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gingerteaonthetardis · 2 years

Note

Literati and “not wearing that”

nonny, i apologize for taking so long to finish this. i had an idea and i wanted to make sure i got it right, you know? that said, this received no editing, i finished it about ten minutes ago, and you'll just have to forgive my grammatical mistakes.

an additional note: this story contains brief references to events immediately post-childbirth. nothing graphic or traumatic happens or is said to have happened; it's merely an acknowledgement that birth is messy and emotional. this story also contains an unplanned pregnancy. proceed accordingly!

read on ao3.

"I'm not wearing that."

Crossing his arms over his chest, Jess Mariano does his level best to look immovable, firm, and completely immune to the blue-eyed hangdog look the Rories—one standing tall and another in miniature—are giving him right now.

"But—" Bug pipes up right as her mother reaches down and touches her shoulder, which is liberally sprinkled with rainbow sparkles. He has no doubt that the bathroom's gotten a similar treatment, if the state of Rory's robe is anything to go by. She looks like the inevitable outcome of an explosion in a glitter factory.

"Hey, kiddo, can you give us a sec?" she says, looking down at her daughter—and though her tone is gentle it also brooks no argument. In the moment, she reminds him of Lorelai, though he'd never, never tell her. "I think Charlie Brown should be starting soon, if you want to go check the TV."

He instantly feels guilt over how Bug's narrow shoulders wilt at the dismissal, her chin dipping low. As she turns, the picture she makes is almost too tragic: her (slightly too large for her five-year-old stature) butterfly wings drag on the floor behind her, sparkles scattering miserably in her wake, where they will absolutely be ground into the rug by the soles of various shoes. Each shuffle-step feels calculated to hurt him.

"We'll be out soon," Rory calls after her. "Don't start your letter to the Great Pumpkin without us!" Her voice is still light, but he can see the narrowing of her eyes before she's even fully facing him again, moving to nearly-close the door. "You're in trouble, mister."

"Fine, but I am not," he bites out, "wearing that."

The 'that' in question lies spread out over the bedspread like a secondary comforter: a multi-colored pukefest of optical fuckery that would be at home in the music video for 'Yellow Submarine,' but is painfully out of place in this particular bedroom. Even his own hurricane-force proclivity for messmaking can't compete with the sheer unambiguous monstrosity of this Halloween costume.

"Jess," Rory whines, stomping her foot—which shouldn't be adorable, considering she's thirty-seven years old and a mother. But somehow, it is. "You are being so childish right now! Like, I legitimately cannot believe how immature you're being."

"Says the woman who just stomped her foot at me!"

Rory's frown intensifies, and he can tell that she's resisting the urge to stomp again, which brings a smirk to rest on his lips. Indignation rarely works on Rory.

His smugness doesn't last long, though. "Is this a masculinity thing?" she asks. It's that tone—so flippant, so genuinely uncomprehending, like he's out of his mind not to want to wear the damn thing—that always gets his hackles up, and he's about to defend himself when she picks up again, on a roll. "Is your, what, male pride going to be threatened by wearing a silly costume to a kids' Halloween party? Do you need to watch that bootleg of Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat again?"

He pinches the bridge of his nose. "Rory…"

"Do I need to get you on Dr. Phil or something?"

"That guy's a hack," he says with a roll of his eyes.

"Of course he's a hack," she bursts out. She seems to have diverted her energy into making the bed now. Which is a bit difficult without displacing the hellish mountain of fabric, but she's managing. Mostly via flinging the pillows back up to the head of the bed. "I meant so we can put you on national television and he can publicly shame you for refusing to wear a dumb costume for three—two hours, tops," she amends, noting the increasing intensity of his glower, "to make your kid happy."

Sometimes, he wonders if she says that kind of shit—your kid, your kid—intentionally, just to fuck with him. Just to melt him in all the ways that count, so he'll be more pliable. If it weren't for the fact that Rory doesn't have a manipulative bone in her body, he'd be certain she does it on purpose.

She and Bug are two of a kind, winding him around their slender fingers in conscious and unconscious moments, tighter every day. His shoulders sag as she punches a pillow.

He still has to put up a token resistance, of course. "She's five," he reminds her. "She's aware that the world doesn't bend to her every whim at this point, I'm pretty sure."

"Seriously, Jess? You're gonna go out there and tell her 'life's not fair'—on Halloween?"

Groaning, he sinks down onto the bed, which at least puts a stop to her restless tidying. "No, I just…"

Rory's like a shark or something, apparently, and she orbits closer like she can smell the blood in water. The impending victory. Sinking down beside him, the warmth of her thigh presses against his. His hands itch to touch her—like he hasn't done it in months or years, instead of just twenty minutes.

Her hand finds his. Like she's reading his mind.

She's good like that. Damn her.

His whole body loosens, finally giving up any semblance of a fight, and he knows she can feel that, too.

A breath sighs out of her. "Remember what you said right after Bug was born?" she prompts, sliding her hand under his and threading their fingers together one by one. It's a slow and fluid motion, but intentional, distracting him as she adds, "You were sitting next to me in one of those really uncomfortable chairs—"

"Really uncomfortable," he agrees, the memory coming back. "My back wasn't right for days."

"Okay, Grandpa." She rolls her eyes. "But I was super embarrassed because I was still really sweaty for some reason? And also kind of—like, leaking, for basically the entire duration of the conversation—"

"It's not called 'sweating' when you've just delivered a baby, Ror. I believe it's called a 'glow.'"

Her other hand reaches over, patting their entwined fingers. "Diplomatic of you not to mention the leaking. Anyway," she says, clearing her throat, "I noticed you'd brought your bag to the hospital, and I thought you were leaving again. I was so sure, actually, that you'd come to tell me goodbye…"

Her lip wobbles a bit before she sucks it into her mouth, biting down. Her pointer finger makes a map of the back of his hand—tracing hills and valleys, tendons and veins. But even with her head down, he picks up on the faint sheen in her eyes.

Jess squeezes her fingers.

"I was really kind of bitchy to you," she admits.

He shakes his head too fast. "I wouldn't say that."

Except he would; she'd practically run him out of the hospital room that day, despite not being able to properly stand on her own two legs. "I don't need you hanging around, looking after me, waiting for me to get my shit together, Jess," she'd spat, almost venomous with pain—all kinds of pain—and also with exhaustion. "Because it's not gonna happen. You're not Luke."

Those three words had fucked him up for a long time, though he'll never admit it. And they'd tempted him to bolt.

Again.

It was like she'd looked straight into the heart of him with her weird, divine feminine post-birth senses and seen the fears still lurking there: that he'd never be good enough, or strong enough, to be what the people in his life needed.

Now, she looks at him with lucent blue eyes, feathered a little more at the edges by time and experience. They're softer than they used to be, and more determined in their glinting.

She lets out a breath through her teeth. "I was awful. But instead of leaving, you opened your bag and pulled out this beat-up book—"

"Operating Instructions," he remembers with a smile. "Anne Lamott."

"—and you said it didn't matter if I ever got my shit together, because it wasn't about having my shit together. It was about knowing that I would never be alone."

"If memory serves, I also warned against getting super into religion postpartum."

Rory's laugh is watery, and her eyes squeeze shut as tears threaten to overflow them. "Shit, that's so mean. It brings her real comfort, you know?"

"Babe, where are you going with this?" His hands break free long enough to find their way to her back, where he fans slow circles into the worn cotton of her robe. It catches at the pads of his fingers, making soft-hot friction.

"Well," she winces, "I was gonna wrap it up by saying you promised me you'd always be there for Bug and me, and that means you have to put on the damn costume."

Jess lets out a low whistle. "Yeah, that would've been a pretty watertight argument. Lucky you didn't make it, or I'd have no choice but to cave under the emotional weight." He's relieved to see a brighter grin tug up the corner of her lips.

"Guess I couldn't go through with it." Her thumbs come away shiny when she wipes under her eyes—shiny and flecked with black from her makeup. "Because I'm a sucker, apparently, who can't stand to cheapen the memory."

And—I was right, Jess thinks. Not a manipulative bone in her body.

Though maybe a little in the connective tissue. A Gilmore legacy, a heritage that makes damn sure his life is never boring.

The knowledge is so sweet and heart-aching that his arm tightens, pressing her in closer until her head is at his shoulder, where he can turn his face and press a grateful kiss to her crown. Her hair smells like her shampoo and cheap plasticky glitter glue, and it is something he cannot imagine—would not be willing to imagine—living without.

"Well, you don't have to," he sighs into her hair. "I give up. I'll wear the costume."

He expects a reaction, of course—some gleeful clapping, some thanks, maybe even a little gloating. (In an ideal world, he thinks, he'd be repaid in kisses. Absolutely pinned to the bed by them, knees on either side of his hips, trapping him in her gravity.) But he does not expect the reaction he gets.

He almost leaps out of his skin when Rory bursts into tears again.

Her transition in holding her—shifting her from shoulder to chest—is automatic, requiring no rational thought, which is fortunate because his mind is taking on the sound of a blaring siren. Wrong, wrong, wrong, something is wrong.

He glances to the door as her gasping becomes muffled, listening for the sound of the television. Luckily, it seems like the hunt for the Great Pumpkin is well underway; Bug should be solidly distracted. Allowing his full attention to snap back to the room, to Rory.

Rory, who isn't like this and doesn't do this—not anymore, because they've learned, and he likes to think they've grown together. But if this is Rory and Rory doesn't do this, that means whatever it is—the reason she's melting down in his arms an hour before a kids' Halloween party—is big.

Really big.

Possibly building up for weeks, or longer. Months?

He races through his memories. Is it possible that she's been unhappy for months?

Jess can't help the way his stomach sinks.

"Rory? Talk to me, are you okay?" He wraps both arms around her, feeling the rapid fluttering of air going in and out. "What's happening? What did I do?" He hates himself for the last question, but it's ingrained. An instinct older than their relationship.

Her words come out on a series of gasps. "You didn't—do anything. God, sorry—I'm fine—it's just," she shudders, and his hands clench, fingers pressing into her tight, "baby hormones."

Jess freezes. What?

"Shit," she snuffles. It's like she's heard his unspoken question; more likely, she can feel the sudden straightening of his spine. "Sorry. There—there was a—plan and I'm—messing it up."

"A plan?"

He's feeling very detached from his body, all of the sudden, very much like he's missed some crucial step in the conversation.

"I just—it was Bug. She dug the pregnancy tests out of my bag, and you know how she can get. She wouldn't stop asking about the—the 'glowsticks.'"

He's sure, from the outside, he's wearing the ghost of a smile. But inside, he's floating. The sound of his pulse feels like it's coming from everywhere at once. "Okay," he says. A normal reaction, he thinks. Pregnancy tests.

Pregnancy tests.

"And when I explained, she was—she was so—"

And as she gasps for breath, his hand resumes its automatic circuit around her back, feeling the soft ridges of her ribs—the knobs of her spine—soon, if she's pregnant (which she is, Jesus Christ), she'll start filling out and the bones will get a little less pronounced. She'll soften everywhere again, only this time, he'll be allowed to touch her—

"—excited, I knew she'd tell you. So, I made her promise to keep it secret, and I told her it was a surprise for you." Rory hiccups, and it's a pitiful little sound. "She's been asking every day if it's time to tell you yet."

A surprise for you.

He tries to find his way back into his body—ground control to Major Tom. "When were you going to tell me?"

"After the party. That was Bug's idea. Trick or treat, you know?" As her own breaths slow, he finds his lungs following suit—oxygen ripples into him like clear water, sharpening everything. And so he notices that Rory sounds terrified. "But now it's out there and it's not the kind of news you can just—take back and be like, 'Hey, forget I said that!' So… surprise, I guess?"

In the moment, all the feelings seem to be overlapping. Joy and terror are foremost among them in a particular heady combination that reminds him a little of that first real kiss at the gas station, when she'd finally let her hands slide into his hair. In the moment, everything feels so powerfully strong that his brain doesn't have room for anything else, and so it empties itself out and all he can think to say is, "Were you going to tell me while I was dressed as a caterpillar?"

Rory hesitates, and then snorts out a giggle.

"Does that matter?"

He's about to insist it does—or admit that it doesn't—when there's a creak at the door. A little brown-haired head pokes in, followed by shimmering wings. "Mama!" Bug's brow is scrunched up with knowing. She's far too observant for her age. "Did you tell?"

"She sure did," he answers for Rory, who is surreptitiously wiping away more tears. "You get tired of Charlie Brown?"

Bug nods. He doesn't exactly blame her; he gets tired of the moralizing Peanuts in probably half that time.

"C'mere, then, I need to tell you something." He pats the bed beside him, but isn't remotely surprised when Bug scrambles right up into his lap, swinging an arm around his neck for good measure. He steadies her with one hand while the other is still pressed to Rory's back, and the world distills. Into those things he'd never felt, never imagined feeling, before they became a family.

Mostly the kind of panicked tenderness that comes from holding your whole fragile world in your hands.

A family. A baby. The information hardly feels real, but he repeats it like his favorite line of a song.

He takes a deep breath. "This is big news, Bug. You excited?"

Her head bobs again. The verbal thing comes and goes with her, and he grins at how like him she can be, even though they're the furthest thing from blood-related.

"Me too," he says, and when Rory sways a little, he turns to meet her eyes. A thick-throated swallow is the best he can manage, and he hopes that she hears what he isn't saying.

Bug squirms a little, and he turns his attention back to her.

"It's your surprise," she pronounces.

He nods. Clears his throat. "A good surprise. You did a great job keeping Mama's secret. Maybe too good of a job," he adds with a mock-glare at Rory, who sticks out her tongue. "You guys should be surprise party planners. Great poker faces."

Bug frowns. "You shouldn't poke people." Her highly-developed sense of justice in action. His arm around her squeezes tighter.

"You know you'll always be my girl," he tells her soberly, and for some reason, his chest is so tight he can barely get the words out. She's his miracle—the event and the being that removed the scales from his eyes. If not for her, he doesn't know where he would be. Where they would be.

She considers, head cocking. And then she nods. "Yeah, Big."

He swallows. "Good."

He hears Rory sniffling again, and she pulls Bug into her lap to have somewhere to hide the face, and he can almost see them from the outside: the three of them, the picture they make.

For a moment, they stay like that.

It's only when Rory's breath slows that they break their little three-way hug. "Big's gotta get dressed if we're gonna get to the party on time," she rasps, combing a hand through Bug's hair. "You wanna help me finish getting ready, honey?"

Bug agrees cheerfully, and then the Rories are off again, heading for the bathroom—but he catches the elder Rory's hand before she can go too far.

She pauses, looking back at him with a quirked brow and a smile so soft he could sink into it forever. Her eyes are red-rimmed and shining a living, oceanic blue.

Pushing up to his feet, he catches her jaw with his fingertips, pulling her in.

Kissing Rory makes time stop; it always has. When he was younger and a teenager with an angry heart and more questions than he could possibly find answers to, her lips had felt like a kind of safe harbor. A place he could go to where everything stood still, where all the roaring stopped. Nothing had to make sense there, because the normal rules didn't apply.

No time or space. Just them.

And even though he feels so far away from being that pissed off kid—a lifetime away, or several lifetimes—it's still the same now. Everything fades. Everything quiets.

Everything is them, and it always has been, and it always will be.

Breaking away, he dips his forehead to touch Rory's, warm skin pressing like book pages. The new best feeling each time he feels it.

He nudges, eyes angling to meet hers. Whispers, "Thank you, Rory."

Her answering smile is like a kid with a secret. She sparkles and glimmers and does all manner of inhuman things, because of the light and because he loves her. Loves her so badly it burns.

Her and Bug and—he swallows—whoever he's yet to meet.

She lands a quick kiss on his nose and turns away, making for the bathroom where Bug waits impatiently on the threshold. Eyes wide and wise, like she already knows everything is going to change.

Everything is going to change, he thinks, while his heart expands in his chest. They'll have to figure it out together.

But not just now. While Rory pulls back her hair, their daughter sits cross-legged on the floor, chattering about chrysalises, which is the theme of Rory's costume tonight. Bug pronounces it at least seven different ways, all of which are perfectly, wonderfully wrong. But she talks on and on about the life cycle of a butterfly while her own wings shed glitter into the air like snow.

Caterpillar. Chrysalis. Butterfly.

So, yes, in the end, he puts on the damn costume, and he can't even complain about it. Not really. He doesn't even want to.

In fact, he's the happiest goddamn caterpillar in New York City.

