drinking in the touch of him as Benny drank his life’s blood in slow, deep pulls.

He didn’t take much this time, barely giving Dean time to get used to the pain before he was pulling his fangs out again, laving his tongue over the wound to soothe the sting of their exit.

“This isn’t a one-way street, you know,” Benny muttered, lips still pressed against Dean’s neck. His tongue darted out again, licking up a stray drop of blood. “I’m sure there’s something you want I could give in return.”

And Dean didn’t doubt for one second just what he was implying. It was hard to, really, with Benny’s dick growing hard against his ass, feeling impossibly hot even through the layers separating them. 

It was tempting. No one had touched him that way in far too long and Benny was willing, more than. He wanted it as badly as Dean did and they were already half-way there, practically dry-humping on the cold, damp ground of Purgatory.

But… “Cas.”

Benny sighed. Pulled away and Dean missed the warmth as soon as it was gone. “Yeah, of course.”

“Sorry,” Dean said, not really knowing what he was apologizing for.

“Don’t be.” Benny looked up at him, a teasing glint entering his eye. “You know, he wouldn’t have to be a problem. I wouldn’t mind him joining in on the fun.”

A fuse blew in Dean’s brain. He shot to his feet, nearly stumbling over Benny in the process.

“That’s - I don’t -” Dean stuttered. “He wouldn’t!”

Benny gave him a meaningful look, though what meaning was completely lost on Dean, and got to his feet. 

Instinctively, Dean held out his hand. Benny grabbed it, grasping it tight even as he got to his feet, steady as if he’d never gotten hurt at all. He leaned in and Dean didn’t even think, staying perfectly still as Benny kissed him. 

He tasted like copper, blooming bitter on Dean’s tongue. 

“Offer still stands,” Benny said, pulling away with a grin. “If you change your mind.”

Dean stared.

“Now go find your angel and get patched up.”

An order. Okay, Dean could follow that, even if his mind was becoming more of a jumbled mess by the minute. He walked away, going in the direction Cas had disappeared to and finding him a short distance away, standing in the middle of a clearing.

He looked up as Dean approached, opening his mouth to speak but whatever he had to say dying on his tongue. Dean stopped a few feet away, suddenly feeling wrong-footed and uncertain. 

Cas closed the distance between them, slowly walking up to Dean, into his personal space and then closer still. He raised his hand but he didn’t reach for Dean’s neck, for the still-bleeding wound just below his jaw.

Instead, he softly cupped Dean’s face, placing his thumb on his lower lip. Dean froze, breath caught in his throat, heart beating wildly against the cage of his ribs like a frightened animal.

“Did he-” Cas started then stopped. 

He dropped his hand. Dean followed it with his eyes, spotting the dark smear of blood on Cas’ thumb. Dean’s blood, left on his lips by Benny.

Oh.

“Be careful,” Cas said, finally placing a hand - his other hand - on Dean’s neck and healing Benny’s bite. “Behaving recklessly in Purgatory has too steep a price.”

The warning rankled something deep in Dean’s chest. He felt a sudden, overwhelming urge to disobey, to lean in and smear his blood on Cas’ lips like Benny had done to him. 

He ignored it. Reckless or no, Dean wasn’t a complete idiot. He knew a rejection when he saw one.

[illfoandillfie]

Kinktober Day 1: Rimming

Kinktober Masterlist | Regular Masterlist

Pairing: Ben Hardy x Fem!Reader

Words: 3,560

Warnings: Rimming, anal sex, some vaginal fingering, himbo Ben (mild unintentional hypnosis I guess)

A/N: Welcome to Kinktober! This is actually an idea i’ve been thinking about for quite a while. We’ve done himbo Rog and himbo Gwil so it only seemed fair to do himbo Ben and since he’s obviously an ass man......only made sense that he’d be into anal lmao. It seemed like the perfect fit for the first of these prompts. But this is the first time I’ve written (or even really thought about) rimming so I hope it’s okay!

“Geeze Ben, could you maybe close your porn next time. Didn’t really expect to see that autoplay when I woke the computer up this morning,”  Ben snorted into his plate of eggs, “Which one was it?”  “Something called Anal Punisher 3.”  “Don’t know what you’re complaining about, that’s a good one.” His eyes twinkled teasingly and he poked his tongue out as you sat in front of your own plate.  “I’m sure it is.” You chuckled, able to see the funny side now that you weren’t staring directly at close up of a porn stars arsehole, “Just not when I’m trying to check my emails on our shared desktop.”   “As if you’ve never had a cheeky wank at that computer.”  “That’s what I have a laptop for,” You laughed again, shaking your head.  “Alright, fair play. I only left it up cause you got home early last night and I had to, um, clean up.”  You rolled your eyes at the flimsy excuse.  “And if you don’t want me watching Anal Punisher 3 then maybe you should let me punish your anal....arse....fuck, you know what I mean.”  It was your turn to snort into your breakfast, Ben’s clumsy attempt at seduction nearly making you inhale the scrambled eggs. When you finally got yourself under control you said, “I don’t care if you watch it, just shut it down when you’re finished.”   “Sorry love,”  “But  y’know, if you did want to anal arse fuck me tonight I wouldn’t say no.”  Ben’s eyes lit up in excitement. He’d either not heard the joke you’d made at his expense or decided it wasn’t worth bringing up if the possibility of anal was on the table, “Serious?”  “Serious. I’ll even put my plug in when I get dressed so we don’t have to spend as much time on foreplay.”  “If I hadn’t already married you, I’d propose on the spot.” 

But by the time Ben got home he seemed more interested in just cuddling on the couch. You’d done as you said you would and worn your plug all day, constantly thinking about what would happen later that night. Right up until Ben stepped inside yawning, when you snuck off to the bathroom to remove it, realising your plans were unlikely to go ahead. You’d half expected him to fall asleep on the couch after dinner but evidently, some part of him still wanted you. He tapped his thigh and beckoned you towards him, pulling you down so he could hold you close and kiss your shoulder. Soon enough that cuddling had turned to making out, you straddling his lap as you kissed him deeply, his large hands pulling you into him, stroking whatever bare skin he could find. Without thinking you dragged your fingers through his hair. He hummed in response so you did it again, your fingers creating small, firm circles against his scalp, drawing random patterns there as you focused on keeping your lips on his and your tongues entwined. Ben made soft pleased sounds as your fingers kept up their movement, almost moaning at the sensation. You could feel him getting harder under you as you carefully rocked your hips.   “Benny?”  “Huh?”  His hands had begun to roam more, moving down to your arse, grabbing and squeezing as he pulled you against him.  “Kinda got me excited here honey. Might wanna stop if you’re too tired to carry through,”  “What?”   He seemed nearly dazed, not properly comprehending what you were saying.   You shifted your hand to his chest, drawing small circles with your finger, “I mean I’ve been thinking about you fucking me all day anyway.”  “Think?”  “Exactly, thinking about our conversation this morning. Remember? Anal Punisher 3?”  “Anal?” It was still a question but there was a tone of excitement behind the dopey confusion.  “You said you wanted to.... I kinda really want you to.”  “Mmmm,”  “I mean I get it if you’re too tired,” you said softly, stroking your palms over his biceps, “but I’m up for it now if you are. So, do you still want to?”  “Mmhmm,” but as keen as he sounded, Ben didn’t seem inclined to move to the bedroom or even to begin to undress you. He was too caught up in feeling you up and trying to kiss you again.   “Don’t you want me Benny?”  He was slow to react, eyes still shut as he nodded, speech flowing like treacle “Want - you.”  “You can have me.” You had to lean back to stop him from kissing you again. As much as you liked making out, you were getting eager for more and wanted to know where he was at.  He nodded again, not seeming to hear you, and then, when he couldn’t immediately locate your lips again, opened his eyes.   It reminded you of the time a few friends had dragged you and Ben to a hypnotists show. None of your group had been pulled on stage to experience the hypnotic powers the man claimed to have, but those who had been had all worn similar expressions to Ben. Eyes heavy lidded and almost glazed over and when they’d gone back to their seats you’d noticed that they seemed a bit dazed and confused. You’d not seen Ben look like that before. Well, maybe a bit dazed after you gave him a proper good blow job, but nothing to this extent. Not even when you edged him repeatedly. He tended to get whiny and loud rather than glassy eyed and dopey. Usually more talkative too, begging or moaning your name. This was something new.  

Curiously, you stoked his hair back off his face and asked him how he felt, tugging lightly on the ends that reached the back of his neck.  “Good,” he sighed softly, “Kiss?”  You couldn’t deny him that when he’d asked so cutely, so you leaned in to kiss him again, letting him draw you in deeply for a moment. When the chance arose you let your lips slip from his, kissing along his jaw until you reached his ear, “What else do you want?”  Ben hummed softly and then said, “Arse.”  It was unusual for Ben to be so monosyllabic. Even when he was super horny and desperate for you, he could generally get most of a coherent sentence out. Nothing that would win any literary awards of course, but enough so you knew what he meant.  “What do you mean Benny?”  “Ummm....arse.....cock.”  It sounded like it had been a struggle for him to even think of the two words he wanted but you couldn’t help but giggle, “Does that mean you want to fuck me?”  “Yeah,”  “Okay baby. But you have to do everything I say, understand?”  Ben nodded.  “Can you do what I say Benny? Be a good boy and follow my instructions?”  He nodded again, “Yes. Please.”  You kissed him once more, trying not to laugh too much, and then scooted off his lap.  Ben whined as soon as the physical contact was broken.  “If you want my arse we gotta move to the bedroom,”  He frowned as if he didn’t quite understand but let you take his hand all the same and followed you to the bedroom. 

Ben’s hands began to wander again when you stopped to open your bedroom door, grasping your hips and then dropping lower to rest against your behind.   It was hard to ignore the tingle the light contact sent through you but you bit down on your rising need as you turned and grasped Ben’s hands, “Gotta wait for that Benny. Just a little longer.” You stepped back towards the bed and Ben smiled dopily as you pulled him along. “I mean I’m ready but not all the way. But if you help get me lubed up you can fuck my arse for as long as you want.”  It was like a light turned on inside Ben’s mind. His eyes still had that unfocused look but they were wider and he was nodding enthusiastically.  “You gonna undress me or should I start for you?” You laughed and when he didn’t immediately move you began pulling your shirt off over your head, too eager to wait. You reached behind you to unclasp your bra, “C’mon Benny. Help me out.”  Ben blinked twice before he seemed to understand but was soon offering his help, pulling the bra from your arms, gently cupping your breasts as he revealed them, thumbs falling into a familiar rhythm rubbing back and forth over your nipples. Still moving slowly, Ben leaned in and kissed your throat, humming in response as you pressed your chest into his hands and sighed contentedly. But he clearly had something else on his mind because soon enough his hands fell, fingers picking at the waistband of your leggings. Indulging him you quickly shed your pants, turning so he could see the thing he really wanted as you stripped off the final layer of clothing. Ben watched intently as you wiggled your hips teasingly and eked the waistband of your knickers down a few inches. And then something changed. 

You felt it in the air, a shift in energy, but even that wasn’t enough to prepare you as Ben growled and lunged forward, his hands tight on your waist as he lifted you onto the bed, barely giving you time to settle on your hands and knees before he dived in behind you.   All you could manage was to gasp his name as he rushed to tear your underpants down your thighs. But your surprise at his sudden movement doubled as he spread your cheeks and buried his face between them. He’d licked you like that once or twice but only when he’d been eating your pussy and teasingly snuck his tongue elsewhere as you tried to recover from your orgasm. This was entirely different.  

It felt similar to the vaguely tickly sensation he made you feel when he was helping you relax before a round of anal, when he would tease you with light strokes from his fingers until you were shivering and wanting more. But there was more heat to it. His breath hot and his tongue wet as he traced your hole. You felt like you’d been completely lit up from within, like he’d suddenly discovered a hundred more nerve endings than he usually hit. And adding to all the physical sensations of Ben’s fingers holding you open and his mouth exploring your darkest nooks, was the feeling of doing something properly filthy. You’d felt the same when you and Ben first tried anal, completely depraved at enjoying something so taboo. That feeling had lessened as you did it more, your enjoyment then stemming from Ben’s improved skills more than the act itself. But with your head against the sheets and your arse in the air you remembered why you’d liked feeling so downright dirty. It only heightened your desire and made every caress of Ben’s tongue sweeter.  

Of course, best of all was just how into Ben was. You wondered how he could possibly be breathing when every second seemed to be taken up with moans and groans as he feasted on you. The noises started softly as he tantalized you with hard licks against your arsehole and the surrounding area. But as his tongue explored deeper, as he pressed into you, making your arse feel slick and hot with his drool and making your pussy throb, he got louder. He seemed to enjoy you more and more, as if he’d never eaten anything as satisfying in his life. That was enough to have you shaking. You were already wet from grinding against him on the couch but the ways he was touching you and how thoroughly he was enjoying it had you positively soaked.   “Finger me Benny,” you gasped, trying to maintain some of the control you’d intended to have.  Ben did as you asked, never able to deny you what you craved, but it wasn’t up to his usual standard. His fingers weren’t as deft as normal, moving awkwardly and out of time. It was as if his fingers were trying to work off of muscle memory alone, his mind too consumed with something else to take any notice of your cunt.   With a needy whine you clumsily disentangled one fist from the sheets and batted Ben’s hand out of the way, replacing it with your own.  Ben didn’t make any indication that he’d noticed you start touching yourself, except to tighten his grip on your arse, holding you firmly as you began to writhe against your fingers. He happily went back to gripping a cheek in each hand, pulling them wide to give himself better access to your arsehole.   It seemed that wearing your plug had been a good idea because Ben found it easy to press his tongue into you, licking around and making your muscles tighten before withdrawing and sinking in again.   And that stimulation plus your own fingers in your cunt made you moan wantonly into the bedding.  Ben answered with his own long, loud moan of desire, sending a shiver along your spine. It was enough to tip you over the edge, your fingers massaging a spot within you as Ben rapidly tongued your hole. 

You rode out your high before letting your fingers slip back to tangle in the sheets once more, but Ben showed no signs of stopping. He might very well have kept up the intoxicating performance all night if you hadn’t whined his name. Even that wasn’t enough to make him stop entirely, just slow down and hum.  “Ben? Benny?” you gasped, as he readjusted his grip on you, “You gonna fuck me or what?”  Ben groaned as if he didn’t want to stop tasting you but wanted to move on to other things as well. And you were on the verge of instructing him to get the lube when you felt his fingers. He reached under you, two digits carefully tracing along your cunt, sliding through the creamy evidence of your earlier orgasm. He didn’t break contact, his fingers just as softly sliding along your crack and up to your arsehole. And then they were pushing against the ring of muscle.  Usually he’d take his time applying lube but he seemed too lost in the moment to remember it. You didn’t mind too much though. Lube might have made it a touch more comfortable but wearing the plug had helped loosen you up and Ben had thoroughly coated everything with his saliva and your own cum. His fingers breached you moderately easily, making you shiver and whine at the feeling of being filled again.   “God it’s a good thing we do this a lot,” you half sighed, half laughed into the sheets, as Ben’s fingers sank another inch into you.  Ben’s only response was to lean forward and lick around where his fingers were penetrating you, humming happily as he did so. 

Ben seemed inclined to spend just as long fingering you as he did licking you, but the way his fingers moved inside you quickly had you worked up and eager for more.   “God Ben. You’re hard right?”  Ben only pumped his fingers into you faster but you took it as a yes.  "So fuck me already. Please Benny,” It came out whinier than you’d expected so you cleared your throat and tried a proper demand, “I need your cock in my arse now Ben.”  You weren’t sure it would be enough to get Ben’s attention. He seemed too engrossed in fingering you to even hear what you were saying. But thankfully, something broke through his blinders.  Suddenly, his fingers disappeared. It was followed by the sound of his pants coming down and then you felt the head of his cock against your back entrance.  “Wait,” You gasped, “Wait. Lube.”  Ben repeated the word lube in a grunt, shifting hips slightly so he could run his shaft along your soaked cunt. You felt him between your lips, as if he were teasing you, sliding back and forth, coating his length in your juices.   A moment later, he returned to your other hole, his hands on your hips to pull your arse back onto him.  Ben let out a satisfied groan as he sank into you but you were panting roughly, almost seeing stars with how good it felt to finally be filled the way you wanted to be. Once or twice your breath hitched, the discomfort of his size pushing into you exacerbated by the lack of proper lube. But it wasn’t enough to truly bother, certainly not enough to stop. The fact that just seeing your arse had made Ben snap into an animalistic, almost feral demeanour had made you impossibly horny. And you were desperate for him to fuck you properly now he was fully sheathed in your arsehole’s tight embrace.   Ben moaned at the feeling, vocalising your own desire. And then he said something.   “What was that Benny?” you asked, unable to comprehend him.  “Fuck....arse......hngggg.....arse.....” he said though you were sure you were missing something. But as nonsensical as it was it was still hot. Knowing Ben was so desperate for this, for you, knowing you could make him babble incomprehensibly. It was insanely hot.   And then he began to fuck you.   You whined and brought your hand to your pussy again, finding your clit, though Ben’s frantic thrusts made it hard to keep the contact consistent.  

You screamed when you came, voice tearing out of your throat as Ben roughly pounded into you, his hips almost bruising hard against your arse.   It was nearly impossible for you to breathe under so much pleasure and you panted for air as the orgasm subsided.  But Ben was still going, still thrusting into you furiously, grunting with the effort as he neared his own release.   You gasped his name and told him to cum, trying to not get swept away by the feeling of his cock moving inside you, wanted him to keep going almost as much as you wanted to feel his semen warm you from the inside out, and drip out of you.   Your request was enough to make him shudder to a halt, his hands squeezing your hips tightly as he released himself with a groan.  He thrust a few more times and your limbs gave out. You felt them wobble and then collapse under you, Ben’s body pressing you into the mattress as he sank down too, still trying to fuck you.  

It took you saying his name twice before he stopped though he made a reluctant sort of a sound when he realised he had to pull out.  “Well if you didn’t fuck me so well you probably could have gone on a bit longer,” you laughed as he, somewhat grudgingly, pushed himself to his feet.  With a satisfied groan you rolled over and stretched your arm out to grab Ben’s hand so you could pull him onto the bed too.   He lay on his front, sighing as his head fell into the crook of your neck, his body resting almost entirely over yours.   You were half being crushed by his weight but you enjoyed it. It was comforting and warm and you softly drew your hands over his back as you caught your breath properly.  Ben was quiet as he lay there until, some ten minutes later, he suddenly pushed himself to his knees, blinking at you. His eyes still had a vaguely unfocused appearance but the more he blinked the more normal he seemed.   “Are you okay?” He asked slowly.  You laughed and nodded, “More than okay. Lie back down, I’m too tired to sit up.”  He compiled with your request, lowering himself again but this time on his back, “I have no idea what just came over me, babe.”  With a sigh you shifted to your side, propping your head up on one hand, “What do you mean?”  “All I know is I saw your arse and just needed it, more than anything else, more than air, I just wanted you.”  “Gotta admit, it was a little unexpected,” you lay your palm on Ben’s chest, his skin still flushed and warm to the touch, “But ummmm, definitely didn’t hate it.”  His hand landed gently on top of yours, holding you against his heart, “Did I use any lube at all?”  “Only spit and my cum.”  “Fucking hell. Are you sure you’re okay?”  “It’s fine Benny. If I’d needed anything else I would have made you stop. If I’m honest....kind of made it hotter.”  “Babe!”  “Not in a weird way! I’m not going to let you get away without lube all the time.” You laughed, “Just knowing you wanted me so badly was nice.”  “I always want you badly.”  You patted Ben’s chest softly, your heart fluttering, “Does that mean you’d want to eat my arse again another time?”  “You liked it?”  “Well you were very thorough.”  Ben groaned, throwing an arm over his eyes which just made you laugh again.  “I did enjoy it,” you said softly, deciding to put him out of his misery, “Wasn’t necessarily expecting it but it felt really good.”  “Well that’s something. I still don’t understand what just happened though.”  “What’s that saying...Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth?” 

Taglist: @labessieisallama @deakyclicks @jennyggggrrr @drowseoftaylor @hannafuckingsucks @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming @queenmylovely @ilovequeenmorethanyou @johndeaconshands @borhapbois @stardust-galaxies @cherries-n-rocknroll @rogersslave @scorpiogemini 

[idkthisisjustforfanfic]

that makes four.

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PART 2

The first days of Harry staying at your house were overshadowed by Maeve’s 5th grade spelling bee victory. The fake gold medal was a mainstay around her neck for a new nights at the dinner table until she eventually forgot about it.

Luckily enough, neither of your daughters seemed to be thrown too off kilter by his presence. Maeve was just young enough to not know much about who Harry was or the band he’d been in--though she was ready and willing to brag about having a celebrity around.

CeCe--in true sibling rivalry fashion--decided to draw her own medal with crayons and ask you to cut it out so she could wear it around the house. If Maeve gets one, so do I.

With potholders on and the oven door open, you apologized. “I can’t right now, honey--give mommy a few minutes and I’ll help you.”

Harry materialized at the bottom of the stairs, eyebrows raised when he said: “What do you need, CeCe?”

“I have to cut this out!” She said excitedly, running over to the drawer where the scissors were kept. She whipped them out and turned around quickly, Harry’s eyes bulging out of his head when he hurried over to grab them from her.

“I’ll cut, you watch,” he laughed, exchanging a look with you when CeCe climbed up to sit at the island. She hummed in agreement, handed over the paper and watched as he lined it up to start snipping.

“CeCe,” he said her name inquisitively. “Is CeCe short for anything?”

“Cecilia Rose L/N,” she smiled. “Pretty, right?”

“Very pretty,” he smiled. “Same last name as your mum.”

The last part of his sentence was a statement, a quick glance in your direction when you turned off the oven and shouted towards the stairs. “Maeve! Dinner’s ready!”

Your call went unanswered into the big house--you had no clue where she was or if she’d heard you. When Harry finished cutting out the paper medal, he handed it to CeCe who beamed with pride and put it around her neck.

Hands on your hips, “CeCe, will you please find your sister and tell her dinner is ready?”

She took one big breath and then screamed, “MAEVE!”

Both you and Harry flinched at the noise but laughed. She held onto Harry’s arm when she hopped down from the stool, shaking her head in disappointment. “Good god that girl,” she huffed, heading to climb the stairs when she yelled again: Maeve!!!! Dinner!!!!

“She’s a handful tonight,” you said, almost feeling guilty as her footsteps stomped on the floor overhead. “Thank you for that, though,” you said, motioning to the scissors in his hand. “Want a glass of wine?”

“S’not against the rules?” He teased.

When you shot him a look, he smirked and let out a laugh. “I’ll gladly take one. It’s fine, though. She was ready to stab someone flinging the scissors around like that.”

“They just had scissor safety in art class not too long ago.” You told him, pulling the cork from an already open bottle of red. “Sometimes I think she barely listens to anyone--she just does her own thing.”

“Not the worst way to be,” he smiled, picked up the glass when you slid it over on the granite. An awkward beat when he took a sip, smiled in your direction when you did the same. You could hear Maeve and CeCe fighting upstairs, offered him another guilty smile, but then he asked: “do you plan on changing your name?”

“My last name?”

“Yeah--L/N is your married name, right?”

It felt a bit nosy, a bit intrusive for the fourth night he was sleeping under your roof. You shrugged your shoulders casually, unsure how to answer. “Just haven’t gotten to it.”

He’d been quiet so far, out most of the day once the girls were gone for school and he’d return before dinner. Kept to himself--or at least out of the way--and was always helpful when he could be. Bringing groceries in? He carried a few. Needed a hand with clearing plates after dinner? He would gladly help.

Maeve and CeCe came rushing downstairs and were more willing to do the gratitude thing than they usually were, forks in hand when Maeve turned to you. “Oh, by the way, Auntie Shelli is taking us out for dinner tomorrow night.”

“She is?” You smiled at Maeve. “I haven’t heard about that.”

“She promised last week, she said Friday.”

“Okay, well I can check with her.”

“Are you doing anything tomorrow night?” Maeve asked.

“Not a thing,” you said, shaking your head. You’d been looking forward to it all week--maybe a bath and a glass of wine, maybe even a movie if you were feeling adventurous. Zoey was typically after you to do something: dinner, come hold Benny for an hour while she took a shower. You were totally up for helping a friend, but it’d been a minute since you had some me-time and if Jeff’s mom had already offered to babysit, you weren’t going to say no.

CeCe turned to Harry excitedly. “What are you doing tomorrow night? Are you coming to dinner?”

He smiled in her direction but shook his head. “I’m actually going over to a friend’s house.”

“What friend?”

“CeCe,” you laughed, embarrassed by her prying. “He doesn’t have to run everything by you, you know.”

“I know,” she said simply as she shrugged her shoulders innocently. “Just thought maybe it was one of my friends. I don’t know if we have the same friends.”

Harry laughed at this and smiled when you rolled your eyes. “I don’t think you know her.”

You watched Harry for a second, wondered if it was a girlfriend or something of the sort--Jeff hadn’t mentioned anything like that. Why couldn’t he stay there, with that friend?

“Well you should come with us and Auntie Shelli one day,” Maeve said. “We usually get ice cream and she lets us get a bunch of toppings and she doesn’t even care if we’ve had dinner yet.”

You let out a short laugh, the details of their time with family members always slipped out when you least expected it. “He’s busy, girls, remember?”

Harry shrugged, “we could get ice cream soon.”

You looked up at him, forked into a bite of dinner and said quietly: you don’t have to.

He didn’t--Harry didn’t owe you or your daughters anything except common decency and kindness. Helping you clean up after dinner or bring in the groceries was enough of a repayment for a guest room and his own bathroom.

“Maybe next week?” He ignored your comment and smiled at the girls.

“Next week!” CeCe chirped back, brushing her hair out of her face with a grin.

You figured they’d forget--swept up by the excitement of something else by the time next week rolled around and Harry would be off the hook. You smiled in his direction, apologetically and pleading, but it wasn’t until the next night that you realized he was serious.

Jeff’s mom had picked Maeve and CeCe up, you had just poured a glass of wine and went to sit in your office to go over any unread emails when he knocked on the door.

“Hey,” he offered a smile, leaned against the wall and put his hands in his pockets.

“Hi,” you turned to see him, unsure what he wanted or why he was popping in. “What’s up?”

“Uh, just wanted to let you know that my plans fell through--so, I’m just gonna be home--here I mean.”

His correction was quick, a subtle misstep through words.

You pressed your lips into a thin line, nodded slowly as you took in the information. He’d be here--in your house and just hanging out. While you had planned for a quiet night, having one other person somewhere in the house wouldn’t kill you, right? Maybe he’d lock himself away in his room and leave you to your emails, then you’d slip upstairs and end the night with a bath before your children returned with a sugar high and stories for days.

“Okay,” you said. A pause when he nodded, looked at you and then down to the floor.

“Do you want to have a drink?”

“I’ve got one,” you lifted your glass and then faltered. “Oh, together--sure, yeah.”

He held back a laugh, motioned for you to lead the way once you stood up from your desk. He trailed you back through the living room and into the kitchen, got himself a wine glass when you found the bottle you’d already started on the counter.

Was this weird? You couldn’t tell. The house was quiet and for a moment it felt like neither of you knew what to say when the only sound was the cork coming out of the bottle.

“I can venmo you for groceries, too, since m’drinking your wine.” He lifted it and poured, you watched the liquid rise in the glass until he looked up at you, waiting for a reply.

“No, it’s fine.”

