#i went years not drawing anything at all... and these dork ass losers have me doodling on the daily now. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ellewritesfix05 · 4 years

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Game Night

Characters: Dean, Sam, Jack, Reader (non-pairing)

Warnings: None tbh (at least I don’t think so)

Word Count: 1.5k

A/N: Just a fun little Sunday something that came to mind. Hope y’all enjoy! 💜

📷 credit: to rightful owners

Here’s my full Masterlist if you’d like to read more!☺️

“Let’s see… B4”

Jack looked at his board and tried, unsuccessfully, to stifle the smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Nope, no B4!” he replied.

Looking down at your Battleship board, you marked the spot you already knew was empty. It was, after all, Jack’s first time playing this game and beating him on his first try would just be too easy.

Sam and Dean had been away on a hunt for the past week, leaving you to babysit the nephilim. A task that proved much harder than expected, given the fact that he was basically a superpowered toddler. Since movies and books puzzled him and made him question everything there is in the universe, you decided to try a new angle that, hopefully, wouldn’t want to make you pull your hair out. Not that you didn’t like the kid, but there were only so many questions you could answer.

In an attempt to entertain him, you’d gone out and bought the local store’s supply of board games, and after three days and ten pints of ice cream, you felt more relaxed than you had in a while. Turns out, games and junk food also had a weirdly calming effect on the ever-inquisitive Jack.

A knock on the Dean-cave’s door brought your attention to the tall, tired hunters coming back from what seemed like a particularly bad hunt.

“What are you crazy kids up to?” said Dean, sitting down on the lounge chair next to Jack, who was cross-legged on the floor across from you. He leaned down, carefully studying Jack’s game board before whispering something in his ear.

“Hey, that’s cheating!” you yelled, reaching over to playfully smack Dean’s knee.

“I’m just helping the kid, alright? You’ve been playing this for years, he needs the help!”

“Actually, I think I may be winning at this, Dean. Y/N doesn’t seem to be very good at the game.” Jack said with a pensive expression.

Dean laughed and leaned back in his chair, as you glared at him and Jack.

You cracked your knuckles in preparation and leaned forward, “Very well. Prepare to lose Jackie boy.”

“Oh it’s on now, sweetheart,” Dean slid down to sit next to Jack, the troubles of the latest hunt seemingly forgotten at the prospect of beating you in the game, “get over here Sammy, we got a game to win!”

“Nuh-uh! Three against one? Get over here, Sam!” you stood up and grabbed the taller Winchester to sit back down with you.

Sam sighed and nodded, “fine. Just because I know you won’t leave me alone if I don’t play”

“That’s the spirit, Beanstalk!” you smiled, nudging his side with your elbow.

For the next hour, you and Sam engaged in a furious board game battle with Dean and Jack. After kicking their ass in Battleship thanks to your and Sam’s strategic abilities, and succumbing to Dean’s tricksy ways in Uno, all that was left to determine the true winning team was your and Sam’s ability to meld your minds into one for the hardest game of all: Pictionary.

As Sam hastily drew a circle with dots you yelled your guesses, “Cookie! Uh, Christmas! Wait no! Gingerbread man!”

“Yes! Nice!” Sam exclaimed, giving you a high five.

“What? That’s not even close!” Dean had gone from playful banter to angry player over the last few turns. As luck would have it for you, not only was Jack struggling with guessing some words, Dean actually sucked at drawing things out.

“Whatever, man. You’re just butthurt ‘cause you can’t draw!” Sam laughed as he sat back down next to you, earning him a bitch face from his older brother.

Jack stood up for their turn and grabbed a marker, “don’t worry, Dean. I’ll lead us to victory!”

“Yeah, yeah kid. Get drawing, we don’t have all day!” Dean sat on the edge of his chair, looking intently at the whiteboard in front of him. You and Sam exchanged an amused glance; Dean could be a sore loser but it was definitely entertaining to watch.

As the timer started counting down, Jack quickly began drawing a triangle with scattered circles.

“Pizza!” Dean yelled, to which Jack shook his head no.

He continued to draw, adding some swirls to the base of the triangle. As he did, you realized what the word was and, looking down to the timer indicating 10 seconds left, you were ready to burst into laughter if Dean didn’t get the answer. Especially since this was their last chance to stay in the game.

“Uhh, triangle? Shapes? Math!” Dean continued to guess and you could almost taste victory as the green-eyed hunter stood up in frustration.

Knowing that he was stumped, you and Sam beamed and counted down together, “five! Four! Three!”

“Oh shut up!”

“Two! One!” The timer went off and you jumped up in celebratory ecstasy. Sam followed and you both made a funny dance, too happy to care about how stupid you may look. The other team, however, wasn’t having it.

“No! I call a replay! A-and I want to switch teams!” Jack stammered, giving Dean an upset look.

You walked over to Dean, who was now sitting back down on his chair, holding his head in his hands, “Hey, it’s okay Ken-doll, that last word was really hard.”

He looked up at you with a bitch face and then at Sam who was trying his best to hold back the laughter. Confused, he looked back at you questioningly, “what? Like you two knew what it was?”

“Obviously! I was trying to dra-“ Jack began but you interrupted with a finger to his lips.

“Bup bup bup! Let me tell him.”

Dean glared as you leaned down and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, “Dean, honey. What Jackie here was drawing for you was-quite clearly- a slice of pie. Cherry pie, if you want specifics”

The color drained from the hunter’s face. He looked to the drawing and back to you, realization hitting him like a freight train.

“Son of a bitch!” He exclaimed getting up. He walked to the bar he’d set up on the side and grabbed a glass to pour himself some whiskey. Meanwhile, you laughed and turned back to Jack.

“I’m sorry you lost this one, Jack. Good game though!” you smiled and offered a hand, which he begrudgingly took.

Sam walked over and offered a hand as well, “Yeah, good game, Jack. Now, if you’ll finally excuse me, I need a shower and a nap.”

He walked out of the Dean-cave, and you started to clean up. Looking over to a still very upset Dean, you touched Jack on the arm to get his attention, “it’s okay, bud. I’ll clean up here. Why don’t you go grab a snack from the kitchen?”

“I don’t want a snack, I’m not hungry,” he replied with an eyebrow furrowed in confusion. You sighed and motioned your head towards Dean, hoping Jack would get the message that you wanted to be alone with the older Winchester.

Catching on, Jack smiled and loudly announced, “Ah, okay yes! A snack! I’ll be back later!”

You chuckled and shook your head at his exaggerated performance. Once he left the room, you headed towards Dean.

“Hey,” you said quietly.

“What?” he replied in a snappy tone, to which you raised your eyebrows in surprise. Sure, you knew he’d be upset about the game but the anger seemed a tad excessive. He realized how harsh his tone came out and sighed, “sorry. I shouldn’t snap at you like that.”

“It’s okay,” you smiled, “I mean, you did just get your ass handed to you by your brother and little ole’ me!”

Dean rolled his eyes and started walking away. You reached out and grabbed his arm, stopping him mid-step, “I’m kidding! Come on, don’t be so salty.”

“Salty?” he repeated, arching an eyebrow in amusement.

“Yeah, that’s what the kids are saying nowadays,” you shrugged, “well at least that’s one of the many things I got to learn watching random YouTube videos with Jack.”

Dean laughed at your confession, the tension from earlier now fully dissipated, “I know what it means, you dork. Just surprised an “old soul” like you knew the slang.”

You punched him lightly on the shoulder and he feigned hurt, “the hell was that for?”

“Oh relax, you big baby.” You stuck your tongue out, earning a chuckle from him.

“Better put that away, sweetheart. Wouldn’t want to have to teach you a lesson in manners,” he winked at you.