#JESS MARIANO IS A GOOD DAD. THAT'S THE POINT OF THIS STORY #it is. in fact. the point of everything always forever. good dad jess #literati fic #jess mariano #rory gilmore #jess x rory #gg posting #abbey.txt #my fic

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keltonwrites · 3 years

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Where no one knows your name

How many times is a person meant to make new friends? When I moved into an apartment in DC with an absolutely iconic girl from Craigslist, I wrote in my journal, “you never know when you’ll meet your next bridesmaid.” Charmingly juvenile, as I was 24 years old. Ironic, as I never had any bridesmaids. And embarrassing, knowing I wrote something that’s surely been embroidered on a bachelorette party t-shirt by now. My point was: you can meet people you fall in love with anywhere, anytime, assuming your heart (and calendar) are open. Now my heart and calendar are open and I am one of Elizabeth Bennet’s sad sisters, cloying and desperate for attention while everyone at the ball ignores me. Meeting people here is unnerving and hapless and eye-clawingly vulnerable. My first new friend told me she was moving away in a few months. Do you invest deeply in hopes of another faraway friendship? Do you just go back to waving as you pass on the street? I like this girl! What an embarrassing thing to have to say to someone! Do you just invite people to every and anything like a lunatic? I can’t even remember to call the people I am forever-and-ever in cahoots with. I’m also deeply bound by what I’ll call the Movie Trap: say it’s 3pm during not-a-pandemic, and you get the urge to see a movie. You look at the showings, and there’s one you really want to see at 7:15. You think to yourself, “I should make an effort,” and you text a friend. “Hey, you wanna go see This Cool Movie at 7:15 tonight?” No one ever says yes. Don’t give me an example of when someone has, because it’s always one of these answers:

“Oooh, I’m actually seeing it with Kate tomorrow - wanna come?”

“Can we go to the 9pm showing? Stuck at work.”

“Yeah but let’s see Movie You’ll Fucking Hate instead.”

Now maybe I’m just lighting flares guiding you to the worst parts of my personality, but this drives me nuts. No, Liz, I don’t want to go tomorrow. I want to go tonight. At 7:15. So I can be in bed by 10. And you’d have to drag my dead body and prop open my eyes to get me to see something like Marriage Story in theaters. The Movie Trap is a big reason I usually hang out by myself, or I make plans weeks in advance. (Don't I sound like a blast.) Just the idea of being like, “I like you! Wanna hang out in October?” makes me want to collapse into a puddle of sad adulthood. Which is why on Friday at 4:30pm, when a girl I’d met a week prior asked if I wanted to grab a drink, I just said yes. I put on a pretty dress, did my makeup, put stuff in a purse, and drove the 25 minutes to town. It was really fun! And how novel to have new contacts in my phone like “Maggie blue house” and “Jess concert friend” — a throwback to the days of “Greg guy on L train” and “Devon ad party.” The very concept of not knowing someone’s last name or even needing it, and a year from now updating their contact info and smiling at your origin story. But for the most part, no one is in our phones. In terms of phone numbers collected, here is the list:

Two friends we knew prior who thank god you guys exist.

New friend who is moving away.

New friend who is game to drink tequila and ride mountain bikes.

Neighbor-not-yet-friend who I really fucking like and am not sure how to cross hang-out threshold with.

Not to say there aren’t any other prospects or people I’m platonically gaga over, but I don’t have their phone numbers. There are honestly a lot of people like this because when you live in a small town (and you’re from the Midwest) you say “oop, sorry” to every person/object you bump into, and you say “hi :)” to every person you see. These are the rules. If I drive by you and don’t wave, it’s because I was so deep in a daydream I probably shouldn’t have been driving in the first place. This isn’t acceptable, because in our urgency to tattoo our vaccination status on our foreheads so we can make friends, it turns out just driving by someone can be a viable strategy. A few days ago, a man was driving by our kitchen window and then our driveway, and then he reversed back up to the kitchen window and started waving. Ben went outside — it was that kind of wave. The man had seen from his car a smokejumper emblem on the back of a truck in our driveway. “Hey, are you a smokejumper?” We aren’t. But my dad was, and he was in town visiting, accompanied by the emblem on the back of his truck. The guy said we should drink sometime. Numbers were not exchanged. We’ll call that a node, because it’s not quite a connection. And it’s mainly nodes, waiting to be connected, to have relevance. But first, no matter who you’re trying to befriend, you have to answer everyone else’s Do I Care Quiz. The quiz is employed by 93% of locals to determine how they feel about you existing within their personal 50-mile radius. The first question is non negotiable:

1) Are you visiting?

Variations on this question include “how long are you in town?” or “what brings y’all to town?” or my least favorite and most insulting, “did you just finish Jeeping?” I know I have blonde hair and say y’all, but how dare you. (Also, to be clear, you can own a Jeep, customize your Jeep, mod out your Jeep, and love your Jeep, but you’re not Jeeping until you drive too fast through a tiny town so you can hurl your Jeep over a mountain pass without ever getting out of it.) So the answer to “are you visiting” is “no, I live here.” Which brings us to the next question, my favorite for how loaded the gun, kneeling in the grass, scope on, target locked it is.

2) Are you part-time or full-time?

The first time I answered this question, I didn’t realize it was essentially like asking how someone voted in the 2020 election. The judgment was cocked and ready and the palpable relief/joy/or at the very least, tolerance, exuded by answering “full-time” was like when the sun comes out from behind the clouds on a 40 degree day. I was fine, but wow that does feel better. The third question though does not have a standard hoped-for answer. This is where nodes turn to connections turn to phone numbers.

3) What brings you here?

It seems like the best possible answer would be saying you work in town, and you’re going to begin construction on displaced-worker housing to ensure the people who run this town can actually live in it. We’d have everyone’s phone number. Saying you’re a writer who works remotely and bought a house from a legendary and beloved local who could no longer afford it is really something you keep to yourself. But in the interest of making friends, I just word vomit my entire history. We might as well find out at the onset if I make your eyes roll back into your skull. Not at all threatening that all it takes is a single social signal misinterpreted to be the absolute death knell of my ability to make friends in a town of some 1400 adults. In fact, I’ll share one such interaction. I was hiking with Cooper, about 5 miles by foot away from my house. I was on a trail, crossing a sloped meadow, and a group was traversing up the hillside to the trail. I said hi, where y’all coming from. One girl answered and we talked about the trail. She eyed me up and down. “Did you just move here?” “I did!” “I served your family last week,” she said. “Oh,” that phrasing. “Must have been my in-laws.” “Heard you bought Jack’s house. Such a bummer when locals like that are forced out.” “We didn’t even know about his house,” I said. “We were looking at another house and he asked his realtor if he could get us to come see his house. We just loved it, and him!” She had no emotional reaction to this. “You moved from California?” she asked. (Dangerous question.) “Yeah, got these sea level lungs, haha,” attempting to disarm with humor was a failure, “but couldn’t be happier to be out of California.” “It’s not like this all year. Winter’s really hard here, you’re in for a rude awakening.” “Well California’s the last place I lived, but I’m not from there. I’ve lived in brutal winters. At least Colorado gets sun!” I laugh with cloaked loathing. “It’s different when you live at altitude,” she said, like no human aside from her had ever been literally anywhere. “Are you trying to go around?” She indicated the path behind her. “No, y’all go ahead, just gonna wait to give you your space. I’m sure you’re faster than me.” “K, good luck making it to the lake." Maybe she was thirsty. Maybe she was hungover. Maybe she just has vicious delivery, but it felt like every blade of grass was leaning against the wind to listen. She was with four other people and not one of them said a word. I left that interaction not wanting to see another human ever again. But that interaction, and her intimate knowledge of exactly which house I lived in, made me want to decorate like we lived in a gingerbread house, all candy canes and plum drops, screaming to any passerby that we’re friendly. One of the mayor’s first questions to me was “what are you going to do to the house?” There are rules here about what your house can look like, and I kept emphasizing we bought the house because we loved it, not because we wanted to change everything about it. And now, instead of wanting to decorate the interior, I want to put up shades so we don’t contribute to light pollution, I want to hang a sign by the water spigot saying “grab some if you need” for hikers and mountain bikers, I want to paint a sign for the wild mint by our door that says, “I mint to tell you to take some,” because our neighbors were openly panicked they wouldn’t be able to just grab mint from the cabin’s garden anymore. Without question, COVID makes things harder. Dinner parties feel like dares. Dropping cookies off at someone’s house feels invasive. Grabbing a drink feels like the ultimate sign of trust. But at least we have nodes who can connect who can think to invite us and who can see that despite having lived in California, we’re not all that bad. In the meantime, I’ll be painting signs about water and mint, hoping to garner the benefit of the doubt from the so beautifully, earnestly, and waiting-to-see-if-you’re-worth-it doubtful.

Subscribe to the newsletter at tinyletter.com/keltonwrites — high altitude relocation and renovation in a tiny mountain town.

#amwriting #newsletter #making friends #how to make new friends #adulthood #small town life

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pastelwitchling · 3 years

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Somebody to You (Chapter 2/4)

Isobel was not even a little bit what Alex expected her to be. She flipped her hair as he’d imagined she would, and she had the same sneaky smirk that Michael did that made Alex’s heart ache, but as they strolled the museum halls, passing painting after sculpture after painting after ancient pieces of New Mexican history, her remarks were never teasing but genuine.

She seemed fascinated less with the actual artwork and more with what Alex thought of it himself. As if she hoped to unravel the mystery of him by knowing his opinion on the mundane.

“What about this one?” she pointed at a piece. “And that one? What about this?”

“Isobel,” Max panicked, “don’t touch that!”

Alex hid a smile. Max and Isobel had the relationship he’d always secretly wished he had with his brothers, despite their differences. Despite their father trying to get in between them and pin them against each other.

He should’ve been sad, should’ve felt left out as he usually did when Michael started flirting with a girl when they were hanging out; like everything was a reminder of how much he didn’t fit, but . . . Max kept looking for his reactions, and Isobel kept her arm hooked around his and glaring at anyone that gave the only gay kid a sideways glance, and both of them felt the need to fill Alex in on any inside joke they had.

By the end of the museum visit, Alex realized the entire trip had been listening to more of the Evans’ stories than knowing anything about the pieces they’d seen. It was nice, like being with Liz and Kyle, except one of them kept watching him, raising an inconspicuous brow whenever Alex pulled his phone out and the other kept giving him covert glances and smirking, like she knew something Alex didn’t.

Alex almost wanted to tell Isobel that he knew about Max’s feelings for him, as surprising and out of character as they were, but couldn’t bring himself to confess to them. They’d feel real, like he was humoring Max instead of the truth, which was pining and loving his brother and forever miserable at the strange distance Michael seemed to be taking with him now.

Too lost in his thoughts about Michael, Alex didn’t even realize that Max was holding a smoothie in his face until his nose hit the cold cup.

Alex blinked, startled, and Max smiled softly. “Sorry. Pineapple’s your favorite, right?”

“Yeah,” Alex said slowly, taking the cup. Isobel was holding something aggressively pink and Max’s own was a deep blue. “How’d you know?”

An unreadable expression crossed Max’s face for a split second, but it was gone so quickly that Alex was sure he must’ve imagined it.

“I asked Michael,” he said, gaging Alex’s reaction as he took a sip.

Alex had no idea how much it felt like he was suffocating until he had something cold and delicious trickle into his chest, like a window was open to his heart and he was able to breathe.

His eyes fluttered and he sighed, content. Max’s smile widened.

Alex pulled off the straw and looked down. He was used to being watched, but people’s interests usually quickly faded. Max, on the other hand, seemed to stare more and more.

He cleared his throat, swirling the yellow smoothie. He glanced at Isobel, to make sure was busy harassing the enamored girl behind the desk about her right to have more granola. “Can I ask you something?”

“Me?” Max blinked. “Yeah!”

“Why now?” Alex asked. “I mean, we’ve been around each other since middle school.”

Max seemed to think about this a moment, then, “I guess I just never looked at you that way. I mean, you’re – you’re my brother’s best friend.”

“But that hasn’t changed.”

“No,” he agreed. “But . . . Michael told me you play the piano.”

“So?”

“So,” Max swallowed, “I didn’t know that. I never even imagined it. You have this whole emo thing going, but . . . it feels . . . like . . . there’s more to you, I guess?” He shut his eyes. “Which I know is so stupid to say because I don’t know you that well, but I – I want to. I want to . . . know the guy that looks like he could rule the Underworld and still plays beautiful music on his piano and who laughs around his friends and who’s always there for the people that need him. You’re just good, Alex.” He turned red and wouldn’t meet Alex’s eyes when he continued, “You’re – you’re cute and you’re good, and . . . I don’t know, that feels like the best kind of story.”

Alex stared until beads of ice water fell down the side of the cup and over his fingers. He blinked, and looked down. He should’ve been angry that some stranger would claim to know anything about him, but only Michael had ever been able to tell when Alex was angry about his father, and rebelling in everything from his clothes to his makeup to his words. When he found comfort in the dark aesthetic, but everyone else was uneased by it. Alex was scary and unapproachable. Only Michael had ever known of how weighed down he could be by others’ aversion to him, how much mattered to him. And now, it seemed, so did Max.

Alex swallowed thickly, running through the million things he would say. How’d you know? Don’t read my mind like that. How did you so easily say what Michael never seems to want to? In the end, however, he settled for, “Oh.”

Watching Alex and Isobel together was . . . not unpleasant. Far from it, actually, Max found himself laughing when Isobel eagerly tugged Alex along every few blocks to gossip about who-knows-what, and Alex scrunched his nose every so often in a way that made Max’s heart flutter. It was either giggle a little breathlessly at his reactions or press his hand over his chest and question what his racing heart meant.

“What’s so funny?” Alex asked at one point.

Max blushed at the idea of confessing, but he figured it would help his case, so he murmured, “You’re kind of adorable,” and took a long gulp of his drink, refusing to look at Alex for his reaction.

They walked along the neighborhood for a long time. Isobel treated them each to a beer, and if Alex was annoyed by her at all, he definitely didn’t show it. In fact, he looked amused every time she spoke, and it made something in Max’s protective heart melt.

Stop it, he scolded. This is fake, this is all fake. Remember your mission.

When the time came for them to part ways, Max insisted on walking Alex to his house.

“Ooh, Max,” Isobel hooked her arm around Alex’s. “Such a gentleman! Ready to go, Alex?”

But Alex, Max now realized, had faltered.

“Erm,” he gently removed his arm from Isobel’s. He looked, for the first time that Max had ever seen him, nervous. “Th-That’s okay. I like walking by myself.”

Max shook his head. “Alex, it’s really late, I can just –”

“It’s fine, okay?” Alex said with some edge, walking backwards. “Seriously, I don’t need help.” Then, as an afterthought, he added, “Thanks though. I had a lot of fun. Really. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” Isobel murmured back, her brows pinched, and when she looked to Max, he saw the same confused concern on her face that he felt. He’d thought everything was going fine. He’d thought offering to take Alex home would be a good thing. Had he said something wrong?

When he and Isobel made it back into the house, they stopped in the corridor that separated their rooms. Isobel leaned her shoulder against her door a moment, and with a gentle smile, she said, “I like him.”

Max pursed his lips. The same words were on his tongue, but they felt wrong to say. Isobel didn’t know that all of it was an act, that he had only gone out with Alex to help get rid of his feelings for Michael. The softness of her blue eyes forbid Max from confessing to that truth.

So all he did was hum, mutter a goodnight, and open his door. When he stepped in, he found Michael on the edge of his bed, leaning his elbows on his knees, his hands interlocked tightly.

Finding Michael in his room at ungodly hours was no surprise, but Max rarely saw him so distressed, his jaw clenched, his eyes focused ahead as if he barely noticed his brother, his thumb carving into the back of his other hand, his foot tapping restlessly on the hardwood floors.

“Hey,” Max said warily, closing his door.

“How was the museum?” Michael said in lieu of a greeting.

Max understood, closing the door. “Good. Great, actually, you don’t have to worry.” He sat down next to Michael with a sigh. “Isobel came with, he had a lot of fun.”

Michael dropped his head into his hands, his fingers tugging at his curls. “Great,” he said hoarsely.

Max stared a long moment, and his shoulders slumped. “Michael, you got to stop this. Just talk to Alex –”

“Stop it, Max,” he ground out.

Max shook his head. “What happened? I thought Saturdays were for you and Alex, why’d he call me?”

“I . . .” he growled and stood, kicking a dresser. Max said nothing as his brother paced the length of his room.

“It’s okay,” he finally said. “He couldn’t hate you, no matter what you –”

“You didn’t see his face,” he said. “I said – I can’t believe I . . . but it had to be done. I had to . . . he wouldn’t have called you otherwise.”

Max swallowed. He didn’t know why, but the idea that Alex wouldn’t have called him if Michael hadn’t pushed him to do it upset him more than it should.

“R-Right,” he said and cleared his throat. “Look, would you just sit down please?”

Michael sat down with a huff, his foot still tapping. Max gripped his knee firmly. “Hey,” he said. “I can tell you what he did.”

Michael nodded, eyes wide and afraid. “O-Okay. Yeah, okay.”

So Max told him everything, from the moment Alex had come over, to Isobel inviting herself along, to the museum trip, to the smoothies they had, to the beers. When he told Michael about offering to walk Alex home and Alex’s reaction, Michael didn’t look the least bit surprised. If anything, he looked angry all over again.

“Asshole,” he grumbled, rubbing his face with one hand.

“Hey,” Max said heatedly, “I tried to –”

“Not you,” Michael rolled his eyes. “Alex’s dad. Jesse Manes.” He sighed. “If he gets even a feeling that Alex might be dating a guy, he . . .” he shook his head. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does,” Max said, remembering the fear in Alex’s eyes when he had offered to walk him back. “Michael, he was freaked out –”

“I know,” Michael cut him off firmly. “Just . . . let it go, Max. There’s nothing you can do. Just don’t let his dad see you together. No matter what. Alex will be the one paying for it.”