“M’eating your food, drinking your wine, sleeping in your house,” he let out a laugh but put the stopper back in. “I feel like I could at least pay you back for some--” he looked down at the bottle and studied the label, “cabernet.”

You pulled out a barstool and sat, a sigh when you waved him off. “S’fine--I’m still making my way through the sorry your dad died and sorry your husband left you bottles.”

His lips pulled up at the side when yours did too. “Where do they make those grapes?”

“Somewhere far away from here,” you nodded, a long sip from your own glass when he moved to sit beside you.

“So how much did Jeff have to beg you to let me stay here?”

You looked over at him, hesitant to admit your own reluctance. You knew he and Jeff were close--you’d long been hearing stories about their nights out or big wins as a team. You’d even been invited to the release party for Harry’s first solo album, but you couldn’t find a babysitter and back then your ex couldn’t be bothered.

“I got a few pleading text messages after he first brought it up,” you smiled.

He laughed and nodded. “Well, it’s a big help. My house is over in Malibu but s’not ready yet--the only guestroom in Jeff’s house shares a wall with the master and something about that felt...weird.”

You narrowed your eyes at him playfully. “You didn’t want to hear Jeff and random women hooking up?”

“Not in the slightest,” he shook his head and bit back a smile. “Figured I’d stay with his parents for a bit but then Irv and Shelli told me they loved me but their rules are strict: their children, grandchildren, and your children. Those are their only guests.”

You nodded, it wasn’t news to you. “One time my dad stayed over after a party and Irv almost hit him with a golf club in the morning because he’d forgotten who was on the couch.”

“Yeah, so, sounds like a good idea that I’m here.” Quiet again when he moved the glass around, then he said: “you know, I would be happy to take them to ice cream or something one night--give you a minute to yourself.”

You smiled, the offer was sweet and apparently he had no idea that he’d just ruined your one chance this week to have that. “You really don’t have to--I’m sorry that they’re so...fascinated by you.”

“No, they’re great, very sweet. Maybe I can tag along when Jeff watches them next and learn the ropes.”

You nodded, reassured by his understanding that watching them would take skill. “There’s a lot to learn, they can be quite the handful sometimes.”

“Yeah?” he tilted his head. “Tell me more about them.”

The way he looked at you stirred a feeling in your chest that you couldn’t quite place. Maybe it was just the fact that he seemed interested enough to ask about them, he already seemed more invested than their father had been over the last year. You also would never turn down an opportunity to humble-brag about the tiny humans you'd created.

“Well, Maeve is pretty straight-edge. She’s always cared a lot about school and she likes it--which is weird, cause she didn’t get that from me and she definitely didn’t get it from my ex-husband. Like, she actually gets excited to come home and do her homework.”

He laughed, sipped from his glass and said: “Right, I’m sure she didn’t get her drive and determination from her mother who started her own successful business.”

You brushed off the compliment with a roll of your eyes and a laugh. “The weird preteen-angst thing is new, though. I have no idea if that’s because of losing my dad or losing hers,” you picked at a thread on your sleeve.

He was quiet for a moment, like he didn’t know what to say to that.

“And CeCe,” you saved him the trouble, “she’s a fireball. She is so strong-willed it actually makes me nervous about when she’s a teenager. She might actually drive to Vegas and get married or something. It’s just her world and we’re living in it.”

His dimples appeared on his cheeks when you shrugged. “Well, you’ve clearly done something right with them. Jeff's always loved being an uncle."

“I appreciate that,” you said honestly, a pause before you admitted: “My ex was never that hands on.”

“Right,” he nodded. “Is that why things ended?”

You let out a short laugh, again unsure if you were sharing too much. Would you wake up and regret the fact that you'd poured a glass of wine, and apparently your deepest secrets, all out on display?

“That, along with the fact that he was cheating on me for a good 18 months, I think.”

“Wow,” he nodded slowly, his lips pushed out in thought when he dropped your gaze. “What a dick.”

“Yeah, better I found out now than later on, I guess.”

“So that and losing your dad this year--”

“Yeah it’s been shitty,” you cut him off, another sip of your wine to avoid having to say more. He looked at your glass, now nearing empty, and reached for the bottle.

“Then you definitely deserve another one of these,” he laughed, fingers pulling the cork out again. “No wonder you got so many sympathy wine bottles.”

He poured himself another too, eventually he followed you into your dad’s old office when he asked what hid behind the mystery door on the first floor.

It was the only room you hadn’t redone yet, something about keeping his records on the book shelves and his papers on the desk felt like it kept him here. He’d chosen the green for the walls and you apologized when Harry’s eyebrows shot up at the sight.

“Great man,” you nodded, turning on a light switch, “terrible decorating taste.”

Harry nodded slowly, wine glass still in hand and a smirk fighting it’s way onto his face. “S’a bright color, yeah.”

He let out a laugh when he made eye contact with you, a disapproving look on your face when you walked over to the desk. “All these strewn about--probably some important information about you over here somewhere.”

He came over and lifted a paper. “Harry Styles is one of the most thoughtful, caring, and funny people I know.”

“Really?” You tugged at his arm to get a better view of the paper. Your dad’s handwriting was almost illegible, a date scribbled on top and another few words halfway down the small notebook page, nothing about Harry and nothing that seemed all that important.

“I hope that’s what he thought of me,” Harry smiled, his eyes flickered to where you still had a grip around his wrist. “Your nails are digging into me.”

“Sorry,” you pulled back immediately. “Sometimes I have to grab CeCe like that in the store or she runs off.”

He kept your gaze for a second, but it felt uncomfortable and made you nervous, so you cleared your throat. “Feel free to come in here and use this stuff,” you motioned over to the piano and the guitars he had in stands. “No one uses it, so--it’d be good for it to get played.”

“You don’t play anything?”

You shook your head. “No--he’d started to teach me guitar when I was young but then my mom died, just never picked it up again.”

You were thirteen when it happened, a car accident on the 405 and you didn’t go to school for weeks. Your dad had always been your main support--they divorced when you were ten--but after that you grew even closer, which is why losing him was so hard. He’d been a friend and a parent and the best grandfather who helped pick up the pieces when things with Luke started to crumble.

Harry was quiet, a simple nod when he went over to the piano and sat. You felt the need to shift the topic of conversation to something less depressing than the unfortunate events of your life.

“Are you writing a lot for the album still?”

“Yeah--we’ve got a few things written that might end up on it, but, mostly just experimenting with some new sounds.”

He pressed a chord down on the piano and looked up at you. “How do Maeve and CeCe seem to be handling it all?”

“Which part?”

“Both.”

You shrugged. “They’ve asked a lot about where their father is and why he hasn’t visited. And they understand that their grandpa is gone, but they’re sad, I think. CeCe’s had more nightmares than usual.”

He smiled a little. “And how are you doing with all of it?”

You let out a tiny laugh, mostly out of discomfort with the sudden seriousness in his voice and the way he already pulled more out of you than you’d planned. “I’m fine.”

He lifted his brows but played another progression of chords. “Wouldn’t blame you if you’re not.”

You took a sip of the cabernet and watched as he hummed along to whatever he played. When he looked up at you and waited for a reply, you smiled. “Some days I want to pull my hair out and others I need a good glass of wine. I kind of oscillate between those two lately.”

“Well, I’m always happy to split a bottle with you.”

You nodded, tried to fight the smile on your face when he laughed but then gave in. “Good.”

**

You woke up the next morning with a bit of a headache from the third and unexpected glass of wine. The girls were home by 9pm and unfortunately for you, the weekend was busy with play dates and birthday parties and grocery shopping.

Monday had you back in the office and recounting the first week to Tristan over an iced latte and a breakfast sandwich you’d grabbed after school drop off. Now it was cold and you were approaching the mid-day slump you were all too familiar with.

“I just can’t believe you’re alive still, to be honest. You know--seeing as you thought he’d be a serial killer or something.”

You looked over at him with narrowed eyes. “I didn’t think he was a serial killer.”

“Just a pedophile?”

“Alright,” you waved him off. “I can admit that it’s been fine--good, even. It’s only been a week, though.”

“Right,” he shrugged. “Halfway there. Maybe week two is when he goes crazy.”

You ignored the teasing from your friend and looked back to your computer. “Do you know if Kailee ordered the new bottles for the matcha face mask?”

“Yesterday afternoon,” he nodded. “And we also got the labels in for them as well. They ship off to the packaging plant on Tuesday.”

“Good, and numbers are up from last quarter which is really good. The meeting with the investors should go well.”

“Yeah, I mean, our entire profit has doubled since this time last year,” he smiled in your direction, a subtle reminder that the late night emails on top of the worst year ever had already proven to be worth it. “You should be very proud.”

“I am,” you admitted. “Of us. All of us.”

“Yes, what kind of boss would you be if you took all of the credit?” He teased.

“A bad one, but I’m also the type of boss that leaves at lunch time to go home and change since I have a meeting this afternoon that I forgot all about.”

He looked you up and down when you stood.

“It’s with people from Anthropologie about carrying some of our products in store--so I don’t think I can wear athleisure.”

He laughed and kept typing. “Fair enough. See you at 2pm, though, for the website meeting?”

“Yes,” you promised as you grabbed your keys. “Please don’t let the place burn down while I’m gone.”

“Might throw the match myself,” he waved you off, a laugh at his own joke when you headed for the elevator.

You were proud of the company you’d built and the office you’d been able to purchase two years back, but you were more proud of the energy that buzzed through the halls and the people who made work feel less like work and more like the adventure of a lifetime. You tried to be the cool boss who brought enough coffee for everyone, gave good time off but still expected hard work and drive to be the core of the business.

It took a while to settle into the role, though. At first you were sure you’d be seen as a spoiled rich kid who got a loan from her father to start a company--but it only took one year to repay him when you started getting placements in health food markets across LA. When Kourtney Kardashian posted something about your raspberry toner, the rest was history.

You’d always been passionate about making people feel good about themselves and focused your entire brand on building people up, not tearing them down. The world had enough of that as a mother of two daughters, you hoped it’d be something that would change that narrative, at least for them.

The drive home was quick and the sun was shining, which put a pep in your step as you hopped out of the car in the driveway and headed for the side door.

Harry’s car was still here--you’d left earlier than usual but didn’t expect him to be home. If anything, you figured he’d left shortly after you and planned on staying late in the studio. Jeff had mentioned something about laying down new tracks.

“Hello?” You called into the kitchen and looked around, he wasn’t in the living room or out by the pool. You found a laundry basket at the top of the second floor and figured that maybe someone had picked him up, but the sound of muffled singing pulled you down the hall and closer to his guest room.

The door was cracked only a bit, the sun streamed in from the windows and you could hear the running water of the shower. It was wrong, maybe, but you pushed the door open and stepped inside, smiled to yourself at the fact that he was singing a Carole King song that your dad used to play on repeat when you were a kid.

The room was clean--you hadn’t been in it since you’d pointed out the linen closet in the bathroom and showed him how to use the TV remote. His bed was made--maybe not the way you would have made it but the throw pillows were arranged in a way that showed he tried.

A buzzing on the dresser pulled your attention away from the bed. His phone, a message from someone named Bria Whitmore. Another message, then a third. You took a step closer--who on earth was texting him this much without a reply? A girlfriend? Someone he probably slept with or something of the sort.

“Hi,” his voice pulled your head around quickly and sent your heartbeat through the roof.

“Jesus, hi--sorry--I was just--”

He was in a towel, the fabric wrapped loosely around his waist and hair was slicked back from the water. You looked away from the tattoos that littered his skin and looked down at the laundry basket.

“I was just seeing if you had any laundry you needed me to do?”

It was clean, but he didn’t need to know that.

“M’good,” he smiled like he didn’t believe you. “Why are you home?”

“Had to change--forgot about a meeting,” you let out a laugh and tried to slow your pulse. “Figured the pilates mom look wasn’t the right vibe.”

He nodded, moved around you in the center of the room to pull out a t-shirt from a drawer. You saw him look down at the cell phone you’d been eyeing.

“Your phone went off,” you admitted, the laundry basket still pressed up against your hip.

“Yeah?” He smirked over his shoulder.

“I was just making sure it wasn’t an emergency--I wasn’t, like, snooping.”

A dimple appeared on his left cheek again, he tugged the fabric over his head and then shook out his hair.

“S’not an emergency,” he said. “Just a friend.”

You didn’t know if that was code. Were twenty-somethings calling their booty-calls friends now? You figured you’d ask Tristan later.

“Why are you home?” You tossed the question back at him.

“Schedule changed--went for a run after breakfast and now just, showering, y’know,” he looked down at the towel that separated you from an even more awkward moment.

“Right, sorry, I...am leaving,” you pointed to the door. “Changing, back to the office, home tonight.”

“Sounds good,” he smiled. “Figured I could make dinner, if you wanted. I make a mean chicken taco.”

You took a few steps backwards to the door. “You cook?”

“I do,” he smiled. “Hard to believe?”

“No,” you shook your head. “That would be great--if you want, but you don’t have to.”

“I’d love to,” he nodded. “I’ll see you tonight, Y/N.”

“With more clothes,” you smiled, immediately regretting the bad joke and the attention it drew to the stuffy air and the butterflies in your stomach.

“Definitely more clothes.”

You made a face at yourself once the door was shut, idiot. At least you hadn’t accidentally seen a picture of someone’s boobs. You were sure he got plenty of those.

You pushed the thought out of your head and thankfully Harry didn’t smirk at you too much when Jeff came to pick up the girls for ice cream the next afternoon. They hadn’t forgotten, but luckily Jeff had offered to take them out one night and it seemed like the perfect opportunity for Harry to tag along. That way he could stay true to his word and the girls would stop pestering him every time he popped down to the kitchen.

Zoey had been begging to bring the baby over to get out of the house, and now she was sitting in the other room with Benny on a play mat on the floor. Maeve, CeCe, Jeff and Harry stood in a line, eagerly awaiting the green light to pile into Jeff’s car.

“Okay, so Uncle Jeff can text me if you need anything, see you around 7pm?”

“Yes ma’am,” Jeff said, a salute in your direction that pulled a giggle from both of your daughters.

They’d been fighting more lately, CeCe tried to take the medal from Maeve’s room one night over the weekend and suddenly it was like world war three. You were shocked that they’d gotten it together enough to spend some time in each other's presence, even with Uncle Jeff chaperoning, but you were eager for the quiet and hopeful the screaming matches wouldn’t return once the ice cream and dinner date was finished.

“Love you, be nice to each other, okay?” You leaned down and used both hands to hold CeCe’s head in place when you planted a kiss on her forehead, then Maeve. A hug for Jeff, “only one ice cream cone this time.”

He laughed but obliged, you moved down the line to Harry, an awkward nod in his direction when you realized that whatever type of acquaintanceship had slowly started to bloom between the two of you was hardly grounds for a kiss on the forehead or even a hug.

He apparently sensed this too, a playful smile on his face when he lifted his brows. “No farewell for me?”

Jeff let out a quick laugh but Maeve and CeCe took off for the car, racing to see who could get out the front door fastest. “Alright, don’t kill each other,” you reminded again, waved them all off with an embarrassed smirk and then watched as Harry helped CeCe buckle into her booster seat.

“So,” Zoey appeared beside you, Benny in her arms as she looked out the window. “Seems like things are going well.”

“Yeah,” you shrugged casually. “He’s been nice.”

“He seems friendly,” she wiggled her brows when she met your gaze. “Flirty friendly.”

“Just friendly,” you laughed and headed for the kitchen to pour yourself a drink. It might have only been Tuesday, but the week promised to be a busy one. You wiped up a runaway drip of wine on the rim, fully aware the words about to leave your mouth would push Zoey into gear. “But I did see him shirtless yesterday.”

“That sounds amazing,” she shifted Benny in her arms, eagerness in her voice. “How was it?”

“I mean--he also caught me snooping in his room, sort of.”

“Sort of?”

You tried to downplay it. “I came home from work in the middle of the day to change and I heard him in the shower--which is weird cause I didn’t think he’d be home.”

“So you went in there?”

“Not the bathroom--I just peeked into his room and noticed it was really clean. Which is weird, right? He’s a kid!”

“He’s not a kid,” she rolled her eyes at you. “Your kids are kids. He’s twenty-four. I looked it up.”

Your eyes were wide when you turned to head for the couch. “You looked it up?”

“I was curious! He’s a celebrity living in your house and he’s very attractive and you have been harping on his age.”

“Because it felt weird at first.”

“And it doesn’t now?” Her tone was hopeful when she laid Benny back on his play mat and kneeled beside him.

You took a gulp from your wine glass. “Less weird, but only because he’s mature. He’s helpful around the house--he cooked dinner the other night--and he’s good with the girls.”

The corner of her mouth pulled towards the ceiling, arched eyebrows when she clarified. “He’s good with the girls?”

“He’s just nice to them--I was worried that they’d annoy him. I mean, I doubt that he was excited to hear that two of his roommates were six and ten.”

“Okay--but why did you see him shirtless?”

Right--she’d gotten you off track. “Because...I went in his room and then saw his phone buzzing and then he came out and caught me looking at his phone.”

“You were looking through his phone?!”

“No! Not the actual texts, just to see who was blowing it up. I only looked at the lock screen.”

“Was he annoyed?”

“No,” you shrugged, shame laced through your voice. “He was casual. But then he put his shirt on and I left him alone and went back to work.”

“So there’s sexual tension,” she shimmied her shoulders and pulled a laugh from you, she nuzzled down into Benny’s face but then gave him a pacifier.

“No.”

This brought her gaze back to you, more serious now. “Y/N, you are not a creep if you admit that you find him attractive.”

“I can admit that he’s handsome,” you chose a new word that felt more detached. “But who cares? He’s literally just a house guest. A friend of a friend.”

“Right, but he was just flirting with you like there’s no tomorrow.”

“No he wasn’t,” you denied her accusation. When she stared at you expectantly, you took a loud sip and let the obnoxious noise ring through the now empty house as if it would preclude you from saying any more.

“You truly, seriously, one-hundred percent haven’t noticed any type of flirting?”

You averted your eyes for a second, ready to dismiss her question and tell her she was crazy. There was nothing going on between the two of you.

But then you thought on it, thought about the way he asked about Maeve and CeCe and remembered the way your stomach seemed to twist itself in knots when he smirked at you and when the dimples appeared on his cheeks.

“The look on your face is enough of an answer,” Zoey teased, bouncing side to side when Benny made a noise. “Isn’t that right, Benny Boo? Someone has a crush.”

“There’s no crush here--he’s just,” a shrug of your shoulders when you didn’t know what words to use. You didn’t want to add fuel to her fire and you certainly didn’t want to give her any more of a reason to keep bringing this topic up.

“Dreamy? Beautiful? The perfect rebound post-divorce?”

A flutter of your eyelids in annoyance when you stood to head for the kitchen. “No,” you said, making a face in her direction. “He’s just cute.”

“So cute!” She followed behind and egged you on. “A crush is perfectly harmless, a little bedtime rendezvous is totally not a big deal.”

“I think we’re getting ahead of ourselves, here, okay?”

“Oh come on,” she laughed. “You mean to tell me you haven’t already thought about if he’s good in bed?”

She came to sit next to you at the island, folding her legs beneath her. When you sipped at your wine and tried to hide a smirk, her face lit up. “I knew it, I knew it! I don’t blame you, at all, by the way. He’s gorgeous.”

“I’m just horny, number one,” you admitted, leaning forward to rest your elbow on the granite counter. “And seeing a man actually be good with kids is a breath of fresh air.”

“Yeah, Luke didn’t set the bar high with that one.”

“Absolutely not.”

A pause of silence when evening air blew through the open doors to the patio. There was music audible through the trees, wafting in from the backyard of your neighbors.

“I think you should fuck him.”

“What?!” You turned towards her quickly, your voice quieter when she smirked and looked over at you. “Are you out of your mind?”

“You have a ridiculously attractive man living in your house and he hangs out with your kids and now he’s starting to cook? It’s like a lifetime movie waiting to happen.”

“That doesn’t mean I should have sex with him!”

“Do you want to have sex with him?”

You were quiet for a second, kept her gaze but then rolled your eyes and shook your head. “I’ve had a bad year,” you made an excuse for the pulsing in your veins whenever you were alone with him. Nothing more, nothing less.

“When does he leave again?”

“I don’t know--at the end of the week, I guess. It’s not happening, so don’t get any ideas.”

“Alright,” she seemed to relent, “You do you. I just think you deserve a little feel good time.”

“That sounds gross,” you wrinkled your nose, pulling a laugh out of her.

She was able to change the topic, told you all about the way Benny was getting better at lifting his own head and he was screaming a lot less when she put him down for some tummy time. Your phone dinged, though, signalling a new text just when you were about to pull out leftovers and heat them up.

She watched when you opened it, got excited when you smirked at the screen.

“Who is it?”

You almost didn’t want to show her, but you knew she’d pry it out of your hands with force if you didn’t share. You flipped it around, watched as a smile spread across her face.

A picture of Harry and CeCe, both with sunglasses on as they ate their ice cream. Maeve and Jeff were in the background, the line at the ice cream shop down the street wasn’t too long. You were kind of surprised he was willing to go with them, wouldn't it create a buzz in the headlines?

Zoey gave you a knowing look.

“It’s just sweet.”

“Are you sure?”

“I don’t know,” you smiled a little at first, but the happiness faded from your face when you pulled yourself back to reality. “I feel stupid thinking that he’s flirting with me. He could be with a supermodel if he wanted to. One with perky boobs and who’s, like, twenty. Not someone who’s old enough to be his mom.”

“You are seven years older than him,” she made a disgusted face. “You could have been, like, his babysitter, not his mom.”

“Oh, that makes me feel so much better.”

“You’re being stupid about this!”

You paused with tupperware in your hands, turned around slowly. “I am not being dumb about not having casual sex with the popstar boyband kid living under my roof. I think not having sex with him is objectively the responsible thing to do here.”

“Why do you always have to be so responsible, though? You have been doing that forever, okay? You’re the business owner mom who’s always been incredibly family-oriented.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“No, not in the slightest! But you’re more than just a mom.”

You bit at your cheek and dropped her gaze, put the tupperware down from exhaustion. “I just want my children to have a normal life. I only had one parent and I thought they were going to have two and now that ship has sailed.”

She nodded sympathetically. “But that doesn’t mean you did anything wrong! You never relaxing and having a good time will only teach them bad work-life balance.”

You rolled your eyes at her comment, tried to fight the smile when she waited for you to fold. “I love you,” she said. “I want you to get laid or have a drink or let your hair down once in a while.”

You held up the wine in her face. “Already halfway there.”

She reached for the bottle of wine and shoved it towards you with skeptical eyes. “Try harder.”

You let out a laugh and took another sip once it was refilled, pushed plates into the microwave and sat there with her until Jeff’s car pulled back into the driveway and the girls came tumbling back into the house.

“Mom, Harry said he could teach me how to play guitar,” Maeve grinned up at you, an affectionate hug caught you by surprise, but so did her words.

“He did, did he?” You eyed Harry as he walked in with Jeff by his side, sunglasses still on his face despite the sun lingering just above the horizon.

“We’ll start a band,” Harry nodded in her direction, kept his eyes shielded as CeCe ran into the backyard with a noise of excitement.

“And Uncle Jeff said he’ll sing.”

“You’ll definitely get far, then,” you teased, pulling an offended look from your childhood friend. “He’s obviously the best singer in the house.”

Harry nodded in playful agreement. “Could put me out of a job any day.”

“Maeve!” CeCe called suddenly, pulling everyone’s attention to the backyard. “Come play squishball!”

Harry looked down at Maeve and she looked up at him, you were unaware of whatever unspoken communication was transpiring between them. “Should we?” He asked.

“Definitely,” she giggled, hands on her hips.

Zoey was also confused, but she watched as Maeve and Harry headed for the patio. Harry finally took his sunglasses off, handed them to your older daughter before he spoke. “CeCe, we need to have a meeting.”

“A meeting?” She asked, she groaned in disappointment but walked back towards the house, bat dragging on the grass behind her. Jeff laughed and folded his arms over his chest, unaware of whatever deal had already been struck between them.

“You two are both really great at squishball,” Harry admitted, his voice suddenly more serious than before. “But I think we need to up the stakes.”

“Up the stakes?” You could tell by the look on CeCe’s face that she had no clue what that meant.

“Winner of this game gets the medal I won from the spelling bee,” Maeve explained.

You were about to protest, head outside and discourage any type of betting or gambling or whatever the backyard made up game was leading towards, but Harry went on to explain the rules. “CeCe gets a head start running bases, just because of her tiny legs.”

Maeve nodded, “and she gets a free home run to start off.”

CeCe smiled wide and put her hands on her hips, pulling a laugh from Harry as she copied her older sister. “I like the sound of that,” she said. A sure-fire way to make her win, you realized. But what was in that for Maeve? How had your previously grumpy pre-teen become a team player in a matter of hours?

It wasn’t long before Zoey gathered up her things and put Benny in the backseat, giggling and excited yells floated in from the backyard when you hugged her goodbye. Jeff stayed past sunset and offered an excited high five when CeCe won, completely unaware at how easy they’d made it for her.

But he soon left, too, you climbed the stairs behind your two little athletes, got them washed up and in bed before it was 9pm--not bad for a weeknight. You were sure Harry would have retreated to his room, too, but he was sat by the fire pit on the patio, a near empty glass of wine in his hand when you came back out.

“Care to explain?” you leaned against the doorframe and smiled. He adjusted in his seat but shrugged his shoulders when you admitted: “I never thought I would hear the end of it with that stupid medal.”

There was a confident look on his face when he met your eyes in the glow of the fire pit. “Figured I can teach her a few chords on guitar and that would take her mind off of taunting CeCe.”

It was smart, you nodded slowly and watched him. Give Maeve something that would get her really excited, but only if she’d give up something else. Bargaining--a classic parenting trick. You eyed Harry with a level of skepticism.

“How are you so good with them?”

He smiled at that, apparently flattered by the compliment. “They’re good kids,” he said simply.

“I’m aware,” you laughed, “but you don’t have to spend so much time with them.”

“I like it,” he shrugged. “It’s kind of nice to be around a family, you know?”

The words pulled emotion to your chest. Did you really look like a family to him? No husband, no grandfather, two irreplaceable roles and now you were trying to fill all of them just to keep your kids afloat.

“And besides,” he stood from his chair and grabbed the now empty glass before he came closer to you. “Something about being here just feels right.”

You looked up at him, felt the same rush of heat to your cheeks but hoped you were safe in the cover of night. He smirked, like he knew what he was doing to you but was too much of a gentleman to call you out. Hesitation when you felt some type of magnetic force between you, the distance simultaneously felt like inches and miles.

You smiled softly, embarrassed by the way your pulse picked up and the thoughts that flew through your head. What would happen if I, does he ever think about, am I crazy if I want to?

He brushed past you and walked to the sink, placing the wine glass down quietly before he turned to face you once more. “Is it as bad as you thought?”

Confusion, you wiped your sweaty palms on your pants. “Sorry?”

“Having me here,” he motioned around, the dimple on his left cheek was visible even in the dim light. You rolled your eyes, dropped his gaze for a second when he let out a quiet laugh. “I hope that it’s only as miserable as you thought--m’just aiming for not worse than expected at this point.”

You turned to face him and put your hands on the granite, thankful for the fact that the island was now between you, the ticking of a clock on the wall kept time when you tried to piece your words together carefully.

Was he flirting with you? A similar to question to that he'd asked only a few nights earlier, this time with more of a smirk on his face and a lilt in his voice that made sent a shiver down your spine.

“It’s better,” you admitted with a nod and a teasing smile. “But don’t tell Jeff that.”