“Please. Like you’re such a good boy.” You rolled your eyes and headed for the door, “I’m glad you’re feeling better though. Maybe next time you won’t suck at games so much!”

Turning on your heel, you walked out of the room before he could come up with a not-so-witty retort, a smile on your lips.

They may drive you crazy with their insane plots and dangerous decisions, but you wouldn’t trade your little family for anything in the world.

#supernaturalfanfiction #dean winchester fanfiction #sam winchester fanfiction #jack kline fanfiction #spnfanfiction #ellewritesfix05

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agustdef · 5 years

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Here & Now - Chapter 15

Pairing: Yoongi x OC

Genre: Fluff; Chill romance

Word Count: 2,321

Warning: None.

Banner Marker: @dee-ehn

A hard knock on my bedroom door had me looking away from my phone and sitting up. My mother stood in the doorway, giving me a fake glare.

“Get your butt out here. Everybody’s here and ready.”

Without a word I got off the bed, grabbing my phone and power bank before padding out of the room. I could hear them downstairs before I even made one step, being rowdy as usual. When I finally got there they were all surrounding the coffee table, grabbing at the containers of Chinese food laying about.

“Drop it, Uncle Myron. You know that’s not for you.” I said.

The collective turned their heads to see me standing there, everyone’s expressions shocked. Then all at once the five of my uncles were pulling me into hugs that were way too tight.

“You didn’t say you were coming,” Uncle Joseph said as they pulled away.

“She surprised all of us,” my mother chimed in.

They all turned to glare at me, but I just smiled and walked past them. “I finished work that I needed to be present for early and thought I’d just pop in. I’m going to be on a vacation for the next month.”

I was already sitting on the floor at the corner of the table with my container of vegetable fried rice when they sat down. Uncle Bryce tried to grab it and when that failed tried to go for the general tso chicken that was also solely mine; each time he got his hand slapped.

“A vacation? You?” Uncle Phillip scoffed as he shoved his nasty shrimp fried rice in his face.

“Yes, I take those sometimes. It’s been a while and even though I still have things to do, but nothing pressing and there’s a no project thing in place for the next month. I think it would be good for me.

I could practically hear my mother roll her eyes. “And Marcus made her.”

“Yes, and Marcus made me.”

They all laughed and poked fun at me because they knew better than anyone that I needed to be pushed to take a vacation sometimes. Even if I really wanted it or felt like it would do me some good I wouldn’t. Sometimes I got too worried that I’d completely slack off, which was stupid since I still maintained my schedule to get things on deadline done in the midst of every vacation.

Uncle Byron nudged me softly, smiling down at me. “Well, we happy to see you and that you’re relaxing. What are you going to do? Travel some? Never leave your bed?”

I shrugged, continuing to eat my food. “I’ll see what I feel like as the days pass.”

After that, we all descended into the silence that was eating and watching Shameless for the hundredth time. We all enjoyed the chaos that was the show and would always end up rewatching it when together or we’d watch the anime Hellsing Ultimate. Took us forever to start new stuff when hanging out.

Once dinner was over and things were cleaned up, Uno was the new focus. And as usual chaos and betrayal were the only things present.

“You can’t stack Draw Fours!” Uncle Phillip tried to push the cards away.

“Yes, the hell I can!” I said, blocking his attempt.

“Since when?”

“Since always. Just because you went elsewhere and got used to their weak ass rules doesn’t mean they fly here. Now pick up sixteen cards.”

Everyone except him tried to keep a straight face but ended up bursting into laughter. He was not pleased in the slightest, or that’s at least what I gathered from the deep-set frown he wore.

The game was getting more intense and I swore Uncle Bryce was cheating, but it mattered not to me.

Placing down the other five cards I had that were all different colors, but all the number three. “Uno. Uno out!”

I was the first to accomplish this and fist-pumped in victory, which just earned a whole lot of glaring my way. My mother even jabbed me in the side, which hurt like hell.

“Cheater,” Uncle Bryce mumbled.

“How?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know, but you did.”

“You’re one to talk.”

His mouth opened and closed as he seemed to get what I was implying. Glancing away from me he focused on the game, probably hoping not to be the loser as usual.

Sitting back I grabbed my pop from the table and watch is all unfold. My mother was hardcore glaring at Bryce, which meant she too was noticing something off about him. It would be hilarious if he was caught and had to suffer the penalty.

“So, dating anyone Kennie?” Uncle Joseph asked.

My face scrunched up and I eyed him carefully. He wore a blank expression, but it felt like he was up to no good. He was almost always up to no good. He was the class clown of the uncle collective.

“No, but she does think someone is cute and has developed a crush?” Mother said without even glancing my way.

“Where are you pulling this information from, mother?” I asked.

“Your face and the sweet boy who you were talking to yesterday. Same sweet boy from when I called and video chatted you a few months ago. He’s cute and seems to like you.”

If she didn’t always seem to pick up on things I would have been shocked by her conclusion. All of my life she’d been able to suss out things with ease and it was creepy then, but I’d learned to get used to it. Not like I lied to her about anything anyway. But I had to admit her picking up on feelings that I was just accepting made me feel awkward. Also the thought of Yoongi returning them.

“Sure. Maybe. I don’t know. I refuse to have this conversation.”

“Aw, why not? Don’t want to address your feelings?” Uncle Phillip teased.

Turning to the side I stared him down. “Want to discuss that time you and my mother dated when I was seven and eight? The thing you don’t think I remember?”

Both of them choked on air and their eyes went wide.

“How?” mother whispered.

I shrugged. “Not my fault you tried to sell that whole all of these are your uncles, even though two of them aren’t blood related narrative so hard that you thought sneaking around a curious seven-year-old would work out. Not like I would have cared, I understood the difference.”

Everyone had paused and the awkward silence made me laugh. It was so funny when they were all left so shocked that they couldn’t say anything. My daughter earned a punch to the arm from my mother, which stung for ten minutes after. Didn’t stop me from laughing though.

After they all took a moment to breathe and got back to their game. Just as my phone rang Bryce was found out and they were all yelling accusations at him.

I didn’t leave the room but curled up in the loveseat a tad farther from the main couch. Turning on my headphones I slipped them in and answered the call as they connected.

It took a second, but Yoongi’s face filled the phone. He seemed to be in a dance studio, at least that’s what I got from the large mirrors. Also the small glimpse of Jungkook being a dork in the reflection.

“Hey.”

He didn’t say anything, just squinted and looked behind me.

“What?” I asked.

“Are you not at home? That doesn’t look familiar and it seems darker than it should be.”

The realization that we hadn’t spoken much the past few days hit me. That and I’d only told Marcus and my boss that I was going to be leaving for Chicago.

“Oh, no I’m at my mom’s house. So, two hours ahead.”

Yoongi just continued to stare, his expression still confused. In an instant it shifted to a glare, his entire face becoming one he used when he was about to accuse me or someone else of something.

“You started your vacation early and didn’t tell me?” He sounded offended.

“...maybe.”

For the longest he just stared at me, his eyes narrowing so much that I wasn’t completely sure that they were open at all. But I could still see them scrunching up more and more, then opening wide again. He changed his strategy and then he was pouting, though I wasn’t sure if it was on purpose or not.

Everyone knew that the cuteness exuded was my weakness and were not afraid to use it against me.

“I’m sorry. I finished up faster than expected and decided to come home. I still don’t know what I’m going to do about the rest of the vacation though. Plus, plus only the people in charge of me know.”

He huffed but seemed to accept my response. The pout remained and I internally gushed at the way his cheeks puffed out but tried my best to keep it together. I hadn’t even realized I’d started smiling until he was smiling back at me.

“I feel like I could pinch your cheeks from here,” he mumbled. It was so low I was sure he hadn’t meant for me to hear it, which was backed up by his eyes going wide and him staring me down.

