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scullydubois · 3 years

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Only the Light: Ch. 21

Hello, here is my ‘I didn’t plan for updates to take two weeks, but it always works out to two weeks’ post, right on time. Almost finished with this journey, thank you for sticking around <3

As Mulder helps care for his ill partner and her child, he enlists the Lone Gunmen to investigate the circumstances surrounding Scully's diagnosis. He and Melissa pay a visit to the three men, then Mulder gets an unwanted surprise back at apartment 42.

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As Scully’s world has shrunk, the amount of love in it has grown. This is small consolation for the hell she’s enduring, but it is the only antidote. She realizes this now that she’s staring down the abyss: all the knowledge in the world won’t save you, and wealth is nothing but a false comfort. What will live on are the parts of herself she’s left with others. Her goal for her remaining time, however long that may be, is to hold tight to those she loves...not to slip away until her heart stops beating.

This is hard when she already feels like less of herself. She’s doing chemo twice a week at Georgetown, and it’s brutal. She knew it would be...her only other choice is to get that gravestone of hers re-engraved.

Meanwhile, Mulder pushed all other work aside to get in contact with the Mufon women. It only took him one day to do so, but Scully doesn’t know that, and for now, she doesn’t need to know. He’s keeping what he’s learned so far to himself...Betsy Hagopian is dead and has been since shortly after Scully saw her. Penny Northern is sick and not responding to treatment. A handful of other women, abductees like Scully, have developed rare cancers too.

It’s not something he knows how to talk about, such despondency. His world has always hinged on hope. That’s what his work on the X-Files is to him, one big leap of faith toward his sister. Or was, before Scully came along. It’s not that she diverted him from Samantha...no, she turned a very personal quest into something larger than him. Or her, or any one person they worked with. She pared it down to its core value, its overarching mission: the truth. Because the truth may hurt at first, but given time, it heals. And it is the only path to healing. This is what he’s learned from her. And now, he’s got to do everything he can to pass the revitalized world she’s shown him onto her.

The arrangement falls into place without any friction: Missy handles the chemo run on Monday mornings, and Mulder leaves work early on Thursdays. Emily spends Mondays with her grandma, and Thursdays too when Missy works the night shift.

Thursdays become something of a spiritual day for Mulder. The hours of approximately 3-10pm are spent doting on his partner--in her apartment, and then his car, then the hospital and his car again, and finally, back to her apartment. Mama Scully brings Emily back around eight, and if Missy’s not home, Mulder gets the honor of the bedtime ritual. The domesticity of it all tethers him to reality, maybe for the first time in his life. He’d give anything to change the circumstances, but it’s humbling to feel--for once--that he belongs on Earth.

It is on one of these Thursday evenings that Mulder could swear he feels his whole life trailing behind him, leading him to the present. The end of the year is creeping up in its usual fashion, which means the outside world is a blanket of darkness before the stoves of countless suburban homes have even been started. Having settled her comfortably into bed with a pile of pillows, Mulder carries his partner a glass of water and pulls the wastebasket to her side; this is their routine now.

“You doing okay?” he asks, lingering as she takes a sip of water. It will soon be time to make himself scarce so she can sleep.

She nods, gurgles a garbled affirmation. Mulder turns to go, and her heart leaps to her throat. “Will you stay?” she spews, embarrassed by her need.

“Of course.” She’s unaware, apparently, that when he leaves it’s for her, not him. He approaches her bedside, lowers himself carefully beside her knees. “Any particular reason?” he murmurs, examining the sunken spaces beneath her eyes.

“I just...wanted to talk to you,” she says, and Mulder thinks there might be a bit more color in her cheeks than there was yesterday.

“Okay.” He leans in and sweeps a strand of hair off her forehead so lightly that Scully doesn’t even feel it. She’s apprehensive about being touched these days, and he has taken this knowledge to heart. She is grateful, and to show the extent of this feeling, she strokes his hand, allows him to take hers in his. He runs his thumb over each finger as they continue.

He wants to ask what she’s thinking about, what it is that has so graciously extended his stay in this room. But he knows that she’ll get to it, that she has nothing to keep from him now.

There’s a sincere serenity on her face that he’s never seen. And after a minute or two, she begins. “I didn’t think it could happen--and it certainly doesn’t make much sense-- but right now, I am happier than I have ever been.”

A string on Mulder’s heart, tightened to its prime, bursts without warning.

She caresses the back of his head. “It’s so trivial, Mulder. So much of what we call life isn’t living at all. Or at least not the important kind.”

He lifts his gaze, eye contact conveying more than he could with words.

“But I’ve thought about the parts of my life that are living, and all of them, in some way, come back to you.”

Mulder shakes his head, feeling too flattered. “That’s not true…”

“You can believe whatever you need to,” she whispers, “but it is the truth, and I am eternally grateful that you happened to me.”

He tries to cough away some tears, which works about a quarter as well as he hoped it would. “Hold on, little lady.” He pats her hand in response to her smile. “I think you happened to me.”

Scully’s chest flutters in laughter. “Did I?” These subtle things have always been so important to them.

“You walked into my office, remember.”

“Well, I guess it would depend on who changed the most due to the other’s influence then,” she reasons.

Mulder just gives her a look.

She smirks. “Okay, so maybe I happened to you, but you…” she chews her lip, and this could be any other day of any other year if she weren’t bedridden. She picks out her words-- “You completed me.”

Mulder spills forward, finding his footing and spinning into the middle of the room. “Holy fuck Scully, are you trying to kill me?”

“We’ve been searching for the truth. That’s the truth, Mulder. I wanted you to know.”

He sets his jaw. He won’t burst into tears in front of her, not when she has all the reason to cry and yet has been so strong.

“You should get some sleep,” he tells her, hoping to expedite his exit from the room.

“I will. And it’s okay to be sad, but not for me. My life is as whole as ever.”

He nods, though he doesn’t agree (what’s new?). He knew Samantha for eight years and has been sad for twenty. He’s known Scully for half that--so he gets at least a decade of mourning.

“Sweet dreams,” he says, resting his hands on the door frame. “I’ll bring Emily in when she gets here.”

“Okay.” She closes her eyes, smiles. “Love you.”

“Love you too, DKS.” He blows a kiss and slips out, heat flooding to his face. This is the first time she’s said that unprompted, and is that what the threat of imminent death does to you? Pries you open?

He wonders. Whose love is saving who?

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The primetime line-up is flickering over the television when Mama Scully arrives with Emily, passing her granddaughter to Mulder like the family heirloom she is. They exchange a few words in short breaths, reserving the air supply for their dear Dana. Mama Scully agrees to come see her daughter this weekend rather than interrupt her much-needed rest now, and Mulder is suddenly single parent-slash-babysitter; the specifics elude him.

Perfumed with baby powder from her grandmother’s overly enthusiastic hand, Mulder concludes that Em needs neither bathing nor changing. She doesn’t seem very keen on sleep either, seeing as how her little voice keeps calling out Moldy! and her little fists clobber his shoulders. Still, he will keep his promise. He carries her into the room she shares with her mother, stepping lightly lest the floorboards creak.

As he circles the bed to lay the child beside her sleeping mother, he winces at the mess in the trash can. Good thing he moved it into place though Scully had seemed okay. He hadn’t heard any retching, and it saddens him that he wasn’t there to hold her hair back. He settles Em into place, makes a mental note to rinse the can on his way out.

Her characteristically light sleep lightened further by her illness, Scully stirs from the shift of Emily’s weight against the mattress. She rolls toward the free side and flutters her eyelids open. Her smile is reflexive.

“Hello baby girl,” she purrs. She lays a hand against her daughter’s polka-dotted onesie. “Did you have a good day with Grandma?”

Emily answers with some fluttery babbling and gropes for her mother’s nose.

“I don’t think she’s very tired,” Mulder remarks, hands in his pockets. He smirks. “We should really find out what your mother feeds her.”

Scully pulls her lips into a grin, exhibiting a great deal more effort than she did just moments before. She blinks, rubs her eyes, and seems to go out of the world for a second. Then she sets her gaze on Mulder and speaks dreamily--”Will you tell us a bedtime story?”

“Oh!” Mulder scratches his chin, having expected his dismissal. “Do you think that would help…?”

Scully presses her head into the pillow. “I’m not gonna be able to fall back asleep until she does.”

That is a yes, served with some condescension.

“Okay, well, let me think.” He perches on the side of the bed. “Regrettably, I did not get my degree in bedtime stories.”

“Just say what you know,” Scully mumbles. “We’re the only ones listening, and the goal is to put us to sleep.”

“I hope that’s not a comment on my conversational skills,” he teases, smoothing the sheets.

Again, there’s a look of otherworldliness from his partner. She is somewhere else.

“Go on, tell us a story,” she hums, her surprising lack of impatience attributable to an equal lack of wakefulness.

“Let’s see…” He stretches out, perching on his elbow by Scully’s feet like she did in the first motel they ever stayed in. Emily sits herself up and grasps for him. He laughs, lets her latch onto his fingers.

“There once was a little girl who loved horses and bugging her brother,” he begins. “Now, I’m sure she sounds like just about any little girl out there, but I promise, she was as unique as they come.”

Scully closes her eyes and tilts her head back to listen.

“She always said she wanted to be a butterfly when she grew up so she could spread her wings and fly. And her parents would scoff and tell her that would never be possible, but she believed. She believed it would happen.”

Emily babbles along, adding her own colorful commentary.

“I know, I know right?” Mulder muses to the little girl. “The parents were such jerks.”

He tickles Em’s stomach, then remembers that he’s supposed to be helping her go to sleep. He kisses her temple and begins stroking her knee, hoping to achieve a hypnotic rhythm.

“And so one day, this little girl...well, this little girl got to go on an adventure. She left behind her house and her family, and she got to go up to the sky and see the stars, and it was everything she wished for.”

Scully opens her eyes slowly. Mulder’s focus is centered on Emily, who stares up at him with the awe of a museum-goer seeing the Starry Night. It is as if they are the only two in the room, and this gives Scully great comfort, for she can imagine them having a life after she is gone.

“The girl’s family was sad because they didn’t know where she went. The girl’s brother missed her the most, but it was okay because the girl was happy. She got to fly through the sky like a bird or a plane, and she achieved the dream that her parents thought would never come true.”

Em’s breathing begins to slow into sleep. And thank god, cause he’s running out of story to tell.

“Lay down, little girl.” He guides her onto her back so she can drift off without difficulty, then clears his throat softly.

“Some say that if you see a light in the night sky, that’s this little girl, floating among the stars, living her dream. And her brother, well, he’s pretty fond of that thought. He just wants her to be happy.”

Silence falls over the room like a throbbing sensation of unknown origin. Emily’s eyelids struggle between open and closed, and Mulder knows she will soon be out. Scully’s baby blues, meanwhile, peer at him with such unflinching intensity that he suspects she has fallen asleep like that. It is haunting, but it becomes much less so when she blinks and he realizes that she’s looking at him, that she heard the whole story.

“Is that what you wanted?” he whispers, half expecting her not to answer.

“It was beautiful, Mulder. Samantha lives on.”

He smiles from his eyes...oh, of course it was obvious, his little tribute to his sister. Scully said to work from what he knew, and this myth is something he’s used to keep himself going since his family realized that there would be no happy reunion with Sam. He’s happy to share his fantasy; such escapes are needed now.

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Melissa’s heart leaps when she opens the apartment door to an empty living room. The TV drones out its slapstick laugh track, contributing to the ominous atmosphere. She’d expect to see Mulder taking up a restless refuge on the couch, or maybe sneaking a late night snack to Em. Her sister should be fast asleep by now, her little world able to slacken its hold on her. Unless she is no longer afforded such luxury…

Missy rushes toward Dana’s bedroom, her purse still on her shoulder. In the doorway she slows as her eyes adjust to the lack of light. And thank goodness because three silhouettes catch her eye; a medium one buried under the covers, a large one strewn diagonally across the bed, and a small bump barely visible on the far side. A snore of unidentifiable origin is the only disturbance. Missy smiles to herself. All the missing persons are accounted for and well. She can continue with the blissfully bland routine of her night.

She washes her face and brews some chamomile before settling on the couch with the week’s issues of Mad Magazine and Vogue. Yes, she contains multitudes. She’s up to the Spy vs. Spy comic when Mulder strolls in, yawning.

“I guess my bedtime story was effective.”

“Mmm.” Missy scoots her mug over so he can prop his feet up. Dana hates feet on furniture, but she’s got a child in the house now, so she’ll have to let go of those judgments. “How is she?”

“Oh shit.” She’s jogged something in his memory. “I meant to grab the trash can on the way out.”

Missy knows what this means. “I’ll get it in a second.”

Mulder nods in silent gratitude, relaxes back into his spot. “She seemed livelier than usual when we got home.”

It hits him that he said home, not back. And well, it is Scully’s home. What about him? He sleeps on the couch and he doesn’t pay rent...that’s how he lived at Oxford, though he gets the feeling that it’s not as evergreen at thirty-three years old.

These days, he only goes to his place on Sunday nights to get (what he considers) a week’s worth of clothing--two work outfits (hey, he never really sees anyone but Scully anyway) and one casual outfit that doubles as pajamas. He bought a bunch of fish feeding tablets so all he has to do is drop a few in on Sunday and the fish are set for the week. As far as he can tell, at least. None of them have floated to the top of the tank yet.

“And Em is all good?” Missy confirms.

Mulder nods. “Your mom takes good care of her.”

“I think I know the answer to this, but do you want some tea?” Missy asks, flashing her mug.

“No, no, save it for yourself.”

“Alright.” She flips a page in her magazine. “Just let me know when you’re ready to kick me out. Since I’m kind of in your bed and all.”

“I should be telling you that,” Mulder counters. “You don’t mind me staying here, do you?”

“Not at all.” Missy lays the magazine on the table. “It’s important that you’re around.”

“Really?...For what?”

“For who,” Missy corrects. “Emily needs you to give her balance, and Dana...she just needs you. You’re the safety net under her tightrope.”

“Oh.” This metaphor grounds Mulder better than gravity ever has.

Missy seems to sense this and takes the opportunity to profit off his vulnerability. “So what’s gone on between you?” she asks, an eyebrow arched.

Mulder squints at her. “Huh?”

“I keep waiting for Dana to kick you out or get irritated about you being around all the time,” Missy says with honest simplicity. “But instead, she lets you take her to chemo and fall asleep in her bed…”

“Well, I think the former is more ideal than the alternative, which is that I watch her child,” Mulder replies. “And I fell asleep on the bed, not in it.”

“Okay.” Missy sips her tea, keeps her eyes on him.

It’s pointless for Mulder to try to keep secrets anymore. He wrings out his hands. “If you must know, when you dropped her off at my apartment after her appointment, we... came to a mutual understanding.”

“Ah.” Missy is not surprised by any of it. Of course it happened. Of course her sister hasn’t mentioned it.

“Why are you just asking about this now?”

“Cause I expected my suspicions to be proven wrong, and that hasn’t happened.”

Mulder nods, taps absentmindedly on his knee. “Actually, I have something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about.”

“Oh?” She’s intrigued. The enigmatic Fox Mulder, divulging on his own accord.

“Don’t get excited, it’s not good.”

Damn. Missy reels herself in. “About Dana?”

“About what happened to her or...what is happening to her. It’s about the Mufon women.”

Missy curls her legs beneath herself. “You reached them?”

He nods. “Well, Penny Northern’s hospice nurse picked up when I called. She’s got stage four tumors throughout her body that migrated from her nasopharynx.”

“Holy shit.”

“Yeah. Apparently most of the other abductees have cancer too. And Betsy Hagopian--the woman who Scully saw in the hospital last spring--is dead.”

Missy’s gaze drops to the floor. “So the invasive procedures that the abductors did are killing these women.”

“One doctor’s treating them all--he’s supposed to be a specialist--but it doesn’t look like he’s having much success.” Mulder pauses, his mouth partially open.

“What?” Missy presses.

“The Lone Gunmen and I have been looking into him, and we think that he might have been involved in the abductions.”

Missy barrels forward. “You think he did this to them on purpose and now he’s letting them die?”

Mulder nods solemnly.

“Well, we have to stop him. We can’t let any more patients go to him, especially Dana…”

“I know. I’m going down to see the Lone Gunmen tomorrow after work if you want to join me.”

Missy contemplates. “I have the lunch shift tomorrow, so I could. What would we tell Dana?”

“I’ll say that Skinner is keeping me late to go over some paperwork. You could say whatever, she’s not going to question you.”

“I hate to leave her alone for so long, but...yeah, we have to do this.” She leans back, takes another look at Mulder. “You might just save a lot of women, you know.”

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

Missy feels unseen eyes bore into her as she and Mulder approach the basement entrance of a helter-skelter building. She doesn’t recognize the part of town they’re in, and she doesn’t ask.

Mulder hits the button on a call box beside the door. Before he can speak, a voice leaps out at them.

“Howdy Mulderoony.” Mulder recognizes it as Frohike’s voice. “Glad to see you made it safely.”

A variety of locks and chains are undone, the door pulled open.

“Join our ménage a trois,” Frohike says, ushering them in.

“We can’t stay long,” Mulder tells them, squinting as he adjusts to the darkness of their realm. “You guys forget to pay the electric bill or something?”

“We’re conserving electricity,” Byers says, a shadow in the corner of the room. “It’s good for the environment.”

“I didn’t realize the environment was on your list of concerns.”

“It should be on everyone’s list of concerns,” Byers throws back matter-of-factly.

Mulder slides his hands into his pockets. “Touché.”

Ringo comes forward from the darkness, his hair as tressed and greasy as ever. “Well lookie here. Dana Scully in the flesh.”

Frohike inserts himself between them. “You can’t be serious, pool boy. That’s not her, I’d know her anywhere. It is, however, an equally lovely woman.” He takes Missy’s hand and kisses it. “My lady.”

Missy participates with amusement until Mulder brushes Frohike aside.

“Okay boys, lay off. This is Scully’s sister Melissa. And I believe she’s taken.”

Frohike bows. “A lucky man.”

“Woman,” Missy corrects.

“Oh. Excusez-moi."

Tucked in the darkness, Byers scoffs at the childish antics. “Come on, let’s cut to the chase. Lives are at stake.”

“I’m glad to see someone has a brain around here,” Mulder quips.

Ringo pats Mulder’s shoulder. “Not all of us got a full-ride to Oxford, but hey, I’d say we’ve done pretty well for ourselves.”

“Calm down, Ringo. You’d still be the smartest member of the Ramones.”

Like an unleashed dog, Ringo lunges forward, and Byers and Frohike pull him back. They are quite used to this.

“You can insult me, but never speak ill of the Ramones!” Ringo growls.

Mulder puts his hands up, smirks at the permission he’s been given. “Happily.”

Missy clears her throat, her amusement wearing thin. She’s like her sister in this way.

Mulder gets the memo. “Right. Can the trash talk, we’re here to catch a criminal.”

“If he is, in fact, a criminal,” Byers remarks.

Missy frowns. “Haven’t you proved that?”

“We’re connecting the dots, but we haven’t completed the picture yet,” Byers replies.

Mulder circles around to Byers’ monitor. “What have you got?”

“This doctor, Scanlon, isn’t just an oncologist,” Ringo begins, as if Mulder asked him. “His name is associated with the Lombard Research Facility.”

Mulder and Missy both give him a look. More, more!

“A high security medical research center in Allentown,” he clarifies.

“We’ve hacked into some of the security cameras,” Frohike tells them. “We’d have to get in to see for ourselves, but the activity is rather suspicious. The same men, in and out, at odd times. Whatever they’re storing in there, it’s significant.”

“Then let’s get in,” Mulder emphasizes. “You be the eyes and ears, I’ll be the legs.”

Ringo nods. “We’re working on it.”

“We need to observe their weekend patterns before we make any moves,” Byers insists. “We don’t set up our missions to fail.”

“Fine, but as soon as you’ve reached your confidence threshold--”

“We’ll call you,” Ringo promises.

“What are you expecting to find?” Missy asks, frenzied. “Will it help Dana?”

Frohike drums his fingers on the desk. “That’s the plan.”

Byers nods. “We can’t be sure exactly what we’ll find, but the connection is clear: Scanlon was involved with the abductions, and he’s exploiting these women for his own benefit.”

Melissa shivers involuntarily. “It’s amazing that you’ve figured this out.”

Ringo twirls a pencil through his hair. “We have a lot of free time on our hands.”

Mulder takes a shot at the mini-basketball hoop they have, misses. “And you’d better use it all to implicate Dr. Scanlon’s ass.”

Frohike does a two-finger salute. “Aye aye captain.”

Mulder thumbs toward the door. “Now we’ve gotta get out of here before the smell sticks to us. Scully will know exactly where we’ve been,” he smirks.

“Can’t argue with that.” Frohike shows them to the door. “Give the lady my regards.”

“Will do.” He turns back, exchanges a serious glance with each man. “Sort this out, boys.”

Just as quickly as they came, he and Melissa step out of the chambers and ascend back into the sun’s dominion. Entrusting those three with the well-being of a woman they love so much is far from ideal, and yet, they’re throwing all their faith into it.

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Mulder slides his key into the door of apartment 42 shortly after seven on Sunday evening. He hasn’t been in for a week, and yet a vivid scent of...smoke sticks about the place. And a wrinkled mess of a man to go with it.

The old man lifts his chin. “I’ve been expecting you.”

Mulder is no longer naïve enough to be taken aback by Cancer Man’s ambush. He shrugs and slides his coat off. “Well, you are in my apartment.”

“I’ve heard that your partner is very sick,” CSM says, his steps so clunky that Mulder wonders whether the downstairs tenants will complain.

“What grapevine did you get that from?...Or are you the one growing the grapes?”

“It saddened me to hear. Agent Scully is a valuable member of the Bureau.”

Mulder nods. “You here to pass on your condolences? Cause I’m pretty sure you could just send a card.”

“I’m here to propose a solution...The doctors say your partner’s sickness is incurable. This is not true.”

“Smarter than the doctors, are you?”

“In this case I am.”

A bitter laugh rises from Mulder. “So I’m supposed to believe that you were involved in sickening Scully, yet you want to save her?”

“We all have our regrets.”

“And I have no reason to trust you.”

“Upon learning about her child, I feel a deep need to intervene.”