He crossed his arms over his chest, held your gaze and then nodded. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

There was silence for a second, you almost offered to pour him another glass of wine but then he said: “Only a few more days, though.”

“Yeah,” you nodded, the fantasy shattered on the floor between you. “How’s the house coming?”

He winced, a quiet laugh when he shook his head. “Everything’s been pushed out a few weeks, actually. But--it’s fine, I’m probably just going to stay with a friend or something, you know, don’t want to overstay my welcome.”

You brought your lips into a thin line, unsure if what you were about to offer was appropriate or weird or just plain awkward.

“Oh...well, I mean, if you want to stay here longer, you can.”

His mouth pulled up on the side, he brought his gaze back to you and shifted his weight on his feet. “Yeah? You don’t mind?”

You shrugged, again hoping to play it cool or not come off too eager. “If that would be helpful,” you trailed off.

“Yeah, very helpful.”

“Cool.”

“Cool,” he nodded, pulling another smirk from you.

A few more weeks, tops.

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[supernaturalgirl20]

This Love (part two)

Pairings: Frankie Morales x reader

Warnings: Smut 18+, p in v smut, cursing, fluff, fighting.

Summary: Months after admitting your feelings for each other, your relationship with Frankie is stronger than ever. Helena makes a decision that could tear it all down. All good things must come to an end. Right?!

*comments and reblogs appreciated*

You grab the sheet tightly in your hand, a moan escaping your swollen lips.

“Oh god….baby don’t stop…just like that.”

You move your hand to grab at his hair, tugging it harder as you near your release. Almost. Almost. Suddenly his mouth is off you and you sigh in frustration.

“Frankie, baby, I was almost there. Why did you stop. You can’t just wake me up like that and then leave me all wound up.”

He laughs, kissing his way up your thigh, over your stomach and finally meeting your lips in a searing kiss. He grabs his thick cock and strokes himself twice before lining up at your core. In one swift motion he is buried to the hilt inside you, filling you completely. You let out a loud moan.

“Shhhh baby, you gotta be quiet, don’t want to wake Sophia.”

It’s slow, almost lazy and you can feel every ridge, every vein on his thick member. God you love sleepy morning sex with Frankie.

“Didn’t……thrust….let….thrust….you come….before….wanted…ugh….come on…fuck…my cock.”

“Oh god Frankie….harder…please…..too slow.”

With that Frankie began pounding into you over and over. Hitting that sweet spot inside you every time. Your whole body was in ecstasy as you came loudly soaking his cock. With one final grunt Frankie spilled himself into you. He slowly pulled out and went to the en-suite to get a cloth and cleaned you up. Getting back into bed he lays down and pulls you into him.

“God I fucking love you baby.”

“I love you to.” You snuggle into his side.

“So what are the plans today?” He says as he runs his fingers up and down your spine.

“Well Santi is having that barbecue tonight, show off his new girl.”

“Damn forgot about that. Do we have to go?” He says snuggling closer

“Yes, or Santi will come over rip you a new one.”

There is a knock at your door before Sophia comes barrelling in. Jumping on the bed, she leaps on top of Frankie.

“Oof, bebita you gotta go easy, daddy is getting old now” he says tickling her. Once he releases her she crawls over to you.

“Morning baby, have a good sleep?”

“Yeah, am I staying with my abuala today?”

“Yeah baby and your going to stay for a sleepover, is that ok?”

“Yeaah” she hops down and rushes out of the room.

You turn to look at Frankie to find he already has his eyes on you, a look of adoration on his face.

“What?”

“Your just….so good with her, you’ve always been an amazing mother to her, it gets me thinking.”

“Oh no, don’t hurt yourself”, you say laughing.

“Oh you’ve done it now,” he says moving on top of you tickling you.

“Stop…..Frankie please….I can’t take it.” He stops and just stares down at you.

“Let’s have a baby!” Your shocked, having not expected this conversation today.

“Before you say anything, I’ve wanted this with you since that night at the bar. Your amazing with Sophia and she isn’t even yours, you would be an amazing mom. Imagine a mini me or you and Sophia would be the best if sister.” He was rambling now and you decided to put a stop to this, so you kissed him.

“Frankie…”

“It’s ok…we can talk about it again further down the line..” He goes to move off of you but you pull him back. You place your hands either side of his head, looking him deep in the eyes “is this what you really want?”

“Yes, I want it all with you baby.”

“Ok.”

“Ok? As in we’re going to have a baby ok?

“Yes Frankie we can try for a baby.” He plants kisses all over your face, “I love you, your going to be a hot mama, all swollen with my baby inside you.”

“Ok slow down there cowboy, our eldest is awake now and could walk in any minute.”

“Tonight,” he says wiggling his eyebrows at you. He’s dressed and out the door to Sophia before you know it. Lying back on the bed you run your hand down to your stomach, imagining what it will be like carrying Frankie’s baby. You can’t help the smile that spreads over your face.

****

Arriving at Santi’s that evening, Frankie is beaming, his arm wrapped around your waist.

“Hermano, glad you could make it, and Y/N, looking stunning as always.” He goes to kiss your cheek but Frankie stops him, “eh no funny stuff, hijo de puta.” They both laugh and hug each other.

“So where is this girl Pope? Or is she all in your head.”

“Nah, she’ll be here soon you’ll see.”

Walking towards the backyard, you spot the Miller brothers arguing over the bbq.

“You got to put it on like this..”

“Hey I know how to cook, back off benny.” Laughing at their antics you walk towards your sister.

“Hey, someone seems extra cheerful tonight”, she says nodding towards Frankie.

“Is he, I hadn’t noticed.” Smiling into your beer.

“You gave him a blowjob on the way over here?”

“He wishes, no we had a chat this morning about the future.”

“Omg…aah, he proposed, I knew it, wait until I tell Will.”

“What that’s not what…”

“Benny owes me 100 .”

“Wait what? You guys bet on this?”

“Ugh…yeah. Come on it’s you and Frankie, I bet he had the ring picked out years ago.”

“Oook, well as much as I would love to be engaged to Frankie, that’s not it.”

“Oh! Well what has him smiling like the cat that got the cream.”

“We’re going to try for a baby.”

“Aaahhhh, I’m going to be an auntie.”

“Keep it down, I’m not pregnant yet.”

Frankie makes his way over to you both, sits down beside you and pulls you into him.

“Hey Jen, how was Mexico?”

“Oh it was amazing, and the food, ugh, I’ve book it again for next year.”

****

Pope’s girl as it turned out, was Yovanna from that job in Colombia. It was a little tense at first but the guys warmed up. As the night was drawing to a close there was a knock at the door. Pope went to answer it and when he came back Frankie went stiff beside you. You turn to him and his face, it was like he saw a ghost. You follow his gaze to see Helena standing in the door to the patio.

“Helena what are you doing here?”

“Not that’s it’s any of your business, but I’m here to see Francisco.” If looks could kill she would be dead from the looks Jen was given her. You move your hand to Frankie thigh and give him a reassuring squeeze. He looks to you and his face softens.

“I gotta go talk to her baby, I owe her that much.”

“You owe her nothing Frankie.”

“Maybe not but I owe it to Sophia, she is still her mother.” Frankie stands and makes his way towards her.

Pope comes to sit beside you, “hermosa are you ok?”

“What if she wants him back Santi? I can’t lose him or Sophia, it would break me.”

“Hey, now you know Fish is smitten with you, your the love of his life, she may be Sophia’s biological mother but your her mom.” You curl into him trying not to cry.

Suddenly raised voices can be heard from inside. Pope turns to you, “hermosa I think you should go in there.”

You leave the group and make your way to Frankie and the closer you get you can make out what’s being said.

“Oh so your going to let that whore raise my daughter, I don’t think so.”

“No. You do not call her that, Y/N is not a whore, that women is my everything and she’s more a mother to Sophia than you will ever be. You abandoned us, don’t forget that, because I never will. If you want to start seeing Sophia, we can discuss it with a lawyer but don’t think for one second that there will ever be anything between you and me, because there won’t. I’ve moved on, I’m happy, I am going to marry Y/N and we are going to build a home together.”

“Oh come on, Francisco…..baby, your telling me you don’t want a piece of this anymore, you don’t want to fuck me again.” Having heard enough you open the door and Frankie pushes Helena off of him. He comes to stand beside you, wrapping his arm around your waist. “Get out Helena, your embarrassing yourself.”

“Fuck you Francisco, this isn’t over.” With that she storm out, slamming he door behind her.

“Baby are you ok?” Frankie turns to you and pulls you into a kiss.

“Yeah baby, I’m fine, I love you.”

“I love you too. She can’t take Sophia away, what are we going to do?”

“Hey , look at me baby, I’m not going to let that happen ok. It’s me, you and Sophia against the world, always.”

“And maybe one more?” You stare at him lovingly and move his hand down towards your stomach.

“Well then we better get working on that then,” he says peppering kisses all over your face.

“Actually..” He pulls back and looks at you expectantly

“Are you…are we…”

“Yeah, we’re about to become a family of four”. Frankie lifts you up and spins you around. “You have just made this old man very happy. I love you, both of you, he says placing his hand back on your stomach.

“Wait until we tell Sophia .”

Previous part

Tagging:

@lunaserenade @asta-lily @day-off-inkyoto @librariantothejedi @anaaaispunk @elinedjarin @maievdenoir @kirsteng42 @loserrlauraa @thorins-queen-of-erebor @dihra-vesa @javierpinme @seasonschange-butpeopledont

*if you want to be added or removed let me know*

[goldenraeofsun]

A/b/o + celebrities and/or coffee shop 👀

Thanks so much for the prompt, Julesy, and I'm so sorry for the long wait! Part II should be up in the next few days, but hopefully this beginning 7k will satisfy for the time being 😘

Castiel is elbow-deep in suds when Jo plunks a medium to-go cup on the edge of the sink. “Thank you?” he says, bemused.

“It’s not for you, doofus,” Jo says, rolling her eyes. “There’s a customer out back,” she jerks her head towards the service exit that leads to the alley where they dump their trash and Ruby takes her furtive smoke breaks. “I need you to take this to him.”

“Out back?” Castiel repeats dubiously, craning his neck to catch sight of their on-site baker, Benny, who is busy kneading focaccia dough for tomorrow’s sandwiches. Benny, full of southern politeness, doesn’t give any indication he’s eavesdropping.

Jo gives Castiel a short nod, her alpha scent flaring with irritation. “I’d take it out there myself, but he always talks my ear off, and Kevin still can’t draw a latte art that doesn’t look like a dick, so…”

Castiel frowns but nods, and Jo’s expression eases once she doesn't hear a challenge to her request. Still, he has to ask, “But why doesn’t he order at the counter like a normal customer?”

Jo takes a step back towards the door. “You’ll see. Just… don’t make a big deal of it.”

“A big deal of what?” Castiel calls to her, but she’s already disappeared out to the front of the cafe.

Castiel sighs and wipes his hands on a dish towel. He picks up the drink, sniffing curiously.

He nearly gags at the strong aroma of brown sugar, cinnamon, nutmeg, and apples all on top of espresso and milk. They definitely don’t serve that on the menu. Admittedly, Castiel hasn’t memorized the list of hot drinks they serve at Hunter’s Cafe, but this is an assault on anyone with a nose. He’s been their busboy and dishwasher for six months since his second year as a graduate student began, and Jo has only let him mind the counter three times, all as far from peak time as she could get.

But a job is a job. Holding the drink, he shoulders open the back door.

“Hey - oh, you’re not Jo,” a familiar voice says.

Castiel stops dead in his tracks because, despite the sunglasses, the baseball hat, and hunched shoulders, Dean Winchester is unmistakable.

Away from the limelight, Dean apparently favors soft-looking flannels over worn tee shirts and jeans. In one hand, he holds a half depleted sheaf of french fries. Stunned, Castiel doesn't immediately hand over the reason for his appearance.

“Whatever, is that mine?” Dean demands, zeroing in on Castiel’s cup.

Still beyond speech, Castiel dumbly hands the affront to coffee over.

After a muttered thanks, Dean takes a long drink. “Christ, this tastes even better than normal.”

Castiel inhales a surreptitious breath. It’s not every day one gets to catch the scent of Hollywood’s omega darling.

Not that anyone would know Dean's secondary gender just by looking at him. Dean stands a few inches taller than the average male omega - he has nearly an inch of height on Castiel, and Castiel is the dictionary definition of standard alpha physique.

While Castiel might not be Dean’s most knowledgeable fan, he hasn’t been living under a rock for the past five years. It was all over the papers when Dean was cast in his first alpha role. Dean wasn’t the first omega actor to do so, but he was certainly the most prominent. Castiel’s sister, Anna, an actual fan, spent a memorable dinner ranting about how all the prejudiced reporters on the press tour. Apparently they only asked Dean about the diet and exercise routine that transform into a “real” alpha, while, in the next round, his alpha castmates fielded questions about their characters’ moral code and complex development.

But, in the alley behind Hunter’s Café, Castiel’s nose is completely overwhelmed by the fryers of the fast food restaurant next door, the set of dumpsters directly to his right, and the almost offensively apple coffee Dean is currently drinking like his life depends on it. Dean could smell like old gym socks for all Castiel can tell.

“Where’s Jo?” Dean asks once he resurfaces. He jams a few fries in his mouth. Before he's finished chewing, he sucks down some more latte in an unholy taste combination.

“Busy,” Castiel replies. “We have a new hire, and so far Kevin can only draw genitalia on lattes instead of flowers.”

Dean guffaws, nearly inhaling his drink. Swearing unrepentantly, he takes his sunglasses off and rubs at his temple with his free hand. “Christ, I’m too hungover to laugh like that.” He squints over at Castiek before sliding the sunglasses back on his face.

Castiel stares. “If you’re hungover, why are you here at -” he checks his watch “-seven in the morning?”

Dean slurps at his fruity latte before he answers. “Got a meeting at nine. This,” he says, brandishing his mostly empty cup, “and a large fries are the cure.” His hands occupied, Dean ducks his head to fish a single fry out and holds it like a cigarette between his lips.

“That sounds disgusting,” Castiel says, aghast.

Dean inches the rest of the fry into his mouth. “Don't knock it ‘til you try it,” he says with a wink.

Cas blushes.

“Hey,” Dean says, a new thought coming to him, “What’s your name?”

Taken aback by the question, he answers, “Castiel.”

Dean mouths his name once, his brow furrowing at the new syllables. With a small shrug of capitulation he says, “Well, Cas, thanks for the drink.” He toasts him one before tipping the cup all the way back, draining it.

“You’re welcome, Dean.”

Dean grins. “I couldn't tell if you recognized me or not.”

“I did,” Castiel says, clearly unnecessarily.

Amused, Dean throws him a long, considering look. “You’ve got one hell of a poker face.” He unceremoniously shovels the rest of the fries in his mouth and balls up the wrapper. He tosses it with practiced ease into the waiting dumpster.

“Thank you?” Cas says, nonplussed.

“Thank you,” Dean says, pushing his sunglasses up his nose. “You’re the one who saved my hide.” He sidles forward and shoves a bill into Castiel’s slack hand. Without another word, he takes off out of the alley and onto the street.

Once he’s out of sight, Castiel unclenches his hand. Dean tipped him ten dollars.

* * *

“How is this even more pungent than last time?” Castiel demands, nose wrinkling as he sets a now clean muffin tin back on the shelf. It’s been a week since he met Dean Winchester, and hadn’t gotten so much as a whiff of apple pie since then.

He is alone with Jo in the kitchen, since Benny’s early morning shift ends at eleven.

“I added a caramel drizzle,” Jo says, her scent rising with her self-satisfaction.

Castiel stares at her in horror. “Why on earth would you do that?”

“’Cause I’m trying to see what his limit is, and so far - nothing,” Jo says, shrugging. “Get to it. He’s real grouchy if you make him wait too long.”

“And why aren’t you taking it to him?” Castiel says, eyebrows rising. “Kevin’s moved onto multiple hearts now. Admittedly, his first one looked like a labia, but he’s gotten much better.”

“But Ruby didn’t show up, so we’re short staffed,” Jo says shortly. Outside, Kevin yells something indistinguishable though the kitchen door, and Jo winces.

Castiel takes the latte.

Just like last time, Dean is waiting, wearing a different flannel but the same jeans with the hole above the left knee. He abandoned the sunglasses, since the clouds overhead cast the whole alley in shade. They’re hanging from the vee of his shirt collar, pulling the fabric down a tempting extra inch.

Unfortunately, the fast food restaurant next door must have just taken out the trash last night, since the alley reeks of stale bread and rotting fish patties.

Castiel lets the door slam behind him, unable to hold back his corresponding smile as Dean lights up as he sees him.

“Thank god,” Dean says as he reaches for the latte. “I was starting to think Jo was gonna stiff me.”

“We’re short staffed at the moment,” Castiel says apologetically, “so you got me again.”

Dean eyes him over the lid of his cup. “Not a downside from where I’m standin’,” he drawls.

Castiel has no idea how to respond to that, so he doesn’t. Dean can’t mean it like Castiel thinks he does. He’s an actor, feeding people lines is the dictionary definition of his job. Instead Castiel asks, “No french fries this time?” because he’s not nearly ready to leave yet.

“Already ate ’em, while I was waiting,” Dean says dismissively.

Castiel shoves his hands in his pockets. “I’m sorry.”

“No harm, no foul,” Dean says with a little grin. “I got my caffeine fix eventually, and that’s what I really care about.”

“You look remarkably more put together than last time,” Castiel says as he leans against the doorway, watching Dean sip at his drink.

“Didn’t drink as much,” Dean says with a grin. He tips back his cup and takes a long pull. “Fries can only get you halfway there. Christ, that’s the stuff.”

Castiel can’t help but make a face. The latte smells horrendous; it can’t taste that much better.

“What?” Dean asks, eyes narrowing.

Castiel probably shouldn’t tell Dean what is exactly on his mind. Castiel has found very few people appreciate his default brand of honesty - Hunter’s Café customers, especially. But Dean isn’t technically his customer - he’s Jo’s - and Castiel has reached the point in his life where he doesn’t need to hang onto people who don’t like him and vice versa. Dean isn’t even providing extra publicity for the establishment, since he’s getting serviced in the alley behind the kitchen.

Technically, Castiel needs a celebrity acquaintance as much as he needs a free bag of cat food (he doesn’t have a cat).

But he does like having one.

A celebrity acquaintance, that is. Cats are inherently suspicious.

Reluctantly, Castiel says, “I can’t imagine that latte tastes very good.”

To his surprise, instead of demanding Jo bring him his coffee from now on, Dean laughs. “Not a fan of apple pie?”

“Not in my coffee.”

Dean takes an obnoxiously loud slurp. “I think it’s delicious.”

“I think your taste buds must be severely incapacitated.”

Dean waggles the near empty cup in front of Castiel’s face in what must be an enticing manner to someone with no sense of smell or taste. “Wanna try?”

Castiel valiantly holds back his recoil. “No, thank you.”

But Dean’s genial expression doesn’t waver. “‘M feeling pretty much human again, so it’s up for grabs.”

“I’d sooner lick the dumpster,” Castiel blurts before he can filter himself.

Dean whistles, rocking back on his heels. “Harsh.”

Castiel sighs. Honesty was a mistake. He mutters, embarrassed, “I’m just not a very big fan of sweets.”

“No?”

“I’ve been living with my cousin while in graduate school at Columbia,” he explains, his tone apologetic for his earlier comment, “and he has a horrendous sweet tooth. I don’t think he’s ever seen a carrot that wasn’t in a cake first.”

A wide grin splits Dean’s face. He laughs.

What Castiel wouldn’t give to scent Dean’s joy for himself. “He would probably love that latte,” Castiel continues wryly.

“Probably,” Dean agrees. He taps his fingers against the sides of the cup as he asks, “So you’re in school? For what?”

“Do you really want to know?” Castiel asks seriously. He’s had too many conversations with strangers and casual friends who have asked the exact same question and regretted asking it almost immediately.

Dean ducks his head. “I don’t know any graduate students, and I,” he breaks off, his cheeks going pink, “I never went to college, so I have no idea what it means.” He sucks on the dregs of his latte, gaze dropping to the vicinity of Castiel’s knees.

“Oh,” Castiel says, feeling lighter. “In that case, I’m studying ethnomusicology.”

Dean’s eyes narrow in suspicion. “Are you fucking with me? That doesn’t sound real.”

“It’s a legitimate area of study,” Castiel assures him. “I research music as it pertains to culture and diverse elements of social life. Ethnomusicology focuses not only on the music itself, but music as a social process, as a medium for humans to relate to each other. In short, it examines how music functions in a particular society.”

To Castiel’s surprise, Dean doesn’t get the glazed-over look most people do when he explains his field of study. “So what kind of music are you talking about?”

Now it’s Castiel’s turn to flush. His colleagues, while they respect his academic reputation, have nearly all looked down on his chosen object of study. “One of the main tenets of ethnomusicology is a global perspective on music-”

“What, like Tibetan throat-singing?” Dean interrupts. At Castiels’ stare, he explains quickly, “Sammy had a phase.”

Castiel chuckles. “Yes, I do know a professor at Cornell who is studying just that. But my focus is much closer to home. I study,” he inhales a small breath, “tribute bands.”

Dean’s mouth twitches. “What.”

“Tribute bands offer a fascinating definition of the nature of performance, the difference between authenticity and identity,” Castiel says, already on the defensive. He can already hear his voice trying to fall into his usual academic patterns, and tries to rein himself in, “and historical consciousness in popular music. Here -” He pulls out his phone.

Dean listens in complete silence to Yellow Dubmarine’s cover of I Want You.

“Anyway,” Castiel coughs, embarrassed he made Dean sit through all that, “I also teach Rock and Roll from the 1950s to 1980s. There is a great deal of crossover with my specialty since most tribute bands recreate acts from the 60s to the 80s.”

“Dude,” Dean says in a rush, “if you think that makes you less interesting, you’ve got another thing coming.”

Castiel blinks.

“What bands are we talkin’ about?” he asks eagerly. “More Beatles? The Stones? The Who?”

Castiel nods. “I’m hoping to go to a Lez Zeppelin concert next month.”

“Led Zeppelin?”

“Lez,” Castiel says, emphasizing the ‘z’, “an all-female Led Zeppelin tribute band.”

Dean frowns. “They have a gimmick?”

Castiel shakes his head. “They’re completely sincere, I assure you.” He smiles wryly. “I interviewed Misstallica for a paper I’m writing on diverse, for lack of a better word, musicians in the tribute world, and they felt right at home with the long hair and tight pants. I’ve never met people who more adore the songs they perform.”

“Huh,” Dean says, rubbing his chin.

“Except maybe Air-O-Smith,” Castiel adds, “an American all-omega tribute band of Aerosmith.”

Dean’s eyes widen to the size of dinner plates.

“My favorite all-omega tribute band, though, is Omega You Eight One Two,” Castiel muses, “a Van Halen cover band.”

“Yeah, I got that,” Dean says faintly.

“Their lead guitarist, as you can imagine, is phenomenal.”

Dean shakes his head, his expression going slack. “Wait, seriously? That’s a thing? All omega acts?”

“Of course,” Castiel says. “That’s one of the most compelling aspects of tribute bands, when they flip the traditional male-alpha dynamic of the original, and how they translate that into their own act while keeping the whole performance authentic to the creators. It’s a fascinating process to watch and study.”

“I bet,” Dean says fervently. “Hey, d’you think-”

The back door opens before Dean can finish his sentence.

Jo pokes her head out, looking askance at the pair of them. “Are you still out here?” She glares at Dean. “Stop complaining about your diet, and let Castiel come back to work.”

Castiel’s mouth purses. “You’re on a diet?”

“Not on cheat day,” Dean tells him, lifting his empty cup. He turns to Jo. “And I wasn’t complaining at all. Cas was actually telling me about tribute bands.”

“Really?” Jo asks, her nose wrinkling.

Dean tosses his trash in the dumpsters. “They sound awesome.”

“I like them,” Castiel says lamely, off-footed now the conversation is clearly wrapping up.

Jo rolls her eyes, alpha irritation practically radiating off her. “Good for you.”

“Alright, well, I’ll let you deal with Joanna Beth on your own,” Dean says as he pulls out his wallet and hands Castiel a folded bill. He gives a mocking salute as he takes a step back, “Good luck, dude.”

“Thank you?”

“Come on, fanboy,” Jo growls once Dean’s disappeared from view, “back to work.”

* * *

“Can’t you take it?” Castiel asks, his tone verging on pleading, as Jo follows him back into the kitchen. It’s too early in the morning for another meeting, closer to first time Castiel met Dean at seven am compared to their last meeting at a little before eleven.

This past weekend, Castiel went down a spiral of Dean Winchester content. He read up on all of Dean’s recent projects, scanned headlines about rumors of his next film - some action thriller that Castiel presumes is the reason for Dean’s diet, and watched interview after interview. Dean on Stephen Colbert. Dean on Good Morning America. Dean on some very confusing show where they forced him to eat spicy chicken wings, which just seemed like an exercise in pepper-based sadism.

Castiel didn’t really understand the Saturday Night Live skit where Dean played one half of a demon-hunting brother duo, but the live studio audience laughed uproariously at multiple points.

Jo all but slams Dean’s latte on the ledge above the sink. “You know the health inspector is here. I can’t let Ruby near the guy, and you know how Kevin gets around figures of authority.”

Castiel sets down his tub of dirty dishes. “He nearly peed himself when he had to tell you he dropped a tray of scones over the floor last week,” he says flatly.

“Exactly,” Jo says. “Benny is busy,” she says, tipping her head to where Benny is adding more flour to a huge bowl.

“Cheers, darlin’.”

She turns back to Castiel. “So, you’re it today, champ.”

“Great,” Castiel grumbles.

“What?” Jo asks, her hands on her hips. “You seemed to get along with Dean. I actually didn’t know you could talk that much before I sent you back there.”

Castiel carefully transfers the dirty plates to the sink. “Getting along with him isn’t the problem,” he says darkly.

“Getting along with him too well is the issue?” Jo asks, her eyebrows rising.

Castiel scowls at her observation. Her emotional intuition is what makes her an excellent café manager, so he can hardly fault her for that. He doesn’t respond to her question.

“Take it to him,” Jo says, her tone softening. “He likes you.”

Castiel raises his head to stare at her. “How do you know that?”

Jo pulls her phone from her back pocket and waves it in his face. “We talk,” she says. “How do you think he orders every time? He’s not getting those lattes for free, not after I spent so much time getting them exactly right.”

Castiel can’t hold back his grimace. The latte still smells awful, like a vat of boiled candied apples.

“Look,” Jo says, lowering her voice, “Dean’s famous, sure, but he’s actually a very private person. He runs his mouth to anyone who’ll listen, but he never really says anything important. So he doesn’t really connect with a lot of people. If he says he likes you, I’m gonna say that’s a good thing - if you tell him I said this, I’ll kick your ass - and make you his designated errand boy.”

Castiel bites his lip. “But I don’t -”

“Dude, don’t make me pull the boss card,” Jo says, just the barest hint of threat in her words.

“Fine.” Castiel snatches the latte off the counter. “But I want a raise.”

“You can get a free sandwich.”

Castiel glares daggers as he shoulders open the back door.

But the alley is empty.

Castiel breathes through his mouth as he steps out. The overflowing dumpsters carry the odor of moldering cheese and more rancid fish, and the fryers next door are still going strong. He doesn’t find Dean lurking behind the trash for some strange reason, and he’s about to head back in and dump Dean’s latte down the sink when a shout makes him turn around.

“Hey, Cas!” Dean calls, jogging in from the brightly lit street.