Keeping it together I tried to maintain the same face as before, not wanting for him to do that thing where he got shy and awkward. That always led to him to rushing off the phone and I wanted to talk to him. I’d grown used to calls or video chats almost daily when he wasn’t too busy.

“So, why’d you call without warning?” I asked, hoping his mind wouldn’t linger.

“Oh, I wanted to see if you ha…”

Before he could finish there was a scream from the other side of the living room that caught my attention. I’d been so preoccupied with him that I’d forgotten what was happening in the room.

Uncle Bryce was laying on the ground sprawled out as a bag of ice was being poured into his pants, he looked so distraught.

My eyes moved back to the phone and I smirked. “Want to see something equal parts funny and chaotic?”

At first, he looked annoyed, then curious. After a second he nodded and then I switched it to the other camera. He got the view of them shoving the last remnants of the ice bag into Bryce’s pants. His jaw dropped as he watched on.

"We're adults, how are we still doing things like this?" Uncle Bryce asked, trying to sound calm.

Uncle Phillip scoffed. "Yeah, we're adults so shut up and take your cold balls like an adult."

Trying not to laugh I switch back to the front-facing one. Yoongi kind of looked scared for a second or two.

“Why?”

With the straightest face I could must I said, “He dared cheat at Uno, he knew the consequences. He’s lucky it isn’t winter, or he’d be sitting outside in the cold for fifteen minutes naked.”

That did not clear his confusion.

“Why… what?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know Yoon, these were the laws they created when they were still in college. I merely abide by them.”

He went to speak, but then there was someone yelling in the background. If I’d heard correctly it was saying the break would be over in like three minutes.

Whatever he was going to say forgotten his face went neutral and much more serious. My stomach churned feeling so unsure of what he’d say next.

“Okay, I have to be quick. You have a month off and as you said no plans, right?”

I nodded.

“So, I know you’ve at least gotten a glimpse of your other work environments even if you haven’t worked there. And Bang PDnim and Joon were talking, which I overheard and now we’re wondering if you’d like to come here for a few weeks. Just to get a sense of the work environment.” He spoke so quickly that my brain jumbled the words and I had to take a moment to decode it.

When I caught up I froze a little. “Me in Korea for a few weeks?”

He nodded eyes flickering off camera and then back at me. “It would give you some more information before you make your decision.”

“Uh…”

A hand wave drew my attention to the collective, who was mostly still laughing at Uncle Bryce trying not to cry. But my mother was looking at me and nodding her head. I was confused and then she mouthed ‘do it’ and I understood.

My gaze moved to him and he was now standing up and standing next to Joon who was staring elsewhere.

“What happened to me not working much during this break?” I teased.

He rolled his eyes and grinned, his urgency gone. “It’s not even work. You’re not even bound to do anything, just hang out and meet everyone.”

I pursed my lips as if thinking. “Well, I’ve met two of the producers there and already have some complaints.”

“Hey!” Joon tilted closer to the screen and threw me a playful glare.

“I’m kidding. Sure, it sounds like it would be nice. I’d be traveling, exploring and still not feel so useless doing nothing.”

Yoongi smiled wide and Joon shouted yes before being scolded by someone that sounded like Hoseok. He turned to scold Yoongi too, after yelling a greeting to me from behind the phone.

“Okay. I’ll text you later and Bang should get in touch with you soon. Must go before Hobi throws my phone at a wall,” he rushed out while laughing.

“Okay, bye.” I waved and he hung up.

My mother was still staring at me, but this time she winked and gave a thumbs up.

#min yoongi #yoongi #min suga #original character #oc #sugaxoc #yoongixoc #producer!oc #writer!oc #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #yoongi fanfic #suga fanfic #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic

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reddielibrary · 6 years

Photo

The Better to See You With, My Dear

prompt: richie gets contacts and eddie is feeling ????? about it

written by: Alexis | quixoticquest

word count: 3960

*click title to read on AO3

Thirteen months, from kindergarten to first grade, marked the span of time Eddie Kaspbrak had known a Richie Tozier with perfect vision - and he didn’t remember a lick of it. Not the bare-faced expressions around the storytime mat, not the way dark brown eyes appeared without bugging behind enormous lenses. Not when Richie started squinting at the chalkboard in the October of first grade, not when he tripped and broke his nose on Halloween because he couldn’t see to begin with and certainly not out the tiny holes of his ghost sheet. Eddie remembered first grade when Richie got his glasses though, and even though he remembered in kindergarten too. Sometimes he found himself arguing with Bill or Stanley about the actuality of events, and even Richie’s own input wasn’t always enough to settle the stubborn hypochondriac.

Richie’s Glasses was just one of those things that had Always Been or felt like it had anyway. The chances of catching a glimpse of him with them off, out of the pool or at a sleepover, were so fleeting that Glasses just became the default. Growing up, the only thing Eddie could count on to never change was his friends, their quirks, familiar and comforting.

So you could imagine his concern when Richie announced his parents had finally caved and were taking him to get fitted for contact lenses.

Trashmouth Tozier had been begging to trade in his specs for years. The Losers Club had been on the receiving end of his whining for just as long, constantly groaning about how much of a drag it was to push them up his nose and clean them and keep them from getting broken (which he wasn’t very good at). But with his own hygiene regimen spotty at best, especially during the pubescent years, Mr. and Mrs. Tozier weren’t super keen to get Richie something that would require constant upkeep like that.

It wasn’t until Richie turned sixteen that all his whining paid off - and by then, Eddie thought he’d be stuck in glasses forever.

A Friday afternoon marked the end of what had Always Been. Richie left class early for his appointment at the eye doctor, rubbing his hand through Eddie’s hair on his way past his desk, pointing dramatically with both hands at the trademark frames across his face, before disappearing out the door with two thumbs up. It probably wasn’t the last Eddie would ever see of Richie with his glasses on, but it might as well have been.

That idiot refused to hang out with any of them the following weekend, drawing out the days and hours until Monday like some kind of sadist. The worst part was that he had homeroom with Beverly and Bill. Eddie wouldn’t even see Richie until fourth period.

“Mike said Ben said Bev said it was really weird,” Stan reported to Eddie during second period gym, and left it at that since there were balls to hit and bases to run.

The worst part was fourth period was Spanish, and Eddie had gone above his academic expectations for once and taken the Honors class, where they weren’t allowed to speak English, even to ask to use the bathroom. If he had known Richie was going to throw this curveball at him last year when he registered for classes, he would have stayed in Advanced and fucked Honors courses altogether.

There was no time to prepare - only to school himself when Richie came through the door, a couple of seconds before the bell, and descended into the seat beside Eddie as if nothing had happened. Really, technically, nothing had happened - but try telling that to the wound up dork gnawing the end of his pencil like a Twizzler.

Beverly was right, it was super weird. Richie’s glasses made his eyes huge, all big and shiny, and now they almost looked too small for his face. Eddie could see his eyebrows better, which made him even more expressive if that was even possible. It was easier to see his cheekbones too, though nothing could be done about all the miles of face hiding under his mophead until he bit the bullet and got a proper haircut.

“¿No me veo hermosa?” Richie asked, cheesing with all his teeth, bare eyes wide.

“Cállate,” Eddie griped, fixing his gaze on the chalkboard at the front of the room before he could be caught staring.

A couple days went by, and besides the occasional remark from their friends (and Richie’s constant boasting), nothing really changed. Or rather, a lot had changed, but Eddie seemed to be the only one who noticed. Was one day really all they were going to devote to this? Richie’s entire appearance had been reshaped with the exclusion of one single accessory! The entire fabric of who he was as a person had been altered forever.

Of course, Eddie couldn’t say that out loud because he knew it was ridiculous. Which might have been the worst part.