Max swallowed, thinking. He had rarely seen Jesse Manes around town, knowing only that everyone admired him for his military service. Max had never had an opinion other than the fact that Jesse had seemed too cold to approach, but he was nothing like Alex.

With Alex he saw a warm light. With Jesse, there was none.

Nonetheless, he just nodded until Michael stopped looking worried about it, and brought in another pillow and blanket for his brother to sleep in his room.

When he laid there in bed, he pulled his phone out, scrolling mindlessly for fifteen minutes before he convinced himself that pulling Alex’s number was a good idea. He didn’t think he wanted to or should call, but . . .

Get home okay? he texted, and regretted it the second it sent.

“Shit,” he whispered, his eyes falling shut. Michael was asleep against the wall, snoring away. Max tapped the edge of the phone when he got no response, then shut it off, leaving it on his nightstand and not at all expecting a response. Then –

Ting!

Max swallowed and grabbed his phone.

Safe and sound, Alex’s message read.

He bit his lower lip, hesitated, then typed out, Good. Sweet dreams.

Now that was the one he regretted. Sweet dreams? He groaned, turning his face into the pillow and tossing the phone aside.

He stared at it from where it sat on the carpet, not expecting an answer, or maybe for Alex to make fun of him or tease him for it. Then the screen lit up and he almost fell off the bed.

You, too, Max.

It was stupid. It was so, unbelievably stupid, but a smile tugged at Max’s lips and a chuckle escaped before he even realized it had formed. He could almost hear Alex’s voice, soft and amused, saying his name. What if he thought Max was cute? Or kind? Or unique? What if he was just humoring Max’s ridiculousness? It didn’t matter. He hadn’t laughed at him, he hadn’t ignored him. It made Max smile.

“You really are good,” he murmured into the night. Michael slept on.

As soon as he woke up, Michael half-groggily reached for his phone, expecting to find texts and pictures that Alex had taken on their Saturday together. Just before he opened his screen to a single text and picture from Isobel, he remembered that he and Alex hadn’t actually spent any time yesterday with each other.

Michael deflated entirely, his phone in front of his face as he thoughtlessly clicked on the message. He sat up at once. It was a picture of Isobel taking a selfie with a begrudging Alex on her arm, laughing in that cute way he did when his nose was scrunched and his eyes narrowed.

He swallowed. This was supposed to be him and Alex yesterday. But what really caught his eyes was Max in the corner. He wasn’t looking at the camera, but at Alex, and the look in his eyes . . . the way he smiled . . .

Michael had never seen that before. He looked at Max, still sleeping soundly, and thought about this plan to bring his best friend and brother together.

His thumb tapped the edge of his phone. He wasn’t bringing them together. He was just diverting Alex’s affections for a second. And then Max would go after Liz, the person he actually wanted, and all of this would be over.

Max doesn’t have a crush on Alex, he told his half-asleep mind, trying to calm himself down as he stepped out of bed. He doesn’t.

Then for no reason at all, Michael typed out a text to Alex, asking him to meet in the park nearby. Max murmured something in his sleep, and Michael snapped out of his thoughts. He pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes. What was he doing? He was so close now. He couldn’t stop this.

So he fixed his text. He asked Alex to meet both him and Max. Alex took an entire half hour to answer, and Michael knew he was an early riser, so he tried not to feel panicked that his best friend might be too angry to respond, and when the text came that Alex would need twenty minutes to get there, some relief settled in Michael’s chest and he went to wake Max.

“Huh?” Max sat up, alert, his eyes still closed. “What – what’s happening?”

“Get up,” Michael said with a heaviness and unwillingness he forced himself to push aside. “We’re going to see Alex.”

Alex swung back and forth on the swing, his phone clutched tightly in his hand, waiting for any other word from Michael. He was convincing himself that he was excited to see him, but the memory of his words yesterday had gone from the back of his mind to the forefront, and he couldn’t help but still feel hurt that he’d been dismissed so easily.

“I’m just trying to have a little fun here. Am I supposed to turn down a hot girl for you?”

Alex’s fingers gripped the swing’s chains tightly, his eyes burning. Like Alex was some nuisance, a second thought. He’d never imagined those words leaving Michael’s lips. He’d never imagined Michael, of all people, making him feel so . . . unwanted.

Then, before he could help it, his thoughts wandered to Max. Max, who had hurried him away from the large mansion only because he was terrified his sister would scare him away. Who had been eager to get Alex’s opinion on every painting, sculpture, and relic, and actually listened when he spoke. He’d never been able to speak to strangers so easily, but sometimes it was hard to remember that that was what Max was supposed to be. It was just so easy to talk to him . . . and so easy to forget the bad things around him . . .

Alex shook himself of those thoughts. What was wrong with him? Max was just a cuddly teddy bear, someone who had helped out once when Michael was too busy. No matter what he said or confessed to, he’d get bored and tired of the chase soon enough. He’d get bored and tired of Alex, just like everyone else did.

When he looked up, he saw Michael first, and started to stand. Then he saw Max, and his shoulders fell.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he murmured, and heaved a sigh as he sat back down. He wasn’t going to just run back into Michael’s arms when his schedule allowed him to remember they were supposed to be best friends. Ruining the only day they might’ve had alone was the final straw.

“Hey,” Michael smiled wide, and Alex’s heart started to flutter. It made him want to cry. It was so unfair, especially when he knew that Michael used that smile on every pretty girl he saw. Until yesterday, Alex had believed he was different.

Alex ignored Michael’s greeting and glanced at Max instead, who was sleepily rubbing his eyes. Alex faltered. Had Max gotten out of bed just to see him? The thought made him soften. It wasn’t fair, after all, to blame Max for Michael’s behavior.

“Hi, Max,” he said, and Max blinked, clearly surprised at being spoken to.

He put his hands in his pockets and cleared his throat. “Uh – hey, Alex.” Another glance at Michael. “Y-You look nice.”

Maybe Max was waiting for Michael to approve of this compliment, to tell him how smooth he was being with his crush, but Michael’s eyes were focused on Alex, his expression solemn.

Max seemed to sense the tension because he exhaled slowly and pointed at the swing next to Alex’s. “That swing taken?”

Alex couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at the corner of his lips, no matter how brief, and he shook his head. Max took the swing and swung back and forth as if nobody else was there.

“Come on, Alex,” Michael murmured, kneeling in front of him. “If this is about yesterday –”

“If it’s about yesterday?” Alex scoffed humorlessly. “Who are you, and what have you done with my best friend?”

Michael looked hurt. “That – that’s not fair.”

“No?” Alex shook his head. “Saturdays are supposed to be ours, Guerin, and you treated me like some brat you had to put up with!”

“I didn’t –” Michael’s mouth opened and closed on several sentences, seemingly appalled at the idea. “Alex, I just –”

In a voice too quiet for Max to hear, Alex said, “You invited Maria. Was that just to hurt me?”

His eyes widened. “No!”

“Did I –” Alex faltered. “Did I do something to piss you off, or –”

“Alex!” Michael couldn’t seem to believe that Alex would go down that road.

Alex clenched his jaw. “Well, what was I supposed to think? I can’t believe you would even talk to her again after what she did to me! I –” he broke off with a shaky sigh, looking away from Michael and Max to keep them from seeing the tears fill his eyes. “I thought you were my friend.”

“Don’t say that,” Michael said hoarsely, taking Alex’s hand in his. Alex hated the shivers it sent down his body. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? I – I just knew that it hurt losing a friend like that, and I thought that it would make you feel better if – if I could fix it –”

“The only person in the world I care about losing is you,” Alex argued, and Michael said nothing for a moment. Alex realized his mistake at once, and he looked down, his face heated. “I thought I was losing you yesterday. I thought you’d . . . forgiven her for what she’d done. Like my feelings didn’t matter as much as a pretty girl.”

A moment of silence. Even the creaking of Max’s swing had stopped. Then Michael tugged on his hand.

“No one . . .” Michael started and abruptly cut himself off. Alex looked back at him to see his expression was conflicted. Before Alex could ask what was wrong, what had been wrong with him lately, Michael forced a smile to his lips. It was a play at his usual light one without any of the lightness.

“You know the fair’s going on until next week,” he said. “Why don’t – uh – why don’t we go together? Tomorrow? Just you and me?”

Alex should’ve been thrilled at the idea, but something . . . something was off. Michael looked like he was more miserable at asking for it, and Max was looking at them strangely solemn.

Realization dawned. Michael was hesitant to go out with Alex alone when he knew his brother had feelings for him. Alex glanced at Max again. He would’ve preferred to be on his own with Michael, but the idea of going with Max didn’t seem so bad either.

He internally sighed. “Max,” he turned to him, “why don’t you come with us?”

Max raised a brow. Michael stopped pretending to smile and his brows furrowed. Alex didn’t understand. Wasn’t this what he’d wanted?

Then Max smiled, and Alex’s attention was caught. “Yeah? You really want me to come?”

Warmth bloomed in Alex’s chest, and something like a breath of relief escaped his lips, his first real breath since he’d gotten Michael’s text to meet. Maybe Max would get tired of the chase, but . . . better to get the inevitable over with sooner than later, right?

“I mean, if you want to,” Alex played at a shrug. Max chuckled and looked down.

He nodded. “Yeah, yes, I do.”

Alex realized he and Max were just staring at each other. He blushed and looked back at Michael, expecting to see him overjoyed. But his smile was tighter than ever.

“Great,” Michael said. “That’s just . . . perfect. Exactly what I was hoping for.”

“Okay,” Max plopped down on the bed, feeling filled up on lunch and something else he’d been feeling since Alex had invited him along with them to the fair tomorrow. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Michael sniffed roughly, replacing his jacket with another one of his own that he’d left in Max’s closet. “It’s all going according to plan, right?”

“Yeah,” Max nodded, “so why do you look like you’re two seconds away from clocking me?”

“What?” Michael looked over his shoulder with pursed lips, without actually looking at Max. “I’m not. It’s great, right? He invited you all by himself.”

Max smiled to himself at the thought. “Yeah,” he said, his voice soft to his own ears.

Michael finally met Max’s eyes for a long while, studying his expression. Then he turned, smiling with narrowed eyes. “Are you . . . you’re not . . .?”

Max raised a brow, waiting for his brother to elaborate.

“You’re not . . . starting to actually like Alex, are you?”

Max’s eyes widened and he scoffed. He started to say that he absolutely wasn’t when he caught himself. He thought of Alex’s kind eyes and his laugh and the hurt in his voice when Michael ignored him. He thought Alex had had enough people dismissing him behind his back.

“Of course I like him,” he said. “He’s nice, you know? There’s nothing wrong with him.”

“Yeah,” Michael said with a nod, as if reassuring himself. “Yeah, I mean . . . you like him like you like Kyle, right?”

Max hesitated. “Michael . . . do you like Alex?”

“I love Alex,” he said at once. “Just not like that.”

No, Max silently agreed. Not like that. Michael’s feelings seemed more . . . possessive, though he didn’t want to talk about things he wasn’t sure of. All he knew was that Michael wanted Alex to himself. He didn’t know how to tell him that that wouldn’t work with the plan.

“I’m sure he just brought me along because he felt bad for me,” Max placated, though the idea made him want to curl up on his bed. “You know, you did bring me along for no reason.”

“No,” Michael said with that same forced lightness, turning back to his clothes. “No, this is good. Like I said, it’s great! Alex is starting to want you along. The plan is working perfectly.”

“Yeah,” Max muttered, noticing the way Michael roughly tugged his sleeves down. “Perfectly.”

“This is a bad idea,” Kyle said as soon as Alex had called to tell him his plans for tonight. “I think you’re forgiving him way too easily.”

Alex’s phone sat on speaker on his nightstand. He sighed, fixing his hair so that it looked less like he’d walked through a hurricane, but the strands remained windswept and messy and he gave up.

“He made a mistake,” Alex said for what felt like the millionth time. “Everyone makes mistakes.”

“Not that kind of mistake!” Kyle argued, his frustration evident. “Alex, he invited Maria!” Alex flinched at the name and was glad his friend couldn’t see him. “That’s like if I invited Jared!”

“Jared Wilson is a homophobic ass,” Alex argued at once, and calmed the edge in his voice. “It’s not the same thing.”

“Both of them made life a lot harder for you when they realized you were gay.”

To that, Alex had no response. He didn’t care. He loved Michael, and being angry with him felt wrong. He didn’t want it.

He sat on his bed’s edge and played with the buttons on his black cardigan. It was new, something he wanted to wait to wear until he and Michael were alone, because Michael always liked hugging Alex as they walked and clinging to his side, and Alex had wanted Michael to feel soft and warm when he hugged him. It should bother him that he did so much of what he did with the worry of how Michael will take it, even though they’re not dating and could probably never date, but every so often, that traitorous bit of hope would claw its way to the surface and tell him that it could still happen.

Maybe all it took was Michael knowing how he felt. It didn’t matter. Alex could never do it.

“I don’t want to lose him,” he said quietly. Kyle didn’t answer. Alex half-wished that he hadn’t heard him, but he doubted it.

Finally, Kyle sighed and said, “I know.” A pause, then, “What about Max?”

Alex blinked. “Max?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Seems like he really likes you.”

Alex wanted to scoff, but what left his lips instead was, “Yeah?” Kyle chuckled and Alex blushed. “N-Not that I care! I just don’t want to get his hopes up for nothing.”

He hummed. Alex hated how he could hear the amusement in his voice. “Okay, well,” he said, “don’t count him out just yet.”

Alex was about to retort when a door suddenly slammed outside his bedroom. He heard the heavy footsteps of hunting boots and swallowed thickly. He tried to keep his light voice as he turned off his speaker and held the phone up, “Hey, I-I’ll see you at school, okay?”

“Uh –” Kyle was clearly thrown off by the sudden change in conversation. “Sure, but are you –”

Before he could finish his question, Alex hung up and put his phone aside. Then he caught himself in the mirror. His eyeliner. He was already wearing it.

“Fuck,” he breathed.

His heart hammered in his throat as the footsteps stopped outside his room and the door swung open. His father stood there.

“Did I hear you talking to a boy?” he demanded.

“N-No,” Alex said at once, cursing his stammering. “I mean, yes, but it was just Kyle.”

Jesse hummed. Alex’s heart sunk into his stomach when Jesse closed the door behind him and stayed inside.

“Dad,” he started, “really, I was just –”

“Come here,” Jesse said with a wave of his fingers. When Alex didn’t move, Jesse fixed his son with his cold blue eyes. “Alex, come here.”

Alex swallowed and resisted the urge to cower away. If his father hated disobedience, he hated a coward more. So Alex marched up to him swiftly as he was trained to do, his shoulders straight despite his lowered eyes, and the second he was close enough, Jesse grabbed his face in one hand, his grip painful.

“What is that,” he said coldly, “on your eyes?”

Alex clenched his jaw, trying not to whimper even as his dad’s hand nearly broke his jaw. Even as he knew what was coming. Not for the first time, as his fingers trembled on his dad’s wrist, he wished Michael could be here to protect him.

Max was in Alex’s class, and it was rare that a Manes was late, but Alex didn’t show up until halfway through the first lecture. He had a black sweater on with a collar that hid most of his chin and long sleeves that fell past his fingers, despite the fairly warm weather. His arms were stiff at his side, and his eyeliner was smudged a little bit.

The math teacher said nothing to his most brilliant student about being late, and just gestured at him to take a seat. Max lifted his head off his desk and tried to catch Alex’s eyes, but Alex was staring straight ahead.

Liz turned around in her seat, her brows furrowed. Max didn’t hear her murmurs, but whatever she said, Alex merely nodded once in response, his smile small. Liz didn’t look reassured, and Max realized he was inching out of his seat.

“Yes, Mr. Evans?” the teacher said.

“Uh – nothing, sir,” Max said and sat back down. “Sorry.”

Some of the other students snickered, but Max didn’t care, because at least Liz was looking at him. He swallowed and pointed at Alex, the silent message clear. Liz nudged Alex’s arm softly and gestured with her chin at Max. Alex looked over.

Max didn’t know what to do but raise his hand in a little wave. Alex just looked away again, his shoulders scrunched as he almost folded in on himself. He looked out the window and didn’t seem to pay attention to another word of the lecture.

Max tried to catch Alex in the hall in between classes, to ask him if he was all right, but Alex just shrunk away from him.

“I’m fine,” he muttered.

“Alex, wait a second,” Max tried, instinctively reaching for his wrist.

He’d barely touched him when Alex flinched away. “Don’t do that!” he snapped, making the entire hallway of students stop and turn to stare. Alex looked furious and terrified all at once. “Don’t ever, ever grab me!”

Max stood frozen with his hand outstretched, stunned, and the hall filled with a heavy, tense silence. Alex didn’t seem to care. He kept glaring at Max a moment longer, his breathing quick like he was on the verge of crying, and he whipped around to where a startled and concerned Liz was ready to guide him away.