“Mmm.” Mulder begins to pace. “And by learning about her child, do you mean when Scully’s ova were removed and fertilized without her knowledge? Because I have a hard time believing that you didn’t know a thing about Emily until Scully got custody.”

“Certainly I did not foresee Emily ending up in her mother’s custody.”

“What was the purpose then, of Emily? To terrorize a woman by taking away her bodily autonomy?”

CSM shrugs. “That’s not my area.”

Mulder scoffs. “Okay you old freak. Tell me how to save Scully’s life or get the hell out of here.”

The wrinkled man folds his hands. “She had a silicone implant removed from her neck. Put it back in.”

Mulder freezes. “Are you serious? That’s your miracle cure?”

CSM nods. “It is the only way to save her life. Removing the implant is what caused the cancer in the first place.”

Mulder steps forward, getting in the old man’s face like a middle-school bully. He’s ready to throw a punch--honestly, ready to kill the man--if need be. He could do it. Easily. He could.

“What does the implant do, Cancer Man?”

“Believe it or not, it is meant as a sort of inoculation. It offsets the negative effects of any tests performed during the...time away.”

“Uh-huh, and what do you get from it?”

“Who says I get anything from it?”

“How else would you know that she had it removed?”

“I am everywhere, Agent Mulder.”

Mulder loses his thinly-veiled calm, wraps his hand around the man’s saggy neck. “You fucking pervert, I’ll kill you! I’ve killed a man before just like this. Tell me the truth.”

“This is the truth,” CSM wheezes, not intimidated by his rapidly deteriorating air flow. His cold, hard eyes stare into Mulder’s. “You wouldn’t kill a man over nothing, would you?”

Mulder squeezes harder, his fingers gripping the man’s pulse. He watches the light drain from his victim’s eyes. All the old bastard does is smirk at him.

Angered by this more than anything, Mulder releases the man so suddenly that his bony body is thrown into the wall. He keeps his footing, stumbles forward.

“Get out,” Mulder growls. When he doesn’t respond, Mulder pokes his finger at the door. “Get out now!”

CSM dusts himself off and walks out, the pompous smirk never leaving his face. Mulder slams the door shut behind him.

There are certain truths he cannot escape. If Scully has made him believe in Heaven, CSM has made him believe in Hell.

#sincerely hope i did the lone gunmen justice lol #also i feel like this chapter is...a normal episode amount of angsty instead of the slow paper cut of the last chapter #the x-files #only the light fic #missy and scully fic #txf #txf fic #fox mulder #dana scully #melissa scully #mine #eww this looks weird w/the tumblr update!!#read it on ao3 lol

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smol-and-grumpy · 4 years

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Light My Fire - CH20 (FIN)

Pairing: CEO!Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: She always thought her boss was an ill-tempered man, but when he presents her with a proposition she can’t quite deny, she gets to know him better. It’s not bad, right? Because all she has to do is being fake married to him for six months, sounds do-able, right? Right.

Warnings: Angst but also teeth rotting fluff

WC: 4111

A/N: This is the end guys. I hope you had a blast reading it as much as I had fun writing.

Please share your thoughts with me, I’d love to hear your feedback.

Beta’d by @deanwanddamons <3

SERIES MATSTERLIST

BECOME A PATRON ~ BUY ME A COFFEE

Y/N wakes up to the sound of her alarm. It takes her way too long to realize where she is.

She opens her eyes and takes a look around. Her room kind of looks small compared to the room she called her own in Dean’s apartment.

Today is Monday, which means that she’s supposed to go to work and she kind of doesn't want to. She hasn’t heard from Dean. He didn’t text her, nor did he call. Maybe it’s over before it’s over. Maybe today, he’ll say that she can get out if she wants. He and Sam have the evidence and they can build up their case around it. There’s really no need for him to fake it with her anymore.

Yesterday she had to go out and buy clothes because all her stuff is still at Dean’s, and she didn’t want to go there. She spent the rest of the day in her bed, buried in her novels. It would have been relaxing if she hadn’t thought about Dean so much.

She’s so nervous about meeting him again that she has had an awful night’s sleep. She’s nervous, when it should be easy. He’s her boss. She’s his employee. It should have always stayed like that, she realized. She should have never let them talk her into crossing the line.

Her anxiety peaks as she takes the subway to the office. She feels nauseous. It doesn’t help knowing that her period is a little late too. She hopes that she’s not pregnant. She’s been taking her pills regularly. It shouldn’t be a problem and honestly, she doesn’t need to add it to her pile of worries.

Arriving in the office, she sees that Ruby’s already there but it’s awfully quiet. She sits down and starts her computer.

“Psssst,” Y/N hisses at Ruby who’s engrossed in a paper.

“Oh, hey! How was meeting with the parents?” Ruby grins.

“Sam didn’t tell you anything?” She frowns, wondering why Dean hasn’t updated Sam on what happened. On how she walked out of there and left him behind to hole herself up in her own apartment.

Ruby shrugs, “No?”

“Ruby, I’m late.” She says, because she wants to get that off her chest first.

Her friend raises her eyebrows and she sees that Ruby’s eyes travel to the clock, “I’d say your early, Dean’s not even in yet.”

“No, I’m late!” She hisses, her eyes widen as she tries to get Ruby to understand.

Ruby’s mouth forms an ‘O’, “Ooooh, shit.”

“Yeah,” She sighs.

“How many days?”

“Three.”

“That’s nothing, right? Maybe it’s the stress? You’re under a lot of pressure.”

Y/N knows that Ruby’s just trying to cheer her up, “Yeah, maybe.” She says and types in her password.

“Lets work, alright, we can think about it on our break. I can go get a test for you. Now, I want you to distract yourself with work or else you’ll go mad.”

“Yeah, okay,,” She tries to smile at her friend. The last thing she wants is for Ruby to be worried about her and Ruby’s not wrong. If she throws herself into work, it’ll definitely help distract her mind from all of the things that’s making it hard for her to breathe.

When her computer starts up her email box begins to fill itself. She sees that she has an unusually high amount of emails. Half of them are from Dean. Sent during their fake honeymoon. She wonders why, as they were practically together all the time?

She opens up the first email.

Saturday, [00:24AM]: I’m sorry that I’ve upset you.

Saturday, [01:12AM]: Do you think I’m crazy when I tell you that I can’t fall asleep without you next to me?

Saturday, [05:21AM]: You’re the cutest crankiest person I ever laid eyes on.

Saturday, [08:31AM]: You fell asleep right after take off. I’ve taken a picture of you. Sorry not sorry.

Saturday, [09:23AM]: You’re sleeping again. You really do need a lot of sleep, don’t you? Or maybe it’s because you’re too nervous of flying. I’m sorry I didn’t even ask if flying would be okay for you. I never took it into consideration that you might not like flying. The thought had never crossed my mind. I’m trying to help you through it, though.

Saturday, [11:42AM]: You’re cute when you’re all giddy about being here and I’m happy that you let me bring you here. Can’t wait until I can show you our room. I have a feeling that you’ll like it.

Saturday, [01:12PM]: You didn’t need to ask if you can take a dip in the sea but you still did. That’s what I like about you. You don’t take anything for granted.

Saturday, [02:57PM]: For god’s sake, you fell asleep on the lounger. You’re going to get sunburned!

Saturday, [04:32PM]: You’re still distracting me. But I kind of like it. Maybe I’m a closet masochist.

Saturday, [09:22PM]: You know what I absolutely love? I fucking love how you taste, how you want me to fuck you harder. How wet you are for me. I love how you look when you’re laying on the bed, spit slick and pink all over.

Saturday, [11:46PM]: Jesus, you’re laying there, pink pussy in full view. You have no idea what you’re doing to me.

Tears start to pool in her eyes but there’s more.

Sunday, [11:21AM]: It was nice waking up to you beside me. I can get used to it. Would love for it to happen every morning.

Sunday, [03:42PM]: You really love snorkeling, don’t you? Don’t even want to get out of that water. You’ll be sunburned if you’re not careful, baby.

Sunday, [08:23PM]: You fell asleep before room service arrived. I had to take a picture. I don’t think you know how much you affect me.

Monday, [03:12AM]: I woke up thinking you’re not here, but you are.

Monday, [09:34AM]: You locked yourself in the bathroom because I woke you up. Definitely the crankiest person ever. Wonder why you think that I’m the grumpy one here.

Monday, [02:22PM]: I’m working inside and you’re distracting me again. Stretching yourself half naked on the lounger. It’s not really fair.

Monday, [11:43PM]: Would you think I’m crazy when I tell you that I have fallen for you? Because I think I have. More so than I already had.

Yeah, those are definitely tears that streak down her face. She tries not to make it obvious to Ruby but she has her nose buried in the paper, so she should be good.

Tuesday, [11:43AM]: You woke me up with a smile. I’m the happiest when I get to be inside you. I urged you to send a picture to Ruby. But in reality, I want her and Sam to see it too. Little do you know that I already have many pictures of you in my phone. By the way, I love how you get wetter when I talk dirty to you.

Tuesday, [12:01PM]: I think I might love you.

Tuesday, [01:59PM]: Gearing up for my conference call but all I can think about is you in the pool.

Tuesday, [03:44PM]: I’m hearing your moans while you get massaged. This is torture.

Tuesday, [05:02PM]: I can’t stop myself from showering you with affection. I hope you don’t mind.

Tuesday, [07:23PM]: Waiting for you to come out of the bathroom. You take your sweet time but I don’t really care about it anyway. I’m sure you look stunning whatever you wear or put on your face. Prettiest thing if I ever did see one. I don’t know how I can make you understand that this is real. This is all me, and all of me wants all of you.

Wednesday, [02:11AM]: You looked absolutely stunning tonight. I’m sorry that she pulled your brother into this. That was never my intention. I was never going to hurt you or your family and I’m doing my best to help you protect him. And I try my best to protect you, too. You know, you managed to calm me down. I don’t know how you did that, but you did. I remember hearing your faint voice in my rage. And when I turned around, it’s only you that I saw. I told you that you’ll be able to go back to your old life soon. That’s true. I don’t want you to think that you can’t. I’d just prefer if you’d stay, but that’s not on me to decide.

Wednesday, [03:02AM]: Yeah, it’s definitely love.

Wednesday, [05:34AM]: I’m up because I’m partly nervous about meeting your brother.

Wednesday, [10:27AM]: You looked so peaceful in your sleep. I might have taken another picture. You asked if we can stay in bed a little longer and honestly, all I wanted in that moment was to cancel everyone and stay in bed with you.

Wednesday, [03:11PM]: On my way to go fishing with Jack. He’s a great guy. I like him a lot. He reminds me of you.

Wednesday, [07:18PM]: We’re back. We talked things through. He’s very protective of you. We both are. He knows how I feel for you. That’s all I want him to know. I want him to work at the company, he’s more than qualified.

Wednesday, [11:18PM]: Currently waiting for you to wash your face and come to bed. I love seeing you happy. It literally makes my day. Some might call it love. I think I do too.

Thursday, [02:24AM]: Can you tell why I’m always waking up in the middle of the night? Mostly it’s because I have to make sure that you’re still here. I meant it when I said that Jack could live with me. I hope that by that time you’ll still be living with me too. I’d love that, because I love you.

Thursday, [05:52AM]: I don’t know how I should feel about the new development. It means that what we have will be over soon, doesn’t it? What if I don’t want it to be over? Would you be game?

Thursday, [06:31AM]: I’ve made a decision. I want to keep you a little longer. Even if it’s only for two weeks. I know that I told you that you can go back into your old life. It’s because I’m a coward and can’t tell you the truth. If I had my way, I’d keep you forever but you make your own decisions.

Thursday, [10:34AM]: I lied about getting back and building a case. It’s only partly true. I want to take you to my parents, I want them to understand that there’s nothing fake about what we have. I want them to get off my case so I have one less thing to worry about. I’m sorry if that sounds selfish.

She has to pause to blow her nose. Ruby still doesn’t notice that she’s sobbing, because she’s on the phone now.

Friday, [04:21AM]: You’re still here. Thank god.

Friday, [04:21AM]: I love you.

Friday, [02:11PM]: I watch you splash around with Jack and Ruby. I can get used to seeing your genuine smile more often. I want you to be happy. You deserve everything good in your life.

Friday, [06:44PM]: You’re getting ready in the bathroom. I’m sad we’re going home tomorrow. I want you. I want you so fucking bad.

Saturday, [03:03AM]: We’ve made love but I’m up and I want more. I want to stay inside of you. I want to show you how much I love you.

Saturday, [07:10AM]: The alarm has already gone off twice. I couldn’t bring myself to wake you up. I don’t even care if we’ll be late. It’s good like this. Waking up with you in my arms.

Saturday, [10:32AM]: You’re talking with Jack. I like that. I like to see you happy. Like to see him happy. It literally makes me happy seeing how you two treat each other. Jack knows that I only want the best for you. I hope he doesn’t tell you what we talked about, though. Because we would both have to kill you if one of us does.

Sunday, [02:01AM]: That backfired, didn’t it? You left and I didn’t hold you back. Not because I don’t want to. It’s because I don’t want you to think that I haven’t given you any options. I don’t want you to think that you’re not allowed to walk away, even when we have a contract. I want you to know that you can get out any time you want. I don’t care about the Amara case anymore. All I care about is for you to be happy.

Sunday, [04:33AM]: I can’t sleep. You’re not here.

Sunday, [10:28AM]: I don’t want you to think that me not calling you is because I don’t care. I do. But I want to give you the space you need, even if it kills me.

Sunday, [08:47PM]: It’s weird around here without you.

Monday, [03:49AM]: I’m still awake because I don’t know if I should go into work. You probably don’t want to see me, so I’m taking the day off. Don’t worry about me. I’ll see you on Tuesday.

Monday, [03:51AM]: If you see your emails when you get to work, you’ll probably think that I’m crazy. It’s just… I’m not really good at expressing my feelings, and it’s especially hard when it comes to you. I get tongue tied and my heart does somersaults. I know that it’s unlike my work persona but that’s just how I am. That’s why I’m sending you emails, hoping that I can get you to understand how much you actually mean to me.

Monday, [04:00AM]: I wish you were here.

Monday, [04:01AM]: I love you.

Y/N’s full on wailing and even Ruby notices it now, how can she not?

“Babe, are you okay?” Her friend stands up and walks over to her, sees her screen with all the opened emails and reads some of them, “Oh my god, the boss is such a fucking sap!” They both have to chuckle.

Y/N fishes her phone out of her purse and thumbs over a number, “Tell me what he told you, Jack. I need to know!”

Her brother sighs on the other side, “Fine, but don’t tell him I told you!”

“I won’t,”

“He made sure that I understood his feelings for you. That it was never a fake marriage to him. He was just too nervous to ask you out and when that thing with Amara happened, he saw it as an opportunity to do the right thing. He’s thinking about marrying you for real if you want that in your future. But I told him that he had to get my blessings first — which I gave him by the end of the finishing trip.”

“Jack!”

“I’m sorry. He’s good, Y/N. You know how I’m always overprotective and I was with Dean, too. But his intentions are good. He told me how you met. He knows every little detail. He could even tell me what you wore that day. Dean knows more about you than you think he does. Hell, he knows more about you than I do!”

“Well, then he’s a stalker.” She scoffs.

“Y/N, you wouldn’t know what’s good if it hit you in your face.”

“Did you talk to Ruby?”

Jack laughs, “I don’t have to talk to Ruby to know that about you.”

“Okay, thanks, Jack.”

“Anytime, sis. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

She hangs up and stands up from her chair to look at her friend, “Ruby?”

“Yeah, I can manage here. Go get him!”

Dean’s on the terrace, his hands on the railing. He’s already dressed in trousers and a button up shirt even though he has taken the day off. Old habits apparently die hard.

She slides the door open quietly.

“I was wondering if you’d show up,” He says and he turns around, rests his lower back against the railing. He’s not smiling.

Y/N walks closer, takes off her suit jacket and leaves it on the ground, feeling hot from running here. She already took off her shoes by the door. She’s sure that she’ll have blisters tomorrow.

His eyes are on her as he watches her clutching the railing next to him. She’s looking out when he’s looking towards his penthouse.

“How could I not?” She says after a long while and she hears him exhale.

“You’ve seen the emails.”

She nods, “I have,”

Dean turns around and moves behind her, places his hands on either side of hers and presses his body closer, caging her in. She feels him lowering his face, feels his lips on her throat. He kisses her and leaves them there. Her heart’s almost exploding.

“I don’t know how much you’ve heard before you left,” He’s talking about the dinner at his parents' place, she knows, “If you’d have stayed and listened longer, you would have heard me telling them that even though it’s fake, it feels fucking real to me. You would have heard me telling them that I wanted to ask you out properly and they would have to accept that I want you. That we were going to get an annulment and maybe one day I’ll get to pop the real question,”

“Would you want that?”

He chuckles, “More than you know. I’d love for you to come back and spend the next two weeks here until this is all over. And after that, I’d love for you to stay. But also I’m not holding you back. If you want out, I’m gonna tell Sam to release you out of the contract.”

She turns in his grip and wraps her arms around his waist, places her cheek on his chest. Dean’s heart is beating as fast as hers.

After a while, she looks up at him, stands on her tip toes and kisses his cheek.

“I hope that means that you’re coming back,” He smirks at her.

“You want me to come back.”

“I’m lonely when you’re not here. I want you to move in, for good, if you want. Come on, tell me what it takes for me to get you to come back.”

She thinks about it. It would be too soon to move in with him and right into his room, no? She raises her eyebrows, “I still want my own room.”

“It’s yours. You can have all the rooms you want.Maybe you want a room for your novels?” He’s laughing and she punches his chest.

Y/N gnaws on her bottom lip, “I want to take Fridays off occasionally because I want to see Jack more often,”

He purses his lips into a thin line and grins, “Granted,”

She looks at him, squints her eyes.

Dean chuckles, “Come on, what else? We’re negotiating. I like that,”

“Okay, when I say I want my space, you gotta give me that,”

“Of course,”

“No making fun of my books.” She’s pouting.

“I would never. At least not anymore.”

She looks at him to see him holding in a laugh.

“I don’t want you to treat me different to the other employees,”

Dean frowns, “You contradict yourself, because you basically just asked me for Fridays off.”

“That’s different,” She grins and he throws his head back to laugh, and she adds, “I don’t want you to wait for me every morning, because I don’t want to start as early as you do.”

“That, I can do. Try to be quiet so as not to wake up cranky — got it.” He winks, which earns him another punch to the chest.

“I might be pregnant,” She drops it like it’s fucking hot and Dean’s smile disappears. She goes on before he can utter a word, “And I know that you don’t want kids so I don’t even know what to think of it.”

Dean’s brow meets in the middle of his forehead, “Who said that I don’t want kids?”

“You? When you were telling it to Chuck and Naomi to excuse my outburst.”

He breathes out a weak smile, “That was just that, an excuse,” He kisses her forehead, “I would take full responsibility if you are. Maybe I’m hoping that you really are? Would it be bad?”

“Well, yeah? I’m not ready yet.” She gestures wildly with her hands.

Dean pecks her lips, smiling before he digs around in his pants, goes down to his knees and she’s full on frowning.

“Do you wanna marry me, for real?”

“No, Dean,” She says but she smiles, “I don’t want that. At least not yet.”

If Dean’s surprised by her saying no to him, he doesn’t let on. He stands up, takes her hand and slips the rings back onto her finger anyway because they’re still pretending for the next two weeks. His arms come around her and she hugs him in return, pressing the side of her face against his chest, listens to the staccato beat of his heart, “I won’t stop asking, though. You know I can be persistent.”

Oh yeah, she knows that. She buries her face into his shirt, breathes in his scent and mumbles, “Why do you want to marry me for real?” She has to ask. She’s too curious now.

“Because,” Dean holds her a little tighter, kisses the crown of her head, “You deserve good things and I wanna be one of them.”

She chuckles, “Jack told me what you talked about.”

“And he didn’t kill you?” Dean squints his eyes at her. He looks comical, it makes her smile, and then he adds, “That’s not what we agreed on, dammit, Jack!”

Dean’s laughing and she punches his chest, “Is it true that you know every detail of how we met?”

“Yeah,” He moves to kiss her forehead when she looks up, “When I told the reporters on our first social outing that I fell for you the moment you bumped into me, and I told you later that I fell for you when you smiled at me? That’s all true. It took me a week to go into that damn coffee shop, always backed out before I got to the door so many times. And then, when I finally found the courage and stepped in, you greeted me with a smile. However, the smile disappeared when you saw that it was me.”

She grins at the memories, “I was scared that you want me to pay for your ruined suit. I don’t have that kind of money,”

He chuckles, “That’s okay. I was going to ask you out then, but I chickened out. So instead, I offered you a job, thinking that if I’m too nervous to ask you out, maybe I can have you close and see you every day. Your smile is addictive. I thought that I was going to work on my courage in asking you out. Or maybe I thought that seeing you every day might put me off, maybe I thought that I’d see a side of you I don’t like, but that never happened. I liked every fucking thing about you. It had been a year and I still hadn’t asked you out.”

Dean lowers his forehead to her shoulders and her hand goes up to stroke his head.

“You’re so good with words, how come you couldn’t?”

“Because,” He looks up again, kisses her, “I had such a huge crush on you, and every time I was around you, I was angry at myself for not being able to ask you out.”

“‘S that's why you were so grumpy all the time?”

He lets out a huff of air, “Yeah,”

“You’re the worst,” She smiles.

“I know,” Dean says, “But I’m much more confident now,” He kisses her again. His lips feel familiar on her own, “What do you say. Reckon you can skip work for the day? I’m taking you on a date, I heard you like aquariums?”

Y/N really does. How does he even know?

Frowning, she looks at him, “I don’t know, my boss can be a dick sometimes. He probably won't give me the day off.”

Dean grins, licks his lips before they curve into a big and wide smile, he kisses her forehead, her nose, her lips, “Baby, I’d give you the world.”

FIN

EPILOGUE

#light my fire #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fan fic #dean winchester fan fiction #ceo!dean winchester #nathalie writes

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tiarasnteakettles · 3 years

Text

Some updates.

It’s Sunday, so it’s always a last minute scramble to get packages put together, weighed, and postage printed for hopefully a Monday post office trip. Danish Ruby and Cambridge Loveknot tiaras are STILL NOT HERE and I’m waiting 5 more business days before filing a dispute. Obviously this past #tiarapocalypse is taking longer than ever - between holiday delays in addition to COVID related delays, it’s safe to say a lot of folks aren’t happy with me. This isn’t even beginning to touch on what is happening to me personally in addition to that. I’m kinda hoping what I’m going through right now can be a teachable moment for someone else, however, so I’m just gonna get to it.