A week or so after the initial reveal, they had all gathered at Bill’s house to brainstorm for the college applications that would be due to submit as soon as the end of this summer. Eddie had been staring at the same blank page in his composition book for the last hour, scratching aimless doodles into the margin that probably wouldn’t have any bearing on the schools he was looking at (rather, the ones his guidance counselor was telling him to look at).

“Do you think I need to put varsity football and JV?” Mike asked, brows furrowed at his extensive list of extracurriculars. “Or is varsity big enough that JV is a given?”

“Here’s what I think: ditch them both,” Richie announced, pointing the end of his pen at Mike. “Better yet, dump the resume and essay altogether. Just submit a headshot and you’ll have all those schools begging for you to commit.”

Mike beamed. Beside him, Stanley leaned forward to tuck his chin onto his fist - fretting over a list even longer than Mike’s. Eddie was still trying to decide if the one day of mock trial he attended sophomore year counted as anything.

“Don’t tell me that’s what you’re doing,” Stan drawled at Richie - who sighed, his too-small eyes fluttering shut so he could tilt his head back.

“I could, but it wouldn’t be fair. It’s a shame, but this mug outshines all the volunteer work in the world. ‘Specially with all my handsome out on display for everyone to see now. Isn’t that right, Eds?”

Eddie clamped his tongue between his teeth and grunted, a paltry shadow of his usually feisty retorts. They were becoming harder and harder to dish out since they usually thrived on eye contact, which was becoming harder and harder to maintain with Richie looking like that.

They went on scribbling away, some more than others. At some point, while Bill was on the phone ordering pizza, Richie stood, hiking his legs overhead and limb alike to make it to the bathroom, backpack clutched in one hand - not that Eddie really took notice, since the seven of them had been getting up for various reasons all night.

He did notice, however, when Richie came back wearing his glasses.

“Well look who it is,” Beverly chuckled (because no one could ever let anything go unnoticed among the seven of them). “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Yeah yeah yeah, laugh all you want,” Richie retorted, arms rising over his head in some gesture of surrender, even as he smiled from under those familiar frames. “I can’t afflict you with my drop dead unfiltered gorgeousness all the time. It would be irresponsible.”

“But your obnoxious personality is totally fine, right?” Eddie snorted - unaware of just how easily it came out when that tortoise shell barrier was there.

Richie grinned his Richie grin. “Truth is, if you must know, my eyes were starting to hurt. Figured I’d switch so I didn’t have to turn in early. Now, let’s see if I remember how to work these things.”

If this was the return to form Eddie had been craving, maybe that meant he should savor it. There was no doubt he would see Richie in his glasses several times before the year was even out, though few and far between they may be.

This, he decided, glancing sidelong at the mophead trashmouth jackass beside him, was his opportunity to kiss goodbye that thing that had Always Been, and rev up for something new. Suck it up, take it like a champ. Like an adult, and not a baby who cried over object permanence.

But the next day at school, Eddie didn’t get a chance to put his rev-up to the test, because Richie came in with his specs on.

“I was running late,” he explained, launching into a long account of a hectic morning at lunchtime, that Eddie couldn’t even be bothered to pretend to care about.

Maybe he was late the next day too because once more he showed up bespectacled. No one really cared to ask, and he didn’t care to explain. But as the days crept on into weeks, into a month, the contacts seemed to have disappeared altogether.

Chief of all who didn’t care about this particular regression was Eddie - so much so that he didn’t even realize he didn’t care. He probably didn’t notice there was a difference at all. After all, what was so weird about Richie wearing glasses?

With finals coming up and Spanish kicking his ass, circumstances called for a study session. Eddie almost managed to intercept Richie at the front door and bustle him up to his room, but his mom’s Sonia Sense must have started tingling because she found them just in time to make it very clear that there would be no Toziers in her house after nine o’clock.

“I brought the new X-Men,” Richie proclaimed in a stage whisper when they reached Eddie’s room, wiggling a glossy issue in a plastic sleeve at Eddie.

“You’re here to study Spanish,” Eddie said at a completely normal volume. “Not Rogue’s boobs.”

Richie blew a raspberry. “She’s not even in this one, doofus. And last I checked, you’re pushing a B minus, and I’m on the star students poster.”

“Then stop speaking English and help me!”

Usually, study sessions devolved into aimless chaos pretty quickly, but they did a pretty good job of keeping on track this time, and Eddie did a pretty good job of keeping Richie and his constant asinine distractions at bay. It didn’t matter that the four-eyed idiot kept snickering at his color-coded flashcards either.

“I can’t remember the word for broom,” Eddie murmured at some point, pushing his top lip around with the eraser on his pencil.

“My mom said I better start wearing my contacts again or she’s not gonna pay for them,” Richie sighed.

Eddie looked up from his seat on the floor, arms folded around his flashcards on the edge of his bed. Richie, flopped across the mattress, flipped absently through his notebook full of chicken scratch. The bend of his head and the frames of his glasses concealed his expression ever so slightly.

“Huh?” Eddie asked dumbly.

Richie glanced over and pushed his specs up by the pad of his thumb. “La escoba,” he pronounced.

“You haven’t been wearing your contacts?” Eddie specified.

“Oh, I have,” Richie replied, nodding confidently. “I wear them with my glasses. That’s double the corrected vision. I can see into the fifth dimension.”

Eddie mimicked him in an unintelligible tone.

“Richie, why aren’t you wearing your contacts?” The question made him feel entirely too much like a parent. Hell, maybe that’s exactly what Mrs. Tozier had asked, hands on her hips and all.

Twisting his mouth every which way, Richie adjusted himself, pushing his notebook to the side, since he obviously wasn’t using it for anything practical. The yellow lamplight illuminating Eddie’s room sent the oblongs of white on the lenses of Richie’s Glasses around the frames as he moved.

Suddenly Eddie remembered the tangible possibility of Richie’s Glasses disappearing again. It wasn’t a very fun thought to remember.

“I dunno,” Richie finally confessed, setting his face in his hands, and his elbows on his knees. “It’s just - I mean I guess it’s just not how I thought they were gonna be.”

“Are they uncomfortable?” Eddie asked.

“Only for the first couple days.”

“Is it a lot to keep them clean?”

“No, you just hit ‘em with the contact solution. If I can’t aim and squirt then what kind of man would I be, Eds?”

Eddie huffed and rolled his eyes. He should have known better than to indulge I dunno and all the potentials for humor that might follow.

Situating himself squarely in front of his notes, though, it only took a couple seconds for Richie to roll himself back into Eddie’s line of sight - effectively demanding his attention again.

“I guess I just,” Richie mumbled, poking around one of the flashcards - armario-closet, to be precise. “I dunno. Thought I’d look better without glasses.”

Kneeling on the floor, with Richie laid out in front of him, put them basically at eye level. From here, though, Richie had to lift his gaze ever so slightly. Eddie watched his brows arch from behind his specs, dark eyes blinking. An unfiltered view - sort of.

“Look better?” Eddie repeated.

“Well, when you get called four-eyes your whole life…” Richie huffed, and rolled back again, always restless. “I just thought it’d be different y’know? I’ve got such a lousy prescription and I thought I’d finally look like less of a dumbass nerd with contacts but...maybe I’m overthinking it but it just doesn’t seem like you guys like me when I don’t wear my glasses.”

Eddie’s face screwed up. “What?”

Richie shrugged. “Maybe I talked it up too much but I was kind of hoping you’d make a bigger deal. No one really said anything or talked about it so I was like, oh shit, maybe I am hideous. Or maybe the glasses are just the perfect accessory to my comedy and I’ve ruined the whole schtick by dropping them. Or, you know, I’m hideous. Either or.”