“Hello, Dean.” He hands over the latte.

“Thanks - sorry.” Dean rubs the back of his neck with his other hand. “Some fans caught me sneaking in here, and wanted a selfie.”

“Oh,” Castiel says for lack of anything better to say.

Dean tips back his cup, his expression falling into pure bliss. “Christ, that’s so much better when I’m not hungover.”

Castiel stares. “You’re drinking that with all your capacities intact?”

“Ain’t no better way to enjoy pie,” Dean says, grinning widely.

Castiel rolls his eyes. “That’s not pie.”

“It’s as close as I’m gonna get at eight in the morning on a Thursday,” Dean says with a shrug.

Silence falls between them, and Castiel can’t help glancing over Dean’s shoulder, tentatively scanning for the people who caught his attention earlier. Plenty more would have approached Dean if he didn’t have Jo’s latte waiting for him; Castiel would bet his job on it.

Dean is a celebrity.

Castiel is a grad student who can’t even afford to support a guinea pig on his stipend and café salary.

After a long beat, Dean asks, a touch hesitantly, “So, what’ve you been up to?”

Stalking you on the internet.

“Nothing,” Castiel lies. At the slight fall in Dean’s expression, he adds, “I cleaned my kitchen over the weekend.”

Dean chuckles. “You’re a weird dude, you know that?”

Hurt, Castiel takes a step back. Jo probably needs him for… something.

“Not in a bad way!” Dean says quickly. “Shit,” he swears under his breath, “please don’t stop giving me coffee.”

Castiel hesitates. “Why is it weird that I cleaned my kitchen?” He frowns. “I suppose you employ someone to do that for you.”

Dean seesaws his free hand back and forth as he sips at his latte. “Not always,” he lowers his voice, “I actually like cleaning - it helps me relax and shit. There’s nothing like blasting some tunes and scrubbing out that stain on the counter that’s been annoying you forever.”

Castiel lowers his voice too. “Is this a secret?”

Dean grimaces. “Not really. But, you know, it’s one of those omega things.”

Castiel doesn’t know. Well, he knows it is a stereotypical omega trait to like housework, but he has no idea why Dean would whisper it in a back alley like he’s confessing to defrauding an elderly relative. “And that is bad because…?”

Dean takes a long pull from his cup. “I don’t want to hammer the omega thing home too hard, alright?”

“But you are an omega,” Castiel says, feeling a little stupid for saying it out loud.

“Yeah,” Dean sighs, “but if I lean into it, I’ll stop getting alpha roles.”

“You only want to play alphas?” Castiel asks curiously.

Dean’s mouth twists. “They’re the better parts. Omegas are always the damsels in distress or get killed off first for the plot.”

“I’m sure not all films are like that,” Castiel says. God knows, Anna made him sit through enough films with an omega protagonist that did not fit the typical romantic comedy restrictions.

“Most.”

“The last movie I saw,” Castiel says, hesitant because Dean must know more about this than him, “my sister recommended it, it had an omega lead who led a team of paranormal investigators. A sort of horror-comedy.”

Dean’s face loses some of its hostility. Almost intrigued, he asks gruffly, “D’you know who wrote it?”

“Not off the top of my head.” Castiel pulls out his phone to look it up. He reads aloud, “Ghostfacers, directed by Ed Zeddmore, written by Harry Spangler. Starred Maggie Zeddmore and Alan Corbett.” He pauses, trying to remember the details. “I think they both were omegas. I’m sure there are more films like Ghostfacers out there for you to make.”

Dean sips at his latte. “A few. None with big enough names attached to really get on my radar.”

“Well, if you signed on, wouldn’t there be a big name attached?”

“Yeah,” Dean says in a tone that clearly conveys he’s thought of this possibility before. He runs a hand through his hair. “It’s just - what if I take one of these roles, and it gets all this attention just ’cause I’m in it, and it flops?”

Castiel tilts his head. “That would hardly be your fault. Most failed films are hardly the work of one person. Usually, it’s a combination of a bad story, bad production, and bad acting.” He levels Dean an appraising look. “Right off the bat, you control two of those elements - pick a good script and act as well as you always have.”

Dean blinks. “You’ve seen my stuff?”

Castiel’s brow furrows. “I thought I already said I knew who you were?”

“Yeah, but,” Dean says, his voice petering off with embarrassment, “that didn’t mean you liked my movies.”

“The majority of America liked your last movie, Dean,” Castiel says dryly. “Either that, or you have a very hardworking and wealthy mother who poured a hundred million dollars into ticket sales.”

“I mean, Mom’s a fan, but not that big of a fan,” Dean says, chuckling. “I’m pretty sure she’d rather get a twenty-minute call from yours truly than sit through a two-hour flick with my name on the poster.”

Castiel hands over his phone. “Here,” he says, tilting it so Dean can see the summary of Ghostfacers.

Dean brightens as he reads through it. “The Alpha dies first?”

“He thought he could deal with the ghost on his own.”

“Typical alpha macho,” Dean snorts. His head snaps up as he gives the phone back. “No offense.”

“No offense taken,” Castiel says easily. “With my lifestyle, posturing is a waste of time. I’ve long ago resigned myself to not being the primary breadwinner in any future household.”

“Really?”

Castiel throws him a look. “I’m in academia, Dean. Tenure is hardly a guarantee. Even so, there isn’t a wealth of money out there for ethnomusicology grants.”

Dean tips his head in acknowledgement. “It’s awful big of you.”

“Just logical,” Castiel says evenly. “It shrinks my dating pool considerably, but I’d rather do what I love than compromise that much for any potential partner.”

Dean inhales a deep breath, his eyes unfathomable. “I get that.”

“If it means I can’t afford to mate a house-omega, I’ll just have to keep cleaning my kitchen myself,” Castiel finishes with a shrug.

Dean grins. “I mean, if you spot me a six pack and don’t tell my trainer about it, I’ll clean your kitchen.”

Castiel turns bright red. He can’t bring himself to respond to that offer, so he changes the subject.

* * *

Castiel doesn’t even bother pretending to protest as Jo barges into the kitchen, the telltale scent of sugary apples wafting around her like a palpable shield. Castiel already set himself for heartbreak where Dean Winchester is concerned. He might as well take advantage of every interaction he has left.

He went to sleep late last night, watching one of Dean’s earlier movies. He was slimmer and younger, but he still shone with his signature charisma and talent. For the first time since Castiel started the morning shift at Hunter’s Café, he snoozed his alarm.

Hurrying through his morning routine, Castiel couldn’t help resenting Dean just a little. If only Dean hadn’t chosen a profession where his literal job is to be whatever his audience wants him to be.

As Castiel pushes open the door, Dean is waiting outside. Dark sunglasses shield his green eyes, and a violet bruise blooms over his left eyebrow. As the door slams shut behind Castiel, Dean winces. His left hand holds a half-empty paper container of french fries.

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel says. “You don’t look good.”

“Tell me about it,” Dean says darkly. “Gimme.”

Castiel pauses. “Did your hangover eliminate your manners?”

Dean flushes bright red. “No,” he mutters. “Sorry, Cas. I just feel like shit.”

“You look like shit,” Castiel says frankly as he hands it over.

“Thanks,” Deans says, his voice sour as old lemons. “I told Charlie tequila shots before Monopoly was a bad idea, but did anyone listen to me?” He gestures to his face. “Next thing I know, Jo’s throwing Charlie’s bag of DnD dice at my head.”

“You got that playing Monopoly? Wait, Jo did this to you?” he demands, gesturing to the cafe behind him. “Jo Harvelle?”

Dean just glares over the rim of his coffee cup. “Yeah, Katniss got me good.”

“God, why?”

One corner of Dean’s mouth lifts in a distinctly smug smirk. “’Cause she was going bankrupt, and she had to sell her last property to me.”

“So this was because of Monopoly,” Castiel says dubiously. In his experience, a board game has never led to actual violence.

Dean shrugs. “Game nights get intense. Why do you think I’m always bangin’ down your door the morning after?”

Castiel can’t believe it. “You’ve been getting this drunk at a game night? Every time?”

“So what?” Dean shoves four french fries in his mouth. “Whaddya think I was doin’?”

“Partying?” he suggests.

Dean snorts. “Maybe six years ago when I was doing B-level flicks and trying to meet as many people as I could. Now I have a back-to-back shooting schedule and hangovers if I don’t pace myself.”

Castiel watches Dean polish off his fries at a truly impressive and horrifying speed. He can’t help asking, “Why was Jo at your game night?”

“’Cause she’s a menace who knows how to pick locks?” Dean heaves a weighty sigh. “I’ve known Jo since we were kids. She and her mom - who started Hunter’s Café - were my neighbors.”

“I had no idea.”

Dean gestures to the alley with a wry hand. “Jo likes to keep it under wraps.”

“I see why Jo keeps making those drinks for you,” Castiel says, nodding at the half-finished latte in Dean’s hand.

“You didn’t make it?” Dean says, and does he sound almost disappointed?

Castiel shakes his head. “Jo is keeping the recipe close to the chest.”

“Probably worried everyone’ll want one if they get the taste.” Dean tips the cup back.

Castiel can’t help his noise of disgust. At Dean’s sharp look, he says aloud, “She’s probably worried everyone will never come back if they try it.”

Dean’s laugh cuts off with a wince. He raises a hand to his head. “Christ, last night was a mistake.”

Castiel surreptitiously scents the air for a better gauge of how discomfited Dean really is, but, as always, all he gets is trash and fryer oil. “How are you doing? Apart from the injury, headache, and general hangover-related malaise.”

“Oh, apart from that?” Dean echoes mockingly, but his words lack any heat. He crams a few fries into his mouth. “I asked my agent to send me a few more scripts with omega roles,” he mutters.

Castiel smiles. “That’s great.”

Dean hums his agreement. “Hopefully, she’ll pick out a decent one, and I can get something set up for after Two for the Show wraps.”

“Is Two for the Show the reason for your diet?”

Dean huffs. “Yeah. I have a bunch of shirtless scenes, so that means three months with the diet coach from hell.”

Castiel makes a noise of sympathy. After a moment, he asks, “Is it worth it?”

Dean chews a fry, scowling between bites. “Not really,” he says in a low voice. “Sammy’s the farmers market maniac in the family.” Wistfully, he continues, “Give me a good cheeseburger deluxe every day for the rest of my life with a side of pie, and I’ll die a happy man.”

“I didn’t think apple pie came as a side.”

“Not for you, maybe,” Dean says with an obnoxiously loud slurp of his latte.

Castiel doesn’t bother holding back his smile.

Dean sighs, rubbing his temple with the heel of his hand. “It’s just like, I don’t look like a traditional omega, so I figured I might as well try for the alpha roles.” He swallows. “’S a win-win situation. I look the part and the characters are better - what’s the downside?”

Castiel cocks his head. “Other than your restricted diet and inadvisable levels of drinking?”

A humorless smile pulls at Dean's mouth. “Not pullin’ the punches this morning, huh?”

Castiel colors, his face heating with shame. “I’m sorry. I didn’t sleep well.” An inadequate excuse, but it’s not like he can tell Dean the real reason for his more uncharitable thoughts.

Castiel has never been one to lean into his alpha instincts. Possessiveness, aggression, arrogance - Castiel has had his (mostly regrettable) moments, but they hardly define his character. But over these past few weeks, he’s had to repeatedly tell himself that he can’t solve Dean’s problems. Dean is a wildly successful adult with millions of fans, while Castiel can’t even handle Hunter Cafe's front counter during the morning rush.

Dean would hardly welcome a nobody little alpha telling him to just… do what he wants and damn the consequences because he deserves to be happy with his life and his work.

Dean plucks out the rest of his fries and balls the wrapper against his hip. He lobs it in the dumpster. “No, I get it. I’m complaining about things that most people would kill to have.” He glances towards the mouth of the alley, his mouth set in a thin line.

But before Dean can leave, Castiel says quickly, “That’s not the way I see it. Your specific frustrations aren’t universal, but hardly anyone’s are. Society is inherently unfair, and it’s understandable to be angry about it.”

God knows Castiel railed enough about the unfairness of Dean Winchester to Gabriel enough over the past few weeks.

Even now, hungover and bruised, Dean is beautiful.

Castiel steels himself. “And, for what it’s worth, I don’t think not looking like a typical omega is a bad thing.”

Dean turns to him in surprise, and Castiel would give up that free sandwich Jo offered him to be able to scent what exactly Dean is feeling. But, after a second that stretches into an eternity, all Dean gives him is a quiet, “Thanks, Cas.”

Castiel nods, chastised by Dean’s reaction. “I should get back to work,” he says awkwardly.

Dean mutters something that might be a swear underneath his breath. Raising his voice, he says, his tone apologetic, “’Course. Sorry for keeping you.”

Castiel shakes his head. “It’s alright. I,” he pauses, “always enjoy talking to you.”

Dean’s mouth lifts into a small smile, and it’s like the sun rising through the early morning fog. “You too, man.”

* * *

After his next shift, Castiel asks Jo to show him how to make Dean’s apple pie latte.

Castiel’s first attempt is a disaster. He burns the espresso and adds too much nutmeg. Jo makes him try it anyway, as a non-monetary payment for her time. As Castiel gags, a smirking Jo dumps the bitter, weirdly savory mess down the sink.

“Passable,” Jo declares at Castiel’s second try. “You need more of the apple concentrate, though.”

“It’ll be too strong,” Castiel protests even as he shakes more powder in and gives it a stir. He hands it back to Jo for evaluation.

“You could barely taste it!” Jo says. She raises it to her lips. “Mm, that’s the stuff.”

“It is?” Castiel asks hopefully.

Jo nods and pushes the cup towards him. “That’s what it’s supposed to taste like.”

Castiel frowns as the overly sweet apples hit his tongue. He can barely taste the coffee underneath all the other layers.

“Trust me,” Jo says, flipping her hair behind her shoulder as she sets Castiel up for a third cup. “Your scent’s getting in the way, but it tastes exactly like an apple pie.”

“My scent?” Castiel echoes, baffled.

Jo throws him a look as she pushes a clean coffee cup into his hands. “Yeah, you already smell, I dunno, crisp but sweet? A little like apples. Makes you think the latte dials it up to eleven when it’s more like a nine for everyone else.”

Castiel hadn’t thought to put those pieces together, but it makes an astonishing amount of sense.

He brings his last apple pie latte home to Gabriel, and his cousin makes him write down, step by step, how to make it. In between actual licks into the cup to get the dregs, Gabriel swears to visit him at Hunter’s Café more often.

When Jo next ducks her head into the kitchen to tell Castiel that Dean will swing by in fifteen minutes, Castiel gets to work. He awkwardly sidles behind the front counter and maneuvers around Ruby and Kevin, nearly knocking Kevin’s elbow as Kevin attempts some elaborate leaf pattern.

Castiel draws a rudimentary apple on top of Dean’s latte, and if it looks more like a misshapen mango, nobody will see it but Dean.

For the first time, Castiel heads out to wait for Dean at the mouth of the alley.

Dean doesn’t keep him in suspense for long. He makes his way down the street, shoulders hunched, and head bowed. Gaze fixed on the dirty sidewalk, Dean doesn’t make eye contact with anyone as he turns the corner.

Dean isn’t even wearing sunglasses or a hat to hide his face, but everyone walks straight past him.

It’s the most riveting performance Castiel has ever seen.

A few steps away, Dean catches sight of him, and it’s like some magic switch is flipped on, and he is Dean Winchester again.

Smiling brightly, he jogs the rest of the distance and follows Castiel as he slinks further back into the alley. Dean wrinkles his nose as they get closer to the dumpsters and the smell of an entire rancid fast food menu hits him. “Hey, Cas,” he says as he takes his latte. “Thanks.”

“Of course,” Castiel says, tipping his head.

Dean stares down oddly at the demented pear and takes a sip. Face going slack with a bliss Castiel doesn’t even need to smell, Dean groans.

Castiel freezes and sends up a silent prayer of thanks for the apron covering his lower half over his pants. “It’s good?” he tries futilely because Dean is clearly beyond speech.

Dean just gives him a thumbs up as he lowers the cup. He licks his lips, chasing the taste, and Castiel has seen pornography less graphic.

“I might have to tip Jo this time too,” Dean says, staring at the latte in his hand in wonder.

Castiel coughs. “I - I made this one, actually.”

Dean chokes on his next mouthful. “Are you serious?”

Castiel nods because if he opens his mouth he’s not sure what exactly will come out. Probably something highly embarrassing.

“This is the best one I’ve ever had,” Dean swears.

Castiel’s whole body heats with the force of his blush. “Thank you. I asked Jo how to make it, since it seems like I’ve taken over your delivery duties.”

Dean grins. “You’re a lot more fun than Jo,” he says lightly, “so I’m not complainin’.”

Castiel didn’t think he could get any redder, but here he is.

After an awkward beat, Dean says, “I think I found my next movie.”

“Really?”

Dean shrugs, but his eyes glimmer with anticipation. “It’s a World War II biopic about an omega who sneaks into the army, disguises himself as an alpha, and rescues a unit trapped behind enemy lines.” He taps his fingers against the side of his half-empty cup. “A little on the nose, but the script is good.”

“It sounds very promising,” Castiel agrees.

“Their biggest problem was the budget - historical pics aren’t cheap. But they think if I sign on early, they can leverage my name with the studio.” He smiles shyly. “Get the movie done right.”

“That’s fantastic,” Castiel says, a delightful warmth filling his chest - still a pale reflection of Dean’s excitement.

“Thanks to you.”

Castiel’s eyes widen in surprise. “Me?”

Dean throws him a funny look. “Yeah, you. You told me to get my head outta my ass and movies I actually like doing-”

“Not in so many words-” Castiel interjects, alarmed.

“’Cause the whole point of doing these stupid macho alpha flicks was so I could get the clout and money to do the stuff I actually liked,” Dean continues. “And I kept thinking, can’t do it yet, not there yet, until some rando tells me, fuck yeah you can.”

“I definitely didn’t say that-”

“It was implied,” Dean says blithely, waving off his protests. “So I figured, if this dude who doesn’t know me from Adam-”

“I’ve seen several of your films.”

“- tells me to go for it - it being something I’d thought of doing for years - is there any real reason why I shouldn’t?”

Castiel just stares at him, stunned.

Dean beams. “I’ve got a meeting with the director next week.”

“That’s wonderful,” Castiel says sincerely.

“Anyway, yeah, it’s partially thanks to you,” Dean says, tipping his latte in Castiel’s direction. “I also want to talk about romantic B-plot since I think it’s stupid.” He shakes his head, scoffing. “True mates, bullshit.”

“You think true mates are bullshit?”

As far as Castiel saw online, Dean’s never spoken on the record about true mates or any mates at all. Entertainment news sources reported rumors about him and a one-named alpha singer, Amara, early in his career, which he denounced thoroughly. A few months later, someone published revealing photos of him and an older alpha actor, Fergus Crowley. When asked about it, Dean refused to give details.

Dean makes a face. After a pause, he says, “My parents said they were true mates, but it wasn’t… pretty. No Hollywood romance between them.”

“I’m sorry.”

“’S fine,” Dean says in a tone that clearly says it isn’t. “Whenever Dad took off for a few days, I’d get to watch as many movies as I wanted, and - well, the rest is history.”

“I don’t know anyone who’s found their true mate,” Castiel says. His parents had a cold, distant marriage. A few times over the years, he wasn’t sure his mother even liked his father’s scent. Anna happily mated another omega last year, and Gabriel avoids all romantic entanglements like the black plague.

Castiel’s dating history can best be described as dismal. During his last visit to his pediatrician, his doctor called him a “late bloomer” which Castiel eventually realized just meant socially awkward. In the decade since, Castiel’s slept with a grand total of three people. And, to his supreme regret, none of them managed to bring his rusty people skills up to par.

But, in college, Castiel found music and his calling. And all his faults didn’t matter nearly as much.

In the crowd of a concert, people are so far outside the ordinary conditions of life, and so conscious of the fact, that they free themselves from individual concerns and devote themselves wholly to the collective. All their fury, their joy, their hunger for what they can’t have, is sublimated into the music.

Castiel has never felt more connected to humanity than in the middle of a crowd.

Truthfully, none of his past relationships ever measured up. None of his past partners ever managed to get Castiel out of his own head - not like the music.

Castiel shakes his head ruefully. “I wouldn’t know what to do with a true mate even if I had one.”

“Have a lot of super sappy sex with the lights on?” Dean offers, laughing.

Castiel frowns. “I wasn’t aware that kind of intercourse was restricted to true mates. I’ve done that in the past since I've always shared an emotional connection with the people I've slept with.”

“Oh,” Dean says, reddening. “Were you mated? Jo didn’t say.”

Inordinately pleased that Dean had asked Jo about him, Castiel shakes his head. “No, I’ve never been mated.”

Dean drains his latte. Swallowing, he says, “Me neither.” He throws the cup in the open dumpster and turns back to Castiel. “I haven’t dated in a while, actually,” he says in a low voice. “Couldn’t risk being seen with an alpha and remind everyone of what I’m not.”

Castiel narrows his eyes. “Surely people can’t be that close-minded.”

“’Course they can. Most are,” Dean says, his voice full of assurance.

Castiel’s mouth twists. “That sounds like a negativity bias to me.”

“Huh?”

“Negative information sticks with us longer and more strongly than any positive counterpart,” Castiel says with a shrug. “It’s something I always keep in mind when reading my course reviews after the semester is over.”

“So," Dean says, eyes dancing, "you can take the nerd out of the classroom, but you can’t take the classroom out of the nerd, huh?”

Castiel smiles wryly. “Trust me, I’ve tried.”

Dean laughs. “Look,” he starts, his expression turning a fraction more serious. “I might be fucking up a good thing here, but do you want to go to a Lez Zeppelin show next week?”

Castiel’s mouth falls open as Dean reaches out and pulls out his phone to show him a ticket confirmation email.

“It’s no big if you don’t want to,” Dean says awkwardly into the silence.

“I - I do,” Castiel says, stumbling over the words. “You do?”

“Uh,” Dean throws him a bemused look, “Yeah? I bought the tickets, dude.”

“I’m just surprised,” Castiel says honestly.

Dean stares at him. “This is seriously comin’ out of nowhere for you?”

“A little,” Castiel says defensively.

“Seriously?”

Castiel shrugs helplessly. “You’re … you. You’re famous. Why would you ask me?”

“Because I like you?” Dean says, nonplussed. “You’re nice in a way a lot of the alphas I know aren’t, and,” he breaks off, reddening, “you said you didn’t mind that I didn’t fit in with other omegas, looks-wise-”

“I don’t,” Castiel interrupts. “I think you’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.”

Dean gapes. “Did you seriously -” he breaks off, apparently unable to voice the rest of his thought. His face turns an impressive shade of crimson.

Castiel shoves his hands in his pockets. “Should I not have said that?” he asks, brow furrowing. This can’t be the first time Dean has been complimented on his looks. As Castiel understands, good looks are one of the main precursors to acceptance in Hollywood.

“No - I mean, maybe - never mind,” Dean fumbles, more out of sorts than Castiel has ever seen him. “It’s that nobody just out and says that, even to me.”

“I just did.”

“Yeah, I got that,” Dean says, but he’s smiling. “You should look in the mirror sometime, though.” He winks, and Castiel’s brain nearly fritzes out. “So that’s a yes?”

Castiel nods, an all-encompassing warmth filling his chest and exploding out to the tips of his fingers and toes. “I’d love to.”

“It’s a date.”

Read Part II here!

[ventisehe]

being in a relationship with bennett and razor / genshin impact

i main these boys and they make such a great team, i love them so much. i had a lot of fun writing this hehe. again, all characters are aged up, 21 or older unless stated otherwise. this includes chongyun and xingqiu.

requested by: pastelpeachyposts

includes: bennett, razor

warning: unedited, not proofread

You, Bennett, and Razor were an unusual trio, and many will attest to this statement. You differ in personalities and ambitions, even favoring completely contrasting delicacies, and yet there will never be a more lively and iconic dynamic than the three of you.

You and Bennett were the first one to meet when he rescued you from a group of vicious Electro Slimes. He was successful in his intent, but you had to escort him back to Mondstadt where he can be healed by the Deaconess.

You met Razor the next after you grew comfortable with your friendship with Bennett. The latter excitedly told you about another friend of his who resided in Wolvendom and was quite well acquainted with the wolves. Your first encounter with Razor was rather tense, and understandably so. He was wary of you, watching your every move as you strolled around Wolvendom with a gleeful Bennett who was oblivious to the atmosphere between the two of you. Most of his experience with humans are less than ideal but as Bennett unknowingly forced the two of you to spend time together, his walls slowly broke and he accepted you as one of his Lupicals.

As time passed and the three of you grow closer and closer together, a revelation descended upon you, and a startling one at that. You acquired feelings for both boys. It wasn't difficult for you to understand why you grew to like both of them. They were so easy to fall in love with. Bennett is an adventurous and motivated boy who, although had a streak of bad luck in him, has a positive spirit and is very generous and caring towards everyone. Razor is a strong yet gentle soul who is protective over those dear to him, and will always go out of his way to show his affection with his uncommon but innocent gifts.

Unbeknownst to you, the two share the same feelings for you. Bennett knew he liked you when you refused to leave after he saved you, even after he insisted this was a normal occurrence for him. Razor took a while to understand what was that hammering in his chest after you took the responsibility of caring for the wolf pups his Lupicals gave birth to.

It was an awkward situation for the three of you when Bennett and Razor decided to confess to you at the same. When the two of them professed their love for you and offered their gifts with bowed heads and tightly closed eyes, they slowly turned to look at each other with puzzlement, heads tilted and eyebrows furrowed. You, however, stood in front if them with redness coating your face and a thundering heartbeat.

"You like ( Your Name ) too, Razor?" Questioned Bennett, gaping at him.

Razor nodded once. "Like her, very."

Normally, when two people discover that the a close friend of theirs holds the same affection to their person of interest, a quarrel will ensue, and estrangement will follow. But Bennett and Razor were very unlike such an example and instead of compromising their close friendship, the two came to an agreement that whoever you should choose - if you indeed have feelings for one of them - they will remain friends and accept your decision.

Imagine the surprise on their faces when you leaned forward and gave each one of them a small peck on their nose, admitting shyly that you have feelings for both of them.

It took some time for the three of you to get used to your relationship. After all, none of you have ever been in a relationship before, not to mention there was the three of you in it. You carefully treaded through uncertainties and tribulations of inexperience, and it took a while but the you, Bennett, and Razor got the hang of how to make your relationship work.

Bennett is always the one dragging you and Razor to adventures. He will come knocking at your door with a wide grin, Razor lingering behind him and giving you a small smile and a shy wave.

"We're going to Windrise today! I heard some adventurers saying they spotted a weird looking Hilichurl with a briefcase! Wanna join us?" Asked Bennett excitedly, eyes shimmering.

Razor glanced at the other boy before returning his gaze at you with firmness. "I will protect you both. No worry."

You can't ever say no to them, especially when both of them look so happy and thrilled.

Razor is the protector of the relationship. With the dangerous enviroment he grew up in and the training he took under the supervision of a human, it was to be expected. He was always on the prowl, prepared to draw out his claymore and defend you and Bennett from any enemies with an evil intent.

You and Bennett are never worried of being attacked out of nowhere with Razor around you.

Razor takes his responsibility as your protector seriously. The rare times he and Bennett come over at your place, he will never allow himself to fall asleep and would sit by the window where he can oversee your residence. You and Bennett would have to drag him to your bed and convince him that you were in a safe enviroment to make him ease down and actually take a rest.