My partner, the one who preps my art files and sends them off to have stickers and cards made, as well as take me to the post office whenever I have packages to send - well, he’s been gone since the week after Halloween 2020. Each week, we think he’ll be home the following week, then something happens to prevent that. Then the next week. Then the next. His father has dementia and needs round the clock care - and his mom, through some poor life choices, isn’t in any condition to do so. This is where it starts to get teachable. See, they’re in their 70′s, well past retirement age, and should have plenty of benefits to help get the care they need. This family is VERY well off. Why is their only son nearly being fired from his job for this extended absence to care for them? Where is the money for home healthcare, transportation, etc. if they are, essentially, rich? Well, turns out all those years of cruises, gambling, expensive restaurants every night, and more - have taken their toll. They did not set anything aside for when the inevitable happens and they become too old to care for themselves. No insurance, no plans, no money. Nothing. And if you’re an american like me, you know damn well the government systems leave much to be desired. In their case, they’ve managed to get 12 hours of a nurse to come help out per week. 12 hours a week to help them bathe, use the restroom, prepare meals, pick up prescriptions, run errands like getting groceries, etc. It’s not nearly enough.

And so each month goes by, my partner still can’t come home because there’s nothing in place to help his parents if he leaves. And of course we’re angry. But we’re past the point of anger, being angry doesn’t do anything. They spent all their money. They didn’t care about themselves, or their son, enough to save a single penny for this part of their lives and chose instead to blow it all on wining and dining and travel. How the money disappeared is of no importance at this point. What matters is the now, and the now is that he is trapped there. No one is expecting him to abandon his parents. I wouldn’t either if I was in his place. And so, while I’m about 11 years younger than him, I still wanted to ask my mom a pretty uncomfortable question: “What happens when you and my stepfather are too old to take care of yourselves? Do y’all have insurance plans or anything for when that happens? Anything set aside to cover things like nurses or transportation or doctors?”

She said, “Nope! Whatever happens, happens.”

She made it pretty clear that I’m expected to leave whatever life I’ve built for myself by that point and come home to care for them - “because your sister won’t,” So I guess the moral here is if you’re in your 20′s, 30′s, 40′s. If you haven’t had this kind of talk with your family - maybe you ought to soon. Don’t get completely blindsided like we have. I am intellectually disabled and chronically ill. I need help managing daily tasks. I don’t have a drivers’ license because I can’t drive, and I’m immunocompromised so I can’t really leave this house during a pandemic. It’s hard to take care of myself, let alone keep up with Patreon and the shop (the only thing paying my bills).

The delays from the holidays and now covid are one thing, but having to manage all of this all by myself is also difficult. I’ve been at it 4 months now. I can’t even use the washer to launder my clothes, there’s some sort of leak and he’s not here to look at it and I can’t afford to pay someone to come out and look at it. People drop off groceries at my door to make sure I eat. When my best friend has a spare moment during the onslaught of classes, every other week or so, he’ll pick up a bunch of my packages and take them to the post office. That’s part of what’s taking so long. I may print the label and pack the order, but it could be sitting in the outgoing bin for weeks before being taken to post. That’s not his job, I’m not about to remind him or beg to come more often. He has his own life and taking care of me isn’t his obligation. So yeah, things are slow. No, I don’t know when things will be better. And for the love of god, talk to your parents about their future plans if they have any so you can be prepared.

#personal #i'm so sorry

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astyle-alex · 3 years

Photo

[FANFIC - Destiel & JayTim]

Multiverse Mishap | DCU Bat Family x Supernatural

Fandom: DCU Bat Family x Supernatrual Pairings: Destiel, Jay x Tim Rating: Teen Warnings: Swearing, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Heavy Angst (with a happy ending), Implied Underage Prostitution Total Word Count: ~156k | SPN vers = 76k / Bat vers = 80k

Summary:

One slip up in the lab has Tim Drake careening into a new world where things are rather dramatically different from the world he’s used to. Fortunately, this is not his first rodeo. He knows how to handle this nonsense, more or less at least. Unfortunately, the people of the world he’s wound up in see things a little differently. And when Dick Grayson and Jason Todd mount an ill-conceived rescue mission, things get complicated very quickly.

When Team Free Will is at their lowest (well, their lowest as of YET, at least) with Castiel missing (and probably human), they get thrown a lifeline. Charlie calls with a lead on a strange young-man who bears a stunning resemblance to their MIA angel. Even with the world on a precipice around them, Sam and Dean won’t leave their angel out to dry—Dean especially has a few missteps he’d like to make up for… If only he could find some way to get through to one hella conked out Angel of the Lord.

This project started as a distraction and got WAY out of hand, but I’m actually really excited about it. I’ll be posting it as two separate stories on Ao3 (one form the Bat Family PoV and one from the SPN family PoV, both of which will be updating HERE...) with new chapters going up weekly, but only one chapter from each version.

As excited as I am about it, my schedule is currently in shambles because I got an opportunity to get the COVID Vaccine and it’s thrown my whole schedule into utter chaos. I’m hopeful that I’ll get back on track soon, but I can’t guarantee when I’ll be able to post here or on Ao3.

Since I can schedule posts on Patreon, that updating schedule will be much more definitively regular. The second chapters of each version are already available to Patrons and should open up to all viewers by Monday!

- Multiverse Mishap | SPN Vers - Chapter 2

- Multiverse Mishap | SPN Vers - Chapter 3

- Multiverse Mishap | Bat Vers - Chapter 2

Read the first chapter of the SPN version below (with Charlie playing a super spy and getting Sam & Dean a lead on a maybe-Castiel / maybe-alien-infiltrator) and I hope you all have a fabulous Easter Weekend (whether or not you celebrate religiously, you gotta admit the season-exclusive candy is pretty dang great!)! ^_~

A bit of fiddling, that’s all it was.

Well, that’s all it was supposed to be.

A device that plays with space-time and the very weave of whatever it was that spanned the gap between dimensions?

How could anyone just let something like that gather dust in an archive?

It functioned how it was meant to, it was only that what it was meant to do was cause harm… If they just tweaked it a bit, just a little, gave it an anchor point and limited the scale of possibilities… If they yanked down the juice that kept it powered to a more moderated level…

It could save lives.

So… fiddling.

Just a bit, here and there and on weekends when there wasn’t anything big going on.

The stupid thing wasn’t even turned on most of the time.

It was inert and dead as fricken paperweight (which honestly is what the fiddler in question had mostly been using it for)…

And then… it wasn’t.

One button, a loose screw, the slip of a paperclip…

A big flash of blinding light.

Silence, like the absolute nothing right before the tidal wave hits.

And in that silence, a tiny, over-caffeinated little voice:

“… Oops…”

_ _ _

Chapter 1 – MIA Angel or Alien Infiltrator?

Charlie Bradbury knows she’s awesome.

But there’s the standard awesome that any Queen of Moondoor is simply by nature of being epic enough to have achieved the throne to start with...

And then there’s the awesome that is having created a automated dark web trawling program to track the world’s Big Weirds (and only the very BIGGEST of the Big Weirds) and having that super secret extra level deep vault program actually work.

Well, of course it worked, but it like worked.

It found an Angel.

Sorta.

It found a something.

And an MIA angel, who was not exactly an angel anymore, but also couldn’t really pass as truly human, and who was still on like every watchlist ever (magical, criminal, meme-spirational, etc), but is somehow still entirely off the fricken radar?

Yeah. BIG Weird.

Said angel-not-angel popping up at a Biggerson’s in Ohio with no shoes, more money than god, an insane caffeine tolerance and absolutely no idea how to function inside a Walmart?

HELLA Big Weird.

So Charlie, being the awesome Queen that she is (and being acutely aware of what false hope here could do to the people in particular question with this) went to check it out herself.

Personally.

And, personally, she can say that this kid is the weirdest thing she’s ever seen, and after having day-tripped out to the literal Land of Oz a few times over… well, that’s sayin’ something.

Charlie’s met Castiel.

Not exactly her type, but she could see how that divine slice of puppy in a trench coat could be seen as something of a serious snack.

Though… If he weren’t an angel, she’d swear he was an alien.

But, like, a cool alien.

Much less spy-trained infiltrator than innocent human-admirer who wants to experience the local flavor on his little vacation out to the Milky Way’s most interesting backwater, Sol-3.

And the kid she finds in Ohio… is not that guy.

Not really.

For starters, she’s not entirely sure he’s old enough to drink alcohol.

And he’s… not looking for Sam and Dean ( which is seriously a BIG red flag for deciding whether this particular angel-not-angel is the right angel-not-angel).

He is looking for something, though.

Something he seems to think is in Kansas, near-ish enough to the Bunker’s coordinates to make her question the ‘not looking for Sam and Dean thing’ (but the absolute dinosaur of a smartphone he’s working on to pull up maps could totally just call the bunker, if he wanted to… or any of the plethora of emergency numbers the Boys have set up…).

Charlie’s looking on from a Very Inconspicuous post in the booth two tables away from the kid in the red hoodie and she can feel his frustration with the device radiating off him like physical Force pulses. Fortunately, proto-Sith this kid is not, and all the tables remain table-y.

She’s watching him fight with the internet to find something and his device’s crappy security means she didn’t even have to work hard to get her own screen to show what’s happening on his. He’s definitely looking at Kansas, at going to Kansas— Lebanon in particular.

Messy black hair, big blue eyes, grumpy face to rival any Netscape feline…

Looking for Lebanon and totally out of sync with humanity…

And… his oversized red hoodie just happens to have the 2-D rendering of a big black pair of wings stitched into its backside— stemming right from where they should on the kid’s shoulder blades if the wings were real.

Charlie’s not really gullible enough to believe in signs from God anymore…

But if she were… well, that would be pretty convincingly Divine Sign-like.

So, she makes the call.

Sam picks up on the third ring.

“So, you know how like the main character always has dramatically weird colored hair and sits in the second to last desk by the window?”

With a heavy sigh filled with enough affection to make Charlie’s insides feel all squiggly and warm, Sam says, “No, Charlie, I have absolutely no idea.”

“Well, they do.”

“Okay. And?”

“They are Narrative Significant, they stick out from the background in like a big way, but not just in like a ‘doing main character things’ kinda way,” Charlie rambles, trying to find her point buried under the spiraling metaphor.

“Charlie, do you know what time it is?”

“Uh, 2, maybe, 3am. I think. But that may have been like three coffees ago,” Charlie prattles off automatically before veering back on track, “Anyway. The point is that I think I found a main character. He’s not the character I thought he should be, though. He doesn’t look right. He’s too young. And no trench coat. But he is hella out of sync… and the blue eyes and black hair and everything else…”

There’s a pause as Sam’s non-caffeinated brain tries to keep up with Charlie’s infodump.

“Trench coat?”

“I think I found him, Sam,” Charlie whispers. “I think I found Castiel. Well, I found someone weird enough to maybe be Castiel, in the Castiel kind of way, and he’s looking for a way to get to Lebanon, so…”

Much more alert, Sam asks, “Where are you?”

“Ohio. Quaint little place called Granville,” Charlie reports. “It’s a pretty straight shot to the Bunker, but it’s like 14 hours on the road and I’m not sure the gods of caffeine consumption will really be cool with me pushing their bounty that hard…”

“Don’t try too hard to get him to go anywhere with you, see if you can just offer to pay for a motel room for the night,” Sam instructs, the sounds of a pack being prepped with one hand clanging about in the background. “We’ll be in Granville before noon.”

“What if he really wants to head out?”

“Take it slow and text us when you get gas, we’ll meet you in Indianapolis.”

He’s using ‘Serious Sam’ voice.

It’s the voice that makes panicking bunny rabbits being chased by wendigos settle down for half a second so Dean can frickin torch those ghost-y cannibal creepers.

Only, in this case, the wendigos aren’t cannibal forest ghosts chomping down on campers. This time, the Big Bad that Dean is unequivocally about to destroy is approximately 909 miles of US Highway 36.

It makes Charlie feel a little bit better about nearly everything that’s wrong.

She hangs up with Sam after promising to keep the updates coming, and looks back at the kid who could be Castiel.

Only to find him looking back.

For a minute, she’s worried that he heard her talking to Sam about him.

But he seems kinda zonked.

And he doesn’t look upset or embarrassed or angry, so…

She is the only other person on this side of the Biggerson’s, (and really she’s the only non-staff member in this Biggerson’s all told besides the kid himself), so it’s really not that strange for her to be the dust mote in motion that’s wound up drawing the kid’s eye.

He’s not really expressing anything.

He’s just looking.

It’s weird.

Whelp, he’s got that creepy unblinking stare down pat, bird-like head-tip and all.

The kind of stare that’s not angry or judgmental but feels more clinical than anything else, like he’s seeing through the bones and skin and sinew to the soul that’s underneath.

Dissecting it and diagnosing it…

It makes her shiver.

But she plasters on a smile and says, “Hey. You wanna refill?”

The kid looks down at his empty coffee cup.

He blinks, real slow like.

Then he nods.

Relief floods Charlie.

Step One, making with the contact with the Target. Check.

In her experience that’s usually been the hardest part of these things.

Not that she really has much experience in ‘these things’…

But still, Score 1 for the Queen, yeah?

She signals to a waitress for two more cups of coffee, shots of espresso boosting both of them. It’s like a weird AU of a sleezy bar beat, a remixed mark meets con-woman kinda thing.

“So, kid, what’s your name?”

“Shouldn’t you tell me yours first?”

Charlie shrugs. “Well, generally yeah, that is the convention. But I like being unconventional, I guess.”

Really, it’s that she hasn’t quite decided what name to give him.

He blinks expectantly, head tipping over again.

Realizing that she’s already giving up ground in this pseudo-battle of wills and whatnot, Charlie sighs heavily and says, “I’m Charlie, Charlie Bradbury. Geek extraordinaire.”

The kid nods, visibly internalizing the information.

Trying really hard not to be perturbed by that, Charlie barrels on to say, “I see that tablet of yours is gone a bit wonky. You looking for something in Kansas? I might be able to fix your tech or find what you’re looking for with mine.”

“My tablet…” With big owl eyes, the kid glances down at the piece of crap barely smart enough to call a screen and gives a plaintive little huff. “It is… insufficient.”

Charlie gives a laugh that only sounds two-thirds forced and says, “Understatement, buddy. You’re grand at it.”

The kid simply frowns.

“So,” she says, drum-rolling her fingers on the plastic tabletop as she leans into the leading questions. “Tell me what’s your name and what you’re looking for in Kansas and we’ll see if I can work my magic, huh?”

The kid’s eyes narrow suspiciously on the word ‘magic’, but he gives no other reaction.

For a solid minute, easy, they just kinda sit there.

And then the kid downs a full cup of espresso-boosted coffee like it’s a bottle of watered down Gatorade and flashes Charlie the stiffest stretch of smile she’s ever seen on any face that still looks mostly-human.

“My name’s Alvin,” he tells her with all the bland panache of a used car salesman. “Alvin Draper. And honestly? I’m looking for a hole in the universe.”

Charlie almost bursts out laughing.

The kid— Alvin— spots the reaction. He glowers, quite impressively, to be honest.

“Well, Alvin, that’s the fakest fake-name I’ve ever heard, but I think I can help with the ‘hole in the universe’ thing,” she tells him.

Alvin’s frowning again, it’s adorable and endearing in ways it really shouldn’t be.

“One problem, though,” she lays out. “You’re gonna have to be a little more specific about which hole in the universe or tear in the fabric of reality your talking about.”

Taken entirely aback, Alvin huffs, “Is it a commonplace occurrence to have your universe ripped open, then?”

“Well, not exactly. It’s more like our universe is the knit-scarf version of a life-raft,” Charlie explains, wheezing a bit as the metaphor sinks perfectly into a crack she didn’t quite realize she still needed to find a way to fill. “Things here aren’t… Well, uh, how many apocalypses have you fended off this week?”

“You’re really just gonna roll with the implicit declaration that I’m from another universe and you’re not going to question my sanity?”

Alvin looks like he’s suddenly questioning her sanity.

For a beat, Charlie feels insulted.

But really, his reaction is the more logical one.

Maybe Charlie should start trying to talk to more normies here soon, she’s totally lost touch with what constitutes a ‘reasonable reaction to weird shit’.

“Whelp, I’m not a Time Lord or anything,” she confesses, “but I’ve had enough contact with the Supernatural to know how to spot someone who’s brushed up against something ugly in the dark and is kinda freaking out about it. You fit the bill, Alvin.”

The kid rolls his eyes.

It could be an angel-learned-it-from-Dean thing, it really could be.

The weight of the sarcasm is just that strong.

“Fine, yes. ‘Alvin’ is not my real name,” he admits.

Then he casts a wicked smile her way that almost makes her rethink the ‘learned it from Dean’ idea, because this is… creepy in an almost Demon kinda way… in an almost Leviathan way. The grin is so unnerving that Charlie almost misses his next words:

“But you know, I’m pretty damn sure that ‘Charlie’ isn’t yours.”

“Yeah? Well, darn. Ya got me,” she breathes, trying to make herself remember that the Leviathan are gone, that she didn’t even see Cas when he was one of them.

In any other circumstance, Charlie would be reaching for the Borax.

But this angel-not-angel (and maybe-but-probably-not-demon-or-leviathan) kid whose name is definitely not Alvin, notices her sudden stiffness.

Immediately, he softens.

“Hey, what happened? You okay?”

Charlie shrugs. “You wouldn’t happen to be allergic to a certain 19th century boron-containing sodium compound, would ya?”

“Sodium borate? Like Borax? Can’t say I am,” the kid assures. “Any particular reason?”

“Uh, the word ‘Leviathan’ mean anything to you? Like specific, human-livestock-eating, double-tongued with lots of teeth lizard-men people-imitators specific? ‘Cause you just really reminded me of one there. And like I had a friend go Darkside… well, a lotta my friends have actually gone Darkside, but there was one and he… he’s missing still and well, bad things happen to my friends when they go missing.”

“Like apocalypses?”

“Yeah, kinda.”

“Really? Literal apocalypses? How exactly literal?”

“Um, pick a holy book at random? We’ve probably hit most of them by now,” Charlie admits, with a discomfited shrug as she vaguely wonders how she ended up on this side of the metaphorical interrogation table. “I think the first one was the Judeo-Christian one, they took things pretty literal. Michael-Lucifer prize fight and all…”

“Okay…” the kid says, finally sounding a little thrown, “but you stopped that one?”

“Yeah,” she tells him.

“So where are you now?”

“Somewhere between God’s little sister throwing a world-ending temper tantrum and you know a Luci-spawn antichrist accidentally poof-ing up new laws of physics?”

“Sounds plausible,” the kid tells her, his tone both entirely accepting of it as the gospel truth and sounding like he thinks she’s totally bonkers.

“No, it really doesn’t,” Charlie sighs. “Doesn’t change the fact it’s true. But enough about me and my world-ending escapades. How about your hole in the universe?”

“That’s the thing… See, I don’t remember.”

“What?”

“I don’t remember how I got here, I just remember that I don’t belong,” the kid confesses, sounding a lot more like he’s being honest than before. “I’m not supposed to be here, but I can’t explain what might be able to bring me back.”

“So, Lebanon, Kansas?”

“Has a safehouse I remember, or I think I do,” he lays out. “And it has a power source I think I need. And…”

“And..?”

Charlie’s hoping for something about the people waiting for him there, something about the ‘profound bond’ doing something to clue him in.

She can’t tell if this is just a spell or something, or if it’s a consequence of having Fallen, regained Angel status, and then seemingly kicked it again in the fastest repeat of the cycle yet.

“I dunno,” he sighs. “I just have to be there.”

Well, it’s not what she was hoping for.

But it’s still closer than she thought she’d get…

So, she’s still not 100% certain this kid is a whammied Castiel.

But she’s definitely like 85% certain, maybe 87%.

And in Winchester World? That there’s some pretty damn good lookin’ odds. So, Charlie will take what she can get and will roll with the rest.

Sam and Dean will be here in a few more hours. All she has to do ‘till then is keep this kid in arm’s reach and keep them both from being buckled up for the looney bin.

Sounds totally doable, right?

In retrospect, Charlie may have to adjust her definition of ‘doable’…

_ _ _

Keep up with everything I’m getting up to HERE!

Have a great week!

#fanfiction #fanfic #batman #batman & robin #BatFam #DCU #dcu fanfic #SPN #spn fanfic #supernatural #destiel #jay x tim #jason todd x tim drake #dean x castiel #multiverse #crossover #charlie bradbury

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chimswae · 4 years

Text

BTS Caretaker CH7

Summary: She may think she has Bangtan Sonyeondan wrapped around her fingers. She may think it is easy to love the members equally without hurting any soul. She may think the boys wont fall head over heels for her. She assumes it is okay to show a little love and affection towards the boys, what if she gets it all wrong? What if it only brings more complication to her already complicated life? Can she survive their charms? Will she be able to resist them? What if they just wont let her go?

- Pairing: BTS x Oc ( Yoongi x OC, Jungkook x OC)

- Genre: Fluff, Slight Angst, Romance, Idol!au

- Word Count: 2,445

- Author Note: Finally update on time! i appreciate your feedback and comment, just drop in my ASK BOX :)

Previous | Next

Chapter 7

It was Monday again. The light from the sun illuminating her room, shrinking all her thoughts and feelings at once. She really did not want to be in the same building as Bangtan Sonyeondan again. Not after the incident that she tried hard to forget. Yet she failed to do so.

Yesterday, her mother came with bad news claiming she had requested a weekend break from the company. She told them the truth about her health condition which started to deteriorate these past weeks minus the part she couldn’t perform the job and made Seul to replace her instead. At least, she informed them about being sick. Therefore, they agreed on letting her mother work daily instead of everyday. The only change made was her work schedule but not the contract termination.

Groaning mentally, Seul wished her mother would request for contract termination instead of the change in the work schedule. Since Bighit seemed pretty lenient and understanding when it came to their staff’s welfare, she’s sure they wouldn’t force a sick old lady to work her ass off. Unless, the individual didn’t ask for it, so they might assume things were alright. Gosh, as expected who could stop her stubborn mother.