Murmurs broke out over the crowd, and Max heard more than a few people call Alex a number of things, all ranging from “freak” to “psycho,” before they came to check that Max was okay after that outburst. Max could only be offended.

Alex was clearly suffering with something, didn’t anyone notice or care?

When Max got to lunch, Isobel was already standing. She looked as she rarely did; her bright smile gone, replaced with a solemn frown. “Hey,” she tugged Max down as soon as she caught sight of him. “What happened with Alex in the hallway? Rosa said he suddenly started screaming at you?”

Max shook his head. “Something’s wrong with him,” he said.

Isobel’s frown deepened. “Hey, don’t say that, you don’t know what could be –”

“No,” Max cut her off, indignant that she could assume he meant the worst. “I mean, something’s wrong with him, like something must’ve happened. He’s usually a lot nicer. And he showed up late. He never shows up late.”

Isobel rubbed her jaw as she looked over at Alex’s table where both Liz and Kyle were encouraging him to eat something, the concern evident on their faces.

“I mean, it’s not exactly new, right?” she muttered. “He’s freaked out like this before.”

Max pursed his lips. Alex had seemed so excited yesterday when Michael had asked him to the fair. What could’ve happened from then till now? Had Michael done something? No, he would’ve warned Max.

Then he remembered something Michael had told him about Jesse Manes . . .

His shoulders fell. “Shit.”

Isobel seemed to realize he’d figured it out, and eagerly asked, “What? What is it?”

Max hesitated. “You can’t tell anyone. I mean, not even the Ortechos. No one, Isobel.”

“My lips are sealed,” she quickly promised.

Max licked his lips. “Well, remember how nervous he was when I offered to walk him home the other night?”

“Yeah?”

“Michael told me about his dad,” he said. “Apparently, he really, really doesn’t want his son to be gay.”

Isobel’s eyes widened with horror. “Alex is scared of his dad?”

“He’s wearing long sleeves, and he’s sweating through it,” Max said darkly by way of saying what he didn’t want to outright.

Isobel gasped. “You think he . . . hits him?”

Max shook his head, not wanting to believe that Alex had that kind of father, but . . . “I’ve never heard Michael so unnerved by someone outside of his foster parents.”

“Oh my god,” Isobel whispered, her wide, glassy eyes turning to Alex who was sitting slumped in his chair as if allowing himself a few seconds to stop pretending he was fine. “Oh my god,” she started to stand, to go over to him, but Max grabbed her arm and sat her back down.

“Don’t,” he warned. “Michael didn’t want to tell me, and I doubt Alex wants anyone to know.”

“He’s beating him!” Isobel whisper-yelled through grit teeth. “We – we have to tell somebody!”

“Not if Alex doesn’t want us to,” Max argued.

“Max!”

“He has brothers,” Max said, and Isobel fell silent. “The last thing Alex needs right now is for the only family he has to hate him because they think he told on their dad. Not if Alex doesn’t want us to.”

Isobel clenched her jaw, her eyes miserable, and she nodded. It was clearly the last thing she wanted to do.

“I don’t know how you can bear it,” she breathed, looking over to Alex like she wanted nothing more than to hug and protect him. “He’s so sweet, I don’t know how you can bear it.”

Isobel, of course, couldn’t see Max’s clenched, trembling fists beneath the table as he watched Alex start to eat despite himself, start to smile like he was so used to the beatings that he’d learned to work past them after a while, wondering the exact same thing.

Technically, Michael’s official house was an airstream at the junkyard where old man Sanders had let him stay while he had a part time job after school. Max wished Alex hadn’t known the whole story because then at least, as they went together to the auto shop, Max would have something to say instead of wallowing in the awkward silence between them.

In fact, awkward wasn’t really the right word. Heavy seemed more appropriate.

The weather was cooling quickly, making it more bearable for Alex’s sweater. Max half-wondered what Alex would do if he reached down and looked for his fingers underneath the sleeves.

“I’m sorry,” Alex mumbled, and Max snapped out of his thoughts. Alex had said nothing on the drive over, nodding quietly in thanks when Max had offered to drive him as they were both going together, but his eyes were on the ground now.

He looked so shy for once that Max was caught off guard.

“Huh?”

“For yelling at you,” he went on, even more quiet. “I didn’t mean to . . . I just don’t like . . .”

“Being grabbed,” Max finished. He stopped, and Alex did the same. “Alex, I would never hurt you, okay? I wouldn’t.”

Alex wouldn’t look at Max, but Max could see his breathing getting quicker, his jaw clenching tighter and tighter.

“What did Michael tell you?”

Max tried to school his features. “Nothing.”

He was sure Alex would snap at him, would turn right around and cut off his friendship with both him and Michael. Instead, he scoffed wearily. “You’re just as bad a liar as he is.”

Raising his chin and pretending that it didn’t cause him pain to fix the bag on his shoulder, Alex forged on ahead. “I don’t need anyone’s pity.”

Max followed in silence, but only for a minute. “My mom knows someone in the state council, I could talk to her –”

Alex whipped around, his eyes wide and terrified. “Don’t! You can’t, Max, please, don’t ever –”

“Okay!” Max took Alex’s hands to calm him. He was rambling, his fingers shaking. “Okay, I – I won’t, Alex, calm down.” When Alex had been reduced to a trembling figure, Max pulled him in gently against him. “I won’t tell, I promise. Just calm down, okay? Please, calm down.”

Max’s chin was on Alex’s head. He had a hand in Alex’s hair – it was so much softer than he could’ve imagined – his other hand running up and down his back, trying not to scare him again with any sudden movements.

“It’s just me,” Alex croaked out against Max’s chest. “It’s only me. Because I’m . . .” He shook his head. “He doesn’t hurt them. They – they don’t care about enlisting. They’re happy to do it. I don’t want to ruin their lives, please –”

“Okay,” Max whispered into Alex’s hair. He smelled like vanilla. “Okay, Alex, it’s okay. I won’t tell, I promise. I promise.”

They stood there like that for a long time, Max’s fingers raking through Alex’s hair, taking in the way each strand felt against his fingers. He felt the strong muscles of Alex’s back even through his sweater. He couldn’t help it. Everything about Alex was a mystery, and the more he uncovered, the more he wanted to know.

A breath escaped his lips, and Alex tensed. He stepped back, unwilling to look at Max, his face tinged pink.

“S-Sorry,” he murmured.

Max nodded, putting his hands in his back pockets to keep from reaching out for him again. “Me, too. It’s – uh . . . been a long couple of days.”

Alex sighed, rubbing his face with one hand. Max resisted the urge to ask how bad the pain was underneath the sweater, but if he was being honest, he didn’t think either of them wanted the answer to that question. So he nudged his head towards Michael’s trailer, and waited for Alex to lead the way.

“What’s your favorite fair treat?” Max asked before they could get to the door. He didn’t know why, but he wanted just a few more seconds before Michael joined them.

“What?”

“Fair treat,” he repeated. “You know, they sell a lot of snacks at fairs. They’ll be selling a lot tonight. Which one do you like best?”

“Uh . . .” Alex thought about it. “Cotton candy? I guess? The, you know, big swirls?”

“Okay,” Max nodded, grinning. “Then I’ll buy you the biggest swirl they have.”

Alex’s eyes widened and he turned pinker. It was so cute that Max had to giggle.

“I have my own money.”

“So?” Max shrugged. “I want to get you something. I thought about winning you a prize during one of the games, but that feels a little cliché, you know?”

Alex opened and closed his mouth on several sentences, and Max wondered if Michael had ever offered to buy him anything with the promise that it meant something more.

Alex looked away with a shake of his head. “You’re silly,” he muttered, and opened the door, climbing inside.

Max followed, still grinning. They found Michael dressed and looking for the keys to his truck.

“Hey!” Alex said a little breathlessly. “You ready to go?”

Michael froze, looking over his shoulder. Max’s smile fell at once. Oh no . . .

“Crap,” he said, sounding genuinely apologetic. “Crap, we said we were going to the fair tonight!”

Another act, Max thought. “Michael,” he said quietly, a private warning, “today really isn’t the day to –”

“I don’t get it,” Alex cut him off, his brows furrowed. “If you – if you forgot about the fair tonight, then why’re you in such a hurry to leave?”

Michael shrugged, glanced at Max, and said, “I have a date.”

Alex was silent a moment. “You . . . have a date.”

“Yeah.”

“But –” Alex shook his head. “The fair was your idea. Why’d you ask me to come with you if you knew you were going to be busy?”

“I didn’t know when I asked you,” Michael said, and Alex stared. Despite his hidden fingers, Max did not miss the way they curled to fists.

“So you –” Alex cut himself off abruptly, smiling incredulously, like he couldn’t believe his other half had stooped so low. “You made plans with someone else when you already had plans with me?”

“Alex,” he huffed, exasperated. “Are you gonna get like this every time I’m meeting someone? A very attractive friend asked me out tonight, I said yes.”

“But you’re my friend, too,” Alex argued. “When we make promises to each other, we’re supposed to follow through on them, it shouldn’t matter if you have a ton of friends or not.”

“Well, it’s not my fault you don’t have any friends, Alex.”

“Michael!” Max stepped forward, but Alex held a hand up. He didn’t look tense or frozen to the spot. He looked like every horrible thought that had ever crossed his mind about his friendship with Michael, every doubt that had ever haunted him, every fear of being unwanted or not good enough, it was all coming true.

To Alex, Michael didn’t consider him worth anything.

To Alex, Michael wasn’t protecting their friendship. He was shattering it beyond repair.

He looked resigned and exhausted. Michael seemed to realize that too late.

“W-Wait,” he tried, “I didn’t – I didn’t mean –”

“You’re my friend,” Alex quietly defended. “You’re . . . you’re my . . .” He shook his head, like it didn’t matter anymore. He turned to Max. “D-Do you – uh – do you still want to come with me? To the – the fair?”

He was clearly terrified, clearly unwilling to go at all if Michael didn’t want to, but wanting to prove that he was unhurt. That he wouldn’t break. Max was in awe of his courage.

“I was just going to ask you the same thing,” Max said.

A brief, barely-there smile tugged at Alex’s lips before it was gone. Without another word or glance at Michael, he left. Michael stared at the open door like he wasn’t even in the room, like he was numb and out of body. He’d gone too far this time.

Max shook his head. “You were so terrified that he was in love with you . . . that you decided to make him hate you instead.”

“I told you,” Michael said hoarsely, his eyes filling with tears. “He’ll only hate me for a little bit.”

“And you’re willing to bet on that?” Max tilted his head. He promised Alex he wouldn’t tell anyone else what his father had done to him, but he leaned in anyway and said, “Because if I were you, I would think a little harder instead about why he’s wearing such a long sweater near the end of spring.”

And with those final words, Max turned and left, catching only the realization in Michael’s eyes before he shut the door behind him. Alex was already in the car, hugging his arms and staring out the window.

Max got in and shut the door. He exhaled slowly, “Alex –”

“Just drive,” Alex said hoarsely, like he’d been crying for hours though his eyes were dry. “Please just drive.”

Max swallowed and turned on the ignition. He didn’t want to be a hero here. He didn’t feel like one. The only reason Michael had hurt Alex this badly at all was so that he could swoop in. But this seemed like too high a cost.

It didn’t matter in the end. Max did as Alex wanted, and drove.

The fairy lights were already strung up when Max and Alex got to the fair, plenty of booths already up with lanterns lighting the way, showering everything in gold. It looked more like a market with a few chances for the kids to win toys, but Max watched as Alex eyed each booth and necklace and dress like they were the only good parts of a bad memory.

“My mom used to bring us here a lot,” he said, “back when she was around.”

“When did she die?” Max asked quietly.

“She didn’t,” Alex said simply. “She left. But this fair . . . it’s my favorite time of the year. Michael knew that.”

“Alex,” Max shook his head. “I’m sure . . . I’m sure he had a reason for what he did.”

Alex scoffed, but the press of his lips was both sad and sincere. “I know he did. But god, what could be worth all this?” he gestured at his own face, the exhaustion and misery there. “I can usually read him, but this time I just . . . can’t. I hate not knowing.”

Max thought about that, and realized he was the same way when it had to do with someone he loved. How was he going to save someone who didn’t want to be saved?

“Tell me something you do know,” he offered. “You said your brothers are happy to enlist. Does your dad make them all?”

“No,” Alex sniffled. “No, dad would never make any of us enlist. He pushes it hard, and all the time, but . . . no, if you don’t want to enlist, then just don’t bother coming back home, you know?”

Max hesitated. “Have you ever . . .?”

He expected Alex to laugh it off or be indignant about anyone even considering that he would ever enlist, but he only sighed and confessed, “Sometimes.”

Max stared. “S-Seriously?”

Alex shook his head, smiling, and for once, he didn’t look sarcastic or amused. He just looked sad. “You don’t know what it’s like there. Or how bad it gets, and – and sometimes I think . . . I couldn’t afford a place of my own. I could escape him though. I could rise in ranks, I could beat him –”

“Beat him some other way!” Max argued, and a few heads turned to look. Alex didn’t look like he cared, he never did, but Max stepped closer. “You can’t enlist, Alex.”

Alex looked away. “I said I thought about it, okay? Only when things get really, really bad. It doesn’t mean I’ll do it. I’ll find some other way.”

He didn’t sound sure, but Max couldn’t have been more sure of his abilities and talent. Alex was the strongest and smartest person he knew, he could easily make it out there. And what if . . . what if he had Max there with him? Supporting him? Helping him? The two of them together in a small apartment in New York or something –

Max shut his eyes. He wasn’t supposed to think like that. This wasn’t supposed to be long-term. Soon enough, Michael would tell him the truth, and it would all be over. Alex might even hate him for it. He didn’t want to think about that though, so he bought Alex the biggest blue cotton candy swirl, got one for himself, and laughed with Alex about the sizes.

About an hour in, Alex seemed to really be having a lot of fun. He was laughing at Max’s stupid jokes and tugging on his arm to show him little ceramic toys for sale and even a small aquamarine necklace that glittered in the moonlight with a gold chain so thin it was almost a silk thread.

When Alex wasn’t looking, Max bought the necklace, and snuck up behind him, letting it rest in the dip of his collarbone.

“W-What –”

“For you,” Max said.

Alex touched the stone, still stunned. “Max, I’m not – I’m uncomfortable accepting so many gifts from people.”

“I’m not just people though,” Max said simply. “I’m your . . .” he caught himself, “f-friend.”

Alex looked at him. Max may have been wrong, but he could’ve sworn Alex had seemed disappointed for a moment at the use of the word friend.

“R-Right,” he murmured. “Still, no more gifts, okay?”

“No promises,” Max grinned, and his heart jumped when Alex’s face turned that same shade of pink. He was starting to wonder if he could turn it any darker when Alex glanced up and froze.

“Oh my god,” he breathed.

“What?” Max followed his gaze, and understood what it was that had terrified him. Making their way towards them was some man in uniform, and beside him was Jesse Manes, hands folded behind his back with his medals shining on his uniform jacket, smiling at booths and laughing with children who ran past.

That, Max realized, was the most frightening part. Who would believe Alex if he told them their beloved sergeant was a monster?

Alex stepped back, already trembling. He turned, but the crowd had gathered around them. Even if he stood in the shadows outside the lanterns’ light, he was still visible to anyone passing by, especially if his dad was looking through the booths. He would see Alex here, and just the implication that he was here with Max would get him hurt again.

Alex hugged himself. “Think, Alex,” he whispered to himself, looking around frantically for a hiding spot. “Think.”

Max looked back at Jesse. He was getting closer. He couldn’t stand seeing the usually intimidating Alex so frightened now. He had to protect him.

He took Alex’s hand in his own and pulled him into the shadows, up against a booth. “Is your dad uncomfortable with PDA?”

“What?”

“Is he?”

“Uh – yeah!” Alex shook his head, confused. “He hates it –”

“Good,” Max breathed, taking Alex’s face in his hands, and before Alex could ask what he was doing, Max closed the distance between them and covered Alex’s mouth with his own. Alex stood frozen against him, but Max wouldn’t pull away, his body blocking Alex’s from sight.

Half of him was silently urging Alex to play along, if only long enough to get his father’s attention away, but as Alex whimpered softly against his lips, his body melting against Max’s, his hands coming up to Max’s chest, clutching his shirt, Max suddenly forgot all about Jesse Manes.

He forgot about the fair, he forgot about the booths around him, the crowd of people. He couldn’t think of anything but how soft Alex’s lips were, how perfectly he fit in Max’s arms. Max wanted to taste more of him, so he slipped his tongue in. Alex moaned, pressing unbearably close, and Max could feel him. His toned chest, his flat stomach.

Max had never wanted to feel another man’s chest until this moment, to claw down his stomach, to feel the muscles of his back. Max tilted his head, bringing his hand around the nape of Alex’s neck and reaching his fingers through his hair, tugging a little on the strands.