You three share the same bed, and it's always you in the middle. Bennett will cling on to your slumbering form and would snore from time to time, but when you stroke his hair or when Razor softly nudge his head against his, Bennett will quiet down for a while and continue snoring again after. Razor was quite a sight to see when sleeping. Being raised and cared for by wolves, it was to be expected he would mimic their position in sleeping. He would curl up beside you or Bennett, always nuzzling his face against the crook of your necks. You and Bennett will never say it but he looks so adorable when sleeping like that.

You and Razor know of Bennett's unluckiness. Unfortunately, because you're in a relationship, you two are more involved in his bad luck. Bennett is always guilty of putting the both of you in difficult situations and will apologize profusely, even when the two of you insist that it wasn't his fault.

"It kind of sucks that I'm also giving bad luck to the two of you. I mean, you're one of the few good things that ever happened in my life." He admitted in a gentle whisper, a pout forming on his visage as tears begin to appear at tbe corners of his eyes.

You and Razor felt like an arrow shot through your hearts at what he said and you spend your time cheering up Bennett. Although his unluckiness always seemed to hinder your attempts, Bennett appreciated and loved your efforts, which is enough to bring back his big smile.

When the rare times come when one of you are busy and cannot find time for the other two, the latter pair will frequently visit the missing member, often with gifts.

Bennett loves giving you kisses. Not just on the lips, but all over your face. When your relationship was still at the early stages, Bennett would lean forward towards your face and pull back after an awkward amount of time of hesitation. But when you told him that he is allowed to give you kisses and you would love to receive them, Bennett will take all the chances to shower you with kisses. He loves giving kisses more than receiving because he has so much love to give, but when you do the same to him, his cheeks will be painted in a rich scarlet color and his tongue will be tied, unable to anything except stammering.

"A-Ah, ( Your Name ), please, stop - " Stuttered Bennett as he covered his blushing face with his gloved hands, embarrassment palpable in his posture.

You let out a giggle as you took his hands and tried to pry them off. "Aww, don't be like that, Benny. Let me see your cute face. And I know you love my kisses."

Bennett splutteted.

Razor prefers to give you hugs over kisses. His hugs are big, warm, and welcoming. You'll always feel safe when you're in his arms. When you're in his embrace and you're both comfortable, you won't be leaving his arms for a while. Sometimes Bennett will wiggle himself into the embrace and the three of you just cuddle.

"You're so warm, Razor." You whispered as you nestled yourself on his chest.

Razor showed you a small smile. "I make you feel safe?"

You let out a laugh. "And loved."

More often than not, Bennett and Razor will convene and think of something to surprise you. These boys are filled with love for you that even if there's no occassion, they'll come together to buy you a gift they thought of together.

Bennett gives you trinkets from his solo adventures, but even if most of the time they're broken or burnt, you heartily accept them. Razor always gives you items that are found in the wild such as sweet flowers, mushrooms, pinecones, windwheel asters, sometimes wolfhooks, and if he was lucky, an abundant amount of fowls. You mentioned once how you needed ingredients to make food while you're out adventuring alone, or some things for this thing you call ascension. You love their gifts and always make good use of them or take good care of them.

Bennett had long introduced Razor to his dads (a group of adventurers who saved Bennett long ago). When he introduced you to them, you were immediately flocked and you regaled with tales of their adventures back when they were young, and Bennett was just a wee baby then. You stayed with them for hours, just listening. All the while, Bennett just enjoyed watching you get along with his family so well. Since the adventurers were old, you visit them often and help Bennett take care of them.

Some would think meeting Razor's family would be difficult. They are wolves, after all, and they were known for being vicious. But they couldn't be more wrong Anyone Razor trusted, the wolves trusted so they immeditely accepted you in their pack and treated you the way they treated Razor. They surround you whenever they sense danger, ready to pounce on whatever enemy emerges. The wolves would stay close by and let you snuggle into their fur when the weather is cold. Razor really likes it when you play with the wolf pups and help in hunting dinner for his family.

Bennett and Razor talk about you with their families. Bennett's dads approved of you the very second they saw a glimmer in his eyes when he mentions you, and even though the wolves cannot understand Razor's human speech, they can sense the love in his voice and the frequent drop of your name makes them understand it was directed to you.

" - she and Razor helped me fight an Abyss Mage earlier!" Bennett exclaimed, beaming. "If it weren't for them, I would've probably returned back here with more injuries, hehe."

"( Your Name ) made Bennett and me flower bracelets." Razor then proceeded to lift his arms to show the wolf pups the bracelet he mentioned. "Now, Razor need to take care of it, so me not moving around much."

The three of you always walk hand in hand together, you in the middle. You will swing your linked hands together and Bennett will follow your lead. You and Bennett will have to encourage Razor do the same and have to explain the process of it. Razor will be a little confused at first but then begin enjoy the hand swinging once he get used to it.

Dates are frequent, and it'll always be with the three of you. You all promised never to have a date with someone missing. There will be times where the boys will want a private date with you, but most of the time, it's always you three.

Bennett's dates are adventurous - of course - and unique. He'll find some place you haven't seen before or find an activity you three can try. You'll experience a lot of things in his dates, this includes being attacked out of nowhere and having to save Bennett from time to time. Nonetheless, his dates are always fun and will your heart palpitating.

Razor's dates are simple and peaceful. He'll find a nice and safe place with a beautiful view and the three of you have a picnic there. He's always the one preparing the food for you to eat, but you and Bennett will always bring desserts for Razor to try. Razor insisted that he wanted to learn more human dishes and he can find motivation in doing so by having you and Bennett eat them. His cookings at first were not up to standards - or consumption - but the more dates he arrange, the better he becomes. You mentioned once you liked his hash brown shaped as a puppy paw print and strived to perfect it. If you're lucky, he'll even bring a wolf pup or two.

In your dates, you always make sure you cater to your partners interests. You will do something Bennett likes to do, and then what Razor likes, and then something the three of you can bond over. With that, your dates are always chaotic (not as chaotic as Bennett's dates though) but extremely fun.

Bennett and Razor are suckers for your compliments. They always love getting them from you. Although the two have different ways of accepting them.

Bennett cannot easily accept compliments. It was rare for him to receive one with his bad luck and whenever he does get one, he malfunctions. What more if it comes from you?

Bennett will shake his head vigorously as redness painted his cheeks, waving his arms as though denying your compliment.

"( Your Name ), y-you can't mean that! I-I'm not that great!"

"But Benny," You cooed, as you leaned closer to him, smiling. "You're one of the best person I've ever met! You're kind, sweet and - "

As you continue praising him, Bennett will slowly, slowly accept your compliments, and you might not know, but your compliments are building his confidence in himself. Bennett is a happy and positive boy but his bad luck caused him so much troubles and backlash that his self esteem plummeted. Continue supporting and praising this boy, you're making him super happy.

"I guess I do have some good qualities . . . thanks ( Your Name ). You're really cool, too. And very pretty." Bennett admits as he rubbed the back of his head.

Razor's compliments to Bennett are simple and straightforward, and somehow Bennett accepts them easier than yours. Probably because it's simple and straightforward.

Unlike Bennett, Razor accepts your compliments with a smile and always returns your compliments with one of his own. He doesn't know why some people are embarrassed being complimented. It was a nice thing to do, after all.

"You're really strong, Razor!" You exclaimed after watching the Cryo Abyss Mage he was battlinng evaporate in thin air.

Razor faced you, a smile gracing his briks as he wiped a sweat from his brow. "Thank you. You strong too."

"I can fight Hilichurls, but I'll need some backup if it's Abyss Mages." You laughed. "But thanks, Razor!"

Razor and Bennett insisted that they help you train. You have seen how they fought and trained, and you were a bit reluctant because of its harshness, but after contemplating over its benefits like being able to defend yourself, helping more in adventures, and being able to finally properly protect Bennett and Razor, you accepted.

Bennett is very eager to teach you what he knows and has brought you and Razor to a nearby Hilichurl camp to showcase his abilities and give you pointers after. You and Razor end up carrying him back to the Mondstadt with his arms over your shoulders, the Hilichurl camp up in flames behind you two.

"Did I . . . defeat them?" Questioned Bennett. He couldn't lift his head from the exhaustion and pain.

"Yes, you definitely did." You answered.

Razor's training was a bit more proper but you haven't learned much because his training required claymore, and you were far from being a claymore user. Razor demonstrsted how to pick up a claymore but you couldn't even lift it off the ground.

You pouted as your hands lets go of the handle of the claymore. "I couldn't do it."

Razor approached you and patted your head. "Good effort. Maybe claymore not for you."

Bennett and Razor now always goes to you when they need patching up. Now, they could go and visit Barbara like they used to but they preferred that you tend to their wounds for two reasons. One, they love you and love spending time with you. Two, they get kisses on each wound you cover.

Bennett has a habit of running towards you and Razor at full speed and tackling you both down to the ground, hugging the two of you. You and Razor don't mind it and actually enjoy this sort of thing.

Razor named wolf pups after you and Bennett. This causes confusion when you visit him at Wolvendom.

"Bennett, sit." Ordered Razor.

Bennett and wolf pup Bennett both sat down at the same time.

"( Your Name ), stop playing with food." Razor reprimanded sternly.

You looked down at your plate of neatly cut steak strips while wolf pup ( Your Name ) who sat by your feet poking at the meat it was eating whimpered.

When a fight ensues between you three, it won't take long before you relent and make amends. You three have soft hearts and can never stay angry at each other for too long. You apologize and promise to be better and more understanding.

But if a fight arises between only a pair, the one who isn't part of the fight courts the other two to make up already. If you and Bennett have an argument, Razor will push Bennett to talk things out with you. If you and Razor are the ones in the argument, Bennett will panic and will have a hard time choosing who to approach first. You and Razor make up after the two of you try to comfort Bennett at the same time. If Bennett and Razor were the ones in an argument, you can easily talk to them individually and the two will approach the other and apologize.

Bennett and Razor never compete to be your favorite. They know you love both of them equally, and they love you just as much. You have never felt unloved when you're with them. You three are content and happy.

The most wholesome relationship ever.

"And you two got ambushed by a Geovishap - wait a minute - " Your eyelids curtained your retinas as your digits delicately massaged your temples, trying to ease the pressure in your head as Razor and Bennett averted their guilty gazes from you. Their skis were marred in cuts and bruises, their hair disheveled, and clothes torn from what you suspect were large and sharp claws from a humongous creature. " - how did you two even encounter . . . what was it again - a Geovishap? I know there isn't one in Mondstadt."

Bennett reached out to rub a his hand of his over his neck as he tried to dismiss the mystery at hand with a chuckle. "Uh, well, we kinda . . . " He trailed off, clearly not fond of the idea of continuing his sentence.

Your eye fluttered open and you lifted a brow at Bennett. "You what?"

Bennett opened his mouth to answer but right when you thought he was about to speak, he nudged Razor with his elbow and whispered, "You tell her."

Razor turned to you and looked at you with reluctant eyes, shoulders slackening. "Me and Bennett," He began, " - went to Liyue."

You let out a deep at their answer, your hands slipping from your hips. "I knew it. I heard the two of you talking about doing a commission there. I just didn't think you'd go through with it, and without mentioning it to me." You stated. "Do you know how worried I was when the two of you didn't visit me earlier? I had to learn from Katheryne you took on a commission."

Bennett and Razor casted their gazes away, guilt crowning their expression.

You heaved out a sigh. "At least you two are back safely. And alive."

You approached the two boys who have yet to return their sights on you and assessed their forms, scrutinizing each of them carefully. "You poor things. Those look painful." You murmured. "Need me to patch you up?"

Bennett's and Razor's eyes shimmered at your offer, and the two nodded eagerly in response. Any traces of shame vanquished for they know your disappointment has evaporated and they were forgiven. "Yes, please." The two answered in unison.

You permitted a small laugh to escape your lips. "Alright, alright," You tittered. "Follow me, then."

Before you can even move, Bennett interjected. "W-Will we still get kisses . . . " The white haired adventurer turned completely red as he realized how silly his words were. " . . . you know what I mean . . . "

Razor looked down, a shy expression encompassing his features, to which surprised you. "Razor wants kisses too . . . from ( Your Name )."

Your heart jumped in your chest at the sight of their hopeful and coy expressions. Even if you wanted to tease them a little for this as payback, your heart couldn't. You shook your head at them and clasped their cheeks, one hand on the other as you stared into their eyes.

"You two . . . " You whispered, breathing out. " . . . you make it so hard to be angry with you."

Their only response was a grin.

[yurtletheturtlehenderson]

COSMIC - S1:E6; Chapter Six, The Monster - [Pt. 1]

A Will Byers x Male!Reader Series

𝘞𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘌𝘭𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘦, 𝘠/𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘋𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘨𝘨𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘺 𝘵𝘰𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳. 𝘌𝘭𝘴𝘦𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦, 𝘏𝘰𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘑𝘰𝘺𝘤𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘵𝘩 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘢𝘣’𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴.

|| 𝟑𝐫𝐝 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐏𝐎𝐕 ||

Joyce and Hopper sat opposite one another at the kitchen table of the Byers' home. The house was cold and hardly lit, copies of newspaper clippings scattered all around the house. One of the only light sources was a dusty chandelier that hung from the kitchen ceiling above the table and their heads, illuminating the several papers.

"Look, we gotta go through this again." Joyce insisted.

"I told you everything that I saw."

"Oh, gosh," she sighs into her hands. "Tell me again."

"Upstairs or downstairs?" Hopper asked.

"Upstairs."

"There was a laboratory. It was where they must do experiments or something, and then there was... well you see, like I said, I got turned around."

Hopper was currently sharing all he had encountered on his rogue mission at Hawkins National Laboratory. Joyce, all the while was hanging on his every word.

"I told you, it was like, I don't know, it wasn't supposed to exist. That whole area, it was abandoned and... forgotten, like it was all some big mistake. Once I found my way back, I saw that... kid's room. That other kid's room, I mean. Like it was actually used, but it didn't even look like a kid's room, neither of them did. It looked like a prison."

Hopper sighed and rubbed the bottom of his palms into his eyes tiredly, is fingers held the lit cigarette inches away from his face as he did so. "If that even makes sense,"

"Well," Joyce began, trying to get to the bottom of this never ending mystery. "So why would you think it was a kid's room, then?"

"Because, I told you, the size of the bed, there was a drawing, there was a stuffed animal--"

Joyce interrupted the man quickly. "Y-You didn't say there was a drawing."

"Yeah, there was a drawing of a... an adult and a child. It said 'Eleven' on it."

"Was it good?" Joyce pressed.

"It was a kid's drawing, Joyce. It was stick figures."

Joyce had a knowing look on her face as she stood up with a sigh, retrieving a piece of crinkled line paper and slammed it down on the table for Hopper to see.

She pointed to the detailed drawing as she sat back down.

"Wasn't Will." She stated confidently, shakily bringing the cigarette back up to her lips.

Hopper examined the drawing and everything seemed to click. He returned his gaze to the anxious mother. Hopper quickly put out his cigarette in the ashtray and made a beeline for the coffee table.

"Earl..." he muttered, as he made his way into the living room. Joyce, who had abandoned her cigarette, was right on his heels.

"The night that Benny died, Earl said he saw some kid with a shaved head with Benny," Hopper and Joyce took a seat beside one another on the living room couch, Hopper's eyes fixed on the several news clippings splayed along the wooden coffee table. "Now, I pressed him, he said it might be Will, but maybe..."

The man began shifting through the papers, and Joyce spoke up.

"Wait... Maybe, it wasn't?"

Hopper pulled the article he had been looking for and pointed to the fuzzy photograph of the woman in the article.

"Look... this woman, Terry Ives, she claims to have lost her daughter, Jane. She sued Brenner, she sued the government... Now, the claims came to nothing, but what if... I mean, what if this whole time I've been... I've been looking for Will... I've been chasing after some other kid?"

|| 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐏𝐎𝐕 ||

Everything is a mess.

Will is still missing, the party is falling apart, Mike and Lucas are still angsty messes that won't speak to one another, and now, El left us. She probably thinks I hate her.

'But I don't! I was just scared'

(Ok but like,,,, who else ships El and reader cause damn I've been giving myself feels lately, dang)

'We need to fix this'

I sigh and sit up from my bed and make my my way to Dustin's room.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

"I just... I can't believe she didn't come back." Mike sighed.

Dustin and I agreed we needed to talk some sense into the rest of the party. So we got our bikes and made our way to Mike's. Dustin was standing opposite Mike while I currently occupied one of the D&D chairs I had pulled up. Mike was worriedly pacing the floor in front of us.

"She's gotta be close." Dustin offered.

"She said it wasn't safe. She just messed up the compasses because she wanted to protect us. She didn't betray us."

"Mike, calm down."

Mike only ignored Dustin and kept talking, more to himself than anybody it seemed.

"I shouldn't have yelled at her. I never should've done that."

"Mike, this isn't your fault." Dustin said.

"Yeah, it's Lucas'."

"It wasn't his fault, either." Dustin countered softly.

For the first time in what felt like ages, Mike stopped in his tracks. He looked at my brother dumbfounded and took a few steps in his direction. "It wasn't his fault?"

"No."

"So you're saying he wasn't way out of line?"

"Totally, but so were you!"

"What?"

"And so was Eleven."

"That's ridiculous! Y/n, tell him he's being ridiculous!"

Very calmly, I stood up with my arms crossed and stood next to my brother, and sighed, eyes fixed on Mike. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but Dustin is absolutely right."

Mike seemed even more furious. "Oh, give me a break!"

Dustin snapped at these words and stormed up to Mike. "No, Mike, you give me a break! All three of you were being a bunch of little assholes! Y/n and I were the only reasonable ones! But the bottom line is... you pushed first. And you know the rules. You draw first blood..."

"No! No way! I'm not shaking his hand."

"You're shaking his hand." I press, stepping forward.

He was sure to make eye contact with me over Dustin's shoulder as he spoke. "No, I'm not."

So I strode toward him and gave him a slight glare.

"This isn't a discussion. This is the rule of law. Obey or be banished from the party. Do you wanna be banished?" I asked firmly.

Mike crossed his arms and pouted before speaking up meekly. "No."

"Good!" I chirp, my face beaming as if we hadn't just been fighting which seem to only terrify him more.

I all but skipped over to the chair grabbing my coat, Dustin following my actions.

"Where are we going?" Mike asked with a hint of frustration.

"Where do you think?" Dustin asked as he put his arms through the sleeves of his coat.

"We're going to get Lucas." I finished, straightening my jacket then looked back to Mike.

My face softened and I tilted my head slightly. "And then we're gonna find Eleven."

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

The three of us stood on Lucas's porch and I rang the doorbell. We stood waiting until the door swung open and Lucas stood there glaring at all three of us, but mostly Mike.

"What do you want?" He spit, resting his hands in his pockets.

There was brief silence which was then interrupted by a muffled smack of Dustin hitting Mike in the arm.

Mike sighed softly and looked to Lucas, clearly hating every second of this.

"I drew first blood, so..." he extended his hand for Lucas to shake but Lucas didn't move.

Great. Of course nobody was going to make anything easy. Why would they?

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

Somehow I had convinced Lucas to let us all in and now, we all stood in the middle of his living room as he paced silently across the floor considering Mike's offer. He finally stopped and stared at the three of us.

"Okay, I'll shake."

Mike sighed what I barely made out to be a "finally" as he extended his arm out once more. Dustin and I perked up, that was until Lucas continued.

"On one condition. We forget the weirdo and go straight to the gate." He finished, arms crossed defiant.

"Then the deal's off." Mike barked.

"Fine!"

"Fine!"

"No, no, not fine! Guys seriously?" Dustin yelled, as I threw my head back frustrated.

Dustin forced Mike to face him as he spoke. "Do you even remember what happened on the Bloodstone Pass?"

Lucas and Mike shared a confused glance.

Dustin seemed shocked and offended that they had no recollection and continued.

"We couldn't agree on what path to take, so we all split up the party and those trolls took us out one by one. And it all went to shit. And we were all disabled! So we stick together, no matter what!"

"Yeah, I agree. But this is the party, right here in this room."

"El is one of us now."

"Um, no, she's not. Not even close! Never will be. She's a liar, a traitor--"

"She was just trying to keep us safe! She didn't mean to hurt you. It was an accident!"

"An accident?"

"All right, accident or not... admit it, it was a little awesome." Dustin said.

"Awesome?"

"Yeah, she threw you in the air with her mind!"

"I could have been killed!"

"Would everybody just shut up for one second, please!" I snap.

Everybody looks to me, a shocked expression on their faces.

I step forward and begin my long awaited  rant.

"I am sick of your attitude." I point at Lucas. "I am sick of your whining." I point to Mike. "I am sick of all three of you bickering," I gesture to all of them. "I love you guys and I can't thank you enough for taking me in and including me, know that, but GOD I am tired of being stuck listening to you boys argue about every little thing!"

I myself began pacing, my voice continuously rising. "I'm sick of putting up with all your petty arguing when we should be looking for Will only to come home at the end of the day, having found NOTHING and crying my eyes out because the only person who never gave a shit about who started what is missing and probably dead!"

I stopped pacing and looked to the boys who were all silent. I sighed and lowered my voice. "Lucas, you're right. You could have been killed. Which is exactly why we need her. She is more powerful than all of us combined."

"Y/n's right. Do you seriously wanna fight the Demogorgon with your wrist rocket?" Mike said, anger still in his voice. "That's like R2-D2 going to fight Darth Vader. We're no use to Will if we're dead."

Lucas looked torn for a moment, but then he shook his head and pointed at the three of us. There was disappointment in his voice. "If you three wanna waste your time looking for a traitor, go ahead, 'cause I'm not spending my time on her anymore. No way!"

I sighed, putting my face in my hands. Lucas continued.

"I'm going to the gate. I'm going to find Will."

Lucas shoved the boys aside and stormed off, leaving the three of us alone in more ways than one.

[i-am-the-ass-admiral]

For A Laugh (Benny Miller x gn!reader)

Summary: It’s Benny’s first time at a gay bar and you ask him out the worst way possible; ~1.4k

Tags: humor, colloquial writing style, lust, teasing, flirting, implied bi!benny and reader, bad jokes (like terrible impeccable taste), alcohol consumption, excessive use of the word ‘baby’, soft benny, first date (sort of), au, meet-cute

Rating: Teen

Note: look i’ve never done this before, i just really really got stuck on this idea and i really liked benny. might not be your idea of him but god i think he’s a huge dork and a giant softie so here we are. wanted to throw a queer reader out there since you just don’t see them all that much and do something maybe a little off the wall? idk have fun, i think i’m hilarious XD

--

By some stroke of fate, you pick Benny up at a bar the first time you meet. 

He’s not hard to spot in a crowd as tall as he is and you’re just buzzed enough that your eye keeps coming back to him as the night goes on. He slides from corner to corner with his shoulders slightly hunched and the proverbial tail between his legs, following two shorter men who obviously know what kind of bar they’ve walked in to. Benny though—you didn’t know his name at the time so you called him Baby in your head—darts around with a kind of deer-in-headlights expression. It’s cute.

And annoying.

At first, you roll your eyes at him. Great, another straight dude to hit on your friends and get mad when they say no. 

Then you watch him a little longer.

You can’t help it, he’s pretty and looks more than a little lost and even from the end of the bar you can see how wide his tentative smile gets as he looks around. He likes what he sees; you’re just trying to figure out exactly what it is he’s liking. For a while Baby sits at a table with his friends. Holds a fruity cocktail between his knees almost as if he’s scared to be seen with it. Then after a couple drinks his smile gets wider and his voice gets loud. Boy’s boisterous—you can tell by the way he talks with his hands and throws his head back to laugh. He’s actually really fun to watch and it makes you smile. His buddies look almost out of place too until they get up to dance and—wow, talk about snake hips and floor sex, you haven’t seen anyone dance that good off the drag stage in ages. Baby stares at his empty drink for a bit, lost again, then heads to the bar. Not far from where you are, actually. Watching him walk with a couple drinks in him is a world of difference to how he first came in. There’s a swing in his broad shoulders, a confident cocky tilt to his head and you’re not sure if you want to punch him or if it’s the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen.

Despite your better judgment, you’re leaning to the latter. 

You make a bet with yourself as he pulls up at the bar—he got the fun drink to please his friends, he’ll order something boring now—and you’re pleasantly surprised to lose your own bet. Baby orders a whole-ass mai tai and looks overjoyed at the gigantic slice of pineapple and cherries garnishing the top. He turns to the stage. Avidly watches a few performers and even starts cheering. That’s when others folks start to take notice. A couple men make a pass and, wouldn’t you know it, Baby plays nice. Smiles and nods politely even though you can tell he’s not really into it. Not totally but it makes you think…

Maybe Baby’s a little bendy and not as straight as you thought.

At that point in the night, your friends are on their fifth dance, you’re on your third drink, and it’s getting way too loud in here for you. You were going to step out for a bit anyway—or so you tell yourself—so why not have some company? Who knows, you might get lucky. And if not, you’ll have an even better excuse to get some air and at least you can say you did it for laughs. Not that this is a casino but you’re feeling feisty. Might as well roll the dice. Baby looks like the kinda Midwest-flavored bite of beefcake that will either have great taste and love your stupid pickups or get scared and leave. Hopefully he’s not the kind to throw a punch.

You sidle up to the bar next to him. No doubt your outfit gets his attention first. It’s not risqué exactly but it’s got flavor, specifically your queer kind of flavor, and it draws the eye the way you wear it. You smile as you look him up and down, enjoying the red flush on his cheeks that trickles down under the collar of his fitted shirt. Wow, Baby is built. You ask the bartender for a couple drinks while part of your buzzing brain throws up red flags. Maybe you should try to land your mouth before it totally takes off but unfortunately for ground control your tongue is flying solo tonight. You get your drink. Pluck off the fruit, take a bite and shout over the music, 

“Can I get your name or should I just get you a drink?”

As expected, Baby looks confused as hell but he pastes on a polite, if guarded, smile. “I wouldn’t mind a drink.”

Without missing a beat, you give him the second glass in your hand. There’s something about the way that guarded smile doesn’t quite meet his eyes that makes you want to do something stupid. You want to see him smile and laugh and even though you don’t have the slightest inkling about him, you want to know why such a handsome face would ever look so afraid.

So of course you ask, “How ‘bout a bet then? I make you laugh, you tell me your name?”

He makes a considering face and takes a long sip. “Bet.”

“What do you call the sexuality where you’re attracted to people by no one is attracted to you?”

“What?”

Very off key and with all the drama you can muster, you sing, “Allll Biiiii Myseeeelf.”

Baby snorts a laugh in his drink, which you didn’t expect, and a little warmth grows in your stomach. His faux smile is turning to a real grin. Albeit still a confused one but delighted all the same and he shoots back, “So that’s you, huh? By yourself?”

You wince theatrically and shake your head. 

“Ouch, Baby’s got teeth! You got me.” 

“Nah, what you get’s a name.” He holds out his hand and you groan internally at the length and breadth of it as you shake. “Benny.”

Just like that Baby becomes Benny and you’re absolutely smitten. You give him your name. Maybe your fingers linger. You want to get him another drink. You want to tell him another joke. Hell, you want to take him home and stuff him full of food in the morning. He giggles a bit and it’s endearing enough you decide to press your luck. 

“How ‘bout this one? What’s the best N’Sync song?”

It’s not a fair question, dude might not have ever even heard a boy band in his life, so it takes you by surprise when he immediately pops back with a drawling version of, “It’s tearin’ up my heart when I’m with you?”

“Ooo, a little romantic! I see you!” you tease, pinching his thick bicep for just an instant. Because really, any longer than that and you’d melt. 