Strutting to the main door, Seul put on her black converse with heavy heart. Deep down in her heart, she hoped none of the boys would be home at this time like before. Even worse, if Min Suga was there again to ruin her day. She would not let him for the second time. Actually, Seul was still embarrassed over the kiss, after contemplating so many times, she decided to face the day as if nothing ever happened previously. She planned in her head, if she ever bumped into Min Suga, she would ignore him without uttering anything.

That would be the best thing to do, right? Maybe for now.

Walking along the street, Seul watched how the mother nature switched from sunny to cloudy in the blink of an eyes. She didn’t even realize, she dragged the time a bit due to her reluctances to tend Bangtan’s dorms today. Seul even purposely took the longer route in hope to clear her messy mind. However, upon seeing the change of weather she decided to head straight to the tiger’s den.

The journey took only 10 minutes from where she stopped to daydreaming a while ago. She entered the password to the apartment with sweaty palm. First of all, she was not ready mentally and physically to face any of the members. Her nervousness soared even higher when the main door opened. Inhaling a deep breath, she stealthily entered the den and to her relief Seul was welcomed by the emptiness and shirts scattered on the floor.

“Thank god” she heaved a sigh of relief.

Seeing how messy the place was, the boys might be barely back at home. It hasn’t even a week, and the place was awfully wrecked. She grunted at the thought of cleaning up the three days mess. It would be a long day for Seul.

Without further ado, she went straight to tend her job started with the living room and pile of dishes. She glanced at the amount of takeout boxes on the table, as she bit her lower lips feeling sympathy for them.

“They are not even eating healthily” she murmured while cleaning the leftover.

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“Make it quick Namjoon. We have to be there on time, you don’t want to be late” warned Manager Sejin. Namjoon dashed out of from the vehicle as fast as lightning without even bother to look back.

“I’ll be quick” he hollered as his body disappeared inside the building.

Clumsy Namjoon stumbled in between the journey whilst running for his life to get his stuff. He approached the door to their place and opened the door hastily as soon as he heard the click sound. His nose caught the smell of detergent from the other side, and he tilted his head curiously at the image in front of him. Their place was cleaned and organized in contrary to few hours ago.

“The ahjumma” his round lips broke into a cheeky smile. His head peeked at the kitchen until he saw a glimpse of shadow coming from the room that he shared with Taehyung. Seul heard a rustling sound coming from her back, and her body froze momentarily. She pulled the mask over her nose covering half of her face. Frankly speaking, her heart pounded furiously against her chest as if it might jump out from it by any seconds from now.

Panic. She shouldn’t be panic.

“Ahjumma?” Seul was taken aback by the manly voice. Who was it this time? She held onto the fibre duster tightly while holding her breath. Seul did not know how to react to that question so instead she chose to remain quiet. Judging from his voice, he didn’t sound like Suga.

Namjoon scratched the back of his head, taking few steps towards Seul “Ahjumma right?” he inquired again.

Silence.

Another silence.

It’s killing Namjoon.

“Ahjumma? Are you alright?” Namjoon decided to slide in front of Seul. There he was standing straight while eyeing the person in front of him worriedly. Seul averted her eyes from meeting Namjoon’s curious one, that guy was trying to read her.

Giving in, Seul nodded indicating she was okay. Soon after, she heard a sigh of relief from the guy in front of him. Funny thing, she found the guy has a unique face and very weird accent. His puffy cheeks and dimples were attractive. Then it hit her, this guy in front of her is the leader, Kim Namjoon. To make it worse, he was a real genius and there was no way she could lie to him without being caught.

Let’s just hope, he is only good in his studies and not that genius when it comes to reading others thought. Seul crossed her fingers.

“Wow, I didn’t expect to meet you after so many years ahjumma. Oh, before I forgot, hello I am Rap Monster, but you can call me Namjoon. I am Bangtan’s leader” he bowed out of respect with a wide smile.

It baffled her for a short while to receive such a deep bow from someone like him, considering Namjoon is older than her. Shoot that, he doesn’t know about her. All he knew was the caretaker is an old ahjumma. Nonetheless, Namjoon is a good guy with manners.

The corner of her lips was tugged into a small smile as she returned the politeness by bowing slightly. Her body went numb. Her mind had stopped working. Should she just play along? As long as she had facemask to cover her face, it should be alright.

“You look younger than I expected. You really took a good care of your skin” Namjoon said sheepishly. The older guy was confused by Seul’s action since she hadn’t uttered any words. He wondered if she was feeling ill or she was just shy.

“Oh I really want to say this since forever, I am not sure when will ever meet again. We are very grateful to have you as our caretaker. And it must be hard to clean up the place by your own considering how messy it could be sometimes. We will try to clean when we can, we apologize for putting all the loads on your shoulder” Seul softened at his sincerity. How can a celebrity like him be so down to earth and even apologize for something that is not even his fault?

Namjoon continued with a shy smile “Ahjumma, thank you for the food that you prepared. You fed us well despite all the rough years that we faced when we first debuted. The food really warmth our heart. It was one of the reasons to keep us going until where we are now” Seul brows flinched together seemed affected of his brief but meaningful speech. She swore to god, she really admires Namjoon’s kindness and humble side. It is rare to find someone like him nowadays.

“I really have a lot of things to say but I am running late. I hope we can meet again soon with others. I will try to talk it out with the management team” he clasped his hand together as his eyes glimmered with hope.

Seul eyes met his as she smiled genuinely under his mask but enough for Namjoon to see it through her eyes. Namjoon was caught at the moment until Taehyung’s voice broke the awkwardness between them.

“NAMJOON HYUNG FASTER FASTER!”

Namjoon blinked with a soft sigh “That is the cue, it is nice meeting you ahjumma. Don’t overwork yourself, I will ask the maknaes to clean up the rest. I guess I will get going now. Have a good day” he bid her farewell and stole a last glance at Seul’s small figure.

I wonder why she didn’t talk, and she does look young. It must be my mind. Namjoon walked up to impatient Taehyung who’s leaning his back against the door.

“What took you so long? Manager hyung is nagging us!” Taehyung frowned.

“I am sorry. I met caretaker ahjumma inside so-“ Taehyung squealed got Namjoon bled in his ears as he held back the excited boy back to where he stood.

The younger guy grinned like a fool “Oh my god where? Let me meet her!” he exclaimed excitedly. Namjoon only shook his head stopping the guy before he could crash inside frightening the hell of the caretaker lady in process.

“Tae, we have shows in few hours. We need to go now. I have told her what we felt, so let’s hope we will be able to meet her again soon alright? Now chill dude, let’s go” he shut the door behind him, dragging the latter using a little force.

“Man, how’s the ahjumma? Is she young as what Yoongi hyung claimed?” he pursed his lips in frustration. He continued to pry answers from Namjoon mainly on the ahjumma’s appearance.

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

As clock strikes 2 in the morning, they were finally back at their place. Fatigue. Hunger. Mental exhaustion. You named it, it was written clearly on their forehead. Jin was the first one whom dragged his aching body to the kitchen. A smile appeared on his face upon seeing the amount of food on the table.

“The ahjumma is really back I guess” Jin yelled from the kitchen.

“I told you so” Namjoon grumbled with his eyes close, “I saw her, and she looked sick. I told her to take the cleaning slow today” Yoongi’s ears perked up, showcasing his interest. Could it be the young lady or the real caretaker now? He really had no time to think about the girl who caused chaos to his heart.

Jimin sat up “I think it comes out as habit. Cleaning the place and cook something for us. I am hungry” he got up, pulling sleepy Taehyung with him.

“Chimmy, I want to sleep. Leave me alone” he protested with a pout.

“Let’s eat first! The ahjumma prepared this for us, so show your gratitude by eating it” Jimin patted his friend’s back with a slight chuckle. He even forced Taehyung to sit down on one of the seats and as soon as his butt landed on the cold stool, he rested his forehead on the table.

Cheerful Hoseok entered the scene, stood beside Jin helping him to warm the food for them to savour. A pink sticky note on the fridge caught his attention. With a smile, he took the notes “Guys, ahjumma left us a message” Jungkook yawned loudly resting his chin on Jin’s shoulder watching the older guy doing things with the food inside the pan.

“What did she say?” Jin tapped Jungkook’s head with a clean spoon ordering him to get off him instantly. Jungkook pursed his lips, moving backwards and took a seat beside Taehyung.

“Okay I will read it aloud… Dear boys, I want to make it up to you for my absence last Friday. So here is a feast for you guys. But I seem to miscalculate BTS members, therefore there is no food for Min Yoongi. I apologize, I must be getting old already. Eat and rest well..” Hoseok gawked at the last sentences “Is this a prank?”

At the mention of his name Yoongi arose from his seat, charging towards Hoseok, snatching the pink notes from his hand. He scanned the notes diligently ensuring the notes were not a mere tease by Hoseok. His breath hitched “What the fuck?” he cussed lowly.

“Are you kidding me? Hoseok stop joking around” Jin placed the heated food on the table. Even the sleepy Namjoon and Taehyung looked at Yoongi’s direction with so much interest. Now, that was dramatic. Out of all the members why would she pinpoint Yoongi?

“She seemed to be holding grudge against you? Was it due to the last week incident?” Jimin poked his chopstick at the food in front of him, while shoving some inside his mouth.

Yoongi rubbed his temple, digesting this new information again “I am sure she is hiding something. Can’t you believe me? She is the sasaeng fan! The girl that came into our place pretending to be the caretaker ahjumma. Joon, come on you saw her earlier. You could tell if she is old or not!” he scowled.

Yoongi believed that was the way of Seul to get revenge on him. It never dawned on him that he would hear from Seul again. This thing with Seul was driving him up the wall. Just who on earth is Seul?

“Well…She doesn’t look that old. I can’t tell much since she is wearing a facemask. But, if she really is a sasaeng, why would she clean our place? Seriously hyung. You must have done something to upset her” Namjoon crossed his arms, looking alarmed.

Hoseok rubbed the back of his head “Maybe she is sick of cleaning your messy room” earning a deep glare from the older guy.

“Okay maybe not” Hoseok chickened away and immediately settled down beside Jimin.

His tummy was screaming for food at first now he’s slowly losing his appetite. Yoongi turned to leave others for a long bath, but only to come at halt “Yah, aren’t you going to eat?” said Jin.

“Nevermind. I am full. Go ahead and eat” he ditched the kids behind and headed straight to his room. Because after all there is no food for Min Yoongi. He grinded his teeth together.

Just wait, I will expose you for sure. Yoongi rolled his eyes.

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twdeadfanfic · 5 years

Text

I ain’t sick, Pt.2

Daryl x Reader

Chapter 2/4

Summary: Daryl has gotten sick with fever, but he won’t admit it and slow down until he just can’t keep going, passing out and ending up bedridden, haunted by nightmares and trapped in deliriums about his past abuse while the reader tries to take care of him.(Or: Me indulging in how much I want to take care of Daryl, comfort him, and protect him from everything.) Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Fluff…just my kind of things. Prison era.

Inspired by a request. It’ll be updated twice a week, next chapter coming on Monday.

If you want to read more Daryl x Reader series, mini-series, one-shots and drabbles, check my masterlist in the description of this blog.

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You didn’t have to walk for long until you saw another walker dead on the ground, and a few meters ahead you found another two, one of them with a broken bolt in his head. Daryl… Worry closed your stomach but as you looked around you couldn’t see him or anything that told you where had he gone. You kept walking but you didn’t find any more walkers, neither any other trace of Daryl, and so you decided to backtrack, see if you had missed something.

You had walked past the first walker you had found when a noise caught your attention. Looking towards it, you saw a walker stumbling its way to you. You unsheathed your knife, but before you could do anything, you heard a whistle and the walker fell down to the ground, arrow embedded into its forehead.

You turned around and spotted Daryl making his way to you. He looked worse than this morning, worse than even just an hour ago, his skin paler than you had ever seen him, and even from distance you could notice his laborious breath and the layer of sweat that covered him.

“The hell you doing out here alone!” You couldn’t help but snap, scared and worried as you were.

“Hunting.” Without looking at you, Daryl went to yank his arrow back.

“You’re sick! You’re sick and you have gotten worse!” You stepped in front of him so he’d look at you but he didn’t. “You can’t just go out all by yourself! Putting down walkers and what not!”

“I always hunt by myself,” he grumbled, annoyed. “Those walkers ain’t nothing.”

“But you are sick!” You repeated, exasperated. “You’re not feeling well, anything could have gone wrong, anything could have happened, you have a fever…” You felt tears in your eyes just thinking about it. Daryl was a hothead, sure, stubborn, and not one for resting, but still, he was being irresponsible and it scared you.

“Told you I’m fine!” Daryl snapped, though when he looked at you he seemed to realize how scared you were, and his voice softened. “Hey, Y/N…I’m sorry I made you worry…” he apologized, taking you aback. “But I’m okay.”

“You’re not. You’re ill, and you have a fever, and those things are dangerous now, and you wouldn’t let us help, and you go out alone, and you wouldn’t listen!” You half snapped, half whimpered.

Daryl looked at you as if he didn’t know what to say. “Let’s go back, okay?” He offered, eyeing you carefully.

You nodded and began walking, upset. “I’m not even going to tell you to take the medicine, and rest, because what for, you won’t listen…” Daryl didn’t say anything, and you both walked back to the prison in silence.

Once you were sure Daryl was safe inside and wasn’t planning on going out again, at least for that day, you went to your cell. You needed time to calm down. You thought that maybe you had overreacted, but you couldn’t help how worried you had been knowing that Daryl was alone and outside while he was ill with fever, how scared you were when you saw those walkers…

After a while, Daryl came to the cell too, hair wet after having a shower that did nothing to lower the heat you still could feel radiating from him when he sat down next to you on the bed. For a while, he didn’t say anything and neither did you, until he finally spoke.

“I really need to teach you how to track, you were doing a real shitty job today. Going in the wrong direction and all.”

“It’s not funny!” You snapped, shifting to lie down on the bed with your back to him, upset all over again.

“I’m not saying it is…” Daryl grumbled, letting out a sigh, dropping onto the bed too. “Told you I’m fine, Y/N.”

“No, you aren’t…” You looked at him over your shoulder. “But I’ve given up on trying to make you rest, take the medicines, or anything to help you. Just…just don’t go out alone again or anything like that while you’re like this…”

“Okay…” Daryl murmured, and you didn’t think you could ask anything else from him, you didn’t know if you could even believe his word anymore.

Daryl woke you up twice that night. First when a coughing fit shook him, despite his efforts to pretend nothing was wrong while he kept saying he was perfectly fine. The second time, you woke up when you heard him mumbling and whimpering in his sleep. He still felt warmer than usual, warmer than he should, and you wondered if he was in pain or just having a bad dream.

He kept whimpering and mumbling and you reached to stroke his hair as you tried to shush him and calm him down. He flinched away from your touch but at the same time snuggled closer, and so you held him until he calmed down.

“Are you hurting?” You asked when he woke up.

“No,” he rasped, as you knew he would.

“You still have a fever,” you held your hand to his forehead. “It might have gotten worse.” You were sure Daryl was going to say something, but he just nuzzled into your touch, which worried you more. “I’m going to wake Hershel, tell him to give you something.”

“No,” Daryl wrapped an arm around you when you went to get up.

“Daryl, it’s for your own good…” You tried to move again but he held you tighter.

“No.” His hand fisted on your shirt and he pulled at you to lie down again. “Please.”

He rested his head on your chest, his arm around your middle as if trying to prevent you from leaving, and you didn’t have the heart to move away when he asked like that, maybe you should, but you couldn’t. Instead, you wrapped your arm around him and began to stroke his hair. You could make him take the medicine in the morning.

Daryl didn’t take the medicine in the morning, didn’t let Hershel check him, even though it was painfully clear he wasn’t feeling well, his voice as hoarse as you had ever heard it, his eyes glazed, and his skin pale and sweaty. Still, instead of resting, he joined the group who was going to clear another cellblock. Nothing anybody said made him change his mind, and you were afraid that if they didn’t let him help, then he’d go alone by himself again. With an exasperated sigh, you took your gun and your knife, and followed everyone with Daryl by your side.

Once the main area of the cellblock was cleared, all of you paired up to inspect the corridors, see what you could find and put down any walker that might be stranded there. You paired up with Daryl, peering worriedly at him. You could hear his laborious breathe, the way in which his hands shook when he trained his crossbow in front of him. He’d been slower than his usual self when putting down the walkers in the main area, but you hadn’t said anything in front of everyone, afraid of Daryl snapping. You reached for his arm now.

“Daryl…you’re not feeling well, don’t say you are. Let’s go back.”

Daryl moved his arm away from your hand, stubborn. “No. Let’s clear this place.”

“Fine…” You sighed, rolling your eyes.

At least there didn’t seem to be many walkers in the place, if you were lucky you could just sweep through the area and leave without any problem. For a while, you just found dead bodies on the ground and empty shelves. It was disappointing, but it was better than a herd of walkers.

At some point, though, you hear the growl of some walkers, and as you approached the area you found a group of them. It was small enough, though, just three of them munching on something.

“I got it,” you said, unsheathing your knife, though Daryl was already loosening the bolt, putting down one of them.

You put down the other two before he reloaded his crossbow, once again slower than usual, and when you turned to look at him, you noticed Daryl’s hands trembling as he put the string into place, and the way in which he seemed kind of dizzy when he looked up from it.

“Why don’t we go back already?” You suggested again.

“No, let’s see if we can find something here…” he rasped, gesturing around at the big room weakly. “Go through that area and I’ll check these cabinets.”

“Alright…”

You went to do your task, trying to do it as quick but efficient as possible so you could leave soon. You were still at it when you heard a clank that startled you, and when you turned around you saw Daryl had dropped his crossbow. He was looking down, head hanging low, not doing any movement to retrieve his crossbow, not that you had ever seen him letting it fall down before.

“Daryl…”

“Maybe…” he muttered, voice so low that you could barely hear it. “Maybe I ain’t feeling that well…”

Hearing him say that, the way in which his voice sounded, the way he looked, you felt fear paralyzing you for a couple of seconds, before you rushed to him.

“Okay…okay…” You tried to calm down, feeling as if your heart might burst out of your chest at how fast it was beating. “Come on, we’re going back to our cellblock, alright?”

Daryl nodded his head once, so weakly that you could have missed it, but he didn’t move. When you bent down and picked his crossbow he reached out a shaky hand as if to take it from you, but he didn’t seem that coordinated and you strapped the bow to your back, deciding to carry it yourself.

“Come on…” You took Daryl’s hand, which was so hot it felt like burning. You began walking, Daryl stumbling next to you, looking worse than you’d ever seen him. It seemed as if each step took him more and more effort, his eyes more and more unfocused, and you tried to control your fear as you wrapped one of his arms around you.

“I’m fine…” He murmured, but he let you support part of his weight, as if he couldn’t do anything to stop it.

You tried walking you both to the first corridor and then to your cellblock, but Daryl’s weight felt heavier and heavier as he leaned more on you, and you could see him fighting to stay conscious, until he couldn’t stop it anymore, his head hanging loose as he passed out and you stumbled under his weight.

“Damnit…” You tried to stop Daryl from falling down, dropping onto your knees so you could lower him down, holding him to you as you tried to think what to do.

“Sorry…” Daryl whispered so weakly, seeming to be barely conscious, as he tried to move but couldn’t, falling into your arms again. “I’m good…”

He wasn’t, that much was obvious, and it didn’t look like he was going to get better, if only worse. He was fainting again and you tried not to panic. You shifted him so he could rest against the wall. You needed to go looking for help, but you hated the idea of leaving him alone and defenseless.

You knew there weren’t walkers behind, but you weren’t so sure about what you might find ahead, most of the corridors had seemed clear, but it wouldn’t be the first time that a group of walkers seemed to come out of nowhere in that maze of a prison. Still, you needed to do something, and so you walked forwards, giving Daryl worried glances, until you reached the hall in which you had gotten separated from the others.

They hadn’t come back yet and you didn’t know what to do. You didn’t dare to venture much further while leaving Daryl alone and unconscious behind, but neither could you carry him alone. Making noise was dangerous, you knew it, but you didn’t know what else to do, and you hoped all the corridors were clear by now.

“There’s somebody close? Rick? I need help! Please!” You called for the others, as loud as you dared.

It seemed nobody heard you, but then you heard an unmistakable growl and you cursed under your breath as you saw a couple of walkers stumbling out of a dark corridor. They hadn’t been there before so they must have wandered from someplace else, and you hoped there weren’t more than those.

You still had Daryl’s crossbow and you took it, reloading it as Daryl had taught you and aiming for one of the walkers, putting it down silently. You had just reloaded again and aimed for the other walker when you saw a group approaching. Shit…

“Help!” You yelled, not caring about being loud now, you were just worried about the monsters getting to Daryl. “Rick! Anybody! Help!”

You loosened the arrow to put down another and began to backtrack to the corridor where you had left Daryl, the walkers slowly by surely moving to you.

You stopped midway, closer enough to Daryl to see him but far enough to hopefully put down the walkers before they could get too close. You looked back at Daryl, still passed out against the wall, and charged against the walkers that were getting closer, putting them down by knife.

“Y/N?” You looked back at Daryl’s weak voice, distracting you almost enough to let a walker grab you, but you hold it back and stabbed your knife into its head. “Y/N?” He called weakly again, his glazed eyes trying to focus on you. He went to grab his knife, but it dropped onto the floor, and then he tried to get up, stumbling against the wall again. “Y/N…”

You didn’t have time to tell him to stop trying to get up before you had to charge against more walkers, but as more approached you knew in the back of your mind that they were too many for you, but you refused to acknowledge it. You weren’t going to let them get to Daryl, no matter what. Before you could think that everything was lost, thought, Rick, Carol, Glenn and Maggie showed up, charging against the walkers too, and you all put all the monsters down.

“What happened?!”

“It’s Daryl…I think he’s very ill, he’s burning and he passed out! We have to get him to the cell.”

Rick wrapped one of Daryl’s arms around him and Glenn the other, dragging him to the cellblock, while he slipped in and out of consciousness, murmuring unintelligible things, though he never seemed to be really conscious. They dropped him onto the bed, you sitting down next to him, and Hershel rushed into the cell to check him.

Daryl seemed unconscious, but then he flinched away from Hershel roughly. “Don’t touch me!”