“It’s not a big deal because you’re just you, Richie,” Eddie stated (completely unaware of what a hypocrite he was being). “So what if we didn’t say anything? We can’t go on and on about your face for the rest of our stupid lives.”

“Yeah, but…” Now, Richie sighed again, perhaps becoming too self-aware of how serious he had made the moment. “Eddie, it kind of felt like you couldn’t even talk or look at me when I wasn’t wearing my glasses.”

This was the part where Eddie felt like the biggest ass in the whole world. He might as well have turned into a donkey, like in Looney Tunes.

“Which could totally be just me,” Richie went on, smacking himself upside the head. “But that’s just what it felt like. So maybe it’s just me. I’m perfectly happy to be the idiot on this one. I’m usually very good at it.”

There was no way he could focus on Spanish now. Eddie collected all his flashcards and placed them in a neat little stack on the floor, so he could push himself up to sit on his own bed.

It was a crisis about fucking glasses. It didn’t need to get that deep. And yet, somehow, he felt like he owed Trashmouth Tozier somewhat of an apology - if you could fucking believe it.

“It’s not just the contacts,” Eddie confessed, tipping his head down.

“Aha, I was right,” Richie declared in a lackluster tone.

“It’s everything,” Eddie blurted right on his heels, sagging with a deep breath. “Everything is changing, Rich. And everything that changes just reminds me that all the stuff that’s Always Been is gonna be over next year when we graduate. Braces are coming off and bikes are getting sold and we’re all starting college applications that we’re not even going to submit for six months!”

He dropped his hands in his lap, slapping against his thighs, a crisp punctuation to his rant. Out of breath, Eddie puffed through his nose. Of course, now the room had to be dead silent, clawing and prodding at him with the reminder that this was way too honest for a study session.

Richie stared at him though, peculiarly thoughtful. At the very least, he wasn’t looking so much like a kicked, bespectacled puppy anymore.

“Well,” he finally said, steepling his hands between them, “this may come as a surprise to you, Eds, but I’ve always had eyes.”

“Oh shut up,” Eddie snapped (almost relieved for the lighthearted response). “You’ve always had glasses. And now you won’t, because you’re finally old enough to have contacts, and soon you’ll be old enough to move out and get out of dodge like we’re all gonna do.”

“Yeah, but isn’t that what we want?” Richie asked.

“I guess. It just feels like I liked thinking about it better as something far away then something we’re all flying toward at top speed.”

Childhood sucked. Any of the seven of them could tell you that. So why did the thought of it truly ending ache so much? Were the losers worth more than leaving Derry? Apparently fucking not, since they were all perfectly content to make their attempts to escape.

Just as Eddie was feeling sorry for himself, staring at the patterns in his quilt, Richie did something quite uncharacteristic. Just out of his line of sight, the trashmouth put his hand over the top of Eddie’s, curling them together in some gesture of support.

It was pretty awkward, but comforting in a weird, forced kind of way.

“I’m still me,” Richie said, offering his solid gaze when Eddie looked up. “Fuck you know I’m an idiot with the glasses on and off. That’s never gonna change. Hell, you can even call me four eyes of you want. The other two could be - hm - my nipples maybe? I’ve got that one eyed snake in my pants but that only makes three.”

“Richie-”

“The point is, Edward,” he continued, somehow lofty and sincere at the same time, “not everything is changing. Maybe we don’t get to sitcom it up at some university all seven of us. But we still have each other, as mushy gushy as that sounds. I’ll always be a phone call away. You called me to make me cart my ass over here. And I know the others feel the same way.”

What do you know? For all the stupid crap that came out of his mouth, Richie said something intelligent (and comforting) for once.

Before the telltale sting in his eyes could gain any traction, Eddie sighed his cares away or at least tried to. A motivational speech couldn’t fix everything. But just Richie saying it, Richie of all people, was enough to set him at ease. At least for now. And to think it hadn’t even been about Eddie in the first place.

“I know,” he answered, finally, soundly. If that wasn’t the only thing he was sure of, then he wasn’t sure of anything.

“I’m sorry I made you think I think you’re ugly,” Eddie added, deciding he wasn’t a huge fan of how he phrased that. “You’re not, I promise.”

Richie blinked at him expectantly. His hand still sat clammy and warm on top of Eddie’s.

“Well, if I’m not ugly, then what am I, Eds?”

“Oh, don’t you start,” Eddie ground out, pulling himself away.

“No no, this is important to me.” Richie sniffled dramatically, wiping away nonexistent tears from under his glasses, advancing incrementally. “You really hurt me, y’know? I’m broken-hearted. I might never heal.”

“Sure you won’t.”

“Come on, Eds!” At this point, Richie was practically bent over Eddie, and if he didn’t want to slide off the bed, he had to prop himself up on his hands, with nowhere else to go. “If I’m not an uggo then I must be something else won’t you please tell me what it is? Boost a poor boy’s self-esteem.”

“As if you need a self-esteem boost!”

“Pretty please, Eds? I’m dying here. The anticipation is killing me.”

“You’re okay looking I guess!” Maybe it was important that Eddie say it or maybe it wasn’t but he figured it was the least he could do (even if it warmed his face in the process). “You got a strong jaw and nice lips and sometimes I hear girls talking about your cheekbones and I guess I sort of agree with them!”

Maybe, Eddie realized retrospectively, he had revealed too much. Mostly because, Richie was staring at him from behind those big lenses - just a little too tenderly to be joking.

“Whoa,” he muttered. “That’s like, the nicest thing anyone has ever said about me. Besides my mom.”

Eddie blinked, feeling the heat spread further into his face. “Well I didn’t mean-”

Somehow managing not to send Eddie careening off the bed, Richie pressed forward enough to catch his lips in an entirely unexpected kiss. What Eddie lacked in mobility at the moment, he made up for in reaction time and found it in him to tip his chin up into Richie’s mouth without suffering all the shock and surprise that might have him freezing unhelpfully.

Richie got his arms around him and figured out how to pull him back onto the bed, which enabled Eddie to get a grip of his own, clinging to Richie’s shirt for all he was worth while their lips shifted and bumped together. Such a natural progression, it was a wonder it hadn’t occurred until just this moment.

Before they could get too carried away (which Eddie wasn’t super opposed to), Richie broke, huffing for air, as if he had been submerged in water. Rather than dwell on what kind of idiot couldn’t pace his own breathing (because he wasn’t one to talk about respiratory issues), Eddie stared up at Richie’s face, from the cradle of his arms, Klimt style.

To think Mrs. Kaspbrak was just downstairs tuning in to Dateline.

Without thinking very much about it, Eddie got one hand free to reach up to Richie’s face and pulled his glasses off carefully. That bare gaze followed his hand all the way to the side, as he folded up the arms and put them somewhere where they wouldn’t get in the way.

Richie’s eyes weren’t too small. They were probably perfectly normal sized, almost droopy in a way that was too endearing for his own good. And of course, there were those pink lips, and those cheekbones (which Eddie may or may not have come up with all on his own, no girls required).

“Well that’s just counterproductive,” Richie stated, quirking a smile in Eddie’s direction.

“How come?”

“What’s the point of no glasses if I can’t see you? Need those corrective lenses to ogle that booty, baby.”

Before Eddie could snap at him, he was kissed again, sweet and sound, and he couldn’t argue with that.

Maybe it was okay if some things that had Always Been changed. Eddie, for one, was certainly glad that he didn’t have a laundry list of medication to take any more. Things like Bill getting over his stutter and Stanley getting less anxious were good. Kissing Richie regularly was certainly a welcome change. And Eddie could learn to love a Richie with contacts, even if it was different from what had Always Been.

Just so long as Richie blinked his lenses in on the first try because watching the little disk flop out between his eyelashes was the fastest way to make Eddie gag.