Benny doesn’t pull away like you were waiting for him to do. Instead he ducks his head, more than booze burning his cheeks, and—ah, hell. 

“That one is killer,” you admit, “but I was thinking of the one where they sing ‘Bye Bye Bye’ while we blow outta here for dinner?”

It’s a stupid line—one of the worst you’ve ever come up with—and it comes out more like a question than a joke. You throw back the rest of your drink to hide the look on Benny’s face but to your delight, he says,

“Wait, really?”

“Well yeah.” You lean against the bar next to him, trying and failing to be nonchalant and you shrug. “I’m hungry and even though you’re a Grade A snack I don’t think you’d appreciate me taking a bite. So how ‘bout dinner?”

Benny finishes his drink all at once. Wipes his mouth with the back of his hand as he stands. You sigh to yourself—this is the part where he walks off and you go get dinner alone, you suppose. But then he grins, like really grins, and offers you his arm to hold and suddenly your knees are jello shots. 

“I could go for a bite.” 

So you go for dinner. Text your friends, of course. But mosey down the street for 12AM tacos and end up laughing with Benny, shoulder to shoulder on the curb until your friends call for a ride.

And even though you didn’t get to take him home and feed him in the morning, your phone still dings through your snooze with a message under Benny’s name that reads: 

What did the barista say to his crush?

I like you a latte. :) 

Coffee later?

The warmth in your stomach from the night before blooms again and you laugh into your pillow before you text back:

Love to!

[tinyboxxtink]

"Weird Secret Friends" *Chapter 14*

Chapter 13

Chapter 15

This chapter literally took me all day, and it's kinda super long, but since I'm only going to 15 it had to be done. Also, I wanted to get a certain part and all the bullshit detail action needs to be written before we get there so I just kept writing to get there. Lulz.

Tag List

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@sassyada

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@mrsrafaelbarba

Okay and can I just say about the Goodbye Love thing it was in my head since I had her say "I need to go away".

This was supposed to be the preview:

Mimi Please don't touch me Understand I'm scared I need to go away

Mark I know a place - a clinic

Benny A rehab?

Mimi Maybe - could you?

Benny I'll pay

And this is for chapter 15: Mimi Goodbye love Goodbye love Came to say goodbye, love, goodbye Just came to say Goodbye love Goodbye love Goodbye love Hello disease....

*DUN DUN DUNNNN*

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

The next thing you knew you were waking up in another room. This one was more lavish and beautiful; the sunset was peeking through green silk curtains with a matching chaise lounge. You were now in pink silk pajamas as opposed to a hospital gown, and you weren’t hooked up to near as many wires. Just a pack attached to your arm linked to your sides.

“What the…?” You cautiously crept out of bed, examining the room.

So many questions flew through your mind at that moment. How did you get here? Where exactly were you? Who the hell changed you while you were passed out? It was too much to imagine. You walked over to the full length mirror and examined yourself. You were still semi pale, but you looked pretty damn good for just having surgery this morning.

You walked back towards your bed where your phone was laying on the nightstand. You went to check your messages when you saw the date-- it had been three days. THREE DAYS?

“What the actual fuck--?” You muttered.

Were you in a Black Mirror episode? How did you lose three whole days of your life?! You began to panic, making you pace the room. Wasn’t there a button you could do? You quickly looked around the room for anything, but all you found was a TV remote.

“Oh are you fucking--” You started to curse the world when you saw a little drawing of a nurse on one of the buttons. You frantically pushed it until a girl who looked like she was a nurse out of a porno as opposed to a hospital came running in.

“Oh my god, I thought you were like, dying or something,” She rolled her eyes and twirled her hair like she was a teenage stereotype.

“Where the hell am I? Why am I---”

“Okay you need to like, chill babe,” Nurse Betty put her hands up. “

“I’m not your babe, mmkay pumpkin? We are not friends,” You pushed her hands down. “Now why don’t you get your little chart and explain to me what’s going on in the Twilight Zone?”

“Alright, well--” She whipped out a mini tablet from her scrubs and flipped through it. “You got here three days ago with an order to keep you in a medically induced coma-- Ooooh, wow that sounds like some soap opera shit. Where your organs harvested on the black market?”

“WHAT?” You grabbed the tablet. That DID sound like some soap opera shit. “You read the tablet, all it said was the details about the coma and then FILES SEALED.

“Can you-- unlock this, please?” You shoved the tablet back in her hands.

“Um no, you need a supervisor for that babe,”

“Can you please get someone to unlock this then, BABE?” Your eye began to twitch from stress.

“Yeah, sure I’ll try,” She shrugged and walked back out of the room. You continued to pace faster now, googling “HARVESTED ORGANS ON THE BLACK MARKET”, when a doctor came in wearing navy blue scrubs, looking like Derek Shepherd.

“Well hey there, beautiful,” He grinned at you.

“...What is happening?” You muttered, staring at him. He was gorgeous, you’d probably be more flustered if you weren’t so freaked out and pissed off.

“What kind of soap opera hospital is this?!” You scowled.

“Hey, just because we take care of ourselves around here doesn’t mean it’s Grey’s Anatomy up here,” He made a face.

“...Could’ve fooled me, McDreamy,”

“....Just because my name is Derek doesn’t mean I’m that tool,” He frowned.

“Oh my god you’re kidding me right?” You had to laugh at the irony.

“You’re probably just grumpy because you haven’t eaten for three days,” He patted your head. “How about a nice filet mignon?”

“Wha…?” You looked around the room in disbelief. “How about you tell me where I am and how I got here?”

“You’re at Whistling Pines Hospital and Rehabilitation Center in Hartford Connecticut, Miss Y/N,”

“Connecticut?!” You gasped. “Sonny said it was just upstate New York. Jesus Christ he sent me out of state?!”

“Calm yourself,” Derek put a hand on your shoulder. “We’re basically on the state line, Mr. Carisi didn’t send you to Siberia,”

“...And why exactly was I brought here against my will?” You crossed your arms.

“Against your will?” He snorted. “Your paperwork says you requested to be out while you recovered so you wouldn’t be tempted to ask for pain meds or anything. Part of the detox, you understand,”

“Detox?” Your face scrunched. “Seriously? So...so now what, you escort me down to the padded room now that I’m healed?”

“No, no of course not,” He shook his head. “Our rehab rooms are much nicer than this. And yours is all ready for you,”

“....Yeah, alright,” You shrugged, looking around the room.

“Wonderful,” He gave you another 100 watt smile before opening the door and motioning you to follow him. You walked for a while through what seemed like a normal hospital wing, then you came to two large doors that said “REHABILITATION WING”.

Derek opened it and let you go through first, into a beautiful lobby. The walls were made of marble, there was a koi pond with a waterfall in the middle of it, sparkling water stations next to big leather chairs. It was like a spa.

“Wow...” You whispered as you admired it while you walked.

“Yes, I know,” He chuckled. “It’s quite impressive, isn’t it?”

“Yeah…” You began to feel guilty; how much was this costing Sonny? This place looked like it cost the down payment on a house to stay in. You followed Derek down a hallway that looked like a hotel room hallway more than a rehab center, until he stopped at a door labelled 312.

“Ah here we are,” He opened the door and let you go inside first once again. It was an even more lavish room than you woke up in. A nice king bed with fluffy pillows and silk comforters were covered with extra blankets if you needed them. There was a huge sofa in front of a large screen TV, and a little kitchenette with a small fridge, cabinets, a dishwasher, and a microwave.

“....Wow,” You continued to stare in awe at the luxurious amenities this place had.

“Indeed,” Derek smiled. “Now, the TV comes loaded with digital cable and all the streaming services. Our WIFI password is LIVELAUGHLOVE, the fridge is stocked with organic, healthy foods only, but if you’d like to request something you can give our front desk a ring,”

You just nodded as you checked out the room.

“Now,” He cleared his throat. “For the icky part,”

“...The icky part?” You sputtered with a sarcastic smile. “Where did you go to medical school, Sesame Street?”

“Ha ha,” He rolled his eyes. “You will need to stay in your room at all times unless it’s social time, or group time. We do have several common areas such as a pool and a gym, but you’ll need to schedule times to use them, you can’t just walk around on your own,”

“Ah,” You nodded. “So it is a prison, just a very nice prison,”

“It’s not a prison, Miss Y/N,” He shook his head. “Not for you, anyway,”

“Really? Because it sounds like--”

“Your cousin did pay for your residency here, but you’re not under a court order or anything so you’re not confined here. Most of our residents have to be here several months before they’re even allowed out of their rooms at all, you should consider yourself lucky,”

“...Right,” You rolled your eyes. “Where is my cousin, anyway?” You asked. “Is he back at the hospital in New York?”

“Excuse me?” He looked at you in confusion. “I’m not sure I understand,”

“Oh I guess it’s been a few days,” You thought out loud. “He must have gone home by now,”

“...Well I’d sure hope so,” He chuckled.

“So..” You took a seat on the couch. “What am I doing now, warden?”

“Well like I said, I can have food sent up to you if you’re hungry,” He explained as he handed you your own tablet. “We have these for you so you can browse our menu for food and amenities,”

“Mmmkay…”

“Tomorrow’s social time is at 10 am, and your group therapy is at noon,”

“..Uh huh,” You nodded as you absent mindedly flipped through the menu.

“It’s mandatory,” He added.

“...Right,”

“Wonderful,” He beamed. “Now your bathroom is there, obviously,” He nodded to a door on the other side of the room. “It has a shower with three different pressures, and a spa bathtub. I recommend you take a long hot bath and relax, the first night is usually the hardest to get used to.

“Right…”

“Alright well I’ll leave you to it,” He nodded at you with another dreamy smile.

He walked out and left you to your own devices. You walked over to the drawers and pulled them out. They were full of your clothes, how did they get these so fast? It was so bizarre all of this happened while you were out, it really did seem like some kind of episode out of Dynasty or something.

You decided to call Sonny and get some things sorted out. You picked up your phone and dialed his number and let it ring.

“Oh hey...you, how you feelin’?”

“I’m good,” You went and sat on the bed. “How are you feeling?”

“Me? I’m good,”

“Really? Not sore or anything?”

“What? OH-- Yeah, y’know, of course, obviously,”

“...Thanks so much for this, Sonny. It’s gorgeous here,”

“Anytime….sweetie,”

“Is um, is Rafael doing better? Do you know?”

“Uh he’s...he’s fine, I’m sure,”

“...Well that’s good,”

“I’ll be up there next week to see you, you hang in there okay?”

“...Yeah, alright,”

“Night darlin’, you sleep well. I love you,”

“Love you too,”

Sonny hung up the phone and glanced over at Rafael who was busy writing his closing arguments for their case tomorrow.

“....Who was that?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Niece,” He lied.

“Mmm,”

“...How are you feelin’, by the way Barba?”

“Carisi, we’re not discussing anything personal, ever again. I told you that,” He grumbled, not looking up from his desk. He winced in pain every so often when he pulled on his stitches while writing.

“...Right,” He nodded sadly. He did feel guilty about all of this, but he knew in a few weeks it wouldn’t matter. You’d both forget about each other and move on, it was for the best.

--------

The next day you woke up and felt this overwhelming sense of dread. It was like everything had finally caught up to you, all the memory of how you got here came back to you. You missed Rafael almost immediately, Sonny’s words about how you had traumatized him rang in your head.

You wanted so desperately to call him and apologize, tell him how you would have never hurt him on purpose, and that all you wanted to do was make it up to him-- but you knew you had no way of doing that, and there was nothing you could do about it.

Your tablet began to go off, alarms for SOCIAL TIME were set on it. You tried to turn it off, but apparently a counselor had to do it when you arrived. Sneaky bastards. You sighed and pulled on some PJ pants, trying to ignore the blaring sound. You stomped out of your room and down the hall, down some stairs to a huge room labelled “REC ROOM.”

“Welcome Y/N!” A bright and cheery nurse came over and greeted you. “We have lots of activities for you here,” She began to show you around. “We have arts and crafts, several board games, and the Cards Against Humanity rounds get quite rowdy!”

“...Right,” You nodded softly, feeling more and more hopeless as you saw all the other “residents” mingling-- and by mingling, meaning most of them were walking around like soulless zombies. Was this your life now?

----

One Week Later

“Hey…” You saw Rafael laying down in front of you, reaching out for your hand. You took it, not believing this was real.

“I love you, Y/N…” He smiled at you, his green eyes sparkling.

“I love you too Rafael..”

You shot up in bed, it happened again. You had been having the same dream ever since you had gotten to Whistling Pines. It felt so real, especially when you touched his hand. And you always woke up alone, stuck in your prison. Never to see Rafael ever again; It was torture. No matter how fancy the prison was, it was still a prison. You looked at the clock on your bedside table- 3:30 am. You wondered what Rafael was doing at that moment-- well, probably sleeping, duh. Or maybe he was up late, working on law stuff.

You wondered if he was thinking about you, if he ever thought about you. He didn’t seem angry the last time you saw him, in fact you were pretty sure you remembered him holding you and crying. Well, like Sonny said he was probably just upset having to see someone like that again. But-- something inside told you that you didn’t leave on bad terms. Maybe you had been too quick to just delete and block his number. But it was too late to do anything about that now. You laid back down and cried yourself back to sleep for the fifth time that night.

=============

Two weeks later

Sonny drove up to Hartford early Friday morning, hoping to get back to the city that night. He signed in at the front desk, muttering obscenities under his breath. He paced the lobby waiting for you, trying to keep his calm. Finally you emerged from the big double doors: You were dressed in a t-shirt that used to be tight, but now it draped on your shoulders. Your hip hugger jeans were more like men’s jeans, hanging off your pelvis. Your hair was pulled into a messy ponytail and you had no makeup on. You walked over to Sonny who crossed his arms at the sight of you.

“Hey, Sunshine…” He pulled you into a tight hug, your face barely moved into a small smile.

“Can we talk?” He asked as he led you to one of the leather couches.

“Sure,” You nodded like a robot as you sat next to him.

“So Sunshine,” He sighed. “They tell me you haven’t uh, been doin’ so hot,”

“Oh, have they?” You mumbled, playing with a hole in your jeans.

“Yeah they said you’re not eating, you skip the group, you won’t talk to anybody,” He put a hand on your knee. “Is everything okay? Is it your new liver? The diabetes kicking yer ass?”

“...No, I’m fine,” You shrugged feebly.

“....Seriously?” He removed his hand, his soft tone gone. “So, nothing’s wrong with you physically? You’re just being a brat?”

“Excuse me?” You suddenly blinked in surprise.

“Here I came up here because I was worried somethin’ was really wrong with you, like you were rejecting the donation or-- or the trauma was too much, but you’re tellin’ me you just won’t cooperate?” He snapped at you.

“...What do you want me to say, Sonny? Sorry?” You snarked back.

“I want you to tell me why!” He tried not to yell but this was ridiculous. “Do you know how expensive this place is?!”

“Oh wow,” You scoffed. “Well I’m sorry my recovery is so expensive for you, Son,”

“It’s not even recovery, Y/N! You’re-- You’re just laying around here like a fuckin’ angsty teen!” He barked. “Why aren’t you trying? Don’t you wanna get outta here and get back to your life?”

“Maybe I don’t!” You yelled and stood up. “Maybe I don’t care about getting out of here, or not. There’s no point anymore,”

“What?” Sonny furrowed his brows. “Why not?”

“...Because,” You looked down at the floor.

“Oh for fuck’s sake…” Sonny threw up his hands, finally standing up himself. “Is this about Barba, really Y/N? You knew him for a few fuckin’ days, gimme a fuckin BREAK,”

“He was wonderful to me, Sonny! He was wonderful and loving and caring and YOU made me go off on him, and then I--” You paused, tears caught in your throat. “I fucking traumatized him. I hurt him so badly he didn’t even want to see me when i was dying,”

“I mean-- how bad of a person am I?!” You tried not to break down in the lobby. “I shouldn’t be allowed to be around anyone anymore, I just destroy things. Hurt people. I shouldn’t be around anyone,”

“Oh Jesus Christ,” Sonny sighed. “You need to stop, alright? If you actually tried to get better, you wouldn’t--”

“I don’t want to get better!!!!” You flat out stomped your foot, not caring about making a scene now.

“Y/N, tough love time. You need to get your shit together and forget about Barba, alright? I can’t keep paying for you to stay here--” He put both hands on your shoulders.

“So let me out,” You glared at him.

“....And if I let you out, are you going to stay sober?” He gave you a suspicious look.

“Nope,” You said with a smirk.

“Y/N come the fuck on,” He threw up his hands.

“What?” You crossed your arms. “I’m being honest. So either you keep wasting your money here, or let me go,”

“And what, let you kill yourself?” He asked angrily.

“...Maybe,” You muttered.

“Sunshine, come here--” Sonny went to wrap you in a hug, his t-shirt caught up on yours causing it to pull up on his torso. Your eyes went wide when you caught sight of it, letting go of him.

“....Where’s your scar?” You blinked in disbelief, trying to wrap your head around what you were seeing.

“What?” He began to panic.

“Your scar,” You pulled your t-shirt to reveal your own scar from the transplant. “You should have one,”

“Oh, Um--” Sonny began to rack his brain for an explanation, but your brain was moving faster.

“.....You didn’t give me part of your liver, did you?” You pulled away from him.

“Uh well--” He sighed “Not exactly, no,”

“Then who did?” You eyed him accusingly.

“They got you an anonymous--”

“Oh don’t even give me that shit, Sonny,” You stopped him. “This-- this whole thing, when I got here. It felt so much like, like a set up. A soap opera plot,”

“A soap opera?” Sonny laughed. “Come on Sunshine, don’t--”

“Why did you ship me here so fast, Sonny?” You asked, your brain now on a roll.

“What?” He half laughed. “So that you could get started early--”

“No,” You stopped him. “You could have just let me come here on my own, CONSCIOUS,”

“Well I just wanted you to skip the DT’s--” He tried to think of a defense.

“DT’s don’t happen to you if you get drunk ONCE, Sonny!” You raised your voice.

“Well how was I supposed to--” He looked around nervously.

“Who really gave me their liver, Sonny?” You narrowed your eyes.

“I told you, I don’t--” He began to lie again.

“I’ll look it up,” You threatened, making his eyes go wide.

“Y-You can’t do that,” He protested.

“Why wouldn’t you want me to?” You challenged him.

“...Because--”

“Rafael did, didn’t he?” You weren’t letting him think of any more lies.

“Look Y/N, he just wanted to help you out so that you wouldn’t die, like his dad. He couldn’t save him so he saved you. Doesn’t that sound like him?”

You had to admit, it really did. But why lie about it?

“So why didn’t you tell me that, Sonny? Why tell me you did it? Why didn’t you just tell me he did it to be nice, and not that he hated me?”

“I never said he hated you--”

“If you lied to me about that, what else have you been lying to me about?” You put your hands on your hips.

“What?”

“Oh my god…” You started to remember your recurring dream. “It was real, it was real. I know it was real!”

“...What was real?” His eyebrows furrowed.

“I keep having this dream where Rafael is across from me lying on a table, and he tells me that he loves me. And I know that happened I know it did,” You explained.

You were absolutely sure of it now. So many thoughts were running through your mind, you hated that you didn’t remember any of this before.

“What?” Sonny laughed again. “Sunshine it’s just a dream, don’t you think you would remember something like that?”

“They...they gave me something before I went into the OR,” You looked off into nowhere as you tried desperately to recall that morning. “The nurse called it…’giggle juice’,”

“Giggle juice?” Sonny rolled his eyes.

“Did you make them give me that too?!” You went for his collar, but a nurse came out of nowhere to hold you back.

“Wha who whoa, Sunshine calm down,” Sonny waved the nurse off of you. “I got her, thanks ma’am,”

“I didn’t tell them to give you anything,” He said softly.

“Yeah, just to keep me out for three days so I wouldn’t ever see Rafael before you sent me here,” You accused him.

“...Not true…” He shook his head.

“Why wouldn’t you want me to talk to him, Sonny?” Tears choked your throat.

“He didn’t want to talk to you--”

“Bullshit!” You stomped your foot, eyeing the nurse who had her eye on you in case you lost it on Sonny again.

“Bullshit, were you scared he was going to tell me what you were really doing? That you were trying to keep us apart?” Tears began dripping from your cheeks. You couldn’t believe this was happening, you couldn’t believe you could have been with Rafael this entire time.

“No!” He protested, his eyes darting back and forth. “No, I--”

“I don’t believe you!” You pushed him, the nurse stepped forward but you put your hands up in defeat. “You’re keeping him from me right now, aren’t you?”

“What?”

“That’s why you sent me so far, he has no idea where I am, and he wants to know doesn’t he? He wasn’t traumatized by my ‘incident’, he’s traumatized he lost me!” You hated that you cried when you got angry, it made you so much less intimidating.

“Traumatized is a strong word, Y/N…” Sonny rolled his eyes.

“Y’know what Sonny,” You shook your head while you wiped your eyes. “I’ll make you a deal. You bring Rafael here, and I’ll try to get better,”

“...I can’t,” He looked at the floor.

“Wha--Are you serious?” You half laughed sarcastically. “You’d rather me rot in here than--”

“I don’t know where he is, Y/N,” He looked up at you seriously.

“...What?” You asked, not wanting to know the answer.

“He…” He rubbed the back of his neck. “He left,”

“What do you mean ‘he left’?” You air quoted left.

“He went on some campaign trail, Hilary I think. He took off across the country, I literally have no idea where he is right now,” He explained.

“Why would he do that?” You asked.

“I don’t know, he said he had to get out of the city--” He shrugged.

“And you couldn’t imagine why?” You gave him a knowing look.

“Oh puh-lease Y/N, he’s not a drama queen like you--” He stopped, thinking about it. “Okay well he might be a drama queen but--”

“You can call him,” You pointed to his pocket.

“I can’t,” He looked down at the ground once again.

“WHY NOT?!” You were getting fed up with him.

“He was….he was super pissed at me for keeping you apart, alright? You’re right. He...he changed his number when he took off, he wants nothing to do with me,”

“So he’s just...gone?” Your voice cracked.

“Sunshine, I promise you. In a few weeks you won’t care about him, and you’re gonna wanna get out of here,”

“Why, you're gonna start adding memory pills to my regiment too?” You scoffed with angry tears in your voice.

“Jesus,” He rolled his eyes. “No, because you’re 22 and you can fall in and out of love like that,” He snapped his fingers.

“No I won’t,” You shook your head. “You’re gonna have to let me out of here or I’ll die in here,”

“God you’re such a--” Sonny sighed in frustration. “I can get them to get you to eat, y’know that right?”

“Do it!” You dared him. “Start treating me like some kind of mental patient, control my life like you think you need to,”

“...I can’t deal with this,” He waved his hands and started to walk away. “I’ll be back in a few weeks, I’m sure you’ll be over this by then,”

“Don’t count on it,” You stomped back into the ward.

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

A week later

You let the night nurse into your room, she brought your meds and a nightly snack.

“Well, are you excited for tomorrow?” She asked, making conversation.

“...What’s tomorrow?” You asked as your downed your pills.

“Your last day!” She smiled.

“...What?” You quirked an eyebrow.

“Well, honey you’re not here on a court order or probation, and your cousin only paid for 30 days. So, you’re leaving tomorrow!”

“You’re just...you’re just letting me go??” You asked in disbelief.

“You’re not happy about that? I’m sure we could talk to your--” She started.

“No!” You stopped her. “No, No I’m totally excited, ready to get back to real life,”

“Good!” She smiled and patted your head. “Make sure you’re all packed, we’ve already filled this room once you leave,”

“...Of course you have,” You rolled your eyes.

She left and you began to frantically pack, ready to get out of here as fast as possible. You would find Rafael on your own, you knew you could.

----------

Sonny’s phone went off while he was out on a call, he saw it was Whistling Pines so he excused himself from the scene and answered it.

“Hello?”

“Yes, Mir. Carisi? This is Sylvia at Whistling Pines, we were just checking on Miss Y/N,”

“....Why would you be checking on her? Don’t you have her?”

“...No sir, she checked out a few days ago,”

“WHAT?!”

“Well it had been 30 days and you had only paid for a month--”

“So you just let her leave?! Why would you do that?!”

“Well sir, for one she’s a grown woman who’s a law abiding citizen, she wasn’t committed here by any kind of law enforcement. And like I said you only paid--”

“For a month,” He growled. “That’s all that matters to you people, isn’t it?”

“Well sir, this is a very expensive--”

“Where did she go?”

“What do you mean where did she go? She left with you,”

“Uh she sure as hell did NOT,”

“...Well she got in a car with a man…”

“Oh my god,” Sonny almost dropped the phone. “I swear to God if something happens to her because of you people I will sue you SO fast--”

“Okay no need to get hysterical,” She began to panic. “Why don’t you just come here and we’ll figure it out…”

“No I think you’ve done enough,” He growled before hanging up on her.

Where the hell had you gone? And with who?!

[detectivesofty]

home is where the heart is | j.h.

Summary: the heart wants what it wants, even if it’s over 700 miles away

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader

Song I listened to while writing: sofia by clairo

Author’s Note: this has been in the works for SO LONG, so I really hope that you like it! Reblog/like if you do! Sorry this is slightly late, I was drawing and forgot the time

Warnings: slightly spicy? mention of character death, cursing

Word Count: 4,8k

You looked out of the window as the cab driver cruised through Chicago. You just landed at O’Hare an hour ago and immediately hailed a cab to see your brother. It was hard to keep in touch with him living in Chicago and you in New York, but the two of you tried your best, especially in emergencies. Like this. The moment you heard about Anna’s death, you took the next flight out, barely having packed anything. Your brother needed you. 

“Thanks!” you told the driver, handing him his money and grabbing your bag before you headed up to Kelly’s loft. Unlocking the door with your key, you felt an overwhelming sadness overtaking you, accompanied by cold and silence. 

“Kelly…?” you called out softly, shutting the door behind you. 

“In here.”

You followed his voice to what you guessed was the bedroom and there he was, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Hey,” you said softly, dropping your bag and sitting down next to him. “I came as soon as I heard. I’m so sorry Kelly.” You wrapped your arms around him and he leaned into you, tears streaking his face. 

For a while, you just held him, not knowing what to say. Oftentimes, grieving people didn’t want to hear empty apologies and ‘it’s going to get better’, they just needed someone to hold them.

“Thanks for coming. I know you’re really busy with work right now and I just… Thanks,” Kelly sniffed out and you held him tightly. 

“Hey. No matter how much work I got, if you need me. I am here, Kels. You’re my brother.”

Kelly gave you a water smile and wiped his tears away. “Anna really would’ve liked you. I wish I had introduced you two instead of Benny.”

“Yeah, what were you thinking?” you teased and he let out a laugh, shaking his head. “Tell me about her.” 

You and Kelly spent the next few hours talking, catching up. He told you about Anna and you told him about your job and how you wanted to work your way up. Kelly was in the middle of telling you the story of how he and Anna set out at 2 am to get a cheeseburger from Le Chevals, when your stomach growled loudly. 

“I am so sorry,” you said and Kelly laughed. “I haven’t eaten since this morning.”

He frowned at you, pulling you up. “Jesus Y/N, you need to take care of yourself. Come on, let’s go get some food.”

“But only if we get deep dish pizza!” 

“I wasn’t aware that you eat anything else.”

A couple of minutes later, you were at Sal’s pizza place, waiting for your order while scrolling through your phone, when someone called your name.

“Y/N?”

Looking up, you saw Jay Halstead walking towards you with a big smile. 