“Hey, hey, shhh…” You pressed a hand to Daryl’s chest to hold him down, your other hand soothingly stroking his hair, while he kept murmuring and squirming, trying to open his eyes and failing. “Shhh, it’s okay…” He was weak enough for Hershel to be able to check him, and the worried look in the vet’s face just scared you even more. “What?”

“His fever…I can’t know exactly how high is it, but too high. We need to lower it, or else…”

“Or else what?”

Hershel didn’t say anything, just reached out to squeeze your arm reassuringly, and then he began explaining to you what needed to be done in order to help Daryl. You tried to focus on what Hershel was telling you, but you couldn’t help your mind from wander, and you felt like you couldn’t breathe…could Daryl…could he die from this? From a fever? Just like that…it didn’t seem real. It couldn’t be. Not like that, not after everything you all had gone through, not after everything he had survived.

It just couldn’t be.

.............................................................

And...we’re diving into deliriums...

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argylemnwrites · 4 years

Text

It Couldn’t Wait Another Moment - Chapter 14

Pairing: Drake Walker x MC (Riley Liu)

Book: The Royal Romance (Canon Divergent from Book 2, Chapter 15)

Word Count: ~4700

Rating: PG-13 (adult language)

Summary: As Riley and Drake deal with the emotional fallout of recent decisions, Liam hears some important information from Olivia.

Author’s Note: I’m back! I may be GRRM’ing this thing, but we’re getting there. At this point, I think I will be able to keep up with weekly postings on Mondays, but I get that I have been super slow with the updates here, so I totally understand anyone who’s lost interest in this story. As a recap, Riley’s on her way back to NYC while Drake’s sticking around to support Liam, except he accidentally got in a painful fight with Liam after losing his temper with Leo. Basically, everyone is miserable at this point.

This series diverges from TRR canon, where instead of waiting to discuss his relationship with Riley until their last night in NYC, leaving her a note while Liam is proposing to her, Drake tackles this topic as soon as possible after Tariq makes his statement and Riley’s name is cleared. To catch up on this series, you can find the previous chapters in my masterlist (link is located in my bio).

In... two... three... four... Out... two... three... rest... In... two... three... four... Out... two... three... rest.

Liam focused on his breathing, trying to redirect his emotions. He should have never indulged in such an outburst. Expressing that anger had not been productive, and now he was frazzled and on edge. He needed to focus. Distractions were not acceptable, not at this moment. Olivia had come to see him, stating that her reasons were time sensitive. She required his undivided attention. She deserved it wholeheartedly, as did all the people she represented in Lythikos.

Glancing over to the side, he took in Olivia, matching him stride for stride. She hadn’t spoken since they had left the lounge, which Liam supposed was a blessing. He didn’t really know how he would answer her questions when they inevitably came, because honestly, he had no idea how he had come to lose it that much, to that degree. He hadn’t gotten mad like that in years, not since the night that Leo told him that he was going to abdicate. He’d been in an emotional turmoil that night, trying to focus on supporting his brother through a difficult decision to walk away from a life that Liam knew was killing him slowly. But even though he knew that abdication was the only real option for Leo, even though he didn’t resent him for making that choice, he still had needed to mourn his relative loss of freedom. That night, Drake had taken him out in the woods, to the middle of a lake, letting him yell and curse and get drunk where no one would know his reaction. He’d been able to cleanse himself of his frustrations and returned, focused on the future and his people. Today, he had raised his voice and said horrible things about that same man in the middle of the palace. There would be no hiding his emotional response this time.

In... two... three... four... Out... two... three... rest.

He needed to stop dwelling on this right now. His attention was required elsewhere, and if he kept thinking about his fight with Drake, he would never be able to focus on more pressing issues. The fallout there would just have to wait. He opened the door to his office, holding it for Olivia to pass through first, watching as she chose not to sit on the more casual couches, but instead walked towards his desk. Clearly, whatever had brought her to the capital from Lythikos was official business.

Liam settled into his chair, taking one more calming, measured breath before looking Olivia in the eye, perched on the edge of the chair across from him. She appeared wound up and tense, not carrying herself with her usual comfortable intensity, a description that surely would have been an oxymoron for anyone else.

“I assume this is a rather serious manner that has come to your attention, seeing as you came to see me in person, but didn’t mention anything yesterday.”

Olivia frowned before replying, “Liam, do you need to take some time? You seem really... agitated.”

Liam shook his head, exhaling roughly in the process, hoping to release a little more of the tension. “Of course not; you told me this was a time-sensitive matter. I trust you enough as a duchess and a friend to understand that whatever you need to tell me is pressing and important.”

Olivia hesitated for a moment before she spoke, “If you’re sure, Liam…”

“Of course; now what was it you wished to discuss?”

She bit her lip and glanced upward, taking a deep breath before she continued, “I have information regarding the parties behind the attacks.”

Liam swallowed. He didn’t know what she’d come to discuss, but it hadn’t occurred to him that it could be this. The serious subject matter, though, did help refocus his thoughts. This truly was of the utmost importance.

“Alright, what do you know?”

“It’s my aunt.”

“What?”

“My aunt, she’s involved with orchestrating the attacks.”

Millions of thoughts, questions, concerns, and possibilities swirled in a confusing eddy in Liam’s mind. There was so much to unpack here. He was trying to figure out how to best guide Olivia through the discussion, but before he could so much as open his mouth to ask his first of many questions, Olivia herself rattled off more information.

“I’m not sure if she’s the primary orchestrator of the attacks or if she’s part of a larger group. She just revealed her true intentions this morning over breakfast, so I haven’t had a chance to do any digging. She is a major player, though. She made that much explicitly clear.”

“Alright, and I take it you’re willing to testify against her should it come to that?”

Olivia nodded once, “Of course. But please tell me you aren’t thinking of moving on her right this instant.”

This gave Liam pause. His first thought had been to move a police force into Lythikos tonight and to take Lucretia into custody, but hearing her say it aloud made it clear how ill-advised that would be. It was highly possible that Lucretia had co-conspirators, and until they had a firmer understanding of the situation and a stronger case against her, they risked playing their hand too early.

“No, you’re right. Let me bring in Bastien. He should hear this so we can begin to organize an intelligence unit to provide some surveillance on your aunt.”

Liam moved to collect Bastien from his office, but Olivia raised her hand. “No offense to Bastien or his staff, but I’m much better positioned to gain more information from her. She clearly believes that I’m working to better position House Nevrakis, regardless of the cost to Cordonia as a whole. She trusts me. I need to be the one to do this.”

Liam hadn’t been sure if Olivia had inadvertently overhead her aunt discussing certain sensitive topics, but this confirmed that Lucretia had willingly revealed her true schemes. There was a lot of wisdom to Olivia’s assessment of the situation. She hadn’t shared the details of why Lucretia had confided in her, but regardless, Liam trusted her completely, and if she thought she could parse out more details, he knew she would get it done.

“Of course you will absolutely play a key role in this situation, Olivia. But we are going to need a targeted approach. Not just-”

“A one woman assassination squad?” she said, tilting her head to the side and giving him a little smirk.

Liam let out a little chuckle, “I’ll defer to your self-description. Let me go fetch Bastien and we’ll get started.”

Liam stood and was making his way to the side door to his office when Olivia called out to him.

“Liam?”

“Yes, Lady Olivia?” he asked as he spun to face her. She was twisted in her chair, head turned over her shoulder, vicious red nails drumming atop the seat back.

“I know now isn’t the time, but if you need someone to talk to about whatever the hell I interrupted there…” she trailed off with a shrug, almost as if she wasn’t sure how to offer personal support.

“I know, Liv,” replied Liam with a gentle nod, “later. That will all come later.”

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

Riley checked the time on her phone as she waited to catch a train back into Manhattan. It was only 9 pm, a measly six and a half hours since she left Cordonia, flown for much longer than that, and left him behind. Time zone changes always messed with her brain, at least a little. It shouldn’t be possible for so much to happen in so little time.

She sent a text to Daniel, letting him know she was back and that she could come pick up Anderson just as the train pulled up in front of her. She knew who she should text next - Drake. She had promised him that she would let him know when she got back to New York. But she was dreading it. Truth be told, this was kind of uncharted territory for her. She couldn’t remember a single time where a relationship of hers had survived a shouting, screaming, crying brawl.

But she and Drake were still together after two massive fights. Well, kinda. After their first fight, Riley knew she shouldn’t have shoved Drake’s apologies to the side. But she hadn’t known how else to process that fight, and Constantine’s death had served as a convenient excuse to not deal with all the baggage they’d unpacked during their bitter screaming match in her apartment. But not dealing with it at all just meant that everything was even messier and more unresolved when they fought about Drake choosing to stay in Cordonia. They hadn’t broken up with that fight, but it didn’t exactly seem like they were standing on steady ground either. And Riley didn’t exactly know how to navigate that.

So, as she rode the train from Queens back into Manhattan, she stared at her message thread with Drake, wondering what to say to him. She owed him at least telling him she was home and safe, even though some part of her feared that he wouldn’t even notice if she didn’t. He had chosen Liam over her, after all. She clearly wasn’t that important to him.

He had told her he loved her, though, when they were parting at the airport. She hadn’t been able to say the words back. Even now, she couldn’t bring herself to type them in a text. It wasn’t that she didn’t love him, or that their fights had changed how she felt about him. She just needed to start protecting her heart a little more than she had with him in months. She’d gotten sloppy, let her guard down. She’d been so careful, all the way through Liam’s coronation ball. But then, just a handful of weeks later, Drake had confessed that he’d chased after her when she was dragged out, told her he tried to make plans to follow her to New York, and all her life experiences that had taught her to keep her guard up and look out for herself had just crumbled. She fell hard. She should have known it would all come back and bite her in the ass.

Because now she cared, and that meant it hurt. She’d spent so many years shielding herself from this sort of pain. And now, she was expected to face this heartache head on. It was too much. How could she send him a text, pretending like everything was fine? All her instincts were telling her to run, to move forward and not look back. It was the only way to keep her emotions safe, her heart safe. How was she supposed to move on if she stayed in touch with him?

She should have just ended things before she left Cordonia. That would have been easier than dragging out whatever the hell was going on between them at this point. But she hadn’t been able to, she straight up didn’t want to. She was mad in love with him, and how do you break up with someone you love?

God, when did her life get to be such a mess? Maybe she should have never agreed to go to Cordonia. Her life had been simple before she hopped on that plane with Maxwell. Of course, thinking of Maxwell reminded her that she should probably let him and Hana know that she was safely back in New York and that Drake was not. She didn’t want to deal with their questions either. If only there was a way to tell them without having to respond.

The answer hit her like a brick wall. How could she have been so stupid? She blamed the jet lag for not realizing earlier that the time difference would work to her advantage here. If she texted everyone now, they wouldn’t see her message for hours. It was perfect. She could let any responses sit unread until she was ready to deal with them, whenever that might be.

Maybe this was a cowardly way of dealing with things, but whatever. She was the one alone in New York. If Drake wanted to be in closer contact with her, well he knew how to make that happen. So she shot off texts to Drake, Maxwell, and Hana, then shoved her phone in her bag and ignored it for the rest of the ride. Then, after a short walk to Daniel’s, she and Anderson walked the 17 blocks home.

It was strange being back. Honestly, even when it was her and Drake a couple of weeks ago, it felt weird as fuck. Being back in this space after her life had changed so much, it just had felt a little off. But Riley was the master of adapting, so she’d ignored it, throwing herself wholeheartedly into rebuilding a life. But to be here alone, after traveling the world, finding closer friends than she’d ever had before, and falling in love-

No she needed to stop that line of thought. She was alone again. She’d been there before. She knew what she needed to do, and that was to keep moving forward. She couldn’t dwell on the past. It was time to purge her life of the reminders of things that could-have-been.

Normally, her first step would be to throw out everything that was his and anything of hers that reminded her too much of him. But, if Drake were to come back, like he promised her he would, having pitched all his stuff probably wouldn’t go over well. So, Riley decided to fill a box and shove it somewhere in her closet. No visible reminders of him that way, at least. Not knowing what size box she’d need to pilfer from the bodega recycling dumpster, she decided to pile all his shit on the desk. Anderson was her faithful companion, trotting along with her as she flung open all the cupboards, rifled through the drawers, and searched the apartment pretty thoroughly for items that were Drake’s. But after a good twenty minutes of scouring, she was shocked to see so few items on the table. Just bottle of generic shampoo with the scent “Mountain Fresh” and a bar of plain soap were truly Drake’s.

There were a few more items she’d weeded out because they would remind her of him too much. The bottle of whiskey. The bag of marshmallows, though those she should probably just dump in the trash because she was pretty sure she’d bought those before she left for Cordonia… the first time. A couple of her dresses she wore in Cordonia got tossed onto the table. The condoms ended up in the pile, too. Lord knows she wouldn’t be getting laid in the foreseeable future.

Was this really everything in the apartment that was not only Drake’s, but that even reminded her of him? That didn’t seem right. But another pass through the apartment didn’t find anything else that Riley wanted to hide away. The realization that Drake had basically left no physical presence in her apartment hit her with an unexpected wave of anger. Of course there was nothing left. He’d never bothered to unpack, never attempted to settle in and find his place, never took steps to make New York his home. He had been ready to leave at a moment’s notice the second anyone from Cordonia had needed him. Why would anything have been left behind when he’d been living out of a suitcase?

The frustration she felt caught her off guard. This wasn’t how she usually worked through rejection and abandonment. She’d been through it too many times in her life, not just from boyfriends, but from foster parents, her mother’s parents, and even her own father. Her mom too, in the more general sense of things, as she had always chosen her next high over being there. A guy choosing to be somewhere else rather than with her? Well that was par for the course, barely worth getting worked up over.

Except for she actually loved this guy. She’d worked so hard to not fall in love for years and years, because she’d known this would be the result. In the end, it was always just going to be her. Alone. And she could handle that. She’d dumped and been dumped. She’d been through breakups before. Unfortunately, this wasn’t actually a breakup, so her coping mechanisms were not gonna fly here. Because if this had been a true breakup, she would have been hitting up the bars and nightclubs. The best way to get over someone is to get under someone new, after all. But obviously, a handful of flings was not even close to an option at this point. Because this wasn’t a breakup, no matter how much it felt like things were heading that way. So Riley was left alone with her own negative emotions, something she’d actively tried to avoid for at least the past decade, probably longer.

She sank against the wall next to her fridge, trying to stop the wave of sadness and loneliness that was washing over her, but it was no use. It just hurt too damn much. This was why she had kept things casual and light with everyone she met. When she let people in, she always ended up alone.

Anderson trotted over as tears started to trickle down her cheeks, his eyes so wide, Riley had to wonder if he actually was processing how devastated she was. It certainly felt like it, and maybe that would be enough for tonight. She didn’t really have any other options, after all.

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

Sunlight was already peaking through the gaps in the blinds when Drake awoke to a loud buzzing sound. His phone must be vibrating, but some quick fumbling around his nightstands didn’t produce it. He groaned, pulling a pillow over his head. Who the fuck was looking for him? No one had any reason to talk to him.

After his fight with Liam, he’d taken a bit to calm down. He’d stayed in the lounge, poured himself another whiskey, smoked a couple more cigarettes. When he finally felt like he had a better grip on his emotions, maybe an hour later, he’d wandered towards Liam’s office, thinking that whatever Olivia had just had to discuss with him was probably resolved. But as he turned the corner into the hallways leading to Liam’s office and the security offices, he’d been floored by the amount of activity. Agents were bustling from room to room, reviewing info on tablets, talking into their headsets, carrying stacks of paper. Clearly, something major had been going on.

So Drake had left, dragging himself back to his quarters, leaving Liam to focus on whatever was going on, something that was clearly more important than whatever had happened between the two of them. Certainly more important than Drake himself. And so he’d sat there, stewing in the aftermath of the past 24 hours, starting with deciding to stay in Cordonia and ending with him yelling at Liam. All bookending the extreme guilt he felt over how he handled things with Riley. He’d felt like a total piece of shit.

So, he’d drank. A lot. After all, any feeling out there had to be better. In his younger, stupider years, he’d done his drinking to numb and forget at a variety of dive bars. But that had always meant that Bastien had to come out and drag his sorry ass home. At least Drake had had the sense to not burden Bastien with that task last night, instead working his way through a sizeable amount of his whiskey collection. His memories of the night became fuzzier after a certain point, but he seemed to remember a text coming through in the middle of the night, waking him up on his couch and prompting him to stumble to his bed where he’d passed out, still fully dressed.

He hadn’t been hungover like this in a long time. His head was killing him, the sunlight and his vibrating phone only adding to his agony. Oh well. It was his own damn fault. All of it was, really.

Drake felt himself dozing off again, but before he could fall back asleep a wave of nausea bolted him out of bed and into his bathroom. After his stomach was done punishing him even more for his behavior and stupidity, he brushed his teeth and slowly walked back to bed. He collapsed onto his pillow and drifted off into an incredibly restless sleep, constantly interrupted by further episodes of nausea and his phone vibrating somewhere on a hard surface. He had no idea how long he dozed for, waking up at least a half dozen times before a loud banging on his door woke him fully.

“DRAKE WALKER, I’M SURE YOU’RE IN THERE! OPEN THIS DOOR RIGHT NOW OR I SWEAR I’LL-”

Drake flung the door open, “Hana, for the love of all that is holy, can you please drop the volume?”

But Hana was clearly on a mission, ducking around Drake and striding into his quarters with a purpose. “I’ve been trying to get in touch with you all morning. You need to explain yourself right this instant!”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“This morning, I awoke to a text message from Riley. Why did you leave her, Drake?”

“I didn’t leave her-”

“She wrote me, and I quote, ‘Home safe in NYC. Drake’s still in Cordonia, btw.’ Since I am sure she would have told me if she broke up with you, the only other option is that you were the one to end things.”

Drake sighed. “We aren’t-” but Hana cut him off, continuing her tirade after taking a deep breath.

“I was well aware that something was happening between you two for months and I kept quiet, even though I wasn’t sure what your plan was when it came to letting down Liam, because I was sure you were in love with her, and I figured that meant that you were also looking out for her best interests. And then you two disclosed your relationship and I was happy for you, even if that meant an ocean between me and my best friend, because again, I was sure you were looking to do right by her.”

“Hana, look. There’s a lot going on here that you don’t know about and this really isn’t your business-”

“Don’t play that card, Drake Walker,” she interrupted, her voice inching louder and louder once again. “I certainly am invested in this relationship. I covered for you two when you two were openly ogling each other at the barn raising. I distracted the others when we were camping and Maxwell was this close to hearing the two of you together in one tent after everyone went to bed. I gave you a moment when I noticed her kissing you at the market in Shanghai. But most importantly I love her, and if you think that I’m going to stand here and not call you out for jerking my best friend around, well then, you have another thing coming.”

Drake sighed, his sluggish, hungover brain trying to process her rant. “Hana, can we do this another time? My head is killing me.”

“Serves you right for drinking enough whiskey to kill most humans. Your hangover is not my problem.”

Drake hadn’t told Hana he was hungover, but he supposed his general appearance and ignoring all sorts of calls kind of made that fact obvious. He sank onto the couch, running a hand over his face. “Did it ever occur to you that I got completely shitfaced because of how guilty I feel about her being back in New York without me?”

Hana stared at him for a brief moment before delicately sitting on the other end of his couch. “If you feel so guilty about it, why did you breakup with her?”

“We aren’t broken up, Hana.”

“Oh. But then why-”

“Liam needs me. Or at least he needed me. I fucked that up, too.” he groaned as he dropped his head.

Hana was silent for several moments, maybe waiting for Drake to keep talking, maybe just trying to formulate the best response in her mind. Drake wasn’t sure, but now that Hana wasn’t yelling at him, he actually did feel compelled to explain himself to her.

“Look, I’ve known Liam for almost my entire life, and I know when he’s not coping. The signs are pretty subtle, but they were all there. So while I want nothing more than to be there for Liu, I have to help Liam through everything that’s happened with the attacks first. He’s like family to me. He’s my best friend, and right now he needs me. At least I think he does. So yeah, this is just something I have to do. Because it’s what you do for your best friend.”

He chanced a glance up at Hana. She wasn’t looking at him at all, but was instead smoothing out imaginary wrinkles in the skirt of her dress. All the fire seemed to have been zapped out of her as she lightly bit her lower lip and futzed with her clothing. Three minutes ago she’d been a ball of fury, but now she just looked uncomfortable, and Drake had no idea if that was because of her outburst or just from being in his quarters in general. Given her upbringing, he wasn’t sure how often Hana had spent time alone with a man in his bedroom. Plus, of everyone in their little group that had formed during the social season and engagement tour, he and Hana were probably the least close. They certainly never hung out together one on one.

“I should go take care of some things,” said Hana, interrupting Drake’s thoughts. She stood up, smoothing out her dress one last time.

“Oh, okay.”

“Sorry for intruding into your private quarters. I was just…”

“Pissed at me?”

“I was going to say ‘upset,’ but your description is fairly apt,” she said, blushing faintly.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ve been there.”

“You have?”

“Well, maybe not the barging in without regard for privacy thing, but the losing my cool part? Hell yeah. I get it.”

She gave him a small smile, “Are you okay? I suppose I could actually be a good friend and ask seeing as I’ve been questionably rude today.”

Drake shrugged, “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine in the end.”

“Riley seemed pretty closed off with that text.”

All Drake could do was sigh as he rubbed his neck, “Yeah, well…” He didn’t know what else to say. He knew he’d broken things there, and Hana had picked up on that with one text. But like he’d told her, like he’d told Riley, he felt he had to stay back for Liam.

The silence hung in the room for a few brief seconds before Hana stepped over to him and hunched over, wrapping her arms around him.

“Hana, I’m all sorts of gross right now. You don’t have to-” but she just hugged him tighter at that, so Drake just loosely wrapped his arms around her waist.

“You’re a good friend, Drake.”

“I used to be.”

She pulled back at that, lightly shaking her head. “No, you still are. Falling in love doesn’t make you a bad friend. I refuse to believe that.”

“Yelling at him yesterday might, though.”

Hana sat back down on the couch at that, much closer to him than she had been previously. “One mistake doesn’t make someone a bad friend. Not after years and years of support, at the very least.”

Drake didn’t feel worthy of this kindness, not after he’d fucked everything up with Riley and with Liam. But Hana placed a tiny, delicate hand on his shoulder, rubbing gently. “You two are stronger than you think,” she added before standing up and leaving his quarters, gently shutting the door behind her. A few moments after she left, Drake realized he had no idea who she meant - him and Liam or him and Riley.