#reddie #reddielibrary #prompt fill #writing team

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jaemtens · 6 years

Text

Rescue (Chapter 2)

seventeen | junhao | side meanie / vernkwan | chapter 2 of 10 | 8.2k

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written with @bulletproof-bad-wolf | updates every saturday morning

summary: When Soonyoung finally “agrees” to let Junhui get a dog for their apartment, he realizes that he needed something a little bit more than a puppy. Enter Minghao, the bona fide Bad Boy™ with tattoos and piercings. Oh, and he doodles puppies and kittens in their Probability and Confirmation class.

chapter 2: minghao

Screw that appointment with his college counselor -- he didn’t need to waste his time talking with Choi Seungcheol for the umpteenth time this semester. It wasn’t like his college counselor actually cared about him; the suave, faux-soothing voice Seungcheol liked to use during their “appointments” was just a ruse. Seungcheol probably just used them to stroke his ego, to make himself feel good that he was helping a troubled kid get through college and life in general. It probably made him feel like he was really making a difference in the world because he got a certified Loser like Xu Minghao to enroll at their prestigious top-tier institution. Minghao was already imagining their next admissions brochure: “If this Loser turned it around, so can you!” said the speech bubble next to Minghao’s half-smiling Generic College Student pose.

Minghao took a left, shuffling through the crowded crosswalk.

Screw Probability and Confirmation for being the biggest waste of his time ever. After the second class of the professor droning on and on and on about capital E Existentialism and John Locke, he lost total interest in paying attention to the lectures. He was 110% sure he could literally put anything on his written exams, and the professor would think that it was “insightful” and “profound,” to use his favorite philosophy buzzwords. This, despite the fact that his written exam would probably be 110% word vomit with those precise buzzwords.

He practically walked through some random dude, his shoulder pushing the other guy aside. He took a right.

It wasn’t like he didn’t write anything down during class. No, he had a half-page of semi-coherent notes with multiple words triply-underlined, probably because he heard the prof repeat them at least seventeen times. How do you even take notes in a philosophy class? Half of the lecture slides are just random pictures of random bronze statues of random Greek dudes who had some random ideas that they wrote in a random book 2000 years ago. The class was randomly structured with a nonsensical syllabus that emphasized random discussions that the same two students participated in with no goddamn end in sight every class. He learned more by doodling cats from the shelter.

Minghao swung another left, ignoring the senile-looking old dude playing harmonica on the street corner. No, he didn’t have any money, he thought, clutching the two dollars in his pocket.

And, most of all, screw Wen Junhui for existing. Of all the people who he could run into after class in a desolate hallway, it had to be Wen Junhui. Of all the people who could know about his lame-ass doodles, it had to be Wen Junhui. Of all the people who could invite him over to their apartment, it had to be Wen Junhui. And of course he did all of that while be the biggest freaking dork ever. It was Too. Goddamn. Cute.

He tapped his foot waiting for the next light to change. Minghao was impatient, but he didn’t know why.

Yes, you heard that right, random person tuning into Minghao’s inner monologue: Xu Minghao, the twenty year-old college student who wears leather jackets, has three tattoos, and five piercings, is in love with a twink like Wen Junhui. Are you surprised? He was too for about five minutes. When Jun walked into their first class together, he remembered actually perking up a little bit to check him out. He thought Junhui was so fucking cute with his sharp, bookish features, his messy raven-black hair, and his tall, lithe frame. Minghao was a master of playing it cool around people who caught his eye, but he knew deep down that he was seriously intrigued. Junhui ticked off all the boxes on the checklist entitled “Minghao’s Type.” It was only a matter of time before he fully admitted that Wen Junhui was half the reason he was distracted in Prob and Conf.

The light switched to green, and he crossed along with what seemed like the rest of humanity. He shoved his way to the right and switched directions yet again, his worn boots stomping down on puddles without much care.

So why did he snap at Jun? Why did he go against all of his feelings?

Minghao stopped again, staring down at one of the puddles. Nobody was around him -- it was quiet off of the main street.

He didn’t know. Half of him was so goddamn smitten. When Jun physically ran into him and immediately apologized even though it wasn’t his fault, when Jun stuttered in the cutest way possible, when Jun talked about how he liked his stupid little anime drawings -- god, Minghao just wanted to melt right then and there. But the other half of him knew it was fake. How did he know? He just knew, okay. It was inevitable. He knew that Jun didn’t actually like him, that Jun was just apologizing because he was scared of the weird guy with a bunch of piercings in his philosophy class, that Jun was just making fun of him when he talked about his chibi-kittens. He got so angry -- no, upset was the right word -- that he just wanted to walk away. He let his feelings flash in front of Jun, mostly just to push him away, He knew Junhui would hate the real Minghao, so he just made it easier for both of them: push him away before Jun learned too much about who he really was.

A single raindrop splashed in the puddle he was staring at, the ripples distorting his features. Shit, it was starting to rain. Minghao ran his hand through his dark hair, wondering where he was; he had been walking aimlessly for what seemed like an hour.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, recognizing where he was. He didn’t want to be here of all places; what if Jeonghan was here? He searched frantically, analyzing each street corner while licking his lips nervously. Swarms of people were coming and going along the main road, so it was hard to see. He crossed the street he was on to get a better look; Jeonghan had long blonde hair the last time he had seen him, but who knew what he looked like now. All he knew is that he did not want to talk to him today of all days. Giving up, Minghao ducked inside one of the convenience stores.

He licked his lips again, feeling out of place. Convenience stores were always a little overwhelming, so much crap packed into such a small space. He hated squeezing past people to get through the narrow aisles… everybody always gave him weird looks, and he would always just tut back, rolling his eyes. They were probably judging him because of his tattoos and piercings while they went about their boring day during their boring life. He normally hated normal people -- why did he like Jun then?

Ugh, focus, Minghao. Why did he go to the convenience store again? He jammed his hands into his pockets, immediately feeling the two dollars again. Oh, right: food. That’s why he was here despite his undying hatred of convenience stores. Luckily, it was pretty empty. He didn’t even need to go search for what he was looking for; why was he so worried? Why was he so on-edge?

He grabbed a Snickers bar and a pack of gum, shoving them toward the clerk at the counter, who scanned them both.

“Three dollars.”

Minghao reached into his pocket, pulling out only two.

“Shit,” he muttered. “Um, I’ll only take the candy bar, I guess.”

The clerk sighed. Apparently he didn’t get paid enough to deal with this. At least he was getting paid, Minghao thought to himself.

“Two dollars.”

Minghao shoved his cash down on the counter, grabbed his candy bar, and didn’t wait for the receipt before darting out of the store. He shoved the Snickers bar in his jacket pocket and checked his phone: 1:52. He only had eight minutes to make it to the shelter; Minghao knew he was going to be late. He threw his hood over his head, and ducked back into the crowds of people. Hopefully Dokyeom didn’t chew him out this time.

Why would Dokyeom chew him out? Dokyeom was literally the least confrontational person ever, and, honestly, it seemed like he was just happy to get the extra help at the shelter. Who cared if Minghao showed up ten minutes late -- he was a volunteer anyways. At least, that’s how he rationalized showing up late to himself.

Yes, Xu Minghao, the leather jacket-clad street-certified bad boy volunteered in his free time. Where, you might ask? At the pet shelter of course. Street trash was his name and cats and dogs were his game. His sidekick?

“Hao-hao, you’re late!”

Don’t even ask.

“Not today, Dino,” he muttered, rolling his eyes. He knew he should have entered through the back -- the bell at the front was dead giveaway. Not that it would’ve mattered much anyways: Dino was going to annoy him eventually.

“Oh come on, Minghao,” Dino protested, shooting Minghao a fake-hurt look. “What if I told you I brought you ramen today?”