Alex’s hands came up to Max’s face, one hand reaching into his hair. Max wanted to tilt his head, to deepen the kiss, to put his hands up Alex’s shirt and feel his skin. He wondered if it was as sexy as the rest of him – he knew it had to be – and his hand had just fallen to Alex’s hip, tugging at the hem of his sweater, when he heard someone behind him scoff –

“Ugh, disgusting,” a voice said, and Max snapped out of his thoughts.

He pulled away, pressing his forehead to Alex’s, the both of them panting heavily. Alex’s eyes were closed, and Max took the opportunity to trace his deeply red cheeks with the tips of his fingers, his rosy, kiss-swollen lips.

“Wow,” he breathed.

“Yeah,” Alex swallowed and opened his eyes. They fluttered again as Max traced his thumb across his lips for the second time. “That – that was –”

“Wow,” Max finished.

Alex huffed a breathless chuckle. “Are you okay?”

Max shook his head. “Wow.”

Alex started to laugh, but seemed to remember they were supposed to be hiding. He covered his mouth with his hand, his eyes wide. Max wanted to hear his laugh, so he looked over his shoulder for any sign of Alex’s dad, but he was so far down the path that by the time Max had tilted his chin up to get a better look, Jesse Manes and his friend were completely gone.

When he nodded to Alex, Alex’s grin widened and he laughed happily into the night. He jumped into Max’s arms, his own wrapped around Max’s shoulders.

“Thank you!” Alex said into his shoulder, his voice muffled and filling Max’s chest with butterflies. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” He heaved a deep sigh, probably the deepest he’d had in a while. “Thank you, Max.”

Max wrapped his arms around Alex’s waist, keeping him close and steady against him. In the back of his mind, he could hear Michael’s one, big warning about Alex.

“Don’t kiss him.”

But now, in this moment, as he could still feel Alex’s soft, warm lips against his own, as he could hear his moans and smell his sweet scent, he couldn’t remember why.

He smiled into the crook of Alex’s neck and said, “You’re welcome, Manes.”

It’s finally here! Please please please comment and reblog/share if you enjoyed reading even a little bit, it always makes the world of a difference 💗 I’m going to bed.

#alex manes #max evans #sheriff manes #sheriff manes fic #roswell new mexico #roswell nm #tyler blackburn #nathan dean parsons

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daydreamingintheimpalax · 4 years

Text

Four No’s and a Yes.

Prompt: Write about someone who gets proposed to five times on Christmas Eve.

Warnings: None, cuteness, fluff i guess lol

Dean x Reader (Childhood friends)

Chritsmas Eve 2016.

The Y/L/N’s house was decorated to the T, Mrs. Y/L/N always went all out for Christmas and to say Dean loved it was an understatement. Dean had grown up next door to y/n and her family all his life, every Christmas was spent with his best friend and her family, their families took turns every year on which family would host the big Christmas dinner. It was Christmas eve, this year, Y/n’s family was hosting Christmas Eve and Day.

He watched as you sat down across from him, the same way you did every year, this time your boyfriend of almost a year sitting next to you. Dean frowned but for the most part accepted him and tried to make Carl as welcome as possible.

It’s not that he disliked the guys she dated, he just never thought they were good enough for his best friend, it had nothing to do with the fact he’d been inlove wih you almost all his life, despite what Sam and his parents had to say about it.

The meal conversations began, Dean smiled as he watched Sam’s wife wipe a smudge of food off his brothers face before then placing a small peck on his cheek. He was imsensely happy for his little brother, he had tried to find love himself but despite all the girls that came and went, none were ever good enough to bring home to Mary and John, none ever compared to, well, you.

“So Dee, any news about that girl you took out last week? She seemed nice.” You ask, shoving a fork of ham into your mouth, he chuckles watching before he replies, “uh no, didn’t pan out, first date and she was already naming our kids.” He shakes his head, cringing. Y/N makes a funny grossed out face, “Yikes, stage 5 clinger”, Dean smirks, “Exactly, not my style, sweetheart.”

“Sweetheart?” Carl pipes up, raising an eyebrow at Dean. Right, Carl hated when Dean called you by a pet name, sucks for him doesn’t it. Dean shrugs, y/n reassures him its just for fun, that they’ve been friends forever and Dean’s the only other man allowed to call her that. Carl doesn’t seem happy but strugs it off.

It’s almost 9 Pm when Carl speaks, he stands up from the tables, everyone having had a few rounds of wine by now and 50 conversations going on at once. He clears his troat, tapping his champagne glass with his fork, everyone stops, their attention on him.

“Well, this has been an amazing night, y/n your family is incredible, i’m so happy to have shared this holiday with you all, but tonight, i want to share another moment with you guys, i know how important family is to y/n and i want to make sure i do this right.” He pauses, grabbing y/n’s hand and pulling her up, Dean can see the look on her face, shes shocked and confused, not sure what the hell Carl thinks he’s doing.

He pulls something out of his pocket, Dean lets out a soft groan before taking a huge chug of his beer, Sam pats his back, a silent signal asking if he’s okay. He shrugs it off.

“Y/n, i know we haven’t been together as long as other people, but my love for you has no limits, we are a perfect match and you’re a perfect part of me, you make me better, i love you so much, and i don’t want to waste anymore time,”

He gets down on one knee, Dean watches, slightly angrily as y/n gasps, she slightly looks at Dean and he can see the panicked look on her face, she’s not ready for this, he’s ambushed her.

“Y/n Y/l/n, would you do me the honor of being my wife, my partner in crime, my forever.” Dean rolls his eyes, his mother swatting his arm and giving him a disapproving look. Y/n stays silent, looking around as everyone watches her, Then, she bolts.

Dean chases after her to see if she’s okay.

Carl was never seen again after that night.

Christmas Eve 2017

Christmas was different this year, Their parents had decided they wanted a break from cooking, so they had booked a cruise for vacation, not telling any of their kids until last minute.

Sam and Jess had decided to have Christmas with her family now that they were expecting their first child. Sam was over the moon at the chance to be a dad, he was going to be an amazing one.

Dean checks the tickets, finding the seats and throwing the jackets over them, y/n heads towards him, sitting next to him in her own seat and she hands him his beer and the hotdogs she grabbed. Dean was lucky he booked last minute tickets to the wrestling match, not surprised that even on Christmas eve, the stadium was booked solid.

They enjoy the fights, they’re small local fights, no big names, but they both enjoy it, laughing and enjoying their time together as best friends, it’s been a while. Since she started dating Max four months ago, he barely sees her, he’s insecure, especially when Dean’s around, probably because Dean’s twice his size in height and muscle, but that’s not his problem. Max starts fights with y/n anytime they hang out, so for her sake, he keeps his distance, waiting for her to call him for a hangout instead.

An hour in and it’s break time, they sit and chat, and before they know it, a voice is speaking over the PA system. “Sorry to interupt everyone, but since we are on a break, it seems like the perfect time to do this. Y/n Y/l/N, if you wouldn’t mind looking up at the jumbotron, we have a message for you from Max.”

Y/n’s eyes go wide, she looks at Dean curiously and he shrugs, just as confused. She looks at the screen, Max’s smiling face on the screen as he’s handed the microphone.

“Y/n, i know this is random and out of the blue, but you make me really happy, i know you’re not big on attention and big romantic gestures, but i wanted to do something memorable, so, i was hoping you’d be down for being my wife, will you Marry me?” he speaks, Dean almost can’t believe it, what was with these losers, she deserved to be proposed to, but not so soon and definitely not on the spot, she hated grand gestures that drew attention to her. Y/n barely knew what she wanted to do with her life, let alone to settle down.

Y/N starts breathing heavy, tears forming as she starts to panic at the whole stadium now staring at her and waiting for her answer, and just like that, yet again, she tries to run but Dean stops her, suggesting they go outside and talk to Max privately before she has a complete anxiety attack.

Another douchebag he never sees again.

Christmas Eve 2018

Another year, another Christmas Eve, y/n is sitting on Deans couch, the two of them got stuck at the airport due to a snow storm and aren’t making it home for Christmas. They had driven back to Dean’s place and she decided to crash with him, She’d just broken up with her recent douchebag boyfriend and wasn’t in happy spirits. She lies on his couch, sniffling as she watches her favoirte Christmas movie, which is currently everything on the hallmark channel.

Dean sits next to her, her feet in his lap as he messages her feet, warming them up from the cold.

“Am i ever going to find the right guy? i mean, at this point it’s become a pattern, every fucking Christmas i end up single and alone, i should just give up finding the perfect guy.” She shrugs, wiping away a stray tear.

Dean sighs, “First off, you’re not alone, you have me. Second, you pick crappy guys, you have shitty ass taste. Give it time, sweetheart, the perfect guy for you is out there, and you’ll find him, you’re just looking in the wrong places.” Dean assures her and she gives him a dry chuckle.

“Oh yea, well if you ever come across prince charming, send him my way.” She rolls her eyes and he laughs. He hates seeing her upset.

Theyre at the local skating rink when it happens, he finally got her to stop crying enough to take her out and here comes Jack, Jake, Joke, whatever the fuck his name was holding a bouquet of roses and a ring box, smiling widely at her, this jackass really thinks a ring will fix everything he’s done to her. What a damn clown.

Y/n stops abrutly, eyeing him up and down, she’s definitely angry still.

“That better not be what the fuck i think it is.” She snaps, tossing the roses in the trash. “Y/n, i know i fucked up, but you’re worth more than-” He’s cut off by the sound of her hand meeting his cheek.

“NO!” She shouts, a few people now stopping to watch. “You have some NERVE showing up here, after cheating on me and for what? to propose? ARE YOU FUCKING DRUNK? In what fucking small minded universe that you live in do you think proposing to me is going to fix what you broke? No, i will not marry you. Go to hell, Jeff.” She stomps off, as good as she can in skates.

Jeff, that’s his fucking name. He looks over at me and i shrug. “You fucked that up on your own man, you don’t deserve her.” Dean walks away.

She never mentions Jeff again.

Christmas Eve 2019

Their families get together again, Dean’s family hosts this year, y/n and he had flown home early this year to help with the food and decorations, y/n had run into one of her exes, a guy she dated back in highschool, He’d ran in Sam’s circle of friends, one of his old football buddies. They had gone on a date to catch up, ending up at the local bar with some old highschool friends.

Sam sits next to him, downing his own beer. “Man, why don’t you just tell her you’re her prince charming, watching her get with and dump all these idiots is getting tiring. Even mom and dad know you two belong together.” Sam chuckles, letting out a burp, he’s clearly borderlining between drunk and tipsy. Dean sighs, he’s going to have to call Jessica soon.

“If i was her soulmate, she’d have noticed by now. I’m not going to make that choice for her. If it’s meant to be, she’ll realize it on her own, not because i forced her to like me.” He shrugs and Sam laughs, “You’re both so stupid.” Sam huffs and shakes his head.

Before Sam can continue pestering him about his failure to woo Y/n, they hear a commotion, they turn to see Eric covered in beer, calling y/n a bitch and some other not nice words.

Dean gets protective, not even a split second before he’s standing next to her, shoving Eric away from her. “Easy man, get away from her.” He yells and Eric huffs, throwing his arms in the air, “Whatever, you’re a waste of time, can’t believe i ever dated you, i forgot what it was like being with you.” He snarls before stepping outside, no doubt to light up another blunt.

Dean frowns, “What happened?” he asks and you laugh. “He proposed, said he missed me and regretted ever breaking things off, said he finally realized i was the one that got away.” She airquotes before she sips her beer, huffing, “Turns out, that’s his game, he was hoping if i said yes i’d be over the moon and jump into bed with him again. Ugh, i hate men.” she grunts before walking out, Dean slaps a few bills on her table before going after her, a semi drunk Sam at his side.

Chritmas Eve 2020

Christmas Eve dinner is a hit. Changing things up, Dean and Y/n had decided to host this year, flying their families out to vancouver. It’s cold and snowy, but makes Christmas actually feel like Christmas, unlike the warm sunny holiday in california, they love it there, but this year, with the snow, it actually feels like a real Christmas.

They sit out on the back deck, taking a break from the family game night and friendly comeptition and yelling going on inside. Their families are nuts, but it always makes for a great time.

Dean’s sure he’s ready, she hasn’t dated anyone since the last proposal, and he’s insane, he’s sure of it, he’s sure just like the others, he’ll be turned down, and he’s willing to make an utter fool of himself, but it’s time, he’s waited long enough, he needs her to know, he needs to tell her, he’ll never be able to truly move on and get over her if he doesn’t at least get an answer on wether she feels the same.

“How long do you think that bingo game is going to last?” She asks, chuckling and she watches their families fight over who had bingo first.

“Marry me.” He blurts it out without even realizing it. That’s not how he wanted that whole thing to go, he had planned it out, but plans go out the window when you spend time obsessing on things being perfect.

“What?” She’s stunned, but she hasn’t run away yet, and she’s not hyperventilating, that’s a good sign. He begins to babble like a damn idiot.

“I don’t have a ring, or a proper set up like a jumbotron or some shit, and this isn’t even how i planned on this day going, i’m not perfect, and i have my flaws, hell i’m so fucked up i’d be insane to think i even deserve even half your love, but i’m crazy about you, and i have been since 5th grade, when you gave me my first valentines card because no one in class gave me one and then kissed my cheek and told me you’d always be my valentine. I guess, what i’m trying to say is i may not be your prince charming, but you’ve always been my girl, i’ve never chosen anyone but you, and i realize, i don’t ever want anyone, except you.” He finally takes a breath, too scared to make eye contact, and he sighs.

“I know this is stupid and random and you can totally say no or run away if th-”

“Yes.” She stuns him, completely silencing his rant.

He finally meets her eyes, “What?” He asks, sure as shit he heard her wrong.

“Yes, Winchester, i’ll marry you.” She says, this time clear as day.

He huffs out a laugh, “ Wait, seriously?” he asks, stunned and still thinking she has to be fucking with him.

She shrugs and smiles, “Yeah, I’ve known you all my life, you were always my prince charming, my perfect match, i was just waiting for you to figure it out.” She laughs. Dean’s eyes roam her face, for the first time, seeing how perfect she really is for him.

“I literally could have been with you this entire time?” he raises and eyebrow and she shrugs, smiling. He shakes his head, not believing his own stupidity before he takes full advatnge, leaning in and finally claiming what’s been his this entire time.

Safe to say, that was the last proposal she ever recieved.

#Dean x Reader #Reader insert #daydreamingintheimpala

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imagineaworlds · 3 years

Text

I Love You (Part Fifty-Three) -- Aaron Hotchner

Written By: @desperately-bisexual

Request: None.

Warnings: Cursing. Talk of PTSD, hostage situation, shooting, murder, bombing, physical trauma. I’m pretty sure that’s it!

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Greenaway!Reader

Word Count: 7900

Timeline: Season 7 Episodes 24. Right after part fifty-two.

Criminal Minds Discord Server

As the sun began to set, a specialist came back in with my release form for Hotch to fill out while he talked to me about what the next steps for my recovery were. While Hotch worked on the form, we both listened to the endless number of rules I had to follow. They were giving me top notch pain killers to help with the inevitable constant pain I’d feel after the hospital’s morphine would wear off. I had to take two in the morning, two in the afternoon, and two before bed. I wasn’t allowed to take them on an empty stomach, and I wasn’t allowed to have alcohol at all— no cheating. After running us through the medication rules, the doctor handed me a piece of paper he ripped out of his notepad. I read the name, the phone number, and the address on it while he explained that it was the information of the best physical therapist in the state. He told me that if I were ever going to get better, then I needed to see him sooner than later. The longer I waited to seek out the proper help, or the longer I pushed myself without guidance, the higher the chances got of me fucking my back up forever.

“That isn’t to say that you can’t walk around at all,” the doctor backpedaled for a moment. “In fact, you should try walking around every thirty minutes or so. You can go up and down stairs, you can pace around the house, you can go on walks in the park. But no running, jumping, bending, strenuous exercises, bike riding— anything like that. The point is that you can do the bear minimum so that your back can start the healing process. If you ever start to feel the pain again, it means that you need to stop what you’re doing. You need to go lie down, put ice on your back, and relax. The ice will help with the pain and swelling.” The doctor turned to Hotch, “Your job over the next few months, Mr. Hotchner, is to make sure that they’re not pushing themself at all. If you notice that they’re trying to do something that they shouldn’t be doing, you need to stop them. Unfortunately, it’s going to feel like babysitting,” he addressed both of us, “but it’s for the best.”

Hotch’s phone started ringing. He apologized profusely while trying to dig it out of his back pocket. The doctor and I watched as Hotch stood, put the form down on his chair behind him, and hurried out of the room to take the call.

The doctor turned back to me. “Painkillers, rest, ice, walking occasionally. Got it?”

I nodded.

“That was Rossi,” Hotch explained, returning from the hallway. “Will and JJ are getting married at his place tomorrow night, apparently.”

My face brightened. I thought to myself, finally… The two of them had been together forever. I always figured that they would have gotten married before me and Hotch, but they had been holding off for some reason. Despite having Henry and being entirely devoted to one another, it took them forever to finally do it. I mean, the decision probably came with the aftershock of the day they just had, but still. This was great news—news that we needed when everything else seemed so shit.

“I want to go,” I insisted.