“Detective Halstead, fancy seeing you here,” you said with a teasing tone in your voice and he wrapped his arms around you in a warm hug. 

“Thought it was you. You didn’t tell me you were in town.”

Your smile dropped a bit, nodding. “Yeah, I am here for Kelly.”

“I heard. I am really sorry, Y/N,” Jay told you, squeezing your shoulder gently and you smiled at him.

“Thanks, Jay.”

The radio in Jay’s hand crackled to life and he stilled for a moment, before looking back at you. “Hey, I need to get back to the district, we’re on a case right now. But we should get a drink. How long you in town for?”

“I am not sure yet, but I will let you know,” you told him and he pointed at you. 

“I will hold you to that,” he pressed a quick kiss on your cheek, before he rushed out the door, leaving you standing still on the spot, holding your cheek. 

Did he just-?

“Order number 57!”

Quickly, you shook out your head and walked to the counter to pick up your order, before going outside, where headlights immediately blinded your eyes. Squinting them, you walked closer to the car and got in. 

“Did you have to blind me with the headlights?” you asked your brother, buckling up as he started the drive home.

Kelly chuckled. “Do you want me to honk next time?”

“Forget it,” you snorted, shaking your head. You drove in silence for a while before you spoke up again, hesitantly. “So… I ran into Jay.”

“Oh, you did huh?” Kelly asked, a smirk on his face and you punched his shoulder. 

“Shut up! I am never telling you anything ever again.”

Kelly snorted, rolling his eyes at you. “Don’t be so dramatic. Besides, you didn’t have to tell me anything. You always have the same look on your face after you’ve run into Jay.”

Jay and you had a… Complicated history, if one would put a name to it. You met two years ago, at an unofficial first responders picnic that Antonio and Gabby planned. It was just a coincidence that you were in Chicago that week and Kelly brought you along. There you had bumped into Jay and immediately took a liking to him. I mean, he was  part of a highly respected police unit and basically the definition of tall, dark and handsome,  what was not to like?

Jay asked you out on a date and you basically spent the rest of your time with him, but your stay in Chicago eventually came to an end. You were adults and you knew that long distance relationships were destined to fail, so you parted as friends. But every time you found your way to Chicago, you also somehow found your way back to Jay, which probably wasn’t the smartest idea.

Except for the last time you’ve seen him.

Last you’ve heard, Jay and Erin started dating and you took that as a sign from the universe, telling you that you and Jay weren’t meant to be. While it still hurt to catch his eyes across the bar during nights out with everyone, you knew this was for the best. For both of you. 

Jay got to be happy with someone who doesn’t live in another city and you were forced to move on. The goodbye didn’t hurt as much that time, so you knew it was the right choice, because all the other times made you feel like you’ve left your heart in Chicago.

While it was easy to forget about Jay in New York, it was that much harder every time you visited Kelly. Back here, everything reminded you of Jay.

The park where he used to take you for picnics; the italian restaurant where you had your first date; the entrance of the hotel where he kissed you for the first time. It was like you couldn’t erase him out of your head. Sure, it helped knowing that Jay was in a happy relationship with someone else, but it still hurt. Now, you felt confident enough to start being friends with him again. 

Or so you thought.

A couple of days later and Kelly was doing better. You did a lot of home cooking, like this night and then the two of you lounged on the couch with the tv running in the background when your phone rang. One look at the screen had Kelly wiggling his eyebrows at you. 

“Jay?”

“Hi Y/N. Can you talk?”

Rolling your eyes at him, you got up and walked to the window, holding your phone to your ear. 

“Yeah, hey. I can talk. What’s up?”

“My case is over. Do you want to go grab that drink right now?”

“A drink? Right now? I don’t know Jay. I came here to take care of my brother and-” You frowned, looking at Kelly who nodded vigorously, giving you a double thumbs up.

“Go! I’ll be fine!” he whisper-yelled and you rolled your eyes at him, turning away. 

“Actually, yeah. I am down. Meet me at Molly’s in ten?” 

“Yep. See you in ten.”

You hung up the phone and glared at Kelly, picking up a pillow to throw it at him. He ducked with a laugh. “What? I was wingmanning you!”

“You weren’t doing shit. Stop laughing at me and call me a cab!” You grumbled, walking towards the guest bedroom. Still hearing Kelly’s laughter from the living room, you rummaged through your bag. While you were still annoyed at him for laughing at you, you were glad that he was feeling better.

But right now, you had to focus on making yourself look better. So you tamed your messy hair, picked out a nice sweater and put some make-up on. You then stumbled out of the room, while simultaneously trying to put on your boots. 

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” Kelly called over his shoulder before you left, but you only yelled an “I love you!” back. You got in the cab that was already waiting by the curb and after a quick drive, you got out at Molly’s. Judging from the loud voices coming from inside, which only amplified when you opened the door, it was pretty full, though you immediately spotted Jay when you walked in. 

He was waiting with two drinks by a corner table, raising his hand with an easy smile when he saw you. He got up from his bar stool to give you a hug and you relished being in his arms again, before you pulled away. 

“It’s good to see you,” he told you, sitting down across from you. “Do you still drink vodka cranberries?” Jay asked and slid  one of the glasses in front of him towards you. 

You gave him a suspicious look and wrapped your hands around the cold glass. “Are you planning on getting me drunk, Jay?”

“What? I wouldn’t do that.” 

Jay grinned at you and clinked his beer bottle against your glass. “So,” he said after taking a sip from his beer. “How have you been?”

“You know me. Same old, same old.”

If you were honest, being an event manager wasn’t even half as exciting as Kelly or Jay’s job, but you loved it nonetheless. And the business was booming in New York. Your agency is getting calls everyday, which is to be expected in a city that never sleeps.

“So I managed to get a deal with the brother and in the end everyone was happy,” you concluded, drinking your vodka cranberry. 

“Huh. That reminded me of a hostage situation we had a couple of weeks ago.”

You cracked a laugh and shook your head at him. “Don’t be silly. Now, how have you been?” you asked, biting your lip as you paused. This was the question you dreaded to ask. To hear about how happy he was with someone else. But you wanted him to be happy. And you were an adult. So you asked.

“How’s Erin?”

“We broke up,” Jay blurted out, as if he had waited for that question. He flushed and cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah, we broke up.”

Oh.

“Oh. I am sorry to hear that,” you said, genuinely. You liked Erin. She was tough, smart and incredibly beautiful. She was good for Jay. 

He shook his head with a small smile. “Don’t be. We parted as friends. It was better that way, trust me… What about you? Is there anyone in your life?”

“No, not really. Between work and constantly trying to get to Chicago it’s hard to find someone who can keep up with my life, you know?” You knew who that someone was, who you wanted it to be. But how realistic was that?

You and Jay were so deep into your conversation, that you didn’t even notice the bar empty out and late it had gotten, until you glanced at your watch, your eyes widening. Looking around, you saw that there were only four people left in the bar, including you and Jay.

“It’s pretty late, huh?” Jay commented and you nodded, pursing your lips. 

“It is. I should go home.”

“Or,” Jay cut in, reaching out to take your hand as if he was scared you’d jump up and leave. “You could come back to my place? Maybe get a coffee?”

It was nearing one in the morning, Jay wasn’t being smooth by inviting you over for a coffee.

Jay knew he wasn’t talking about coffee.

You knew he wasn’t talking about coffee. 

Hell, the homeless guy across the street knew he wasn’t talking about coffee.

And you promised yourself you wouldn’t let this happen again, because it was only going to hurt when you left. But yet-

“Yeah, a cup of coffee wouldn’t hurt.”

So the two of you more or less stumbled out of the bar and hailed a cab to Jay’s place. The drive there was laced with anticipation as you sat close to each other, talking with low voices. When you finally reached Jay’s apartment building, he tipped the cab driver generously and with an arm wrapped around your waist, Jay led you up to his apartment. 

You haven’t been to this one yet, so naturally you looked around curiously after he’s unlocked the door, letting your jacket drop from your shoulders. It was painfully obvious that Jay had decorated it by himself, but it was still homey.

“So, where do you keep-” you asked, turning around to face him but Jay swiftly backed you up against the wall, caging you in with his (muscular!) arms. He was so close, you could feel his breath fanning against your cheeks and you gulped, looking up at him through your lashes. 

“Do you know how much I’ve missed you?” he said lowly before he dipped his head down to press a searing kiss on your lips. And now you remembered why you always went back to Jay even though you swore to yourself that you wouldn’t.

The way he kissed you, touched you. It always made you feel like you’re the only girl in the world. You sighed softly against his lips and kissed him back, your arms winding around his neck. While you felt the anticipation drumming in his body by the quick beats of his heart, he didn’t show that during the kiss and instead took his sweet time reacquainting himself with your body. His hand slipped beneath your blouse, his fingers still cold from outside and you shivered, reflexively biting down on his lower lip a bit. 

“Maybe a coffee wouldn’t be a bad idea right now,” you breathed out and he stilled, giving you a look. 

“If you’re still thinking about coffee right now I am definitely doing something wrong.”

A smirk curled on your lips and you shrugged nonchalantly, playing with the hair in the nape of his neck. You knew you were playing with fire, but you weren’t going to back down now. Jay let out a deep chuckle, pulling his arms back. 

“Guess I have to up my game, huh?” he hummed before he dropped down to his knees and from then on, coffee wasn’t on your mind once. It certainly was the next morning, though.

Pulling a face, you turned over in your bed when the sun almost blinded you, even through your closed lids. You paused when you were unable to turn over and it was then that you registered the strong hold around your waist. The thoughts in your head were whirring before last night came back to you and you silently groaned into your pillow, cursing your past self. You got weak.

You laid still, debating your options while at the same time relishing being held by Jay for the last time, because you swore to yourself that you wouldn’t get weak again. Sneaking out was off the table. Jay was a really light sleeper, due to his service in Afghanistan and you didn’t want to risk a confrontation right now. You knew your time to make a decision was over when Jay tightened his hold around your waist, groaning quietly. 

“I can literally hear you thinking, Y/N,” he grumbled, his voice still raspy from sleep. “Can you maybe wait until like,” Jay lifted his head to glance at the clock, “After ten? I had an exhausting night.”

He let his head fall back on the pillow and you snorted only whacking his forehead playfully. “You’re an idiot.”

“You still love me,” Jay mused with a small smile as he glanced at you and your resolve wavered, almost wanting to give in and enjoy your time with Jay. You weren’t sure what to respond to that. At one point, you were sure that you were in love with Jay. But with the distance between New York and Chicago and his relationship with Erin, you weren’t sure where you stood with him. 

Luckily, he himself saved you from having to come up with a reply when he rubbed his eyes. “We should get some food. I’ll grab us some coffee and breakfast from the cafe across the street, hm?”

“Yeah that sounds nice.”

“Awesome. You just stay in bed, I’ll be back in fifteen minutes,” Jay told you, getting out of bed to pull on some jeans and a sweater. He disappeared into the bathroom and you heard the toilet flushing, before the water ran. 

“Are you sure?” you called out meekly, scanning the room for your clothes, which were scattered all throughout the bedroom. “Do you want me to come with you?”

Jay leaned his head out of the bathroom, the toothbrush still hanging from his lips. “No, it’s fine, I’ll be quick.” He disappeared back into the bathroom for a bit before he returned, pressing a quick kiss to your lips, which left a hint of mint. 

“See you in a bit!” Jay called out before you heard the front door shut behind him. 

It was now or never.

Half-heartedly, you got out of the bed and started picking your clothes up, putting everything on. You felt like an asshole leaving like this, but you knew if you stayed for breakfast, you wouldn’t be strong to leave. It had to be now. Leaving the bedroom, you grabbed your jacket off of the floor and your purse, which was laid across the couch. Slipping into your shoes and turning to the door, your heart felt heavy in your chest. Rubbing your eyes, you turned the doorknob and immediately bumped into Jay.

Fuck.

“Oh hey, I forgot my wallet,” Jay laughed, looking you up and down before his smile turned into a frown, his eyebrows furrowing. “Are you… Leaving?”

Your eyes were wide and you exhaled slowly, before nodding. 

“Why?”

“What do you mean why?” you burst out, running your hand through your hair out of frustration. “Are you expecting me to just stay with you and act like everything’s fine just to pack up my stuff and leave for New York in a couple of days?”

“I- That’s better than just fucking leaving!” 

“But I am always leaving, Jay!” 

Tears sprang into your eyes and his eyes widened slightly. 

“I am always fucking leaving and it hurts. I can’t keep doing this over and over again.”

“Then don’t leave!” Jay exclaimed. “Why don’t you stay in Chicago? Kelly is here, all your friends are here… I’m here.”

“So you expect me to uproot my whole life in New York and move here just because I love you?” 

You reeled back at your sudden confession and your hand flew to your mouth, to prevent any more to come out.

Fuck, wait. I take that back!

Jay’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, and he looked speechless for a moment. “... You love me?”

Your thoughts were racing and this morning has already gone all kinds of wrong. “Just… Forget it,” you sniffed, pushing past him and walking off in quick strides, trying to block out his voice as he called for you. 

After you’ve successfully hailed a cab back to Kelly’s place, your brother looked up at you with a grin on his face when you slid the door open, no doubt about to fire off a dumb joke how you’ve stayed, but his face immediately droppen when he took you in. 

“Please, I don’t want to talk about it.”

Kelly nodded in understanding and you disappeared into the guest bedroom, shutting the door behind you. Even though it was barely noon, you felt drained and empty as if you had a long day of work behind you. With a deep sigh, you sat down on the edge of the bed and tugged your laptop close to you, determined to do what was best for you. 

A short time later, you emerged from the bedroom with your suitcase in tow, your purse slung over your shoulder. Kelly gave you a sad smile when he saw you, putting the pieces together.

 “You headed out?”

You gave a short nod, your shoulders slumped. “Yeah. I hope you’re okay with that. I know I am supposed to be here for you but-”

“No buts. You being here is supposed to be good for both of us,” Kelly interrupted you, jumping over his couch to grab you by the shoulders gently. “You already helped me a lot, Y/N. If you need to go home, then I will give you a ride to the airport.”

With a small smile, you gave Kelly a tight hug, though you weren’t sure if he was right. If you were going home. Or if you were leaving it. But being back in New York felt like a fresh start. You immediately threw yourself back to work, which took your mind off of things. Due to your personal days you took, you had to catch up with a lot of clients and while it was really stressful, it was welcomed. Coming home to an empty apartment every night kept ripping open wounds though and there was only one way to change that, though you weren’t sure if you were bold enough to do it. The countless phone calls from Jay you kept denying weren’t helping either. But you weren’t ready to talk to him. Not yet.

“Hi Mrs. Porter, it’s Y/N Y/L/N. I just received a call from Mangia NYC, and they unfortunately won’t be able to cater the event,” you spoke into the phone as you exited your office, phone in your hand, “However, Bartleby & Sage are free and they are willing to do it for half the price, do you want me to book them?” 

You pressed the phone closer to your ear as the noise of the traffic almost drowned Mrs. Porter on the other line and you tried your best to focus on her voice. Even though you were already off the clock, you wanted to get a hold of Mrs. Porter first, before you could relax for the night. Rummaging in your bag for your tablet as Mrs. Porter agreed to your suggested caterer, you held the phone with your shoulder, dotting down the name of the caterer into the tablet. 

“Okay, that’s great. Seems like everything is taken care off now and-” you nearly stumbled over your own feet when you saw Jay leaning against a street lamp a couple of feet away from you. His hands were in the pockets of his jackets and while New York wasn’t as cold as Chicago, it was still freezing so there was a small woolen hat atop of his head. 

“Ms. Y/L/N, are you okay?”

“Oh yeah, sorry,” you quickly said, snapping out of it and reverting your focus back to Mrs. Porter. “Uhm. My colleague will go over everything again in the morning and then they’ll get back to you. Have a nice evening, bye.”

You hung up and peered over to Jay, cautiously walking over to him. It was weird to see him here, after your last encounter ended rather badly and you’ve dodged all of his phone calls. 

“Hi Jay,” you greeted him carefully, giving him a small smile. 

“Hey,” he hummed, half his face hidden by his jacket. “Can we talk?”

After a short pause, you nodded. “Yeah sure, let’s go back to my place.”

The walk to your apartment was quite tense, filled with awkward fillers and smalltalk. You sighed internally when you reached your apartment building and let Jay and yourself in, leading him to your apartment on the second floor. Taking your jacket off and putting your purse to its designated spot, you turned to Jay. 

“Do you want a drink?”

“Water would be great, thanks,” he replied, looking around your apartment. It was his first time here and you left him to explore to grab two water bottles from the kitchen. Returning to the living room with two water bottles, you saw that Jay was looking at a framed picture of the two of you that was standing on a dresser. You probably should’ve put that away, but you didn’t have the heart to do it.

“Here’s your water,” you said awkwardly and Jay put down the frame quickly, accepting the water bottle.

“Thanks.”

Sitting down on the couch, while fingering the label of the water bottle you glanced at him, pressing your lips together. “When did you get in?”

“Just a couple of hours ago. I had a job interview and Kelly gave me the address of your office, so I swung by afterwards,” he told you and you nodded, before pausing when you processed the information. 

“You had a job interview?”

Jay nodded and rubbed the back of his neck, before he took a seat on the couch next to you. He seemed nervous and you could see that he was trying to find the right words. Your heart was racing and you tried to calm down, to no avail. 

“You were right. It wasn’t fair of me to assume that it would be easy for you to just move to Chicago,” he started, lowering his gaze. “I know that it must’ve been hard always coming and leaving, especially with Kelly and all of our friends. I haven’t been thinking about your life, your home, here in New York and that was selfish of me.”

“Jay-” you started, but he shook his head, holding a hand up. 

“Please just let me finish?”

Holding your breath, you nodded, so he could continue.

“I’ve just been thinking of how you left me, and Kelly and how much easier things would be for us if you’d just stay in Chicago.”

Us?

“I think I was taking you for granted and I don’t want to do that anymore. Which is why I am transferring to the NYPD.”

Your eyes nearly bugged out of the sockets when you heard his words and you were speechless for a moment, not knowing where to start. 

“You can’t transfer to the NYPD!” you protested. “Your life in Chicago is so good right now, you’re in the freaking Intelligence Unit, you yourself said that it was your dream job, why would you just give that up to be here with me?”

“Because you’re my future, Y/N,” Jay confessed quietly. “I love you.”

Blinking, it took you a moment to process this, before you lunged at him, hitting his chest with your fists.

“Y/N, what-?”

“I can’t believe you would do this!” you sniffed, leaning your forehead against his chest and his heart was beating just as fast as yours. “I can’t believe you’d leave Chicago for me. You love Chicago.”

Jay chuckled, wrapping his arms around after having dropped the water bottle on the couch. “I do. But I might love you a tad bit more.”

“Stop it,” you huffed, pushing at his chest. You sat up so you could level him with a glare. “I am not letting you do this. You’d regret it.”

“Y/N, I’ve been thinking a lot about this and I am sure that I want to do it.”

“What if I told you that my firm is looking to open a branch in Chicago and my boss wants me to take one of the leading positions?”

“I- what?” Jay looked at you in surprise, his mouth agape. “You’re moving to Chicago?”

You nodded with a smile and he let out a laugh, tackling you in a hug. “Oh my god, I can’t believe you. You should’ve told me!”

“You literally told me not to talk, Jay. I didn’t have a chance to tell you.”

Jay rolled his eyes at you fondly and held you close, pressing a kiss on your head. After a while of just holding each other, with everything finally falling into place, he spoke up again. 

“So you’d need to find a place to live huh?”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Are you asking me to move in with you? You do realize we haven’t even been officially dating, right?”

“Okay, this?” Jay said, pointing between the two of you, “has been going on for the past four years and you know that.”

“Don’t be silly. Fine, I’ll think about it,” you conceded and he grinned at you, leaning in to give you a soft kiss. 

“That’s all I ask.”

🏷️ list: @shipshipshipau​ // @savvywords​ // @samantha-chicago​

[fangirlingtodeath513]

siren | a writer’s choice bingo fill

writer’s choice bingo masterpost rating: mature warnings: none

For a hunter, Dean’s frequent visits to the monster bar are unusual, to say the least. His profession tends to not mingle with monsters, even though the ones that frequent this place are the ones that live amongst humans without any issue. Dean doesn’t care, though. He’s met good friends through here and even had a few flings with some of them. He feels more at home here than he does in a hunter crowd, and he’s not really sure if he should feel as comfortable as he does about that fact.

Doesn’t stop him from looking for someone to spend the night with, though. It’s been too long since he’s had someone underneath him—or been underneath someone, frankly—so he’s nursing a single beer as he looks for someone that piques his interest. 

It doesn’t take long. A dark-haired man walks through the door within fifteen minutes of Dean sitting down and he looks perfect. Dean doesn’t even hesitate to grab his beer and vacate his table, sidling up to the man at the bar. 

“Hey there, gorgeous. Let me buy you a drink?”

The man turns to look at him and Dean can’t help but feel a little self-conscious as the stranger’s eyes skim the length of his body. “You can’t buy me the kind of drink I want.”

Dean frowns. This is a monster bar, so if the guy’s looking for blood or something, that’s not exactly an odd request. “You sure about that?”

The stranger smirks, leaning against the counter and raising an eyebrow at Dean. “Unless you’re prepared to ingest my venom and allow me to feed off your adoration for the next several hours, yes, I’m positive.”

Dean’s brain short-circuits at that because honestly… he wouldn’t be opposed. It must show on his face because the man tilts his head as he watches Dean. “Siren, right?” The man nods, so Dean clears his throat and finishes what’s left of his beer. “Then let’s get out of here.”

Dean catches the bartender’s eye and closes out his tab, turning back to the man. “I’m Dean, by the way.”

“Castiel,” the man answers with a wry smile. “How do I know you don’t have a bronze knife on you somewhere?”

Dean can’t help but smirk. “You can pat me down when we get to where we’re going, hm? My motel isn’t far.”

Castiel hums, nodding once as he turns to leave. Dean grins and slips his jacket on, following him to the parking lot. After a short discussion about the logistics of getting to Dean’s motel, they both pile into the Impala and Dean pulls onto the road.

“Do I even want to know how many daggers you’ve got in here?”

Dean laughs. “Four, but they’re all in the trunk. Don’t encounter sirens very often, honestly. Besides, I’d need the blood of one of your victims, right? I doubt you just leave those lying around.”

Castiel quirks an eyebrow. “You do realize if you ingest my venom, you’ll be considered my victim?”

Dean blinks and glances over at Castiel. “Huh. Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

An uncomfortable silence settles between them, so Dean just stays quiet as he drives. He doesn’t really blame Castiel for being nervous. A lot of hunters don’t care about the monsters that live in the gray areas, most are content to kill every monster they come across no matter what. Of course, Castiel would be concerned.

The parking lot is empty when they get there, so Dean parks in front of his room and pops the trunk before climbing out. Castiel watches him curiously, so Dean offers him a small smile and tugs the false door up to reveal his arsenal. “4 bronze daggers there. I’ve got a gun hidden in my room, though that won’t do much to you. Couple of steel knives that I’ll leave out here.” Dean proves his point by grabbing the sheaths from his waist and ankle and tossing them in the trunk.

Castiel chuckles. “I believe you, but thank you. You wouldn’t have been allowed in that bar if you weren’t friendly. Benny takes security seriously and, no offense, I could smell the hunter on you five miles away.”

Dean smirks. “I taste better than I smell, promise.”

Castiel rolls his eyes and follows Dean into his room, depositing his trenchcoat on the chair near the door. “You’re positive you don’t mind? The effect will wear off by morning.”

Dean hums, already beginning to unbutton his flannel. “Not even a little. There a certain way you need to do it?”

Castiel smiles and crosses to Dean in a few long strides, cupping his cheek gently. “A kiss will work just fine.” 

Dean’s not sure what he’s supposed to feel when their lips meet, but he definitely doesn’t feel poisoned. Not that he’d know what it felt like anyway—he wasn’t lying when he told Castiel he’d only seen a few sirens in his career. Dean lets himself get lost in the kiss, barely even noticing when Castiel starts to push the flannel off of him. He’s way more on board once Cas starts to unbutton his jeans, his long fingers brushing over the erection already forming in his briefs. 

“You’re right, Dean, you do taste better than you smell,” Castiel mumbles, a small smile on his lips as he leans down to kiss Dean again.

~

Dean pulls up to the nondescript apartment building, sitting there for a moment before shutting the car off. He hasn’t seen Castiel for over four months—apparently, the length of time a siren can go without feeding—but Castiel had called out of the blue and asked him to come over. Dean had only been a state over on a hunt, so he’d wrapped up his business there and driven straight to Castiel’s.

He looks weak when he opens the door, and far more pale than the last time Dean had seen him.

“Cas? You okay?”

Castiel smiles weakly, stepping aside to let Dean into the apartment. “I’m alright. I went… longer than I should have without feeding. I wanted to, I just... “ He turns his gaze back to Dean and the unspoken words hang heavy between them. Dean thinks he knows what Castiel was about to say, but he doesn’t want to pry. 

“Alright, well let’s get you back to yourself then, hm?”

Castiel smiles gratefully, allowing Dean to draw him into a kiss.

~

It becomes a recurring thing between them. Every month or so, sometimes more often if Dean’s passing through Cas’s state, they’ll meet up and sleep together. Castiel gets his fix of adoration, as he likes to say, and Dean gets a warm, fluffy bed and a good fuck. He can’t complain, even if he does wake up a little bit tired the morning after. 

“So, Benny’s hiring,” Dean offers one morning over breakfast. It’s been almost a year since he went home with Castiel for the first time, something he still can’t believe. He’s never actually had a relationship this long, and they’re not even actively in a relationship. 

Castiel quirks an eyebrow. “Indeed. I saw the sign on the door.”

Dean hums. “I’d make a good bartender, I think.”

Castiel leans back in his chair and crosses his arms over his chest. “I’m sure you’d be wonderful at it. You want to give up hunting?”

“I’ve been wanting a life outside of hunting recently,” Dean admits with a shrug. “Gets a little too dangerous after a while. Besides, it would be nice to sleep on a comfortable bed like yours every night instead of those shitty motel beds. Or worse, Baby’s back seat.”

Castiel studies his face for a moment before frowning. “I’m sorry, I must have given you too much venom last night. Perhaps you should stay another day.”

“What? No, Cas, I’m being serious. I like it here, I’ve got friends here, I’ve got you—well, not… you know, I… fuck. I didn’t mean it like that.” Dean sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Look, I like you, alright? It’s not because of your venom, it’s because of you.”

Castiel smiles, though it looks sad. “We were up late last night, I’m sure my venom hasn’t worked its way out of your system yet.”

Dean scoffs. “Hey, I can think for myself, thank you very much. Your venom’s not even that potent, man, it’s never made me feel any different.”

Castiel squints at him. “Never?”

“Nope. Why?”

“Well it’s supposed to make you disoriented and passive, so you’ll follow my every order no matter what. It… doesn’t do that?”

Dean snorts. “Follow your every order? God no. If you’re so convinced I’m still poisoned, make me do something.” 

Castiel frowns. “I don’t like making people do things. It’s why I’m always so careful with what I say when we’re together.”

“I’m telling you, I’m immune to your venom or something. C’mon, try it.”

It takes a moment, but Castiel eventually acquiesces. “Refill my coffee.”

Dean waits a moment, half expecting to be compelled to refill Castiel’s mug, but nothing happens. Castiel frowns and sits up.

“Kiss me.”

Dean waits again, raising an eyebrow at Castiel. “See? Nothing.”

Castiel frowns. “Stay with me tonight? I want to see if you’re immune after you ingest my venom.”