Minghao stopped. He thought about how hungry he was and how that Snickers bar wasn’t going to be enough. Dino liked to bring him food: at first, he used to refuse until Dino finally convinced him that it would be going to waste if Minghao didn’t eat it. He sighed, and Dino knew then that he had acquiesced, a big smile breaking across his face.

“Fine--”

“--Let me grab it, Hao-hao!” Dino interjected before Minghao could finish his long, exasperated concession. He shook his head while Dino abandoned the front counter, running back to his bag to grab what was now half of Minghao’s lunch. Snickers and instant ramen? He’d had sadder lunches, believe it or not. Or no lunch.

“Here you go,” Dino announced, putting the cup-ramen back on the counter.

“Thanks, kiddo,” he replied, ruffling Dino’s hair as he headed to the small employee “lounge” as they affectionately called it. “We can get started on our usual routine after I eat, okay?”

Dino nodded in response.

In reality, the “lounge” was no more than small round table with two chairs, a microwave, and a mini-fridge that no one but Dokyeom used. Minghao threw his ramen cup in the microwave and let it heat up for two minutes.

Their pet shelter certainly wasn’t one of the largest in the city, but it served its purpose. About two dozen dogs and cats called this shelter their temporary home. The obvious goal was that these cats and dogs would be adopted, or, more accurately, rescued, by a loving and caring owner. Of course, practically that didn’t always happen. Minghao formed connections with most of the adoptable cats and dogs, serving as their primary day-to-day caregiver aside from Dokyeom. Dokyeom was technically his boss as the only employee of the shelter who was actually paid; he was a mix between an administrator, who managed the day-to-day paperwork and things like that, and also a vet tech, who could perform basic check-ups for the days when the actual vet wasn’t in. Minghao was a senior volunteer, devoting lots of hours at the shelter. It was like his home. Volunteer was a bit of a misnomer too -- Dokyeom did pay him a little each month, just not nearly at minimum wage. It was an arrangement that Minghao was okay with, considering how much he worked here. Finally, Dino was the newest volunteer; Minghao and Dokyeom had just finished formally training him. They were quite the team: Dokyeom was quiet, supremely qualified, and a little mopey, Dino was bright, enthusiastic, and sunshine-y, and Minghao? Well, Minghao was Minghao. Jaded and a bit sarcastic around people, but soft and caring with the two-dozen pets under his care.

The microwave started obnoxiously beeping, signaling that his food was done. He carefully removed the ramen cup, fished out a plastic spork, and took his Snickers out from his jacket pocket. Bon appetit: gourmet meals by Minghao in two minutes.

Dino must have been distracted with something else because usually he bothered him 24/7 once he walked in the door.

“Hao-hao!”

-- he spoke too soon.

“How was your day? How was class?” Dino was standing in the doorway to the lounge, halfway between the employees-only area and the front desk.

“Boring,” Minghao replied. He fished out a spoonful of ramen, blowing on the noodles to cool them down.

“You always say that!”

Minghao shoved the ramen into his mouth and started talking while chewing: “Because class is always boring.”

“C’mon, Hao-hao. Something interesting must’ve happened,” Dino insisted, not missing a beat.

Minghao scooped out another spoonful of ramen. He thought about his encounter with Junhui earlier, made a face, and then decided to lie.

“Literally nothing interesting happened, Dino.”

“Nothing? Nothing at all?”

Minghao swallowed. “Well, now that I think about it…” he started, watching Dino’s eyes light up in anticipation, “I did run into this annoying kid at the shelter who wouldn’t leave me alone during lunch…”

Dino frowned. “Not funny, Hao-hao.”

Minghao just smirked in response, going for more ramen.

“You’re literally the most interesting person I know, how can nothing ever happen in your life?”

Minghao? Interesting? He scoffed in response. “You only see me on Tuesdays and Thursdays, when I have Prob and Conf. Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays are more interesting,” he explained.

“Okay, well what happened yesterday?”

“Got an A on my dance practical.”

“Really? That’s great! Good job, Hao-hao!” Dino held up his left hand for a high-five. Minghao was still in the middle of eating, but he decided to humor his friend, fist-bumping Dino’s open palm while slurping down his last spoonful of noodles. Dino just made an amused face in response.

“It’s not that impressive,” he elaborated, tossing his spork in the empty ramen cup. “They’re starting us off with real basic stuff, and I wish they’d just move onto harder things already. I get that this class is a pre-req or whatever, but come on.”

“I’m--”

Before Dino could start saying much, the bell at the front rang, meaning someone (Dino) had to take care of it.

“You got it?” Minghao half-asked, half-suggested, waving his Snickers bar at Dino.

“Yeah!”

Dino disappeared back to the front desk, leaving Minghao to eat his Snickers in peace. Still, he listened in, half-concerned that it might be something that Dino wasn’t comfortable handling on his own. He unwrapped the candy bar took a large bite, demolishing the first-third of the Snickers.

“How can I help you?” he heard Dino say from the front.

He took another bite. So far, so good. He could hear the customer respond, but he couldn’t make out the words. It sounded like a guy, though.

“I’m sorry, sir, we only work with cats and dogs.”

Minghao rolled his eyes. Did someone bring in their pet hamster again?

“You talked to Dokyeom about it this morning?”

He definitely did not, Minghao thought to himself. This was going to get out of hand; Dino was too nice, he wasn’t going to turn the visitor away like he was supposed to. Minghao left his candy bar on the table and headed to the front desk; he was so ready to turn this random dude and his hamster away.

“Dino, what’s going on?” he asked, standing next to his shorter friend at the front desk. He sized up the guy who Dino was dealing with. He couldn’t be much older than either him or Dokyeom, and he was holding an opaque pet carrier that was far too small for either a cat or a dog.

“Um, he says that Dokyeom agreed to see his chinchilla.”

He made a face -- oh, even better than a hamster.

“You’ve gotta be shitting me,” Minghao muttered.

“Look,” the other boy started, his voice a good octave below either Minghao or Dino’s, “I swear I talked to Dokyeom this morning, and he agreed to look at Buttercup.”

“Its name is Buttercup?”

“Her name is Buttercup,” the boy corrected.

“Look, buddy, we only work with cats and dogs here. I can give you the phone number and address for our vet runs an animal clinic downtow--”

“--Hansol?” Dokyeom interrupted from behind them. Minghao and Dino spun around at the same time; apparently Dino was equally shocked that Dokyeom agreed to see a chinchilla, of all things.

“You know this dude?” Minghao asked.

“Yeah, we spoke on the phone this morning,” Dokyeom explained, shifting his focus back to Hansol. “And I’m guessing this is Buttercup? Come on back.”

Hansol nervously smiled in response, and Minghao turned back toward Dokyeom. “Since when did we start seeing chinchillas, DK?”

“Right in here,” Dokyeom said, directing Hansol and Buttercup into the small examination room. Minghao’s de facto boss then turned his attention back to him: “Look, he couldn’t afford to go to the vet, and he sounded really worried.”

“Yeah, but you don’t even know how to spell chinchilla, not to mention medically examining one,” Minghao protested.

“C-H-I-N-C-H-I-L-A,” Dokyeom spelled, “and I’m taking a night class on rodent health this semester, Hao.” With that, Dokyeom turned around, heading to the examination room that Hansol and Buttercup were in.

“It’s two L’s, dumbass!” Minghao called out just as Dokyeom closed the door. Minghao shook his head and turned his attention to Dino: “I swear to god,” he complained.

Dino just smirked in response. “I’ll start tidying up the front while you finish your candy bar?”