Tags: @dcbbw @mfackenthal @jovialyouthmusic @iplaydrake @gibbles82 @drakewalkerisreal @riley–walker @thequeenofcronuts @notoriouscs @butindeed @thesumofmychoices @texaskitten30 @yaushie @cosigottahavefaith @thequeenchoices @katedrakeohd @feartheendlesssummer @sirbeepsalot @ladyangel70 @ao719 @ooo-barff-ooo @octobereighth @sunnyxdazed

#drake walker #drake x mc #trr fanfic #trr #the royal romance #king liam #trr liam #olivia nevrakis #hana lee #choices #choices fanfiction #playchoices #choices stories you play

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heartslogos · 4 years

Text

the declassified texts of the inquisition’s elite [133]

(416): i asked her if she was sure that she was ready to do it and she replied with "come at me bro" - (226): It’s easy for me to be professional, the tough part is finding the perfect amount of bitchy undertone -

Josephine laughs, as she relays Bull’s text to Mahanon. “It’s a very Ellana response. I’m sorry you couldn’t make it.”

“I’ll be there for dinner,” Mahanon says, “It’s truly unfortunate how my dearest sister and my dearest soon to be brother in law decided to have their wedding ceremony at the worst possible time for me. Namely when I’m in the middle of a flight back to Skyhold. It’s almost like they didn’t want me to be there.”

“Well, Mahanon, maybe they didn’t want you to cry.”

Mahanon’s quiet for a moment and Josephine has a brief thought that maybe she’d teased him a little too much. She and Mahanon aren’t that close, after all. Polite and on fairly good terms, yes, but they don’t work together very often and mostly they’re friends with each other’s friends.

“Well then why would they have invited you?” Mahanon replies. “I’m fairly certain you can do the crying for the both of us, as well as the general teasing.”

Josephine smiles as she checks herself in the mirror. She’d changed out of the blouse and skirt she was wearing to work into a nice dress, did a quick touch up on her make up, and fixed a few strands of hair escaping from her updo. It’s simple and not really overly fancy or formal. But that’s what Ellana and the Iron Bull had wanted, so that’s what they’re getting.

Josephine’s stomach flutters with excitement. Her phone chirps again as the Iron Bull sends her another update. She glances down at it, switching between her phone’s screens to get to her messages.

“Do you think that she’ll get so excited that she’ll drag her fiancé off to elope on their elopement?” Mahanon asks, the sound of him moving rustling over the speaker.

“Well. I’ll need to update their paperwork for them either way,” Josephine points out. “I’d hope that they’d let me be part of it though.”

“Of all the unexpected things to come out of the Inquisition I never thought you and the Iron Bull becoming best friends would be one.”

“I’m sure that anyone you ask would say the same. Did Ellana text you with what she wants to eat afterwards? I should be ready to place an order but I haven’t gotten any answers on that topic back yet.”

“I’ll handle it,” Mahon replies. “Don’t worry. I’ll pick it up on my way back from the airport. Can you send me the address for the bakery you ordered their cake from? I saved it to the wrong phone.”

“Sure, I’ll forward the receipt to you as well. Work email?”

“I have the receipt. I printed that one and saved it. Are you sure Leliana hasn’t found out yet?”

“Trust me, if she has she would have done something by now. I mean. We’ll know for sure come Monday once I complete the updated paperwork. But I am entirely certain she doesn’t. And if she did, it isn’t like they’re keeping it a secret. They just didn’t want it to be a big deal.”

“They also wanted the insurance benefits.”

“That too.” - “I’m surprised that the hard part is the undertone for her,” Herah blows on her steaming bowl of soup before taking a tentative sip. “Okay, this is just magma in a bowl. How are you doing this?”

Mahanon’s eyes are watering slightly as he continues to drink down spoon after spoon of steaming liquid. “Strength of will.”

“Strength of will isn’t going to save your vulnerable flesh from scalding,” Herah mutters. “Are you even able to taste anything?”

“Strength of will,” Mahanon repeats emphatically.

“The art of bitchy undertone is a science,” Edric says, watching the two of them struggle with their soup. He spears at his salad, looking over to make sure Cole’s actually eating and not subtly transferring the food on his plate to other people. “You should know that Adaar. Mahanon’s not questioning it.”

“Mahanon doesn’t care enough to question it,” Herah points out. “Anyway I’d think that for someone like Leliana she’d be long past that specific struggle. I imagine that in her head there’s an index for the exact ratio of undertone of any kind needed to pull off any interaction in any situation or context.”

“It’s an art, it’ll never be as formulaic as that,” Edric protests, shaking his head, “You have to understand that part first, Adaar.”

“You literally just said it was a science.”

“Science and art have some overlap.”

“Yeah, but winging it isn’t one of them.”

“It’s not winging it, it’s a careful test and examination based on prior experience. It’s careful. It’s passionate. It’s a work of many years and cumulative risks.”

“You’re just saying bullshit now,” Herah scowls. “None of that makes any sense. You’re just trying to sound important and all that.”

“I am important and all that. I’m paying for lunch. Cole, it’s not going to magically teleport into you by you staring at it. Come on, you’ve got to at least push it around the plate a little.”

Cole dutifully picks up his spoon, and then starts mixing his salad around. He manages to scoop up a cherry tomato and puts it in his mouth.

“Alright, here,” Herah says, switching her still steaming soup for Cole’s salad. “Come on kid, eat. I know you don’t feel hungry but you will later.”

“That’s what the snack bag is for,” Cole mumbles, “It’s for eating when you get hungry.”

“We didn’t pack you a snack bag so you could skip meals, Cole. That’s for if you’ve already eaten and you still get hungry.”

“Oh.” Cole puts his spoon into the bowl of soup. “I should eat this even if I’m not hungry?”

“Yes.”

“I thought I’d get sick if I did that.”

“That’s — that’s a different problem. If you feel ill while eating it then don’t do it. But you haven’t eaten anything since a slice of toast this morning and you’re probably hungry right now.”

“Oh. Alright. Thank you for this food, Edric.”

“You’re welcome — blow on it. Don’t be like Lavellan. If it hurts to eat don’t do it, just wait for it to cool down enough that you can put it in your mouth without feeling pain.”

#heartsfic #gather your party and venture forth

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callboxkat · 5 years

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Infinitesimal (part 42)

Author’s note: Happy Monday, everyone! Hope you guys enjoy the update!

Warnings: sleep deprivation, fear, injuries, illness mention, food mention

Word count: 2614

Look for the masterpost in the notes!

...

Patton woke up wrapped in warmth, soft fabric under his head and cushioning his body. As soon as he opened his eyes, though, that comfort contrasted painfully with the heavy sadness that filled him as soon as he laid eyes on the side of the box in front of him

He sat up with a yawn, rubbing at a sore muscle in his arm. Virgil, still sitting on Emile’s other side and holding his hand, glanced up as he moved. There were shadows around his eyes, and not from the graphite that he liked to smudge there. Patton didn’t have to ask to know that he hadn’t slept a wink.

“Roman brought some food,” Virgil whispered, gesturing over to the corner of the table, where a saucer sat, piled with dry cereal, some blueberries, and part of a chocolate chip waffle. It was way more food than the littles could possibly finish. Beside the saucer were a couple of bottle caps, which Patton figured were probably filled with water. “He said he had to go to one of those exam things, but we could eat whatever we wanted.”

Despite knowing that if Roman were going to hurt him, he would have done so long ago, Patton couldn’t help the way his skin crawled at the knowledge that he had come so close while he was asleep. Although, now that he thought about it, had Patton even waited until Roman left to fall asleep the night before? He couldn’t remember for certain, but he suspected that he hadn’t.

Back when Patton had been staying with the humans, he had gotten them to promise to knock on the door frame, waking him and asking for his permission before coming into the room. It had made sleeping in a human apartment much more bearable, knowing that he could keep an eye on them when they were near. However, while he disliked the fact that they had broken that promise, Patton understood why Roman hadn’t woken him on this occasion. He might have woken Emile, too. Besides, it really had been kind of him to bring them something to eat.

Virgil had been there to keep an eye on him, Patton told himself. Virgil wouldn’t let anything happen to him. Although, honestly, Patton knew deep down that neither would Roman, or Logan for that matter.

He thought of the gentle way Roman had carried him down from the shelf the day before, of the way his hand had just barely curled up around him, seemingly only to provide security rather than to restrict or confine him. He thought of the soft, kind voice he had used to tell Patton that he could get off of his hand.

He thought of Logan, of when he had finally brought Emile back to them. He had carried the box with such care, like it might shatter at the slightest maltreatment, like it contained something precious—which Emile was, of course, to the littles. To Logan, though, he had been a perfect stranger. And yet, Logan had treated him so delicately. Patton wondered if the humans had carried him that way, back when they had first brought him here.

Now, the humans were using up their own time and resources to help the littles, to help Emile and Patton and Virgil; and they hadn’t yet asked for a single thing in return.

Patton didn’t mention any of these thoughts, though. Instead, he looked to Virgil.

“Did you have any?” he asked, gesturing at the food.

For a moment he didn’t think Virgil was going to respond, but then he mumbled, “Didn’t want to get up.”

“I’ll bring some over for you.” He got to his feet and walked towards the saucer and bottle caps. One of the caps turned out to be filled with orange juice, the other with water. He refilled his water pouch, then picked up what he could fit in his arms: a couple of pieces of cereal, a blueberry, and a piece of the waffle. The waffle was cold by now, making him wonder how long ago Roman had left it. He carried the food back to his friend and settled down beside him, putting the food between them.

Virgil picked up one of the pieces of cereal and inspected it dubiously. He seemed to decide it was safe, and so he took a bite.

“Has he woken up at all?” Patton asked, looking at Emile. He was still tied to the ruler, although he looked cleaner than he had the night before, and one of the blankets had been laid over his legs.

Virgil swallowed. “No,” he mumbled.

“It’s probably for the best.” Patton looked around, noticing that he couldn’t hear any movement in the kitchen. “Where’s Logan? Did he have one of those exam things, too?”

Virgil shook his head.

“Do you know where he is?”

Virgil gave a noncommittal shrug.

Patton decided the topic wasn’t worth pushing. He looked back down at Emile, lying still and pale in the box. He carefully avoided looking directly at the side of his face covered with bruises, or at the wound on his head. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t seen injuries before, but it made his heart ache.

They ate in silence for a few minutes, although neither little had much of an appetite.

“Hey, Pat?”

“Hm?”

“If you’re feeling up to it… would you mind bringing over that one bottle cap? Roman said it had orange juice in it, for Emile.”

“Sure.”

“You—you really don’t have to,” Virgil said. “I know I’ve been pushing you too hard.”

“Virge,” Patton said softly. ��It’s okay. I’m okay.”

Virgil nodded a few times, not meeting his eyes. Patton got up and went to retrieve the bottle cap, which he chose to push back towards his friends. He looked a bit silly, but it was easier than trying to carry it the whole way.

Once that was done, Patton settled back at Virgil’s side. He glanced at Emile again, who, of course, hadn’t stirred, and let out a soft, sad sigh.

Looking at his injured friend, Patton was struck by a thought. He’d nearly forgotten!

Patton reached over for Virgil’s bag and dug through it, Virgil watching him with a slightly confused expression but not trying to stop him. “I brought this,” Patton explained, finding what he was looking for. He pulled it out: Emile’s blanket, the one with the illustrated house held up by balloons. He unfolded it and laid it over Emile. “I thought he might like to have something familiar,” he murmured.

Virgil sniffled and said nothing, but Patton could tell he appreciated it.

After a beat of silence, Patton looked back towards the food still piled between Virgil and himself. He still wasn’t exactly hungry, but he knew that the two of them really should try to eat more. They hadn’t been eating much in the past few days, and he and Virgil both needed their strength. With that thought in mind, Patton picked up the as of yet untouched blueberry. He took a bite out of it, then held the fruit temptingly towards Virgil, who shook his head. Patton nudged him with the blueberry, giving him a hopeful look; and Virgil sighed and accepted it. They passed it back and forth for a while, taking turns until about half of the fruit was gone.

There was a sound from the kitchen, and both littles stilled. Patton slowly set down the blueberry.

Logan appeared, carrying several items in his arms. “Hello,” he said quietly. “Good morning, Patton.”

Patton ducked his head.

“I came to check on him,” the human said, nodding towards Emile, “and to see if you needed anything.”

“What is all that?” Virgil asked, eyeing the objects in Logan’s arms suspiciously.

“Medical supplies, food, water, other items I thought you might need or desire,” Logan explained. He spotted the saucer, still laden with food, on the corner of the table. “Although I see now that Roman has already visited.” Patton might have imagined it, but he could have sworn that Logan deflated slightly.

“He came in before he went to his exam thing,” Virgil admitted, glancing away.

“I see. In any case, may I put these down and check on your brother’s progress?” Logan asked.

Patton and Virgil looked at each other. Patton gave him a meaningful look; and Virgil sighed, turning towards the human and nodding his consent. Logan entered the room, and Virgil visibly tensed as he neared. Patton scooted back an inch or so before he could stop himself, but he didn’t stray far from Virgil’s or Emile’s side.

Logan knelt before them and began setting down the items on the table, behind where the littles sat. Patton tried not to shiver as the human’s arm passed over him. Among the items were a small red box with a white plus sign on the cover, a container of mixed seeds, nuts and dried fruits, some paper and miniature colored pencils about the length of Patton’s forearm, and for some reason, a small, leafy potted plant. Patton marveled at the fact that the human hadn’t dropped anything. His eyes lingered on the colored pencils briefly, but his gaze quickly returned to the human.

…

“Has he woken?” Logan asked, sitting back on his heels.

“No,” Virgil mumbled. He wished Emile had. He wanted nothing more than to talk to his brother, for him to be alright, to be able to tell him he loved him and that he was sorry that they’d been fighting recently. Heck, they had argued the last time they saw each other. Even if they had made up after, there was a part of Virgil that was still petrified that that would remain their final conversation. What if Emile never woke up?

“That isn’t necessarily concerning. I am sure he is still exhausted, but the rest should be beneficial for him.” Logan seemed about to lean closer, but he thought better of it. “His color has certainly improved, and… I thank you for not removing the restraints.”

“Ro… Roman said we could find out if he needs them today,” Virgil said pointedly. “It’s today.”

“Once he is awake, we can,” Logan clarified. “Until then—until we can speak with him—they have to stay on.”

Virgil groaned in frustration, but he knew better than to argue with a human, especially one so close, or one whose help he still needed.

…

Patton looked between Virgil and Logan—although not all the way up at Logan’s face—silently watching the interaction.

“I wanted to apologize again for the fright I caused you yesterday. I was only—”

“Can we just drop it?” Virgil said. It was clear he would have snapped the words much more harshly, had he not been sitting with Emile, but he was trying to keep them calmer. Regardless, something tightened in Patton’s chest. Run, his instincts whispered. Hide! Patton ignored them.

“Oh—yes, of course.” Logan actually looked relieved at the request. Patton supposed he could understand why. He watched as the human shifted so that he was slightly further from the table, then cleared his throat, the sound muffled. “Is there anything more you need?”

“I d-don’t think so, Logan,” Patton said. His voice shook more noticeably than Virgil’s had. He didn’t know how his friend was so brave. “Th-thank you.”

Logan nodded. He moved back a couple of feet, then stood. As he left the room, Patton moved back to his former spot and turned to Virgil.

His friend looked utterly exhausted. There were shadows under his dull eyes; his skin was pale, almost grayish; and his shoulders slumped now that the littles were alone again.

“You need to sleep,” Patton said gently.

Virgil just looked towards Emile’s bruised and bandaged face and shook his head.

“Please?” Patton pleaded. “I know you want to be there for him, but you can’t do that if you’re too tired to function.”

Virgil let out a shuddering breath.

“It could be hours before he wakes up. Maybe more.” Patton knew he’d slept for a long time after his escape. It made sense that Emile would do the same. He didn’t want Virgil to try to stay up that entire time.

“I just don’t want him to wake up alone.” Virgil’s voice was suddenly tearful.

“He won’t! He won’t, Virge, he won’t. I’ll be here, and if he looks like he’s waking up, I’ll wake you. Okay?”

Virgil hesitated again, staring down at Emile, but Patton could tell that he was swaying him.

“I won’t be able to see him if I lay down,” Virgil all but whispered.

Patton bit his lip. Virgil had a point. “Maybe… Maybe Logan can do something to help with that.”

And while Virgil clearly wasn’t happy about it, he let Patton call the human back into the room. Logan, clearly surprised at being summoned by the littles, materialized in the doorway. He looked worried.

“Did something happen?”

“No, no,” Patton said. “We just—w-we were wondering if—if maybe….” Patton swallowed, then tried again, forcing the words out quickly, like water rushing from a faucet, in an attempt to stop stumbling over them. “Virgil-wants-to-lie-down-but-he-wants-to-be-able-to-see-Emile-and-I-thought-maybe-you-could-help-with-that.”

Logan blinked, taking a second to process what Patton had said. “I see,” he said softly. He paused, looking at the littles, then the box. A thoughtful look grew on his face. “I do have an idea.”

…

“You want me to lay in a box too?” Virgil said, staring at Logan incredulously. The human had returned with a small black box, nearly identical to the one where his brother lay. How would that help anything?

“Not in the box,” Logan explained with an annoying amount of patience. “On top of it. This is the lid to the one your brother is currently resting in. If you lie down on top of it, then you will still be able to see Emile perfectly.”

Virgil opened his mouth, then closed it again. That… might actually work.

“You can even keep holding his hand,” Patton suggested helpfully.

Virgil glanced between the two of them, then looked down with a nod. Logan set the lid on the table, and then he retreated.

“I can stay, perhaps, if you want someone to keep an eye on your brother,” he suggested.

“Patton can do that,” Virgil said. He was not going to sleep with a human in the room.

“That’s fine,” Logan said, although he sounded reluctant. “I will remain nearby, however, in case you need me.”

“Thanks, Logan,” Patton murmured.

Logan nodded, looking pleased, and left them alone.

Patton pushed the lid over to Virgil, who very reluctantly released Emile’s hand until he could get settled on top of the lid. He lay there on his stomach, a couple of blankets over his body, one arm reaching down into the box to hold Emile’s limp hand in a loose grip.

Patton settled back on Emile’s other side, and Virgil let out a breath. He trusted Patton to keep an eye on Emile for him, even if the thought of falling asleep now continued to make him nervous.

Things seemed to calm. The only sounds were the birds outside, soft page turns as Logan read in the kitchen, and the muffled sound of a television playing somewhere else in the building. Virgil let his eyes close. Occasionally, he couldn’t help but open them again, just to reassure himself that Emile was still asleep beside him.

He lay there for what must have been nearly an hour before his mind finally began to quiet. He had just started to drift off, at last…

…when Emile woke up.

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #infinitesimal!sides #patton sanders #virgil sanders #logan sanders #emile picani #roman sanders #cartoon therapy #sanders sides fan fiction #ts fanfic #ts fic #fanfiction #infinitesimal sides #infinitesimal fic

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saymypiece · 4 years

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This nobody’s journal of hot, boring afternoons…

Day 21 (7.4.2020 - Tuesday)

I did not sleep through the night, again! What on Earth! On the other hand, I worked out, a little, but still a workout. As in I played with my dog. She got a hold my bro/sis old silambam belt and goes around playing with it. So grabbed on to the other end and had a tug of war with her, which was fun, until she realised I wasn’t much of a competition and got bored. :S It’s alright, I will prove to her that I am worthy of her time. I shall try again. Practice makes perfect Koko, you adorable snob!

Day 20 (6.4.2020 - Monday)

Omgoodness its day 20! I cannot believe we have been stuck at home without a choice for so long. I keep hearing of doctors and nurses falling ill, scientists working so hard to create a vaccine. I can’t help but wonder what this virus is all about. This thing we can’t see is causing so much chaos, panic and fear in everyone. And the way I see it, it’s not going away anytime soon. But our God is God over the impossible! He is the only way this virus will be washed out. This time at home, especially during this time leading up to Easter, has allowed me to spend some time in devotion and the Bible. And what I have learnt is we are not alone. Our time on Earth, though temporary, is designed to be fulfilling and beautiful. So I’m embracing that. No matter what comes against me, it shall not prosper. For my God is for me. On the other hand, I have not been able to sleep. It’s been challenging to

Day 19 (5.4.2020 - Sunday)

As usual, Sunday was enriching and chill. Not that every other day is not chill, but Sundays, they are quite a little more chill than other days. At 3pm, I joined a group chat with some friends from church. Fun.

Day 18 (4.4.2020 - Saturday)

After last week’s shopping debacle, I was terrified about going out there with mum again. Nevertheless, we had needs and they needed to be bought, so I got ready with my gear, the usual suspects of masks, gloves and a hand sanitiser. This time, the mall staff were even more strict. They checked body temperatures before anyone could even enter the building. And only one person per family was allowed in. So, yes, we kinda put on our inner Meryl Streeps and acted the strangers we never knew we could play so well. They believed it. Heck, at one point, even I believed it. My mom, I think, may BE, Meryl Streep, I don’t know. Anyway, no drama during shopping, everything was perfect. I even got to keep my shorts intact the whole time. No, it was a different shorts, I wash them everyday. Yes, I’ve got a whole lot of loose shorts okay? They’re comfy! What some more you want?

Day 17 (3.4.2020 - Friday)

Another Friday has come and gone. There is really nothing new happening, but today, I got to catch up with the darling! You don’t feel time passing you by until you actually do something you used to do very, very often, years ago. We used to Skype and video call all the time until work and life happened. Then suddenly, it had all come to an abrupt end. This conversation felt like such a treat. I felt like I was catching up with her entire lifetime. Well, a lot can happen in over six years. Feeling so blessed for technology and this time we get to reconnect and spend quality time with each other.