Hotch’s attention turned to the doctor. “What do you think?”

The doctor shrugged slightly. “I think it’s fine as long as you keep up with the medication, stay away from the champagne, and don’t attempt to do any splits on the dance floor.”

The three of us chuckled.

----

When we got home, Hotch helped me up the steps to the porch, then hurried to open the door for me. Just as we saw the living room, I caught a glimpse of Jessica and Jack on the couch, watching a movie together. I smiled. Home. I survived all that shit with The Face Cards just to come home, and I had never been more relieved in my life. As we stepped inside, I looked over at Scarlet’s bouncer to see that it was empty. She must have been asleep upstairs already.

“Mom! Dad!” Jack cheered as he pushed himself off the couch and sprinted over to us.

I crouched down as far as I could go and pulled him in for a tight hug, trying to lift him off the ground somewhat so that I could swing him around. I cringed slightly at the pain shooting down my back, but tried to hide it so that none of them could notice. Hotch was watching me like a hawk, though. My change in posture, my wincing face, and the groan that left my throat as I struggled to pick up Jack, all of that was apparent to Hotch. It wasn’t going to be easy trying to convince him that I was alright. Now I understood why he was always so annoyed with me after New York and Foyet.

“Be careful, bud,” Hotch warned. “Mom hurt their back at work today.”

Jack looked at me as I let him sit on my thigh as I stayed crouched. His index finger curled a strand of my hair loosely. “Are you okay?” he asked worriedly.

I nodded. “I’m okay, little man. I promise. How was your day with Aunt Jessica?”

“We went on a bike ride, then we played soccer with Scarlet—”

“Did you win?” I asked.

He nodded. “Of course!”

“Good job, little man.”

“Aunt Jessica took us for ice cream.”

I squinted at her, but she was laughing and hiding behind a pillow in order to avoid my playful glare. I looked back at Jack. “What flavor did you get?”

“Chocolate fudge.”

“Of course you did.” I kissed his cheek and stood up straight as slowly as I could, reaching for Hotch’s help when I felt my back sting again. I whimpered. He stepped closer to me and kissed my temple to comfort me. “Hey, Jack, Henry’s parents are getting married tomorrow. Do you wanna go with us?”

“Do I get to play with Henry?”

“Duh.”

“Yay!” He jumped forward to hug my legs. I was going to take that as a yes, then.

“Did you guys have anything besides ice cream for dinner?” Hotch asked, but it was more directed to Jessica than Jack.

She nodded. “I took them to Olive Garden.”

Hotch ruffled Jack’s hair. “Spoiled kid.” Well, that was what he deserved, considering we got called away for work at the last second on a weekend, as usual. “Why don’t you go upstairs and start getting ready for bed, bud.” Jack released me and immediately started running for the stairs. “Don’t forget to brush your teeth!” He kept running, though, pretending like he didn’t hear his dad. Really spoiled kid. Hotch dug his wallet out and pulled out some money for Jessica. “I’m so sorry again for today—”

“When will the two of you get it?” She laughed while standing up, gathering her things. “It’s okay!” She walked around the couch. “I love spending time with my niece and nephew. It’s not a job. It’s a chance to help them grow up.” She took Hotch’s money, but then quickly stuck it in his back pocket before he could catch her. “No money, no apologies.” She glanced at how I was leaning on Hotch to offset the chronic pain that was fucking killing me. “You okay?”

“Rough day,” I answered.

She threw her arms around me for a gentle hug. “Call me if you need anything else.”

“Thank you, Jess.”

“I’ll see you guys soon.” She parted from me and headed for the door. “No money, Aaron!” She closed the door behind herself.

“That woman’s a saint,” I told Hotch, walking with him through the house. “We don’t deserve her.”

“No, we do not.”

When Hotch and I headed upstairs, he held onto my hand, his other arm wrapped around my waist so that he could keep me steady as we carefully made our way up one step at a time. He was hovering too much. I was completely capable of making it up the freaking stairs myself, yet he wasn’t going anywhere. So, I just gave in. I let him corral me up each step and through the hallway, all the way down to our bedroom where he helped me lay down on the bed. He lifted my feet up slowly.

“Baby,” I whispered, catching his attention. He looked so worried, as if he had done something wrong or hurt me, which he hadn’t. I smirked at him. “I’m okay.”

He huffed and rolled his eyes at me before standing up straight and moving towards the closet to grab a few extra pillows for me. He slid one under my knees, two under my ankles, and he left a third next to me in case I wanted it for something else. When I was drowning in pillows, he hurried back downstairs to make sure that there was ice if I needed it. We were getting an ice machine that just needed cold water to make it run, but that wasn’t going to show up for at least another few days, so he was going to have to run to and from the kitchen every time I was in pain and needed ice on my back.

“Here, baby,” he whispered, helping me adjust so that we could get the icepack under my back. He kissed my temple. “I love you.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

He kissed me again, recognizing that I was just being playful. After a moment of standing at my side, Hotch remembered that he had to get my medication around, so he hurried over to the bag on the dresser and started sorting all of the pills. I watched him carefully. I wondered if he was going to actually keep this up for the next few months or if he was going to forget about our deal back at the hospital and just let me back into the field once I was feeling a bit better. Could he really afford to keep an agent benched for months? I mean, we were barely holding on when he was gone in the Middle East and Emily was still… I don’t know… dead? Sure.

“You know, at some point, you’re going to have to realize that I’m not entirely bedridden. I’m going to have to leave the bedroom sooner than later.”

Hotch glanced over his shoulder and glared at me. “I will tie you to the bed, if it’s the only thing that will keep you there.”

“That’s less of a threat than you had intended for it to be,” I teased.

“Ha. Ha,” he said plainly. I chuckled in response. “Take these,” he told me, turning from the dresser to give me my medication. “I’ll get you some water.” He skipped to the bathroom, and I heard the sink run for a bit before he returned and handed me a half-full glass. He sat on the edge of the bed as I popped the pills and chased them down with the water.

“Tada.”

“You’re sure about going to the wedding tomorrow?” he asked, taking the cup back.

I furrowed my brows. “Of course.”

“I’m worried that your back—”

“Aaron, I’m going to be fine.”

“I said that after New York, too.”

“Yeah, but the difference is that I actually believe it.”

He rolled his eyes. “You know it’s my job to worry about you, my love.”

“I know,” I accepted, taking his hand and squeezing it. “I know. But, my love,” I teased back, “I can go to a wedding, and I promise I won’t break. I’ve already agreed to staying out of the field until I’m better, so just let me have this one.”

He huffed at the fact that he wasn’t going to win this argument before getting up to put the glass back in the bathroom, then head to grab our pajamas. He helped me out of my gross, dusty clothes and into his clean, cologne smelling sweatshirt and blue flannel pajama pants. I immediately felt cozy and relaxed. When Hotch tore off his shirt, I could tell that he was considering taking a shower, but he looked so tired, and he seemed desperate to stay at my side.

“It can wait ‘til morning.” He changed into his grey sweatpants then snuck into bed with me. He sighed. “I say we stay here for the rest of our lives.”

I nodded. “I agree.” We reached for each other’s hands, and I tugged to try to kiss his knuckles, but he beat me to it. “Sap.”

“Yup.”

We both stared up at the ceiling. We were silent, both of us just catching our breath, reflecting on the day. I could have lost him again. He could have lost me again. At what point was it going to get too scary and we would finally call it? I wasn’t ready to leave the field yet, and I was sure that he felt the same way, too, but it was something that we had to consider. I mean, we had to retire at some point. Right? We couldn’t do this forever…

----

The following evening was the wedding. Hotch spent the afternoon helping Jack get ready—making sure he actually showered, brushed his teeth, combed his hair, and picked out an appropriate outfit. Towards the time when we were about to leave, I caught Hotch kneeling in front of Jack, teaching him how to properly put on a tie. I smirked and continued to spy into the room. I had a bad habit of eavesdropping on them, but who could blame me when those moments weren’t going to last forever? Before we would know it, Jack would be all grown up and heading off for college, and we weren’t going to get any daily memories at all. I had to make them count while I still could.

As for Hotch and I getting ready, I took longer than he did. Considering I was somewhat immobile, I spent most of my time going between getting ready and laying down with an icepack when Hotch wasn’t looking. I was wearing a pant suit, something simple and light. Easy to get on and off. I barely even bothered with makeup because it hurt too much to hold still while trying to get everything perfect, and I just kept my hair out of my face. Nothing too fancy. As for Hotch… I wasn’t sure if he understood that a few years ago, he would have worn a work suit or that brown quarter zip to the wedding, but this time around he was wearing a well fitted all black suit, and all I wanted to do was literally jump him. Every time I saw him walking around wearing just the dress shirt and pants—no jacket yet, I could see his muscles and abs, and I wanted nothing more than to just have him pin me down and fuck me. Fuck. It was weird to think how when I was told to not do something, I suddenly wanted to do it. Specifically, I wanted to do him. I supposed that was just the brat in me, though.

Before we were about to leave, I went to go check on Scarlet in her nursery real quick when I noticed that it was a total mess with all of the toys scattered around. I groaned quietly as I bent over to grab her koala stuffed animal off the floor. It hurt like a total bitch, and there was no good way to go about doing it besides making sure I went slow and easy. As I carefully stood back up, screwing my eyes shut and wincing at the pain on my lower back as I did so, Scarlet cooed in her crib. I tried to smile while holding my back with one hand and her toy in the other. She was staring up at me, waiting for me to pick her up or give her the toy— either way, she would have been content.

“Y/N,” Hotch whispered from the doorway, making me jump in my own skin.

I caught my heart as I turned to glare at him for scaring me. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough.”

“Hotch—” I knew what he was going to say. I knew that he was going to give me a talk about how I needed to be more careful than I was being, but I really didn’t want to hear it, not for the hundredth time, at least. I was sick of people telling me what I could and couldn’t do. I could afford to clean up my kid’s room, alright. That wasn’t going to break my back. “It’s fine.”

He opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but both of us fell into silence when we heard: “Mama” come from Scarlet’s crib. I froze in place, thinking about what could have possibly just happened. Maybe I misheard, or maybe Jack was calling for me from downstairs, or maybe he was watching TV and they said it, or—

“Mama,” I heard it again, snapping my attention to the crib. Scarlet was still smiling— almost giggling, actually— and she was dancing around on her feet. “Mama.”

“Aaron…” I mumbled, too scared to move a muscle, thinking that if I did, she’d stop saying anything. Hotch took careful steps towards me, also trying to not startle her. “Did she—”

He nodded. “Yeah,” he whispered back.

“Mama!” She did a “grabby-grab” gesture with her hands, reaching out for the koala toy that I was still holding.

Finally, a year old, she was finally talking, and of course her first word had to be just for me. Morgan wouldn’t believe it. I mean, statistically speaking—at least, according to Spencer—Scarlet was a late bloomer when it came to walking and talking, but she wasn’t entirely behind the curve either. Just yesterday, I had been thinking about how I couldn’t wait until she would start talking. How the fuck did she know?

I did a little dance, too, before handing her the toy. She fell onto her butt and gave the koala a Superman hug. Hotch and I chuckled at the same time. Mama. Yeah, I’d take that. I kind of wished we got it on camera or something, but I think it was better that it was in the moment and that Hotch and I were both there, taken aback by how shocking it was when it came out of the blue. My perfect lil’ bug… I laughed again.

----

“Uh oh, trouble just walked in!” Morgan cheered from the living room as we walked into Rossi’s house, the door having been left open for all of the guests. Emily and Garcia turned to see who he was talking about, and they all smiled when their gaze met me, Hotch, and Jack. “Where’s my goddaughter?” he inquired, walking over to me.

I rolled my eyes as he kissed my cheek and I hugged him. “Jessica’s watching her.” I turned and hugged Emily. “No more almost dying,” I whispered in her ear. “We need you here.”

She smiled shortly as we parted but didn’t say anything. As I hugged Garcia next, Morgan crouched down to talk to Jack. They were talking about the chocolate fountain that was in the dining room, and the next thing I knew, the two of them were running off together to go take a look at it. Garcia and I laughed before she insisted that she should go keep an eye on Morgan.

I turned to Hotch. “I am not responsible for his sugar high this time. You’re on your own, Agent Hotchner.” He wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me to his side. “I should go find Rossi and thank him for inviting us,” I told him quietly as he kissed my neck.

“No alcohol,” he warned.

“Yes, Sir,” I saluted to make my comment look innocent to Emily, though it was anything but innocent to Hotch. After I pecked his lips with a grinning kiss, I snuck out of Hotch’s arms and headed to the backyard so that he and Emily could talk since he said that she was acting off.

As I was wandering around in search for Rossi, I discovered that he was nowhere to be found. Somehow, our host for the evening had completely vanished. I shook my head. Well, I’d find him later, I supposed, and maybe Hotch would be free then to thank him, too. So, for now, I tapped Anderson’s shoulder, catching his attention, and I asked if he had seen Morgan around since I spotted Jack running around in the backyard with Henry, which meant that Morgan had disappeared somewhere.

Anderson pointed me in the direction of one of the rooms on the first floor that was acting as a coat room for the night. I thanked him with a smile. He waved me goodbye before taking his girlfriend Angelica’s hand and leading her outside to go meet everyone. It was so funny to see him with her because they reminded me so much of how Hotch and I used to be when we first started going out, and we were just so naïve, hands all over each other all the time, smiles constantly plastered to our faces, no problems between us yet. Life used to be so simple. Hopefully Anderson and Angelica wouldn’t get as complicated as Hotch and I were.

When I stepped into the temporary coatroom, I found Morgan hiding in the corner, sitting on a leather footstool, drinking a cup of scotch. He spotted me and forced a smile onto his face. “Hey, sunshine.”

“Hey.”

“How are you doing?”

I sighed heavily, taking a seat beside him. “Well, at least you don’t have to worry about me shooting you or Rossi for getting on my ass about not leaving the bank for the hospital the other day.” He furrowed his brows. “I’m leaning more towards shooting Spencer or Hotch are this point.”

Morgan chuckled. “That bad, huh?”

“You have no freakin’ idea. And I can’t even drink it all away because of the painkillers. So. Yay me.” I rolled my eyes.

Morgan didn’t respond, though, which was concerning. I half expected him to back up Hotch and Spencer, or maybe say something snarky about he was glad to be rid of me for a few months until the doctors could clear me again. But nothing. Even his smile faded into the unnatural silence between us.

My eyes pouted as I put a hand on his shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

He shrugged my touch away, which also wasn’t like him. “Nothing.”

Oh, yeah. Sure. Nothing. Recently, Morgan had a terrible habit of pushing everyone away because he thought that it would somehow protect us, but all it was doing was hurting everyone involved. He knew that he could tell me anything and I would always understand. He knew that I would always stand by his side and back him up, no matter what. So why was he so afraid to open up to me recently? Had I done something to break his trust in me? Was I somehow involved in this secret he was keeping? I just wanted him to give me some kind of answer so that I could stop worrying about him for once.

He sighed when he saw my mind churning. “I can’t tell you what’s going on because it’s not my secret to share. Is that okay?”

I nodded. “If that’s the case, then I won’t pry. But… I’m always here to talk, Derek. Always.” I tried to lighten the mood by joking, “Especially since I can’t go anywhere anymore.”

He chuckled. “Touché.”

Silence settled for a bit as both of our chuckles faded. Now, we were just staring at the wall together. There had to be something more for us to say, something that would lift his spirits. Oh—

“Scar said her first word today,” I admitted, biting back a smile because I knew that it would cheer Morgan up to hear the good news.

Morgan looked up at me, shock mixed with excitement washing over his face. “You’re kidding.”

I shook my head. “Nope.”

“Who won?”

“I did,” I smiled. He groaned, rolled his eyes, and dug into his back pocket for his wallet. I grinned as he gave me a ten dollar bill reluctantly. “Sucker.”

“So, this is where you’ve been hiding,” someone said from the door. Morgan and I both glanced up guiltily, as if we were two teenagers who got caught smoking pot at prom or something. It was just Hotch, though. Actually, no, that was too nonchalant for referencing him. It was Hotch, yeah, but he did, in fact, look like a stern and disappointed principle who had caught up smoking pot at prom. “I’ve been looking around for you.” He looked directly at Morgan to ask, “Have they been drinking?”

“Nope. They’ve been doing a lot of complaining about not drinking, though.”

Morgan poked my side, laughing at me in a teasing way, skipping towards the door, barely dodging around Hotch in time. He sent me a thumbs up for good luck. I groaned and hit my head against the wall behind me, looking at my husband out the corner of my eye as he took Morgan’s spot beside me.

“If it weren’t for your back, I’d have you over my knee right now for breaking the rules,” Hotch whispered in my ear.

I gulped. The idea sounded so appealing. I wanted nothing more than for life to just get back to how it was. I didn’t want Hotch to be scared to touch me, or to kiss me, hold me, fuck me. The next few months were going to be excruciatingly long without being able to have all of him. I was so fucking pissed.

“Mmm… and what if I were to be good for you right now…” I tried playing with him, sneaking my hand onto his thigh, making an attempt to work my way upwards towards his crotch, but he snatched my hand away. “Please, Sir. Something.”