“Oh, shit.” He ran back to the lounge, shoved the last third of the candy bar in his mouth, and threw out the candy wrapper, ramen cup, and spork before returning to the front. Dino had already moved onto tidying up the front area of the shelter, which doubled as a waiting room and play area. The couches were a little worn and had several tears on the cushions, but it was expected when you think about just how many meet-and-greets they facilitated in the front. Every time a visitor wanted to adopt a pet, they would have to sign in with the front and wait until either Minghao or Dino brought out the dog or cat they were interested in. They had cat toys in one bin and dog toys in another, and it was their job to supervise the adopter-adoptee interaction. Minghao explained it to Dino like this: it was as much about how the pet fit the adopter as the how the adopter fit the pet. Minghao and Dino were there to be the rescue’s advocate, to make sure that they wouldn’t just end up right back in the shelter because the adopter was a poor match. Minghao was perhaps the fiercest advocate. He hated having dogs and cats at the rescue longer than they needed to be there, but he thought it was even worse for a rescue to get a taste of rescued life just to return back to the gutter of shelter life -- or, even worse -- street life. It was heartbreaking. At least he and Dino could take care of them to the best of their ability.

By the time Minghao got back to the front, Dino had already picked up most of the toys and returned them to their respective baskets. Minghao picked up some of the worn-out pillows that were strewn about the floor… Dokyeom must’ve had a lot going on this morning.

“Cats first?”

Dino nodded in response, and they went to the back of the shelter together.

“I’ll do social first,” Minghao announced. Dino nodded again.

It was so much easier when they had two people to work the cat room: one was the “social,” or the person who handled the cats, and the other was the “cleaner,” or the person who replaced the litter and refilled the water and food. Minghao was going to be the social first, which was arguably the better job. It was essentially five minutes of cat handling -- times six, until they switched. Usually they went smoothly.

Usually.

Minghao removed the first cat, a black-and-white tuxedo, and cradled her in his arms. She was dying for attention, pawing at Minghao’s face. Dino chuckled, dumping out the old litter into a waste bag. He pulled out the bag of fresh litter, and he refilled the mini litter box. Dino then grabbed the gigantic 25-pound bag of food, starting to pour out kibble into the tuxedo’s food bowl. Just then, Minghao heard the bell in the front ring, and he looked at Dino. Without missing a beat, the younger boy shoved the heavy bag of food into Minghao’s free hand and disappeared to go take care of the visitor at the front desk. Minghao wasn’t weak, but Dino gave him the bag at a weird angle, and he was forced to let it fall to the ground. Kibble spilled out everywhere, all of the cats were meowing, the tuxedo squirmed her way out of his arms -- it was a total mess.

“Why didn’t you put it on the ground, Dino,” Minghao muttered, massaging his temples. “No-no-no, don’t go for the kibble on the floor.”

The tuxedo was going straight for the kibble, the rest of the cats meowing up a storm. Minghao groaned, quickly picking up the tuxedo and throwing her in her cage. “One moment,” he whispered.

Minghao started scooping kibble up off of the ground, crouched over with the waste bag at his side.

“What happened here?” Dino asked from behind him.

Minghao sighed again. “You happened.”

They made it to through the rest of the cats without incident (Dino was a little more timid with them, having been scratched one too many times), though Dino was reluctant to put away his last furry friend. She was the friendliest of the bunch and loved to nuzzle up her face into Dino’s while he was holding her. Honestly? It made Minghao so happy to have someone else around who loved cats and dogs as much as he did. He may have been all tattoos and piercings on the outside, but he was a big softie on the inside. Dino put his last friend back in her cage once Minghao was done cleaning and refilling the food and water.

“I have to go study tonight, Hao-hao,” Dino announced, checking his phone. “I have an exam in two days, and I’m not ready for it.”

“Yeah, sure, I’ll take care of the rest,” Minghao replied. “Good luck if I don’t see you before then?”

Dino smiled in response, his eyes forming into little crescents. Dino went back to the lounge to grab his belongings, but not before pushing Minghao’s buttons: “You’re cute when you care, Minghao.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Minghao waved him off dismissively, turning his attention to the dogs. Before he could even get to the first one, her tail wagging in anticipation, he heard the bell ring at the front. “Already?” he murmured to himself.

“One moment!” he hollered to the front. He brushed off all the cat hair on his jacket and pants before moving out front where he could help who he hoped would be the last visitor of the day.

“Hey, how can I help yo…” His voice started trailing off as soon as he realized who he was talking to. “Junhui?”

“Minghao?”

“What are you doing here?” he asked, moving behind the front desk. Was he actually here to adopt? Or did he find out where Minghao spent most of his free time? How much did Junhui know about him?

“W-what are you doing here?”

Junhui seemed genuinely confused to see Minghao here, so maybe he really was just here to adopt?

“I asked first,” Minghao retorted. He kept his facial expression steady while Junhui just stood near the front door, seemingly still in shock.

“I… I was dropping off… an application. I wanted to a-adopt.”

“Hmmph,” Minghao replied. “I can take it.”

“O-oh, yeah, just give me a sec,” the taller boy murmured, putting his messenger bag down on one of the coffee tables near the couches.

Why?

Why here? Why now? Why him, of all people?

Why did Junhui have to be so goddamn cute all the time!? The way he stammered out responses, the way he fumbled through his bag looking for his application, the way he always seemed so nervous around Minghao… it was too much. He just wanted to scoop Jun up into a hug and not let go -- sure, Junhui might have been taller (and older, too), but the way Junhui seemed to get so… timid? At least, he always seemed so unsure of himself around Minghao. Was that just how Junhui normally was? Or was Minghao special?

“Here you go,” Junhui said, interrupting Minghao’s train of thought. He was holding out his two-page application, and Minghao took it wordlessly. Looking through the app to make sure everything was filled out correctly, he couldn’t help but notice how… pretty Junhui’s handwriting was. It was free and elegant, just like how Junhui was when he walked through campus. Nothing like the Junhui right now, who stammered and stumbled through his words, sentences falling out in jumbles. Minghao set the paper down and looked up; Junhui looked away, like he had been watching him carefully before Minghao’s gaze met his. Maybe Junhui was just intimidated by him?

“Our administrator will look through this and call you once everything checks out. After that, you can come back and meet some potential rescues that we think match your application. Anything else?”

“You -- you never answered my question.”

“Hmm?”

“You work here?”

“Volunteer, actually,” he tersely corrected.

“Really?”

“Surprised?”

“Y-yeah, kinda.”

Minghao sighed. Yes, surprise-surprise, the boy with tattoos, piercings, and leather jackets who slept through class also doodles cats and works at a shelter five days a week. Even if Junhui thought he was cool when he was a bona fide bad boy, he surely just thought he was a total loser now that his façade was falling apart. Ha, you thought Xu Minghao rode a motorcycle to school and hadn’t cried in eight years? Joke’s on you, he plays with kittens every other day.

“Alright, well, if that’s it--”

“--Actually, I did have a question about my application…” Junhui interjected, this time looking directly at Minghao with his big brown eyes.

“Okay.”

“So, um, my apartment only allows me to have dogs that weigh under 30 pounds. Do you have any smaller dogs right now?”

Minghao ran through their current rescues in his head. He couldn’t help but start thinking about which of their current rescues would suit Junhui, which ones he would trust with someone like Junhui… which one would be happiest with Junhui.

“Yeah, I’d say we have at least three or four that are under 30 right now.”

Junhui just smiled in response. Minghao thought he was going to melt, but he couldn’t smile back. He knew Junhui was probably just being polite.

“Thank you for your help,” Junhui finally replied. “And I guess I’ll see you in class on Thursday?”

“Yeah, guess so.”

Junhui just smiled again, grabbed his messenger bag from the coffee table, and exited without another word, leaving Minghao alone with two-dozen rescues and a whole lot of feelings. The one thought he couldn’t shake?

That he wasn’t good enough for Junhui.

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