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Day 16 (2.4.2020)

Ok so, sleep lost it’s way and didn’t really get back to me, blardee heartbreaker! Didn’t do much other than write and hang around all day. So I decided, to pick up my guitar and do somethin with it. :) You Say by Lauren Daigle

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Day 15 (1.4.2020 - Wednesday)

I know it’s meant to be April’s Fool today, but like the rest of the world, it didn’t mean a thing. I mean, our situation right now seems like a giant prank anyway. There is no need to scare anyone else about, anything else. The greatest prank in the world right now would be to just go up to someone who’s NOT your family, and sneeze or cough right at their faces. Once they know you’re pranking em, they’d either laugh or slap you so hard, you begin to foretell your f-f-future. Even watching old YouTube videos of interviews or clips from shows where there is some amount of coughing or sneezing involved makes me cringe so hard! And I’m not the only one. Read the comments. Once thing I am certain of, whether a vaccine is found or not, is that once this MCO is over, everybody is gonna be a germaphobe/hygiene-junkies - always washing hands and sneezing into handkerchiefs and such. Anyway, goodnight, hope sleep finds me tonight.

Day 14 (31.3.2020 - Tuesday)

Oh praise the Lord I’m alright. At least, I think I’m alright. I don’t feel fuzzy, I have no fever, no headache. I was awake super early and I decided to feed my three dogs, for the first time! Let my bro and sis sleep in a little this morning. I had no idea how to do it. I just winged it based on what I thought is normally done, and it worked. The three ding dongs listened, sat patiently, ate sweetly and gave me some kisses. And then, I put on a fan for them, coz there was no air movement out. It was so weird, it was early morning and it was so hot with zero movement in the air. Man, we really need the rain!

Day 13 (30.3.2020 - Monday)

I am so not feeling good today! My mind is racing. Was it the shopping at Tesco on Saturday? Was it the Lontong flavoured Chef noodles I had for dinner last night? What is it? I have a bad headache, body ache and my brain is a little fuzzy, like when I have a fever. When I asked my sister to check my temperature, she confirmed there is a slight fever. Paracetamol. I need it. And a good shower. Had both. Going to sleep again. Maybe I’m tired, exhausted. I’ve told everyone in the house to stay away. Lord, protect papa. And heal me. Let this not be…it.

Day 12 (29.3.2020 - Sunday)

Time for church online. Mummy made friend mee hoon and some Portuguese tarts. It was one of those quiet days. Didn’t do much today.

Day 11 (28.3.2020 - Saturday)

Nope. Zoom didn’t let me down. I let Zoom down! My frickin alarm didn’t go off, or maybe it did and I didn’t hear it, I don’t know. All I know is I wasn’t up until 11.20am! The meeting was supposed to start at 11am! #muchembarassed Thankfully they were all in conversation while waiting for me. I didn’t even have time to brush my teeth. Just washed my face, tamed my hair and appeared online. Connect was awesome though. The two newcomers were great. Kinda weird we didn’t shake hands or hug, kinda weird we literally met face-to-face, online, but it was great! Cheers to new experiences, I say. Speaking of new experiences, I have never liked shopping. Like, ever. I don’t enjoy walking around, I don’t enjoy going to shops after shops after shops. Basically, I’m most men when it comes to shopping. Today, my mom and I had to run to Tesco to stock up on some of our essentials that are running low. I wore a shorts and t-shirt but with two masks, gloves, and in my pockets, Clorox anti-bacterial wipes and hand-sanitiser. We strategised how and what to touch before entering the store. I was going to be the one doing the touching, cos I wore the gloves, and my mom, wearing one glove, was to be the one pointing out what I was supposed to pick out from the shelves. Carefully, but swiftly, we began picking out everything on our list. My heart, for some reason, was drumming like a Taiko drum in my chest. And to make matters worse, sometime during our walking through the aisles, my mom completely ditched our strategy and started touching the things on the shelves! Like, ALL things! Okay, granted, I wasn’t fast enough for her but PATIENCE IS A VIRTUE, okay? Just… keep your hands to yourself and straighten ONLY the index finger. How difficult is that strategy? Now, she’d gone and made my mind spin round and round tryna think of how the virus would travel, or get stuck on her phone (which I sanitised the moment we got out), or what her gloved hand touched and what she could and could not touch anymore not that is has been exposed. Arghh! Finally at the cashier, we more or less got in sync. Everything went according to plan, like which hand she would get her debit card out of my shorts pocket with and which hand she received it from the cashier with after the payment was made. It went pretty perfectly, with the slight risk of me losing my shorts because mummy decided to shove her hands so far down my pockets. The shorts was loose to begin with. Thankfully, with my firm grip, nothing untoward happened. We got out, got home, showered and washed all the clothes we were in. All good. Phew…

Day 10 (27.3.2020 - Friday)

Thankful for technology. It’s made life very easy. Even my mom, who is completely resistant of anything “technology” (because she thinks she would destroy the internet or something) has had to organise Zoom meets, coordinate her kindergarten teachers’ online lessons and activities - it’s been quite a trip seeing my mom grow into this technological wiz, so to speak. I joined her connect group today, had a good discussion. A little nervous about mine tomorrow morning. We will have two newcomers on board. Hopefully Zoom doesn’t let me down.

Day 9 (26.3.2020 - Thursday)

It’s the end of the day, and lo and behold, I have completed the pages I was meant to complete. Turns out, I didn’t have to do some of the last pages, so that saved me some work. I was right. I DO feel blind and like a bat after completing the job, but the satisfaction of a job completed is unmatched. The number of cases keep increasing by around 130 every day! It’s not even funny how people are still choosing to ignore this situation. We are already in day nine of the MCO and they still feel it’s alright to meet their friends and family in such a time as this. If only we all, collaboratively, stayed home for two weeks, we could actually curb this virus from spreading out. STOP GIVING IT TRANSPORT! Ugh! On the bright side, I am organising our Connect meet online.

Day 8 (25.3.2020 - Wednesday)

Quick update: Still on the project. I have managed to complete around 10 pages, mostly profiles. I am so surprised at how weirdly written everything is. On COVID-19, we are 300 cases short of 2000. It’s not looking good at all. And what’s worse, the government has extended the MCO to April 14. So instead of going back to work on 1 April, I would be jobless until 15 April. Lord, I surrender this to you. Let all that happens, happen according to your plan. I place my trust and hope in You, Lord. Amen.

Day 7 (24.3.2020 - Tuesday)

…aaaaaaadddd!!!! There are sooo many words in this, it doesn’t seem to have an end! 105 pages of THIS is more than I can bear!!! I’m gonna go nuts by the end of it, or blind! Anyway, I started on this the day before yesterday, but it has been a lot of, what my dad would call, broken focus. I just can’t seem to stay on the editing bit. I keep getting beckoned by either YouTube or Facebook or Instagram, and end the day without completing even one full page… so here we are. I have exactly two days to complete editing 103 pages of words. *takes a deep breath* RM530 is riding on this, man! Get it together and do it! I know RM530 seems little, but to me, after 5 months of RM0, it’s an upgrade I never thought I’d get. #suckitup

Day 6 (23.3.2020 - Monday)

Monday has arrived. I am refreshed, I have my mind set on the epilepsy article I am gonna write and the copy-editing project from the marketing department. I’m all set. I sent my interview questions to both the people I am meant to talk to. Under the current situation, I am not able to talk to them so email is the next best thing. Except an interview over Zoom would have been better, but they can’t seem to make it. Being researchers and lecturers and all, they don’t have much time on their hands…. unlike me. Anyway, that’s done. Now, continuing the project. Ohhhhmaaaiiiigaaa…

Day 5 (22.3.2020 - Sunday)

Oh Sunday. It was a really awesome Sunday service. It was truly something I think we all needed. The praise and worship was amazing, and allowed me to just soak in worship. Despite all the chaos and fear that I have in my heart and mind, I felt a peace wash over me. Suddenly I realised that the only reason for the fear in my heart is the unknown. But every “next step” we take is an unknown anyway, so why fear this one? I will keep praying, staying home, except during essential buys, washing my hands, working and doing pretty much everything I always do WITHOUT having fear in my heart.

Day 4 (21.3.2020 - Saturday)

What a total frickin crap-show! The numbers are increasing and I’ll tell you the truth, I’m afraid. Every time I wash my hands, I can’t stop wondering if I’ve washed them enough. There is just too much stake. My dad, his lungs are really not good and I am worried about what would happen should one of us get careless and carry this virus home from some essential grocery shopping. The only comfort I have right now is that my God is bigger. I know my God is bigger than all of this. I know my God is bigger than all of this!

Day 3 (20.3.2020 - Friday)

I know I wished for an eventful 2020, but my goodness, enough already!

OMGIF already?? So, suddenly, the number of the infected in Malaysia hit 1000+. That is really too much! Who’s to blame? Why are there still cow dungs out and about on the roads, meeting friends and speaking their essentials words and letting their spits flow freely in the world and into each others’ ears? Don’t they know of a phone? There’s WhatsApp, Zoom, Hangout, Telegram, frickin Signal, Line, FB Messenger…heck, everything has a caller these days! *checks if Tinder has a caller* Not Tinder, thank goodness. Just…ugh…stop going out. *breathes* Meanwhile, my lovely brother gave us all his homemade Ais Malaysia and it was lovely! Like, it hasn’t properly rained in quite a few weeks now, and it is sooo hot. That Ais Malaysia was truly somewhat of a saving grace. And to top it off, my darling little sister made o-maki sushi, with the tuna and everything. Superb! Anyways, all things considered, the numbers locally are not too bad, is it? Is it? I’ll just have to keep washing my hands… “His palms are sweaty, knees weak, arms are heavy, there’s vomit on his sweater already, mom’s spaghetti…”

Day 2 (19.3.2020 - Thursday)

#tbt like #tbeverydayforthelast5months !

This MCO doesn’t really make much of a difference for me since I was not working the last five months. This time around though, I wash my hands more, go out lesser, and can’t go out even if I wanted to. You know what? The Tonight Show Starring Jimmy Fallon: Home Edition is super awesome! I love it. It’s a breath of fresh air so I’ll have that to enjoy over this period. When we get out of this, I don’t think my hands will make it out “alive”. The number of times I wash my hands to the first verse of “Lose Yourself” is nuts!

Day 1 (18.3.2020 - Wednesday)

So, I started this to keep track of what is happening in this lovely, wonderful, fantastic nation during the Movement Control Order and also to me, as a… non-essential employee. Coz as long as I’m not working, I am not paid. Ok, let me rephrase that. As long as I am not present AT the office, then I’m not paid. Never been in this position, kinda worrying, but thankfully, I do have projects to complete to get me some kinda cash. Don’t know how its all gonna pan out. I am leaving all these worries to the Lord Almighty coz I know there is nothing I can do to change anything happening around me other than pray and stay home. These daily entries will be filled with dramatics and descriptive nothings, coz seriously, I can’t imagine another two weeks at home. So I AM gonna add some spice to this. Alright, so, first day was…err…normal. How’s that for spice? Whaaaat? I don’t know what to say in this okay? I am just…I just wanna remember what I went thru so…

#mcomalaysia #mco #stayhome #covid_19 #coronavirus #malaysia

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petuniatom · 5 years

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No. 1 Party Anthem [2] | College!Tom AU

Pairing: College!DJ!Bartender/Barista!Tom Holland x Fem!Reader

Series Summary: You’re coming up on your last year of college, grappling with finally getting ready for the actual “adult” world and being in two majors you’re not crazily passionate about. When you’re in the middle of a stressful essay at your favorite local coffee shop/upstairs bar, Dommo’s, you meet Tom Holland, a barista and bartender.

You slowly get to know each other over sangria, and soon enough manage to slip your way into his world where the days don’t usually end until about 5 a.m., music is everything, and uncertainty is your best friend.

A story about late night laments, sangria, and a whole lot of growing up.

SERIES MASTERLIST | Ch. 1

Word count: 5.8K

A/N: Hello! Long time no post! Here’s the long awaited update. It’s a little bit more exposition here, but part three is when it starts getting a little bit more spicy. Primarily, we’re focusing on watching the reader developing more of her other friendships here. But stay tuned for pt. 3 which will be coming very soon!

“I don’t see why we couldn’t just go to Dommo’s,” you whined.

You’d been waiting nearly an hour in line outside of Over & Easy with Tony and Jacob. The day before, you made them promise to get mimosas with you Saturday morning, following their late-night adventures and your Friday night essay-writing. While Over & Easy was one of the best spots in town for brunch food, its popularity meant usually there was a battle for those wanting to get inside.

Jacob and Tony, rather than accepting your quiet suggestion to head over to Dommo’s, were insistent that Over & Easy was the best idea for today. Though it was bound to be busy, Tony was craving their french toast and Jacob said their mimosas were better deals anyway. (After all, Saturdays usually meant pitchers for $5, so he wasn’t wrong.)

“You just went there yesterday!” Tony said. “And we rarely come to Over & Easy.”

“C’mon, it’s good to do something different every once and a while,” Jacob said, nudging you.

“Well, it’s just for a place that’s named Over & Easy it just seems to be the exact opposite,” you huffed.

Jacob snickered, and Tony rolled his eyes at your statement.

“What’s going on with you? Why do you want to go to Dommo’s so badly?” Tony asked.

“My car is there,” you said. Tony and Jacob shot each other a look. You knew the jig was up; these boys could read you almost too well. “All right, I met someone there yesterday. He was really nice. And I wanted to see him again because I forgot to get his number.”

Tony and Jacob let out a long, “Ooooh,” at your response.

“Well, I hear all the Dommo’s bartenders and baristas are kind of fuck boys, Y/N, so it might be well-worth your time to just skidaddle anyway,” Tony said. “But I mean, if you want to meet him, just pop-in for more coffee or something when you go get your car.”

You bit your lip. “I know, but he just didn’t seem like the usual type for Dommo’s. He actually seemed nice, like he wanted to talk to me. He listened to me complain about my major for like two hours, and gave me free sangria. You don’t just give anyone free sangria.”

“We do every week,” Jacob replied, lifting his arms up. “Whine and Wine, c’mon.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Yes, but we’re close friends. This guy was a stranger.”

“Doesn’t our roommate work at Dommo’s?” Tony asked, slightly scrunching his face up.

Jacob shook his head. “No, you idiot. He works at Wilson’s.”

“I swore he told me that once,” Tony muttered, shaking his head.

At that moment, your group’s name was called out, and you were ushered to a table in the back that seated four. You all ordered a round of mimosas, but you were all going to stick to just that — only one. Tony and Jacob were admittedly a little bit hungover still from last night, and while you were fine, you thought it’d be good to still hold off after all the sangria you drank the night before.

You chatted with both Jacob and Tony about how classes were going so far. Tony was going to have a stressful upcoming week, considering he had an exam coming up in one of his chemistry classes. Jacob, however, was going to be able to take it easy this week. He was a film and acting student, and he only had to worry about a group project he was going to be tackling soon. For the most part though, he was more thrilled than anything when it came to its progress so far, discussing how he met this new girl named Zendaya he wanted to integrate into the friend group.

“She’s a great actress and one of the most laid-back girls I’ve ever met in my life,” Jacob said.

“What is she studying?” you asked, lifting your eyebrows up.

“Women studies and music theory, but she’s heavily involved in the theater scene too.”

“You have to invite her for whine and wine. We need someone new in the mix,” Tony insisted. He then turned to you. “Are you inviting anyone new?”

“Maybe Brynn,” you mused, shrugging.

Jacob and Tony both groaned.

They hadn’t completely warmed up to your friend after an ill-fated incident at a previous party where she, in a completely drunken haze, decided to start jumping on Tony’s already fragile bed, and ended up breaking it. They hadn’t seen her since, slightly agitating the relationship between them and her. In her defense, she did help Tony pay for a new headboard and whatnot. So she wasn’t completely disgraced — just not a favorite to have around.

“You know what that means, time to lock all the bedrooms,” Tony huffed.

You giggled at your friends response, shaking your head. “I don’t think she’ll do something like that again. Besides, it’ll be good to have her around again. You guys can actually get to know her this time around. She’s a good person to complain with.”

“Why couldn’t you just get the bartender’s number and invite him instead?” Tony griped. You knew he was (mostly) kidding, but you were a little bit sad when you realized how fun it would be to invite Tom to Jacob and Tony’s parties on Wednesday nights. You could sit in the corner and chat, sipping on more wine and just get to know each other.

“More mimosas?” your waitress asked, approaching your table.

“I think we’re going to stick to water now,” Jacob replied, thanking her.

After a surplus of french toast and laughing, you were soon walking along the street toward Dommo’s to pick up your car.

Chatter consumed the world around you and you weaved in between all the people who were heading toward their own hangover brunch. You couldn’t help smiling, thinking of how you loved your college town for all its quirks.

As you headed in front of Dommo’s, you immediately spotted your car in one of the two hour free-lots, groaning when you realized you’d gotten a parking ticket for exceeding on your allotted time. It was a $35 ticket — not the worst you’d ever gotten downtown, but still not great.

Figuring you had nothing to lose still, you popped your head inside, scanning the room for Tom.

You sighed when you realized he wasn’t inside, but told yourself that you could maybe make a run by another time. He still owed you that latté that he talked to you about last night anyway. Either way, you headed back to your car, tucking the parking ticket in your glove box.

***

Over the course of the weekend, you quickly got over Tom. You fixated on your homework that was due Monday and Tuesday, burned some candles, and caught up on your favorite television shows. He turned from your brief confidanté into a passing memory.

Soon enough, you were back in your poli-sci class, plopped next to Brynn on the left side of the classroom as your professor lectured. You were nervous about today. He’d sent out an email before class that said he would be handing back papers today — a paper you rushed to complete and barely glanced over. You knew your grade was bound to be fucked by the time you got yours.

While your thoughts spiralized, your classmates were consumed in a debate over the topic of the paper. You heard Brynn contribute to the discussion and you started to doodle on your notebook, in hopes of temporarily escaping your thought process.

You then felt Brynn nudge you, a typical cue for when she needed you to back her up on something. You figured it was the typical conservative boys in the corner giving her trouble, and lifted your head up.

“What’s going on?” you whispered in her ear. “I’ve been tuned out.”

She snickered. “Nothing really, just Brad and Chad here are saying that voter fraud is the reason Hillary Clinton won the popular vote, and it’s an epidemic across the country. No racist history behind voter laws whatsoever.”

You rolled your eyes. Of course, your poli-sci discussion always turned into this at one point. You typically enjoyed the debates a little bit more, but since it was still within the first month, you were in the less compelling element of class. You were less enthusiastic about the fact that you were currently stuck in this class with two of your least favorite fellow political science majors — Carter Higgins and Quentin Carver. They’d followed you through the political science classes since your freshman year, but most of the time, you were fortunate enough to only have one of them. This semester, you got both of them.

You were grateful when your professor decided to cut off the discussion early to hand back papers. You slumped back in your seat, somewhat eager to see your grade and yet not prospective about how it was bound to look.

Soon enough, your professor called out your name. Your fingers felt jittery as you walked up to the front, and grabbed the folded paper from his hand, and returned to your seat.

You unfolded the packet of paper carefully. You were surprised when you saw in red pen on the front a giant “A” and a note from him that said, “Excellent job.”

A wave of relief washed over you. You slumped back into your chair, this time in pure disbelief.

“What did you get?” Brynn asked, leaning over to spot it. “Holy shit, first paper and you already aced it. He’s a tough grader too. Congrats.”

You’d heard of this particular professor’s reputation before throughout others who took his class, so you were familiar with some of the horror stories when it came to grading. You knew it wasn’t just you who helped coordinate all of this, as your mind wandered back to your Friday night in Dommo’s and the bartender who was kind enough to look over your paper.

You focused back on Brynn. “Thanks! How did you do?”

She frowned, “B+, but still good. Better than I expected, that’s for sure.”

You packed up your things into your backpack, waiting patiently for everyone to be handed back their papers. Once everyone had, he gave a short overview of what to do on future papers, should anyone need help and reiterated his office hours incase anyone wanted to chat about their grade. Shortly after, everyone was dismissed, and you slung your backpack back over your shoulder. There was a bounce in your step as you approached the door to the classroom, but right as you were getting ready to leave, your professor called your name again.

You turned around, facing him. “Yes, Professor McKinley?”

“I was really impressed with your paper, Y/N. It was one of the best I’ve seen right off the bat in this class. You have a fairly impressive future ahead of you,” he said.

You were flattered by the statement. Sure, you excelled in all of your political science courses, and you were glad you were already doing well in this class in particular. Yet, the thought of the future still somewhat terrified you. You wanted to tell this professor so badly that you had no idea how you were going to handle things following this school year, and the last thing you thought the future would be for you was “impressive.”

“I’m currently looking for an undergraduate student to be a research assistant and join my team,” he continued. “I think you would be perfect for the job if you’re interested. I need someone that I know can analyze, write, and work well with others. Currently, I just have one person, Carter Higgins actually, who works with me, but I always like to have another person around while campaign season unfolds.”

You gulped. You weren’t sure if you wanted to work alongside Carter; you hated him. Yet, this was a tremendous opportunity. Professor McKinley was one of the most well-connected professors politically. If you wanted a job at a non-profit or in a politician’s office, he almost always had a way in. If you joined and impressed him, you could ride on his coattails.

“What exactly would I be responsible for?”

“Just doing research, maybe picking up some books from the library. We’d go to different parties of political candidates as well. You might accompany me to a few panels as the election approaches, all sorts of things. It’s a great opportunity to network and learn more about political research.”

You bit your lip. Admittedly, you didn’t like your current job so much. It’d be nice to do something during the school year that focused on what you were passionate about.

“I’d love to do it,” you said.

He beamed. “Great, I’ll send you a link tonight to apply. I’m looking forward to working with you, Y/N.”

You gave him a polite thank you, before exiting the room. Brynn was outside, leaning against a wall and waiting for you. You smiled when you saw her.

“What was that all about?” she asked, synchronizing with your step as you both exited the building.

“Professor McKinley just asked me to work for him and do something political research,” you said, not meaning to brag, but well, it did sound that way.

You hated whenever you talked to Brynn about things like this. While she was an amazing friend, she was prone to jealousy and being competitive. A lot of the times, that manifested in your friendship with one another.

You could tell she was a little bit envious about the offer you received, and you felt a little bit guilty. Soon enough, a smile was on her face. You weren’t sure how genuine it was.

“That’s good. You’re going to get a lot of good networking out of that,” she said. “Congratulations!”

And yet, it felt forced. You weren’t sure just why you felt so guilty. Normally, if something like this happened, you would wave off the person who was exhibiting this kind of jealousy. But it was Brynn, and Brynn was one of the most passionate people you’d ever met. She genuinely cared about political science; it was her life ambition. The opportunity would have meant so much more than a resume line and connections to her.