Dean smirks. “Damn, Cas, if you wanted to fuck me again you coulda just asked.”

Castiel rolls his eyes, though the hint of a blush on his cheeks gives him away. “So you’ll stay?”

Dean hums his agreement, eyes widening as Castiel leans over the table to kiss him. Once again, they both wait, expecting God only knows what to happen, but nothing changes. 

“Go get my phone,” Castiel orders. The tone of his voice sends a shiver down Dean’s spine and though he wants to obey, he won’t. Castiel needs the proof. “You’re actually immune,” Castiel breathes, a look of wonder written on his face. “You want to move here to be closer to me of your own free will?”

Dean frowns. “Yeah, man. I like you, Cas. Not your venom.”

Castiel grins, leaning over to kiss him again. “Then just move in with me. I love you, I just didn’t want to force you to be with me.”

Dean blinks. “You love me?”

Castiel chuckles. “Why do you sound so surprised? You’re easy to fall for, Dean.” 

Dean grins, pulling Cas in for another kiss, their breakfast entirely forgotten between them. “I’ll go get my stuff out of my car and call Benny.”

Castiel hums. “Later. Right now, we need to celebrate.”

Dean laughs. “Oh? How so?”

Castiel smirks, quickly clearing off one side of the table before lifting Dean onto it and settling between his legs. “Oh, I can think of a few ways.”

[s-creations]

Oh, That Imagination

Kids will always have active imaginations. But how the adult handles it depends on what the child is afraid of.

Fandom: DuckTales 2017 / The Three Caballeros         Rating: General Audience         Relationships/Pairings:  José  Carioca/Donald Duck/Panchito Pistoles Additional Tags: Growing up, Uncles with their Nephews, Facing Fears, Worries, hunting a creature, Krampus (character), giving a speech, watching a scary movie, protecting the boys, the passing of time, names OCs.

Part of a Series Called: We’re the Three- Sorry, Six Caballeros!

Author Note: I finished Student Teaching and passed my Content Test, so I’m getting back into writing! I do have a new job lined up for the school year. We’ll see how consistent I stay with uploading. XD

“Unca Donald, Unca Donald, Unca Donald!”

 Even with the loud warning call, Donald still staggers when something blue collides against his leg. “Dishes! I’m doing dishes. Go and sit on the counter please.”

 6-year-old Dewey gave a quick nod before clamoring up. The older duck impressed by how quickly the duckling could climb. 

 “Now, what can I help you with?”

 “Benny said there’s a-a monster living in the sewage of Duckberg! I wanna go catch it!”

 Donald let out a low hum as he washed the soap from the glass. This was twice in two weeks that neighbor Benny had told some story about some ‘creature’ they had seen. Dewey, always on the lookout for new adventures, ate each story up with determination and gusto.

 “I see, very interesting. What does this monster look like?”

 “Like...Like an alligator. Only bigger!”

 “Ooooh, that sounds scary. And you’re going to catch them all by yourself?”

 “Yep!”

 “Well, aren’t you brave. Are you going to bring them back to be studied for science?”

 “I’m gonna do it to rub it in Huey’s face. Cuz he says the creature isn’t real. But I’m gonna prove him wrong!” 

 “It sounds like your afternoon is full.”

 “It sure is! Oh, wait, I wanted to ask you if we have a large net that I could use?”

 “I don’t think we have a ‘large’ net. You’ll have your bug catching net.”

 Dewey let out a contemplative hum. Hand resting on his cheek while his pointer finger tapped out some unknown tempo. A habit he picked up from José. “That’s not great. But I suppose it’ll have to do.”

 “Look at you compromising. What are you going to use as bait?”

 “Do we have any old lunch meat?”

 “No and you’re not using what we have in the fridge.”

 “You’re ruining the search Unca Donald! I need bait.”

 “How about you take Tio Panchito with you? He had to help his grandpa search for farm animals when they got out of their pens. Didn’t have to use bait to get those animals back.”

 “Tio worked on a farm?” Dewey’s eyes lit up hearing this new piece of information.

 “Spent a few childhood Summers there.”

 “What did he do?”

 “Why don’t you go and ask him? I’m sure he would be more than happy to share stories with you and your brothers.”

 “Okay, bye Unca Donald! I’m gonna learn about cows!”

 Donald silently laughed as Dewey raced out of the kitchen. Childhood stories continued during dinner and only ended when the triplets were put to bed. 

 “So...should I question why Dewey furiously ran at me this afternoon? All while screaming his demands for me to tell stories?” The rooster asked as Donald joined him and José on the living room couch. 

 “Apparently, Benny had seen some ‘creature’ in the sewer system. Dewey determined that he was going to hunt said being down. I told him you would help in the search because you’ve helped with finding lost farm animals. That caught his attention and now you know the outcome.” Donald sighed as he leaned against the other, relaxing. 

 “Do you think the thrill of the hunt will call out to Dewey tomorrow?”

 “We’ll see.” Donald replied back simply.

 The hunt did not call out the next day. Dewey focused on creating a backyard zoo, he didn’t have time to worry about some creature. A few days later, a pet iguana was rescued from the neighborhood sewers. It appears Benny had actually seen something. It just wasn’t the towering creature he’d claimed before.

 ________________

 The holidays were busy for all the adults in the household. Donald focused on getting the shopping done and holding down the fort while the ducklings raced around during their school break. Gleefully talking about Santa and what present they’re excited most about. José would be gone for weeks on end leading up to December 25, helping with numerous flights to make sure he had that day off. Starting from October through December, this time saw Panchito with booked weekends of different performances to help get other families into the festive feeling. 

 Even with having busy and exhausting schedules, they made sure to make time for the triplets. Baking, decorating the house, helping them pick out gifts for the other family members. Every year it was the goal to keep the ducklings as happy as possible.

 Which is why Panchito became worried when 7-year-old Louie started acting...strange. Almost what the rooster would call ‘stressed’.

 The duckling had started being overly helpful around the house. Doing more tasks than what would be required. Going out of his way to ask if he could help. And, most worriedly, he’d become quiet. Not in his normal way of just relaxing in front of the television. But almost fearful that he was being listened to by some unseen stranger. Eyes even darting around as he moved through the apartment. 

 Unfortunately, Panchito wasn’t able to approach this possible problem until a weekend late into the duckling’s break. 

 The rooster let out a sigh as he collapsed onto the couch. Thankful that he was done until the New Year’s celebrations he had the coming weekend. But he was able to relax for the rest of the week to celebrate Christmas. Cautious footsteps drawing closer caused Panchito to open his eyes. Finding Louis standing nervously in the middle of the room.

 “Hola Louie, what can I do for you?”

 “Um, do you need me to get you anything?”

 Panchito raised a brow. “No, I’m fine. Why don’t you join me until dinner’s ready?”

 “Oh, um, that’s okay. Maybe I should see if Uncle Donald needs any help.”

 “You’re on break. Why don’t you just sit for a while?” The duckling frowned, eyes darting around before settling onto the couch. Still tense. “So, how has school been? I haven’t heard you and your brothers talk about it for a while.” 

 “Uh...good.”

 “Just good? ...Try out any new schemes lately? I know Uncle Donald isn’t so thrilled when you do that. But you always have such clever ideas, makes me laugh.”

 “Nope, I’ve been good! No crazy plans from me!” 

 Panchito sat up a little more when Louie started shouting at the ceiling. “Okay Louie, what’s going on. Are you feeling okay? Did something happen at school?”

 The duckling dressed in green wrung his hands as he peered around. 

 “...Abby told me about the Krampus…” Louie eventually whispered.

 “The who?” 

 “The Krampus! He’s the opposite of Santa Claus! A big creature with long horns and wears a cloak! And he comes after bad boys and girls! He takes them away in his large, greasy bag and they’re never seen again and-” 

 “Okay, Louie, come here. You’re getting yourself worked up.” Panchito easily and quickly moved the duckling onto his lap. Wrapping arms around the smaller form to help keep Louie grounded. “Breath with me. We’re going to take a few deep breaths, okay?”

 Louie gave two quick nods. They remained this way for a few minutes, Panchito holding the duckling close and controlling his breathing for Louie to follow. The rooster only pulled away when Louie had calmed down enough to talk. “Okay, so, you were told a scary story. Why are you worried?”

 “Because he goes after bad kids and I know I’m...not good.”

 “Why would you say that? You’re a wonderful kid!”

 “But I get the most detentions and I’m lazy and I know I don’t do my homework when I need to and-”

 ‘Louie… Yes, we would like you to work a little harder than what you do now.  But you’re not bad. You...take risks. You have a point of view that I’ve never seen before. You’re a clever kid. And, well, between you and me.”

 Panchito leaned closer. Louie’s eyes widened with curiosity. “You fight the system and you don’t let them beat you down.” 

 “...Does that mean I don’t have to wash the dishes?”

 “Don’t push your luck. What I’m trying to say is that you’re not bad. You just think differently than others. Plus, if you’re this worried, this might be a sign you should help out more. But I doubt any Krampus will come after you.”

 “Really?”

 “Really… Also, you know your uncles and I would beat up any creature who dares try to hurt you.” 

 Louie laughed. Beaming and squirming as Panchito placed a kiss on his cheek. Christmas Day arrived with no mysterious creatures knocking in their front door. Louie was still safely tucked away in his bed. Joining his brothers with running out to the living room and unwrapping presents. Curling next to Panchito as all enjoyed the afternoon glow while watching a marathon of movies.

 ________________

 Huey took to the Junior Woodchucks like a duck to water.

 From day one it became a large part of his identity. He carried his handbook around with him everywhere. Writing his own notes and entries to add to the already thick volume. Gleefully patting his knees as he patiently waited for whatever uncle was going to take him to the weekly meetings. Even learning how to iron his uniform to keep it in tip top shape. 

 Dewey may complain that the eagerness was annoying. But nothing seemed to damper Huey’s spirit.

 Until Huey was tasked to write a speech. As he was top ranked among the troop, he was given the honor of addressing the new member that would be joining that year. A banquet being held with the duckling presenting a speech of his own at the beginning of the event. The duckling was absolutely thrilled at first. Telling everyone he could about the great honor bestowed onto him. 

 All in the family thought he would triumph over this just like many other things in his life. 

 José was humming softly one evening, making his way to the kitchen when he heard sniffing coming from the bathroom. The door opened a crack and, taking a risk, José peered in. He found 8-year-old Huey, curled up by the tub and far away from the door. A stack of paper was at the duckling’s feet. Red rimmed eyes glaring at said stack. 

 “Huey?”

 Said duckling’s head snapped up hearing José. Wiping his eyes frantically. “T-Tio José…”

 “Criança doce, what is wrong?” José  entered, leaving the door open in case Huey wanted out.

 The duckling sniffed weakly. “...I’m scared.”

 “Of what?”

 “My speech…”

 José frowned, knowing how excited Huey had been only a few days ago. “Can you tell me what you are scared about?”

 Huey let out another sniff. His hand starting to hit the side of the tub as time went on. Which José put a stop to by reaching out to take the duckling’s hand. “I’m scared...that people are going to laugh at me. I keep practicing my speech to make it perfect and I read a bunch of tips but… All I can think about is messing up and people mocking me. Then my scout leader will see me as a failure and strip me of my badges and-”

 The parrot pulled the duckling closer, humming a lullaby softly. Huey instantly clung to José, burying himself away in his guardian’s chest. It took a few minutes before the duckling finally relaxed, slumped against the older, hand still keeping a good grip on José's shirt. 

 “Huey, I would like for you to listen to me. Can you do that for me?” José received a nod, “I will help you with your speech. But you have nothing to worry about. Your scout leader seems to be nothing of the kind who would take away what you’ve achieved. And no one will laugh. We all know you will be doing your best.”

 “...But what if my best isn’t enough?”

 “It always will be Huey. Never doubt that.” José peered up hearing the floorboards creek. Finding Donald standing in the doorway wearing a look of worry. The parrot gave a quick shake of his head. A silent message that he had a handle on the situation. Donald gave a nod of his own before sneaking off. “Feeling better?”

 “...A little. I’m still scared.” 

 “That is fine. How about we make some cookies? I think I saw your Uncle Donald heading that way before. And while we are doing that, you can show me your speech.” 

 Huey sniffed weakly. Pulling back slightly to look up at José. “Chocolate chip?”

 “Of course.”

 The duckling smiled weakly and nodded. Donald greeted the two with wide arms and a smile when they walked in. Huey beamed as he was picked up and given a sturdy hug from his other uncle as José started the process. But uncles gave Huey their undivided attention when he gave his speech. The other members of the family joined them as the cookies started to bake. Dewey and Louie keeping their ‘helpful’ comments to themselves and clapping along when Huey finished. 

 At the night of the banquet, Huey beamed as he gave a flawless speech. His family cheered the loudest.

 ________________

 “This is such a bad idea.” 

 9-year-old Louie huffed, rolling his eyes as Huey bemoaned at his flawless plan. “If you’re going to be a stick in the mud, then don’t watch.”

 “But I want to see it.”

 “Then what’s the issue?”

 “The movie is PG-13! We need parental guidance to watch.”

 “You know they won’t let us watch.” Dewey added.

 “But-”

 “You get two options here Hubert,” Louie interrupted. One hand holding up a finger to keep Huey quiet. The other holding the latest zombie movie that had just recently been release to DVD, “You either watch with your mouth shut. Or you leave and keep your mouth shut in the bed while you listen to the amazingness that is this movie from the closed doors. What’s it going to be?”

 Huey frowned. But he ‘zipped’ his bill closed and crossed his arms. Which the green-hoodied triplet took as keeping his mouth shut. With a nod, Louie popped the movie in and sat next to his brothers. All three were huddled together in the closet. Eyes glued to the small t.v. screen that was crammed in with them as well. The movie menu soon appeared and Dewey pressed play.

  Donald let out a content sigh as he relaxed further between his partners. Panchito clinging to him as Donald’s head was tucked under the rooster’s chin. While José was curled up at Donald’s side, using the duck’s chest as a pillow. That night was quiet and calm. There was a weekend ahead of them that was just filled with nothing. A relaxing time with his partners and kids. It was going to be great…

 A chorus of screams sounded from the triplet’s room. All adults were up and racing out in only a few seconds. Even hard to wake José was on full alert. Donald reached the door first, flinging it open. Fully expecting to see an intruder standing in the middle of the bedroom. Only to find Huey and Louie, sobbing as they clung to each other on the younger triplet’s bed. Dewey was waving his plastic sword  at the open closet. His entire being was shaking as wide, fearful eyes were on the open space. 

 “What is going on here?” Donald called out over the noise. 

 “There’s a zombie in the closet!” Louis answered.

 “It touched me!” Huey added.

 “I’m fighting it off!” Dewey finished. 

 “What- okay- Dewey stop swinging that around!” Panchito walked over and pulled the sword from the duckling. Collecting the blue cladded triplet as he continued to shake.

 Donald gathers the other two. Both of them desperately slings to the protection that was their uncle. José took to the closet, making sure it was empty. The parrot raised a brow, finding the t.v. that was still on and playing a movie. 

 He reached in to eject the movie and brought it out for the other two to see. “Donald.”

 The duck looked it over. Frowning, seeing the topic, letting out a slow breath. It was clear the triplets were in no condition to have a stern talking to. Plus, he was honestly too tired to worry about it at the moment. “Okay...let’s go back to our room.”

 The other two adults nodded. José turned off the lights as he was the last to leave the boy’s room. Donald rested himself back into the middle of the bed, only with more bodies pressed around him. Panchito cleverly left the bedside light on before he laid down on the bed, Dewey resting on his chest. The triplets flinched when José walked in.

 “It is just me.” The parrot assured. 

 Donald let out a sigh as he gently preened the top of each head. “You’re safe here. Nothing’s going to get you.”

 The bed was pressed further down as José laid down. Huey clamoring over into the parrot’s hold. Donald was free to wrap both arms around Louie. Three voices began to hum a familiar lullaby in hope of calming the triplets further. Even with their comforting presence, it took awhile for the three to fall asleep. It was not the way Donald wanted to start his weekend. But he should have known nothing he plans ever goes his way. Even with this hiccup, he was happy to have his family close. Falling asleep with a smile on his face.

 Donald was able to take his pent up frustration on the idiot who had allowed children to rent a horror movie. Panchito coming as back up to make sure the duck didn’t kill anyone.  

[autumnleaves1991-blog]

Day 11: Walk the Dog - William ‘Ironhead’ Miller

Day 11: Walk the Dog- William ‘Ironhead’ Miller 

This story was requested by @oldstuffnewstuff​. Thank you so much for the request! I love writing for requests! Thank you for all the rebloggs, comments, and likes. :)

Also gonna tag @myathleteeggspizza​ for our love of William Miller. 

November Writing Challenge Masterlist 

Day 10: Used Tea Bags - Javier Pena 

William ‘Ironhead’ Miller liked numbers. His whole life since leaving the military was run down to the exact second the way he wanted it too. He would wake up at 0600 daily, stretch for eight minutes, down his first cup of coffee, and go for an eight mile run through the park. Then he would return home, take a five minute shower, get dressed, drink a smoothie, fill his tumblr with coffee, and leave for the base at 0730 sharp. 

Every single day was the same. But, that’s what someone with as many demons as he had needed. The structure and security of the same routine. Not one minute unaccounted for. Until the day he met her.

It was a chilly November morning when he first noticed her. She had on a black leggings, a maroon crewneck sweatshirt, black ankle boots, and hair in a messy bun atop her head. She was sitting at one of the unoccupied benches near the Veterans statue, reading aloud a book to a golden retriever lying quietly with her head in her owner's lap. 

He faltered for a moment, and one minute became two, became three and when he looked down at his watch he cursed to himself. He was behind schedule. When he looked back up they were gone. He turned each direction frantically looking for the girl and the dog but they were nowhere to be seen. He wondered for a moment if he had only imagined it before the beeping of his watch drew his attention and he picked up the pace to make up for the lost time. Lost time, what a novel concept for a person who counted everything in his life. 

The next morning when he entered the park he couldn’t help but look for them as he ran around the path. Keeping his eyes open for the golden retriever and her alluring owner. Will couldn’t help the pang of disappointment at missing them again. The routine remained the same day in and out for another week before Will began to give up hope about seeing them again. On Saturday after his run he came home and left at exactly 0730 again but this time he was meeting his old army buddies for breakfast at a diner across town. 

The diner looked old fashioned amongst the new and shiny chrome buildings that had begun to pop up around town but it wasn’t the outside that mattered. Will walked in and the bells tinkled on the door to notify the wait staff, and he nodded at the familiar faces before finding his friends. He slid into the worn, cracked leather of the booth next to his brother, shaking the other two men's hands across the table. 

The waitress came over and brought him a steaming mug of coffee, two packets of sugar, and one creamer before going back over to her other customers. Frankie pointed to the cup before back at Will, “you come here way too often if they know exactly how you take your coffee.” 

“Every Saturday,” Will tells him smiling as he prepares his coffee, taking a sip of the liquid gold, “Gladys knows just the way I like my coffee, and my breakfast. Why ruin a good thing by going somewhere else?” 

Frankie laughs at him, “Some people actually like to go out and try new things. Are you still doing the same routine every day and doing that counting thing?” 

Will only nods before he’s interrupted by Gladys who takes their orders, not even bothering to ask Will before she goes off to put their order into the kitchen. “Thank you Glady!” Will shouts at her and she raises a hand in acknowledgment. 

“So how the hell have you guys been?” Santiago asks over the rim of his mug. 

Benny fills them in on his training, and his new girlfriend he met at a fight a few months ago. Frankie tells them all about the house he just bought and is slowly renovating and shows them some new pictures of his daughter Juliette, who just turned three the past month. Frankie made the single father life look flawless. Santiago was in town for the next two months on break from down in Columbia where he’d been helping the local military take down a drug lord. All of them had something new to share, something exciting, except Will. 

“So what about you Will?” Santi gestures to him as they all dig into their breakfast. 

Will cuts himself another piece of pancake off for himself before running it through the syrup, “The same shit as usual, run, work, eat, sleep. On Saturdays I come here for breakfast and on Tuesday and Thursday I help Benny with training and Friday night is usually fight night. Besides that nothing is new.” 

“Youshouldgetadog” the words jumble together out of Benny’s mouth as he tries to talk through the French toast pouring from his mouth. 

“Damn it brother chew your food and then talk,” Will laughs. 

Benny swallows before trying again, “I said, you should get a dog.” 

“A dog? Why the hell would I get a dog?” he asks. 

“Just hear me out brother, you love routines right? You run every morning and it seems to me that your a little lonely, a dog could go running with you, and keep you company.” 

Will contemplates the idea for a moment and his thoughts can't help but go back to the beautiful woman from the park with the golden retriever. “Yeah, maybe… do we even have any pet shops around here?” 

“Fuck pet shops,” Frankie tells him, “you need to go to the humane society and get a rescue dog, they are the best. Juli and I will even go with you, she would love to see all the dogs. How about 1300 today?” 

Will thinks for a moment before agreeing, “ok...but just to look. I don’t know if I am ready for a dog yet.” 

“Ok I’ll meet you there with Juli and we can go look at the dogs, but I wouldn’t be surprised if you go and fall in love with one and take it home today.” 

Will scoffs, “Sure.” 

When Will pulls his black 2014 Ford truck into the parking lot he feels slightly overwhelmed by all the animals running about. There is a large fenced in yard with exactly fifteen dogs of various shapes and sizes. When Frankie pulled into the spot next to him, he began to feel more at ease with a familiar face and when Juli came running full speed at him he couldn’t help the smile that broke across his face. 

“Uncle WIll!!” Juli screamed tackling him into a hug. 

He swung her up into his arms and she squealed, “hello sunshine! How’s my favorite girl doing? Are you keeping your daddy busy?” 

“Of course! Daddy told me we're gonna help you find a puppy today? Can we get one too daddy?” She leans back in Wills arms and pouts at her father who crosses his arms. 

“I get the impression you and her had this discussion before you came today?” Will asks laughing at the exasperated expression on Frankie's face. 

“More than once,” Frankie nods to him before taking the toddler back, “Sweetie we talked about this, we are not getting a dog today, just Uncle Will.” 

Her face morphs into a pout and both men can feel the beginning of a tantrum coming so they deflect, “Let’s go sunshine! Don’t you want to see all the dogs?” Will leads the way into the shelter and when the bell dings as he crosses the threshold he stops. Frankie runs into his back before pushing the rest of the way inside. 

Sitting at a worn desk is the woman from the park. She’s wearing overalls with a white shirt covered in pink and yellow flowers. Her hair is pulled into a bun on top of her head but three long strands have slipped out and are dangling in front of her face. She’s wearing dark rimmed glasses, and has her nose buried in a book. On the ground under the desk, sticks out a wet black nose of a golden retriever snoring. 

Will coughs lightly to draw her attention and she snaps her head up and seems slightly startled. “Oh hello! I-” she puts her bookmark in her book and the dog rises to its feet, noticing the new arrivals, “Welcome to the Dog House, uhm how can - how can I help you today? She stumbles over her words, and a blush rises up her neck. 

“Hhh-uhm hi,” Will’s arm rises up and he scratches the back of his head, “Dog...I’m looking for a dog.” He can’t keep his eyes off her. The girl he had spent the last couple weeks thinking about, was right in front of him. 

She giggles, “Well then you’ve come to the right place, I’m Andy, you can follow me.” 

Will follows her like a lost puppy...no pun intended. Frankie just watches the two of them, smiling to himself. It’s obvious that Will likes this girl the way he’s acting if only he could see her looking at him the same way. Frankie keeps his thoughts to himself and follows behind the two. 

“What kind of dog are you looking for? Something big? Small? Athletic? Lazy? We have all kinds here.” she asks, gesturing around to the cages as she leads them to a small enclosed area outside. 

“I like to run, in Aveley Park over on 140th street, and I would like a dog to run with. I’m Will by the way,” he offers her his hand. When they touch they both feel a surge of electricity and they don’t let go, continuing to shake hands until Frankie not so subtly clears his throat.

She blushes deep red, and quickly drops his hand smiling shyly at him, “That’s where I like to go with Benny! We go almost every morning for a walk and then I usually read. My sisters have been in town the last couple weeks so we’ve been going in the evenings lately but they’re gone now so maybe I will see you some morning.” 

“Oh uhmm, whose Benny?” Will asks, he didn’t notice a boyfriend last time he saw her. 

“Oh my dog!” she gestures to the dog that has been slowly following between them. 

From behind, Frankie lets out a snort. Will glares at him before meeting your confused expression. “Benny is my brother's name…I guess he and the dog have some things in common. My brother is kind of like a lovable golden retriever.” 

She laughs out loud, and it’s the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard and he’s desperate to hear her laugh again. “Well maybe your Benny and my Benny should meet someday.” 

“I would like that,” Will tells her, smiling. 

The two just stand there smiling at each other like two lovesick fools when Frankie puts down Juli who's been squirming in his arms. She toddles over to the dog and begins gently petting his head, his eyes close and his tail wags and everyone laughs watching the adorable toddler and the dog. 

“Ok,” she slaps her hands together, “athletic dogs, good for running…” 

“Maybe one a little older?” Will hesitantly asks, “I don’t run as fast as I used to.” 

“You know I think I have the perfect dog for you,” she walks over to the kennel and comes back with a gorgeous chocolate lab. Will drops to his knee and gestures for the dog to come and sniff him and he does so without a second thought. 

“What’s his name?” Will asks looking up at her. 

“Tom.” 

Will freezes and in his peripheral he sees Frankie frozen too, both of their eyes are on the dog. “What’s his name?” Will whispers. 

“His name is Tom, they found him wandering around six months ago, they think someone left him. He’s house trained, and very well behaved. We-what’s wrong? You both look like you’ve seen a ghost…” She looks between Will and Frankie. 

Frankie sniffs, “our old army buddy, he passed away a few years ago...his name was Tom.” 

“Oh...oh I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to bring up any bad memories.” 

“I’ll take him,” Will tells her quickly, “how do I adopt him?” 

“Oh that’s wonderful! Come inside with me and we will get the paperwork all filled out, you can pay the $25 fee and he’s yours,” she places a leash around Tom and hands him to Will. When their hands brush he burns from her touch and she pulls her hand back. It’s not one sided. Juli and Frankie follow behind. Juli is more excited then everyone when Uncle Will tells her the dog is coming home with him. Just thirty minutes later and Will is the proud owner of a new dog. Frankie takes Juli outside to strap her into the car seat and head home. 

“I hope I’m not too forward, but maybe one morning we could go running together...I go for a walk there every morning like I said but for the right partner I could be persuaded to start running in the mornings.” 

“Actually...I would like to walk the dog with you tomorrow morning if you're free... it’s hard to get to know someone when running...then maybe I could take you out for breakfast?” Will feels as nervous as the first time he gave a speech. 

“Yes,” she doesn’t hesitate, “yes, I would like that very much.” She slips a piece of paper from her back pocket with her phone number on it, “I was kind of hoping you would ask. I wrote it as soon as you decided on the dog.” 

He laughs before taking the paper from her fingers, sliding the number into his pocket. He gently grasps her hand and presses a light kiss to her knuckles. “I can’t wait till tomorrow morning,” he tells her before walking backwards out the door. 

Frankie has already left with Juli and he loads Tom into the front seat of the truck, before getting into the driver's seat and buckling his seat belt. He pulls out onto the road and sits at the stop sign, Tom crawls across the seat and places his head in Will’s lap. He puts his head gently, before pulling out to go home, thinking about tomorrow with one beautiful girl, and two dogs. 

Day 12: It evaded me-