“You behave, take all of your meds, work on getting better, then I’ll consider it—But only after the doctors say we can.”

“Come on, baby,” I pleaded with a pout. “We don’t need doctors to tell us how to be us…” I tried putting my hand on his thigh again, but he kept me away. “Aaron, I’m not going to break.” I instead moved my hand to his cheek. “I love you, I trust you, and I know that you would never hurt me, and I know my own limits when it comes to—”

“Y/N, stop, please,” he whispered. “Please. I love you, Y/N, and I want to do… I want to be us again, more than ever, but I just want to be 100% sure before we do anything. It’s only been a day. A day, baby girl… You heal fast, I know you do, but not that fast. One wrong move, and you might not ever go back into the field. Sex is nice and all, but it’s not worth it if that’s the price you have to pay.”

I chuckled lightly. “Okay. Fair enough.”

“Hey, you two love birds,” Rossi interrupted, sticking his head into the room, “everyone’s waiting on you two.”

We hurried to follow Rossi out to the backyard where everyone was gathered in front of the priest, Henry, and Will. I slowed when I noticed that it was standing room only. I wasn’t sure if I was going to be able to stand through the whole thing without literally wanting to tear my own spine out and throw it across the fucking yard. I looked at Hotch, tugging him back towards me. He searched my eyes with worry, and when it finally dawned on him, the worry intensified, and he neared me to hold me close.

He kissed the top of my head. “I’ll hold onto you. If it gets bad, we’ll quietly excuse ourselves.”

“It’ll be rude,” I whispered.

“Everyone will understand. Come on.”

He continued to lead me to the group, a few of them shuffling around so that they could make room for us. Hotch was standing behind me, his arms under mine, hands on my hips, swaying them barely, almost as if it were some kind of hypnotizing therapy on its own, and he was kissing my neck gently, not passionately enough to leave a hickey, but enough to tell me that he loved me a million times over.

As JJ and Will kissed, Hotch pulled me closer and whispered, “You remember our first kiss as husband and wife?”

I nodded, smiling through the happy tears that drifted down my cheeks. I was just so happy and relived that we were all safe, and that we were a family again. Even though things didn’t go to plan yesterday, at least Will was there, and JJ would never have to know what it would be like to raise Henry without him. Even though I hurt myself, I at least had Hotch and he had me, and we would never have to know what it would be like to live without each other.

Everyone started clapping, which pulled me out of my trance. Hotch let go of me so that he could clap, too, and I turned to look up at him and kiss him as we both smiled and wiped each other’s tears away. He smiled against me, leaning into our kiss. He didn’t recognize what he was doing. He had been so careful with me since the bombing yesterday, and yet, for a moment, he forgot about everything and just kissed me the same way he kissed me the day we got married. And I kissed him back. I didn’t stop until the clapping stopped and he realized what he had done, quickly pulling away from me so that he could make sure that I hadn’t shattered to a million pieces. I hadn’t shattered, but I had certainly melted.

During dinner, I sat between Hotch and Morgan, just across from Spencer and Garcia. We were all eating—the rest of them drinking while I watched—and talking the night away, not even pondering for a second that yesterday we nearly died on multiple occasions. It was like all of the bad had been washed away. There wasn’t a single bad thought at the table, and there wasn’t a single frown on anyone’s face. Was that normal? I mean, our lives had never been normal, so I was pretty sure I forgot what “normal” was, but that kind of felt familiar, like that was how we would be if our jobs weren’t so time and emotionally consuming.

Garcia asked how I was, and I lied, telling everyone that I felt okay, that they were just overreacting yesterday. Spencer, just as he had at the hospital, actually told everyone the truth. I glared at him again. He didn’t recognize what he had done, however, and continued on to insist that he could help Hotch keep an eye on me since he could recognize the silence signs that I was trying to mask my pain in order to not worry everyone. I silently cursed him for being so damn smart. And oblivious. But the last part wasn’t necessarily his fault, especially with all the theories that had been circulating around the office since I first joined.

After we finished eating, Hotch held his hand out and asked if I wanted to dance. I stared at him for a moment. Was he really going to let me move? I mean, I wasn’t going to second guess him vocally, of course, but I couldn’t believe that he was asking. I jumped at the chance, though. I accepted his hand, letting him pull me to my feet. The two of us laughed excitedly as we carefully hurried to the dance floor and he turned me around so that I was facing him and we could start slow dancing.

Hotch was so gentle with me. We were hardly swaying, taking slow, gentle, and small steps in circles. His arm was barely even touching my waist. I rested my cheek against his chest and inhaled his scent. I loved him beyond words. Despite our ups and downs, despite his lies and my hurt feelings over and over again, I couldn’t shake that I loved him. I couldn’t help that all of that bad times just couldn’t compare to all of the good times, which made everything worth it at the end of the day.

“What are we going to do?” Hotch asked, sincerely baffled. I didn’t say anything. “This isn’t like when I left… You could move then, take care of the kids, and Morgan was always around… But now you’re actually hurt, and I’m going to be gone all the time. What… What do we do?”

“Nothing really changes, baby. I can take Jack to school; I can look after Scarlet. And, you know, Jessica will always be around to help, too, if I need. We’ll be fine.”

“You could barely pick up Jack yesterday.”

“In my defense, he’s getting too big to keep picking up.”

“Y/N, come on. I’m serious. You can’t put any stress on your back. That includes picking Jack up, and cleaning up the house, doing laundry, doing dishes— anything. You need to be really careful.”

“I’m fine, Aaron.”

“You couldn’t even bend down to grab Scarlet’s toy from the floor.”

I furrowed my brows at him when I noticed the way his hold on me loosened even more after recalling the memory of me in the nursery only a few hours ago. He wasn’t upset about that. I mean— he was. Obviously, he was. But there was something else stirring in the mind of Aaron Hotchner, and it had to do with his own guilt. That was the only explanation I could account for.

I brushed my hand over his hair. “Baby,” I cooed, waiting until he looked at me, “I’m going to be okay.” I scratched his scalp gently. He slowly melted against my touch, nuzzling into the way it relaxed him whenever I played with his hair. “It’s not your fault. I need you to hear that.”

He froze. “I—”

“Aaron, please, listen to me. It’s not your fault. I yelled at you, and I told you that I wanted to make the choices with SWAT, and you gave in. I made the call to send everyone into the bank, and I was the one who neglected to think that there could be a bomb inside. This isn’t your fault. It’s mine.”

“I wouldn’t have sanctioned an approach if JJ hadn’t compared you to Will.”

My face softened at the realization. I had only thought that he blamed himself, but I didn’t know it for sure, and I hadn’t realized that this was buried so deep. This was far worse than I could have anticipated. “That’s why you’ve been all protective like this.”

I mean, he usually got protective when something changed drastically in our lives. Haley and Scarlet were prime examples. But this was… different. Instead of ordering me to do things that would force me to protect myself, Hotch was coddling me and attending to my every wish. He was trying to make up for what he did. He was trying to apologize to me for something that he had no right blaming himself for; and he was trying to relieve the guilt he felt by catering to me constantly.

Hotch pressed his forehead against mine. “You could have died, Y/N. I had this feeling in the pit of my stomach that it was wrong to make a move like that again so soon, and I should have said something—but when JJ put it into perspective for me by asking what I would have done if it were you in that bank… I knew I had to help her. I had to help Will. And I forgot that it’s my job to protect you—to protect our team. I let my emotions get in the way. I shouldn’t have done that. It goes against everything we believe in at the BAU, and it nearly got you killed.”

“It was my choice, Aaron.” I brought my hand to his face and ran my thumb over his mole on his cheek. “Please, hear that. I made the call to move in with SWAT. It was my decision to push the front doors with you, and it was my decision to stay on site instead of going to the hospital afterwards. You can’t blame yourself.”

“But I do.”

“I know.” I felt a tear hit my thumb, making me pout. “It was an accident, baby.”

“Yeah, but it was an accident that could have killed you.”

I leaned in to kiss him because there was this overwhelming urge in the pit of my stomach to somehow comfort him, yet there weren’t enough words to tell him what I meant, and there wasn’t enough time in the world to hug him for as long as I wanted to—and even if the time existed, my strength to give him a Superman hug was too limited. But I could kiss him. I could press my lips to his until we couldn’t breathe, until he would grab my face and hold me there with him, leaning into me until I wrapped my arms around his neck to hold him there with me. So, I kissed him. I kissed him as hard as I could. We exhaled through our noses, turning our faces to kiss from a different angle while catching our breath. But he didn’t hold me as close as I wanted him to. In fact, he pushed me away somewhat, and I could tell that it was because he was terrified that if he tilted over me at all, it would hurt my back.

My shoulders fell. “Aaron Christopher Hotchner, you are not stupid. You did not make the wrong call. Stop thinking that way before I smack you.”

He chuckled. “I’m trying.”

“Try harder.” I kissed him again, finally feeling his arms snake around the small of my back, giving me the chance to fling my arms around his neck, just like I wanted. I smiled against him.

Someone beside us cleared their throat. We parted to see Morgan standing there, gesturing to ask if he could dance with me. What a way to be a cockblock, am I right? Not that Hotch would have actually fucked me, even if I were on my knees and begging. He made it entirely clear that he wasn’t ready to have sex with me yet, knowing just how bad my back actually was, and he probably wasn’t going to give in for a very long time. I was going to be miserable. Miserable and horny. What was the point of being married to the love of my life if I couldn’t fuck him every chance I had? And then motherfucking Derek Morgan had to come along and ruin the slight chance I had by asking to dance with me. Oh, boy, he was really lucky I loved him.

Hotch was polite about it, though. We smiled, patted Morgan’s shoulder, then stepped away to go dance with Emily since she looked all lonely on her own on the side. Morgan took one of my hands in his, then wrapped his other arm around my waist while I put my free hand on his shoulder. I was staring at him, trying to gauge if he was any better since earlier. He wasn’t.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he insisted before I could say anything. “But thank you for being in my corner, sunshine.” I smiled. “And for always being so damn stubborn, too.”

I laughed. “Only for you.”

“That’s a blatant lie.”

I laughed again. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“Can I sneak in a dance?” Emily asked, sneaking up behind me. Morgan and I turned to face her. I saw that she was forcing a smile, and behind that illusion of happiness was a desperation to dance with Morgan, so I nodded and stepped away. “Actually—” Emily started before I could walk away. “I was hoping to dance with you,” she told me. She reached out and grabbed my hand before I could get too far.

I smiled and took her hand. “Okay.”

Morgan didn’t walk away, so we both glared at him slightly as Emily took the lead. She put her right hand on my waist, her left hand clasped tightly with my right hand, and my left hand was on her shoulder. We still glared at Morgan.

“What? Can’t I watch?” he questioned through a chuckle.

I shooed him away until he gave up and went to grab Garcia from her seat. When I looked back at Emily, she was smiling for real this time, which eased my nerves. Despite how happy everyone seemed, there was something off with her. I could tell that she was the secret Morgan was keeping. I wasn’t sure how I knew, but some part of me just put the pieces together, and I supposed I should have attributed it to being a profiler, but I didn’t want to be that stuck up. I just knew. Something told me that she wasn’t entirely okay, and my heart sank.

As Emily looked away from me, almost like she felt too guilty to keep eye contact, I started putting the pieces together. Morgan was as upset that night as he was when he found out Emily “died”. Hotch stayed back to talk to her when we arrived. I didn’t like where this was leading me.

So, I just asked. “You’re leaving again… Aren’t you?”

Emily snapped her attention back to me, her smile falling from her face quickly. But she didn’t deny it. In fact, she didn’t even question it. The look on her face wasn’t confusion over what I was talking about, instead it was about how I knew. So, it was true. I had this feeling boiling in the pit of my stomach that something was wrong with her, and for some reason her leaving the team was the only thing that made sense to me. I didn’t know why. Maybe it was because if I were in her shoes, I would have felt the same way. I couldn’t imagine going through everything she went through; from finding out that Ian Doyle was back, to the fact that he was coming after us in order to make her life hell, in order to being tortured and stabbed by him, then… dying on the way to the hospital. After all of that, she still had the strength to come back when it was safe. But it wasn’t the same. She wasn’t the same. Since coming back, something had been off about her, and I really hadn’t put the pieces together until she went out of her way to come up and ask to dance with me. She knew she was leaving, and she wanted to cherish the moments she had left with us.

“I don’t want to talk about it—” she began.

“Don’t leave. Please.” I didn’t know how I could be more clear and sincere. “Please.”

Her eyes softened. “I’m sorry.” We were silent for a moment. “How did you know?”

“Morgan was being all weird and keeping secrets from me, which was how I knew it had to do with the team. Since Hotch isn’t acting weird, I know he’s not keeping anything from me. The next option was you… and when you asked to dance… I just… I somehow knew.” I shrugged. “Profiling or whatever.”

She laughed. “Yeah. Sure.”

“We need you here. I need you here. Scarlet—”

“I’ll still be around, Y/N, I promise. I just need to do something else. The BAU isn’t what it used to be for me. I think I burned too many bridges when I was away.”

“What are you going to do instead?”

I felt a sob bubbling in my chest, even though I was trying my very hardest to suppress it. I didn’t want to be sad at a wedding. I didn’t want to even think that I would be sad in the future, missing one of my best friends, wondering if she was okay wherever she was, doing whatever it was, doing whoever it was. There was a time when Emily and I… We just clicked. I mean, at first, I was indifferent because she came shortly after Elle left to go travel and do something new with her life that she loved; but once I warmed up to her, we had a flow at work. Morgan and I were together in the field for almost every case, but there were instances when Emily would tag along, and it made sense. The one thing I could vividly remember about her before she left was the time we were working that swinger case and we were in the car together… With anyone else, I think it would have been awkward. But with Emily, I didn’t blink twice. Being stuck in that car with her—though I didn’t recognize it at the time—was actually funny, and I enjoyed little moments like that. If she actually left, I wouldn’t have those anymore. Hell, since she got back in the first place, there was hardly a chance to have little moments like that, and it broke my heart, but I thought that we were going to have a long time to make up for it.

Emily caught a tear running down my cheek with her thumb. Shit, I swore I wouldn’t actually cry. She searched my eyes for a moment, debating on whether or not her next words would force an actual sob out of me; but I was pleading with her for answers. “Clyde Easter called… He wants me to run the London Interpol office.”

I let out a shaky breath. “You’re taking it?”

“Yeah.”

“And it’ll make you happy?”

“I hope so.”

I sighed quietly and nodded. “Okay.”

“Okay?” she questioned.

“Yeah. Okay. If it makes you happy, then I can’t tell you not to jump at the opportunity, Em. Once upon a time, you told me that no one else’s opinion matters unless it’s optimistic and helpful. I want my opinion to matter to you. I want you to know that I will always be in your corner, and I will support whatever endeavor it is you choose to seek out because I want the best for you. Because I love you.”

She finally smiled again, almost like she was relieved to hear that from me. “Thank you, Y/N. Truly.” She stopped dancing with me so that she could hug me tightly. “I love you, too.”

And that was how we said goodbye because seeing her off at the airport a few weeks later was just too painful.

-----

criminal minds family: @gorgeousdarkangel @peggy1999 @alex--awesome--22 @oceaneblu @brithedemonspawn @absolutemarveltrash @bshelley322 @rousethemouse @sunshinepower17 @weexinling @pettttyyyc @Braty-angel

#Criminal Minds #criminal minds fanfic #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine #aaron hotchner #Aaron Hotch Hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner imagine

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popculturebuffet · 3 years

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Star Vs Tom Luictor Retrospective Detour: Skooled!

Dedicated to Jessica Walter 1941- 2021

Welcome back all you still mourning people to Prince of Wishful Thinking, my Tom Lucitor Retrospective... or at least a detour from it as I need to cover the Meteora arc to cover Divide/Conquer properly. When we last left off with Star she and Tom were going closer, but both are taking a break this time. We’ll get back to them in April... oh will we get back to them in april. For now we’re back to Meteora who I forgot was ABSENT for a while. not forever, but while her parantege, the cover up related to her and all of that has been vitally important, Meteora herself vanished after Monster Party and hasn’t been seen till now. But i’ts a good storytelling engine.. it ratchets up tension for her inevitable return, and gives us time to find out what happened with her and let that sink in.. granted i’td also be the last time it sunk in but I can dunk on the series decline later... I still have season 4 episodes to cover after all. So join me under the cut as we get the welcomed Return of Henious, an unexpected hero.. and Ponyhead because this series clearly hasn’t hurt me enough. And as usual for my Star Vs Reviews, i’d like to thank one of my Best Friends @jess-the-vampire for her insight on this episode. It’s always welcome and she always manages to find something I didn’t think of .

So we open at Saint O’s with Ponyhead returning to the school, having previously run it post rebellion before leaving because.. I don’t know. She probably got tired of being a leader, and out of universe they needed her to be around star more. Look the series has far more important things it never explained and never will, not explaining why a recklessly irresponsible asshole left a position of authority and responsibility I can let slide.