“Thanks,” you replied. “But here’s the downside, I have to work with Carter Higgins.”

She groaned and you felt a little bit better in knowing you could now joke with her about the offer.

“I fucking hate that kid. He thinks he’s so important just because he’s a man and knows how to walk on two legs,” Brynn muttered. “Timmy Turner lookin-ass.”

You giggled at your friend’s string of insults. None of them were inaccurate.

“Speaking of Carter, why were you so spacey today? I needed your back-up.”

You let out a long sigh, uneasy how to best navigate the conversation. You didn’t want to agitate the whole friendship you had between you and Brynn, since you’d known she spent all week working on the paper. You knew she was going to judge you just a little bit for your lack of promptness with the paper, particularly since you’d gotten the special offer from Professor McKinley.

So you settled for, “Oh, I’ve just been anxious all day.”

“Why?”

You hadn’t thought that far along yet.

“Just a number of different things,” you said slowly. You decided your best bet was to slowly spin off the truth. “And like, I don’t know, I was nervous about my grade on the paper because I didn’t think it was my best work, and like, this one is going to sound a little bit lackluster, but I met this cute boy this weekend. We flirted for a few hours and I really liked him, but I forgot to get his number.”

It was an exaggeration to an extent, but for the most part, there was no lie.

“Oh that always sucks. I’ve done something like that before,” she replied, frowning slightly. “But hey, maybe you’ll bump into him again sometime soon. And like, I feel you on the anxiety in general, because I get that all the time.”

You felt yourself simmer down after her response. There were so many reasons you liked Brynn, but primarily because she never invalidated you when you talked about the things that were stressing you out. Even if they were just small things like forgetting to get a boy’s number at a bar.

“So, tell me about the boy,” she nudged you on.

You smiled and recounted how you met Tom to her, and how you opened yourself up to him so immediately it surprised you. You told her how sweet he was, how he waited to ensure you were comfortable with him giving you a ride home and in making sure you got home safely to begin with.

“Wow, you’re smitten by someone you’d only met for maybe two hours,” Brynn remarked.

You laughed. “I know, highly unlikely for me right?” You shook your head, your eyes slightly sparkling. “Some people are just magnetic, though, you know? And I think he’s one of those rare types.”

Brynn donned a smile at your words. “I honestly never thought I’d see the day where you were so flustered over another person. Who knew Dommo’s would put something like this together, huh?”

Brynn was reasonably surprised. In all the years that she’d known you, you’d never really pursued a relationship with another person. Often when someone was interested, you’d go on a date, but it almost always turned into nothing besides maybe a brief fling. This was the first time she saw you genuinely entranced by another person since you’d both been at college.

It was just that you were a total stickler about dating people you felt like were just as motivated as you were. Or at least, people who could keep up with you in terms of interests and banter. Other potential significant others you’d met over the years were great, but you always felt like you were never fully understood by them.

There was something different about this thing with Tom. Finding common ground wasn’t an issue. He got you.

“Hopefully it stays a thing. I haven’t seen him since, remember?” you continued. “And I don’t know how to see him again considering I don’t exactly have his phone number or anything like that?”

“Well, hopefully we’ll find him somehow. Worse come to worse, just run to the studio on Friday and see if he’s around. Or go to Dommo’s again somehow. If he works there as much as he says he does, I’m sure you’ll bump into him eventually.”

***

It was Wednesday night, which only meant one thing for your friend group — Whine and Wine time. You pulled the Yellowtail you’d been saving in your cabinet out, placed it in a bag, and walked over to Jacob and Tony’s apartment.

When you first moved out of the dorms, you knew you wanted to live by yourself. Jacob and Tony desperately wanted you to move into their apartment, but you had a feeling that if you shared a home with them, you wouldn’t be able to handle their living habits. Even so, the three of you agreed to live in the same apartment complex anyway — that way if you ever wanted to hang out or get drunk at the others’ apartment, it wouldn’t be a far distance.

You’d arrived at their front door in less than five minutes. Jacob’s eyes brightened considerably when he opened the door and saw you, and you gave him a tight hug. You were the second person there; the first being Laura, who was an expert at making sangria and was helping them out.

Granted, the general rule in your friend group was to typically arrive 30 minutes after the planned time. So by that standard, you were still about 15 minutes early.

“You’re not going to believe who’s coming today,” Jacob said as soon as you walked into the apartment.

You raised an eyebrow, setting the yellowtail you brought on the counter. “Who?”

“Our roommate,” Tony said from the couch. He was sprawled across it, already half a wine glass into the night. “Can you believe it? I invited him, not really thinking he’d say yes, and he texted back that he’d love to come!”

“He’s gonna be here around 8 o’clock,” Jacob said, nodding his head.

You grinned. “Way to include him in the friend group finally, guys!”

“You’re awfully excited, Y/N,” Laura remarked from the kitchen.

“Okay, they’ve been telling me about this guy for a while now, and he’s so mysterious like- I’m just curious about him. Where does he go? What does he do? Is he cute?”

“She’s going to scare him off within the first five minutes of being here,” Tony said.

You rolled your eyes. “Or maybe he’ll be happy that someone is finally acting interested in his life around here. You guys just ignore him!”

Jacob raised his hand. “In my defense, I try talking to him. Tony barely acknowledges him in the kitchen.”

“I don’t,” Tony admitted. “It’s just weird, like what do we talk about?”

“Wait, so in the morning if you’re like in the kitchen at the same time you guys just stand there in silence?” Laura asked.

You nodded your head. “Tony does at least.”

Laura shot him a look. “You don’t at least say hi or anything?” Tony shrugged again, and Laura rolled her eyes, slightly giggling. “No wonder he doesn’t really come home!”

“I’m trying now!” Tony attested, lifting up his glass of wine for another sip.

“He’s redeeming himself,” you joked. “Speaking of redemption, you know my good friend Brynn, she’s coming tonight. And I think we should give her a chance again, okay?”

Both Tony and Jacob groaned again.

“I’m already at max capacity tonight, Y/N! She broke my bed!” Tony protested.

Laura giggled from the kitchen and you rolled your eyes. “Guys, c’mon. She’s so much fun. Might be a little bit judgey from time to time but like a good friend.”

Jacob shrugged. “Listen, I’m usually just joking about all of this. I don’t actually have a problem with her. If you say she’s good, I believe you.”

Tony was pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m locking my bedroom door.”

You stuck out your tongue at him, before turning to Jacob and asking, “And what about your friend?”

Jacob frowned. “She’s not coming tonight. She couldn’t make it.”

Tony sat up straight. “What?!”

Jacob shrugged again. “She said she was busy! She seemed disappointed, so maybe some other night.”

Tony let out a long sigh. “I hope she comes eventually. We need more friends around here,” he said.

Laura then started pouring herself a glass of sangria from the pitcher. She offered some to you, which you naturally accepted.

It was good, but not even close to the quality of sangria Tom made you at Dommo’s. But even so, you were content with it.

“Damn, she’s missing out on some great sangria,” you complimented, taking another sip.

Slowly, more of your friends started piling into the apartment. Abraham, Sally, and some people you didn’t know well started walking in right around 7:30 p.m., exactly when you expected more of the crowd to show up. You nudged Tony over and sat on the edge of the couch. Laura sat on the other side of Tony, while Jacob primarily played host by greeting everyone who came in.

Brynn came next, after the large wave of people. She plopped on the ground in front of you, and you could see Tony eyeing her. You knew he was genuinely wary around her, and you couldn’t help giggling slightly at their dynamic.

Brynn started making conversation with Tony, and surprisingly, he was receptive to it. You were only half-tuned into their discussion, as you sipped more of your sangria and enjoyed being slightly antisocial for a long moment.

“So when are we going to start complaining or start group games?” one of Jacob and Tony’s friend that you hadn’t met yet asked.

That was another tradition of whine and wine — when you weren’t crying over your week, you were usually sitting together in a circle playing Cards Against Humanity or more likely, King’s Cup.

“Soon as my roommate gets here,” Jacob said. “We’re waiting on him and a friend to officially get started.”

You all gathered around in different sections across the room to begin catching up. You mostly pursued conversation with Laura, talking about her classes and what life had been like as an accounting major.

Every now and then, you glanced over at Tony and Brynn, who were still having somewhat of a decent conversation. Tony seemed less uneasy about opening up to Brynn now, as his animosity from Brynn breaking his bed was now gone. Laura nudged you about it, placing bets that by the end of the night they would hook-up.

You wandered over to Jacob, who was pouring some more wine for himself over by the kitchen.

“They’re getting along well now, huh?” you whispered, gesturing over to Brynn and Tony.

Jacob snickered. “You know how Tony is. You think the two of them will be good for each other?”

You cocked your head. “I think they have the potential to be. Either they’re going to mortal enemies or soulmates.” Jacob laughed.

But then, the door swung open. You knew who it was going to be even before Jacob leaned over to say it. It was the mysterious third roommate — the one that you’d heard so much information about, but had never met. You felt your heart pick up its pace, ready to make your judgements as soon as the door came to a close.

Two heads poked their way in the apartment. The first was a tall, blond man, with broad shoulders and a serious expression. As you weaved your way through your own memory, you realized you didn’t recognize the face. And it didn’t seem to fit the descriptor Jacob and Tony t0ld you about since they’d moved into this apartment. They told you their third roommate was on the shorter side, and this guy seemed to be fairly average in height, if not higher than average, all together.

But, even more surprising was when you were able to see the second head that stuck its head through the crack of the door. You knew the face; it’d been a face you’d been looking for almost extensively over the course of the past few days. And now, there he was — Tom himself. He was standing right in front of you, with an inquisitive and apprehensive expression across his face as his eyes surveyed over the room. With the ways his eyes moved with ease, like he knew the apartment itself, you knew at once he was the mysterious third roommate Jacob and Tony had been talking about so much.

You laughed to yourself about the irony of it all. You’d been looking for him for so long it felt like, and now, he was right under your nose after all this time.

His eyes brightened once they connected with yours.

“Oh, Y/N, my roommate is here,” Jacob said, nudging you. “Tom! There’s someone I want you to meet!”

He weaved his way over to you and Jacob in the kitchen, his blond friend following closely behind.

“Tom, this is Y/N,” Jacob said, gesturing toward you. “She’s a friend of mine and Tony.”

Tom shoved his hands in his pockets. “Oh, Y/N and I actually know each other. We met Dommo’s this weekend.” He gave you a quick head nod, and you smiled.

Jacob raised an eyebrow. “Oh, really?” He shot a look over at you. You could tell by his reaction that it was all clicking in his head — the way you were eying Tom, the conversation you’d had at Over & Easy, the fact that Tom said you’d already met, and more.

“Yeah, Tom was really helpful to me when I was complaining over that paper I had to write for pols. He even proofread it for me,” you replied.

Jacob nodded his head, a small smirk tugging on his lips. It was all the confirmation he needed. You tried not to blush.

“This is my mate, Harrison by the way,” Tom said, gesturing over to the tall blond boy standing next to him. He stayed relatively quiet throughout the introduction, but now he gave you and Jacob a quick greeting. He was a fellow Brit, you learned quickly. “Harrison, this is Y/N and then Jacob, who is my flatmate. The other one is somewhere around here.”

Jacob and you both gave a quick wave.

“Welcome to your first whine and wine,” Jacob said. “There’s sangria over in the corner, and all the wine is communal usually, so feel free to drink whatever. No one really gives a shit here, we all just try to get drunk and complain.”

Harrison and Tom both grinned.

“Now that’s what I’m down for, mate,” Harrison said, and all of you laughed.

Tom and Harrison excused themselves from the conversation to get a drink. Jacob shot you a look again.

“So that bartender you’ve been obsessed with is my roommate?” he asks.

“It appears so,” you replied, cocking your head. “And I’m not obsessed with him. Just… curious.”

Jacob chuckled, shaking his head. “Oh, whatever. I know you.”

You gave a pout. “I’ve only met him once.”

Jacob shrugged. “Just saying, for meeting only once, he obviously left an impression on you.”

And in truth, Jacob was absolutely right. You were enamoured by Tom in a way you couldn’t quite explain. There was just something about him that you were still trying to decipher.

You weren’t sure if you’d met anyone like him before.

Tom wandered back over to you and Jacob, Harrison closely in tow. He lifted up his glass of sangria, in somewhat of a cheering motion.

“Sangria isn’t so bad, huh?” you asked him, as he took a sip out of the glass.

Tom shook his head, a small smile curling up on his lips. “Do you like it better than mine?”

You pursed your lips. “Yours is definitely the best I’ve had.”

You could tell Jacob and Harrison were surprised by how easily the two of you got into conversation, but they weren’t quite fully sure on the context behind the topic at hand.

“At the bar I work at, I make sangria a lot of the time,” Tom explained. “I’m always trying out new recipes. Y/N was one of the few to try a new one I made the other day.”

“It was really good,” you replied, nodding your head.

“Well, you’ll have to bring it over to Whine and Wine sometime. I think we need more of that around here, if anything. The more alcohol, the better,” Jacob said. He was met by the chuckles of both Tom and Harrison. “But, we’re going to start a game soon if you guys want to jump in. We usually play Cards Against Humanity, or like King’s Cup which is a fun drinking game.”

Tom shook his head. “I think I’ll hold off for now.”

“I’ll jump in,” Harrison offered.

Jacob shot you a meaningful look.

“I’ll hang back,” you said swiftly. “I’ll kick in though after a few rounds, okay?”

Jacob seemed a bit disappointed by your answer, and you knew it had a partial role in the fact that earlier in the week, you’d turned down hanging out with Jacob and Tony at all of those parties. But he could handle himself. This was the first time you were seeing Tom in a while, and you wanted to get to know him better.

Jacob and Harrison both headed over to the living room, where the whole crowd of attendees were hanging out. You tried to stop your hands from fidgeting when you realized you were alone with Tom now.

“I got a job because of your excellent proofreading skills,” you said, a bit abruptly. “Thank you for that.”

Tom’s eyebrows raised at your statement, and a small grin curled up on his lips. “Really? Where?”

You explained how it was a research assistant job, but the professor it was attached to had multiple connections that were bound to help your own prospective career. You mentioned how you got one of the best grades in the class compared to the other students on the paper, and how he’d noticed it.

Tom nodded his head and his eyes stayed fixated on your face as he talked. It was a bit strange, being able to talk to someone with them being so intent in paying attention in what you had to say. It was so typical in college for all the people you were usually around to maybe check their phone every now and then, or at some point, their eyes would slightly glaze over as you spoke. But that wasn’t the case with Tom. Not at all.

He was attentive and engaged. His coffee eyes were soft, but with kindness, rather than with a lack of interest.

“Congratulations,” Tom said finally, when you were done explaining the premise of your new job. “It sounds like you’re a perfect fit for it.”

“Yeah, m’pretty stoked about it,” you replied, shrugging slightly. “I know I gave you all that talk about how it’s not necessarily my passion, but like I actually think this could be good.”

Tom nodded his head. “At least gives you the hope that you’re going somewhere after college. Which means you’re probably doing better than the rest of us.”

You grinned. “Tom, it seems like you have it pretty together.” He snorted, but you continued. “I mean seriously, you host a good radio show, and from the small interaction we’ve had together, you seem pretty emotionally in-tune. Which is more than you could say about most of the men that I’ve met.”

He snickered. “Well, you haven’t gotten to know me super well yet, so maybe hold off on making a lot of judgements yet. I don’t know if emotionally in-tune is necessarily the best way to describe me.”

You bit your lip, and said softly, “I think I’d like to get to know you better though.” Tom raised an eyebrow. “I just think we could be good friends is all. And you live with two of my best friends, as I’ve learned after today. So, might as well, right?”

You’d backed off a little bit, thinking maybe your initial move was a bit too forward. But thankfully, Tom followed along with it.

“Yeah, if anything, you should come by Dommo’s again sometime soon,” he replied. “After all, I still owe you that latté.”

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x fem!reader #college!tom #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland x female!reader #we'RE BACK #my writing #n1pa #next chapter: your best friends learn more about the boy you like #a lot of musing and rambling #and we return to dommo's!!!!!

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jswdmb1 · 4 years

Text

Fever

Fever got me aching

Fever, why won’t you explain?

Break it down again

- The Black Keys

It started with a cough on Monday. I just got over a bad cold about two weeks ago, so I shrugged it off as a byproduct of getting over that. Then I went to the gym after work and fell completely flat after just a couple of laps around the indoor track. A little unusual, but I haven’t exactly been burning it up workout-wise this winter, so I passed that off to being out-of-shape. I woke up the next morning with a splitting headache, but went into the office anyway, because I concluded that was sinus issues and probably just a by-product of a bad night’s sleep. There’s no way that I could be sick. Let’s press on.

To help ease my symptoms, I went to Walgreens and got the troika of OTC medications: Tylenol, Musinex & Flonase. Those helped me get through the day, but by the time I got home later in the evening, I knew I was in trouble. All of the above symptoms were accompanied by chills and body aches. Time for the thermometer, which confirmed a low-grade fever of around 100.0F. After a night of no sleep, I did a very 21st century thing and e-visited my doctor. I didn’t feel like going out and nobody needs my germs. Besides, I already knew what he told me - I have a virus, probably the flu, get rest & plenty of fluids, stay out of sight for a few days, yada, yada, yada. Despite the unexciting news (my son was certain I had coronavirus), it was good to confirm that I needed some down time to recuperate and this time I was going to take doctor’s orders seriously.

I also have the issue of my family to deal with, specifically my wife. Over the years, I have been blamed for bringing countless flus, colds, stomach viruses, and even pink eye into the house. I’m not really sure why, but I seem to be very susceptible to the mundane but annoying illnesses of our day. This time, there was no way that I was going to chance things and I quarantined myself. I decided the best place for that would be my 6th grader’s bedroom because it was probably due for a fumigation anyway. He happily moved into the basement, my wife got away from my germs, and I got a private room to convalesce (there is a fourth person in the house, but she is a high school girl, so she is indifferent to the whole thing).

As I write you from my solitary confinement (my only visitors are an occasional drop in from one of the dogs who sniff a bit then leave), I realize that I have probably spent too much time by myself, some of it in a fever-induced haze. Therefore, I think it is prudent for me to give you a few thoughts I have come up with since falling ill so that the outside world doesn’t forget about me:

The concept of a fever will always intrigue me. If you have a temperature of 98.6 you are fine, but go up a degree or two from there and you are sick? Doesn’t make sense. In the summer if it is 98, 99 or 100 out, can you tell the difference? And why when I was a kid, was a fever the absolute and only factor that could keep me home from school. I could be vomiting blood, but if it didn’t produce a fever it was off you go.

There are plenty of ways to hydrate when sick, and I have tried them all, but the best option is to take a tall glass and fill it with ice (crushed preferably if you are fancy like me and have a fridge that has that setting) and then put some good lemonade (like from Trader Joe’s) in the bottom half. Fill the top half with real ginger soda (again from Trader Joe’s) and you are going to hydrate like a champ. In the mornings, that EmergenC stuff mixed half with water and half with OJ is also good.

No one loves game shows more than me, and being sick is always a great time to catch up on my favorites. These past two days, I have watched a lot of Jeopardy and concluded that it is the greatest game show of all time and Alex is the best host ever. This updates a previous declaration I have made about Match Game and Gene Rayburn being superior, but that is not true. As much as I love Match Game, it is really not much of a game and Gene was more of an entertainer than a true custodian of the genre. No one surpasses the ability and wit of Alex to handle the gameplay of Jeopardy like he does. He is a class act and I will treasure every day with him from here on out.

I have also caught a bit of news, which isn’t normally my habit, but I saw the election results in Iowa and New Hampshire and became a bit curious. Now I realize I may not be of sound mind right now (truth be told am I ever?), but I think I am starting to feel the Bern. And, I’m not talking about the rash these flannel sheets are giving me. I don’t agree with everything he says, but he also is sounding more and more like the only adult in the room, which is what we need now more than ever. I’ll let the fever go down until I fully embrace this one, but look for more from me on this soon.

For reasons that are unclear to me, I seem to crave late 80’s/early 90’s soft rock for my listening pleasure while I am sick. You know, like Anita Baker, George Michael, Lionel Richie, and Gloria Estefan. Stuff that usually sounds horrible to me sounds comforting in this state. Particular songs I have enjoyed in recent hours are “She’s Like the Wind” by Patrick Swayze (from the Dirty Dancing soundtrack) and “Man in The Mirror” by Michael Jackson. I think some Toto and Glass Tiger got in there too. My guess is that after my fever spikes, this odd obsession will go away, but I think I will still keep Brenda Russell’s “Piano In The Dark” in my playlist. Seriously, that is a great song and if you don’t know what I’m talking about, go listen to it now on Spotify.

I found out that I am probably more productive lying in bed than upright and out-of-the-house. I fixed a bug in my computer that has been wonking for weeks, cleaned out my e-mail box, and worked through a couple of long-standing loose end projects that have been sitting on my virtual desk forever. I don’t think I have ever been as well-organized as I am right now. I am starting to think that doing this at least once a quarter will be better for me and my business whether I am sick or not.

There’s more I could share, but I gather this is already more than you probably wanted to hear. The good news is that after 48-hours of quarantine I am starting to feel better and may be ready to emerge from my hibernation in time for the weekend. I am confident that all of the rest, fluids, and Tylenol has helped speed up my recovery. I also believe that these past few days have been a real mental boost, which I agree seems odd, but in a world where downtime is hard to come by, I’ve decided that getting some forced on you for a couple of days isn’t the worst thing in the world. As a matter of fact, I think it has turned into a real positive for me, which is not where I thought this was going to go when I started coughing on Monday.

It has also given me some time to catch up on things literally and figuratively, and I think I’ll come back with a fresh perspective once I am virus-free. In the meantime, I’ll just lay here minding myself as I sip my ginger ale-lemonade concoction to the relaxing sounds of Kenny Loggins and his song from that Sly Stallone arm-wrestling movie “Meet Me Half Way”. However, if you don’t hear from me by Sunday, please send help. It means I’ve gone too far over the edge and started listening to the entire album of The Carpenters Greatest Hits 1969-1974. At that point, it is no longer a game and serious intervention is needed. I promise to be careful, but you never know. I already can hear that chorus in my head:

“Don’t you remember you told me you love me baby…..You said you’d never leave again baby…”

Stay well everyone,

Jim

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