She’s come for brunch but things have changed... the school is still a warm, free environment for princesses to better themselves and party hardy, no longer an oppressive brainwashing gulag run by someone who as it turned out was horribly brainwashed herself.. it’s just now it actually has rules and structure.

It now also has an actual leader, Princess Patty Arms who showed up in the school’s previous appearance this season here and.. that’s it. I think she showed up in the background of the original st o’s episode. And it’s a shame because she’s a really fascinating character. No really she’s calm, dosen’t take Pony’s shit, and while a brunch exam SEEMS like a waste of time... it really isn’t. A good meal can loosen up a dignitary and some rulers have sticks up their keisters about things like this, so being able to do it just right can win them over. It’s still a touch ridiculous but given the world of star is a touch ridiculous to start with, it works.

Pony naturally leaves in a rage over this especially when no one backs her up.. but soon the School has bigger issues and we get to why we’re actually here: Meteora is back. And while she has changed, now having grown larger and stronger, easily scaling the wall, she still wants payback and we get a damn fine battle sequence as the princesses all unite against their former tormentor. It’s also sad in hindsight.. because as Jess pointed out to me almost NONE of these characters show up again. And I only added the almost because Penelope is in there. They all seem interesting, the setting of ST O’s itself is interesting, and the idea of a school for princesses of various types is a cool idea. I’ts something the show could’ve come back to to see how they bounce back from this attack.. but like most cool background elements in the show they forget about it. It was intresting to see the schools slow evolution from horrible nightmare to princess ran utopia and like many things coming up it feels like a lost opportunity.

That being said the fight is awesome, with Meteora proving to be a juggernaut in strength and outplanning her enimies, having brought an overide switch for the robots (Patty reprogrammed them to work for the school) and having them throw their hearts/ power sources as bombs. It’s a damn fine sequence as she finds way after way to keep going, with a now restored rasticore helping them simply portal in.

Pony meanwhile.. is hiding , as Patty find sout when she finds her, and Pony assumes this is about her... though for once i’ts not JUST ego.. but because she was one of the two who started the uprising at the school in the first place and THE person who tossed her out. We also get a nice character moment as while Pony tells patti she still hates her.. she puts the princess behind her when Meteora approaches. She may be a selfish twit whose massively unlikeable.. but she has a good heart.. and not just the one she keeps in a jar she got from one of her boyfriends.

But Meteora has more important buisness and finds her way to the depths of St. O’s.. where we meet the Schools namesake and her adopted mother a robot played by tress macneile.. another thing the series never bothered to care about as where did these robots come from and why?

Turns out Meteora came to find out her own personal history, with the remote from before used to find the real dirt.. and what we find .. is heartbreaking as we slowly journey back through Meteora’s childhoods as Henious.. and it’s fucking heart breaking with Tress voicing her younger versions, hence why I didn’t use this as the jessica tribute as while walter’s good in the episode, she isn’t given much.

We see her as a teen, forced to hide her tail and insulted over it by her mother.. and it only gets worse as when her cheeks glow as a kid St. O tries to wash them off and we get the poor child desperately begging that “she can be better”

We do finally get the answers Meteora saught as we see Shastacan dropping off the baby meteora, calling her “Henious”.. which St. O took as her name. Proving the spiderbites minus penelope’s dickishness is indeed genetic and why I have no sympathy for the prick getting eaten later... and hopefully globgor will do an encor with penepople’s parents. Here’s hoping.

So Meteora now knows she’s the rightful queen, and decides to go take it back.. though Pony does try to stand up for her friends... and while we don’t see it hte next episode confirms she got her horn ripped the fuck off. And this horribly traumatic injury.. is magically fixed via 3d printing next time we see her after an episode grappling iwth it instead of having pony deal with not having a horn, or her prostetic not giving her magic powers again. Because this show again really likes to leave good ideas out to rot in the sun like that package of hamburger I left out in the sun yesterday. And I actually had a reason there: I need a lot of Racoons for an elaborate scheme involving a map to tex cruz’s house, a used apache helicopter and a bulk order of tiny parachutes.

We do get some payoff to things though, as Henious comes on to rasticore who not so politely rejects her for being nuts.. before it’s revealed Gemini, her loyal servant is also a robot and she uses his heart to blow up rasticore and take the arm with her... which is ALSO never brought up again. Seriously this episode is so full of loose ends i’m suprised it just dosen’t end with Zuko asking his dad about his mother. Gemini’s death is genuinely tragic as his last words are “If you wanted my heart.. all you had to do.. was assssskkkkk”. God damn. So with that Meteora heads out to reclaim her birthright.. no matter the cost.

Final Thoughts on Skooled!: This one is decent.. but like the last episode I covered, the lack of payoff off for almost anything here, excluding the Meteora plotline and the Pony thing which instead got a BAD payoff, is really starting to rear it’s ugly head as the series greatest weakness. Yes bigger than the romance plot. And given that romance plot after this season can be best discribed as...

youtube

The show just.. forgets a good chunk of things happened to keeep things chugging along. It sets UP plots, what happens to st o’s from here, buff frog and a small caravan of monsters leaving forever, the message from shastacan, who built the st o’s robots, and on and on.. but it never PAYS them off. It dosen’t care to. It just does things so the plot can move but never bothers to think about the fucking consequences. It just gets more and more irrtating to think about as other shows throughly DO: Amphibia has the fact the characters get into shenanigans become a commented on running gag and something they grow past, and everything that happens matters. Every episode of Owl House builds on the foundation of the previous episodes. OK Ko dosen’t forget one episode had the characters not be able to turn back into humans and implies their wearing human costumes for the rest of the series. Which is fucking weird, but it was their memory. My point is other shows around the same time or right after didn’t magically forget things happened for convience sake. While it’s OKAY to loose some things in the shuffle, it happens to the best of us, it’s not okay to do it SO fucking often and with no clear care for the audiences desire for payoff. The show just ignores what plot points, like the huge cliffhanger of Star telling marco how she felt at the end of season 2, it dosen’t care about till it needs them and ignores the ones it never does. You can’t just.. bring shit up like it’s important and then try and forget it ever happened. People remember stuff, we are NOT stupid. KIDS are not stupid. When I was younger I REMEMBERED things that happened on KND, Danny Phantom, Xiaolin Showdown, TMNT 2003, because those shows, which are from decades ago, knew I would and trusted even if I missed something and was thrown off i’d tune in for the quality.

And in an age of streaming and more story based tv you can’t just.. ask kids to act like something they saw didn’t happen because your fucking lazy and frankly YOU never should have. Kids deserve better, my niblings deserve better and frankly the adults your clearly also writing for.. deserve better. This episode is eh, but the problems it represents are so fucking worse.

Next time on tom. If you thought I got angry towards the end of this one, just you wait. Next time i’ts Booth Buddies. Yeah.. yeah that one. Stay tuned.

#star vs the forces of evil #skooled #lilica ponyhead #meteora butterfly #gemini #rasticore #patty arms #rat princess #penelope spiderbite #saint olga #saint olgas #disney xd #disney plus #disney channel

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actuallybarb · 4 years

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The Aftermath ~ Part 5

Summary: y/n goes to avengers compound, mysterio proves to be a dick even in the afterlife, y/n fixes everything sleep be damned

Pairing: peter parker x reader

Warnings: swearing, angst, fluff, mysterio is finally out of the picture god bless, trauma, marvel bs and shenanigans

Word Count: 3691

A/N: sleep deprivation and coding are not my strong suits yet i find myself writing about them way too often

/////////

Let’s just say, I am so grateful Jessica is in my life, or else I would be toast.

“How could you keep something like this from us?”

“You were forced to use your powers against your friends?”

“Why the hell didn’t you tell us?”

They had good intentions - they’re just worried. I’ve had five, almost six, years to process it, and they’re getting it all thrown at them at once.

That’s at least what my brain was trying to tell me. But the louder they got the faster my breathing shallowed out and my heart beat and shit is the room spinning?

“Y/N?”

Jess.

“Are you okay?”

“I-“ The three of them were looking at me and wow, as much as I loved Jessica, I felt like I was being suffocated. “I need some air.” I basically sprinted out of the room.

There was only one floor between us and the roof, and the couple that lived there were so old they wouldn’t reach the window by the time I was off the fire escape.

The sun was setting. When the pollution was worse, pre-blip, the sky would turn pink and purple and every color in between. Now it’s just blue. Less pollution is good. But I miss how the sky used to be.

I sat on the edge of the roof with my legs dangling over the edge, trying to get a grip on my reality, when none other than Spider-Man came swinging around and sat beside me.

“Hey, Y/N.”

“Hey Peter.”

“Are you okay?”

I brought my knees up to my chest. To tell or not to tell - the question of my life. “I just told my parents about my powers. The- they have mixed feelings.” Peter just sat there, so I took the chance and kept talking. Talking to someone who kind of gets it. “They just kept getting louder and louder. So I left.” I brought my chin down to my knees too. “Jess is down there, though, she can help calm them down.”

“Who’s Jess?”

“My foster mom. Both my parents were snapped, so were her husband and kid, so I lived with her. She used to be the only other person who knew what I could do. Now I feel like everyone does.”

“Who else knows?”

I counted in my head. “Eleven, including me.”

Peter counted too, but he was two short. “Who else? I already counted Fury.”

“My shrink. And Flash. He saw me while I was a monster.”

“You’re not a monster, Y/N.”

“Aren’t I?” I stood up and started pacing. “You saw what I did in London. That wasn’t a pack of drones, that was me. All me.”

“You’re not a monster, Y/N. You may have been the one doing the damage, but Beck forced you too. He threatened to kill you and your parents if you didn’t cooperate. You didn’t have a choice.”

“Yeah, well,” I sat down again, probably closer to Peter than was friendly, “that doesn’t help my conscience.”

“We…“ He sighed. “We can’t let Beck have a hold on us. That’s just what he wants.”

“Happy gave me a card. He told me to call him.”

Peter perked up immediately. “Have you called him yet?”

I shook my head. “Not yet. I had to tell my parents first before anything else, just in case something got out about London.”

“You told them everything?”

“I don’t like lying. I can tell when other people do it and it just pisses me off. It just makes things easier if you tell the truth.” I sighed and stood up, brushed my hands off on my pants, and stepped down from the ledge. “I’ll see you around, Peter.”

“Going back to face them?”

I smiled and shrugged. “Has to be done eventually.”

/////////

They let me call Happy, and that weekend I was allowed to stay at the Avenger’s compound. It was weird, being surrounded by adults that had been doing the whole ‘superhero’ thing for a while. Even Peter, who was the same age as me, looked so much more in his element during training.

“Are you a genius too?”

It was breakfast. I had made myself some scrambled eggs and bacon, because, according to Sam, “You have to eat protein too, Y/N, not just that sugar shit.”

I side-eyed Bucky as I took a bite of eggs. “Define ‘genius.’”

“Peter’s brain runs a mile a minute. I know you guys go to the same school, so?”

I shrugged. “I pass, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

He rolled his eyes. “You know that’s not what I meant, Y/N.”

I huffed. “I don’t know, I just am. I mean, sure, I hacked into Stark’s servers when we were in Prague, but it doesn’t seem extraordinary. The only part about me that actually feels different is the fact that I can make fire with my bare hands.”

I didn’t realize there were people listening in on our little conversation. “You hacked into Tony’s servers in Prague?”

Pepper Potts was who I wanted to be when I grow up. A complete badass. And I just ruined her perception of me in one sentence. “Uh… Yes.”

“We could never figure it out. FRIDAY got an alert, but you were untraceable. How’d you get through all of the firewalls?”

“I-“ There were more people in the kitchen now. “I don’t know.”

Pepper looked me up and down. “If you don’t mind, I’d like you to do it again. Then we can improve the system. Then we can think about adding you to our software development team.” She winked at me, then walked out of the kitchen, leaving me absolutely gobsmacked. Wow, I’d only been there a weekend and I was already picking up the old man slang.

“Damn, kid.” Bucky pat me on the back then continued eating his way through his third bowl of cereal, because, as Sam angrily said to me, “He’s a grown-ass man, Y/N, he can eat whatever shit he wants.” And then admitted, after some slight teasing, “Do you really think I could be able to tell him what to do?”

“He is your boyfriend.”

“That’s not the point.”

I wanted the weekend to last forever, but I was promised another one, where I could show Pepper my breaking and entering skills and eventually beat Wanda at poker. (She can literally read minds, it’s an unfair advantage.)

My parents, though still wary, were glad to see me in such high spirits - it didn’t happen very often, so they took advantage of it as much as possible.

But it didn’t last long. Mom and Dad sat down on the couch to catch up on This is Us on Tuesday and I went to grab my laundry, but when I got back out I dropped it in shock.

“Spider-Man’s name-“ Beck’s video cut out then flashed back. “Spider-Man’s name is Peter Parker!”

“Fuck.”

Mom was too shocked to scold me for my language.

“That’s just horrible.”

“How could Spider-Man do such a thing?”

I looked at my dad and wanted to hit him upside the head. “Dad! Peter didn’t kill Beck!”

“You heard what the video said-“

“I also know that Beck had a team of people working with him that probably knew how to use his tech as well as he did.” When he didn’t give me more than a blank stare I groaned. “They made it up! It’s all fake so they can ruin Peter’s life.” I pulled out my phone. “I have to call-“

Everyone will be trying to call Peter.

What good will that do, then?

How the fuck can we fix this?

I pressed a different contact and held my phone up to my ear, my laundry completely forgotten on the floor as I made my way up to the roof. “Pepper.”

“You saw it?”

“How could I miss it?” Pepper Potts saw right through me my first day at the compound. She knew from the get-go my feelings for Peter. That’s probably the only reason she took my call. “What do we do?”

“I have three other lines open with my lawyers and they’re looking into every bit of information they can get their hands on. Y/N,” she started, “I need you to find him. We can’t let him run off or do something extreme, okay?”

“Okay.”

��Text me when you find him, I’ll let you know what the lawyers say.”

If I was Peter Parker, where would I go?

I have no idea I barely know the guy.

Shut up, Y/N, you’re more similar than you think.

Oh. Duh. He’d be on a rooftop.

After a quick text to MJ, I figured he’d be close to May, considering he saw the whole thing from a big screen in Times Square. And, lo and behold, there he was, on the rooftop of his apartment building.

“Peter.”

“Y/N?” I hated seeing his eyes bloodshot. It was a look he donned too often. “What- How-“

I pulled him into a hug, and he just sort of… crumbled. I just sort of held him for a little bit before he let go and rubbed at his eyes.

“Y/N, I don’t know what to do.”

Great, now I have to be the problem solver.

“Have you talked to anyone yet? May, MJ, Ned?”

He shook his head. “MJ saw it with me, but I left before she could say anything.”

I nodded. “Okay. Let me- hold on.” I texted Pepper, “I got him,” and she responded back, “Bring him. Happy’s bringing May.”

“Who is it?”

“Pepper. She says we need to get to the compound.” I started to move to the edge, but Peter stayed frozen in place. “Peter?”

“What if it’s all a trick? What- what if this is all a big hallucination? What if Beck is still alive? What if everything since the trip has been fake, and that’s why everything’s been going so well with MJ, and now he’s just blowing it up in my face, and-“

“Peter!”

I’m not gonna lie, the thought had crossed my mind. How do you tell what’s actually reality when you don’t even know yourself?

But I could feel the ground beneath me. Beck couldn’t trick me in Prague, and he sure as hell wouldn’t be able to trick me now. (Mostly because he’s dead, but that’s not the point.)

“Hallucination or not, we should go.”

He shook his head again. “No, I can’t, May’s still here, and MJ, and Ned-“

“Happy is bringing May to the compound. Just call MJ and Ned, I’m sure they’ll understand.”

“I can’t just leave everyone!”

“And I can’t let you stay!” Some pigeons flew off at both of our outbursts. I sighed. Why does he always give me such a headache? “Peter, please, we have to go.” As if on cue, a helicopter came flying over us, shocking Peter out of his stupor.

“How are we getting there?”

I hadn’t thought that far ahead.

“We can take my mom’s car, she barely uses it anyway.” Peter nodded, and I sent Mom a quick text. “Can I use the car?”

“Why?”

“I need to go to the compound. Peter’s freaking out.”

...

“Sure. Keep us updated.”

“‘Course.”

Peter and I made it back to my rooftop in five minutes, then we took the elevator down to the underground garage. “Here.” I tossed him a hoodie to wear over his suit. “Keep your head down ‘til we’re out of the city, okay?” He just nodded, then curled up on the seat as the traffic of New York crept by.

He was asleep fifteen minutes into the drive. We hadn’t even left Manhattan yet and his breathing evened out. Just in time, Pepper was calling me. “Hey, Pepper.”

“Are you guys on your way?”

“Yeah, we still have a while, though.”

Peter stirred awake. “Is that Pepper?”

“Hi, Peter.”

“Is May there yet?”

“Happy said they still have about fifteen minutes. Listen, Pete, I’ve called some lawyers, and they…”

Pepper kept talking, but I felt Peter’s heart rate go up.

“Hey- Pep- We’re losing-“ I hung up.

He immediately relaxed. “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

He sat back in the chair and looked at me, which made me only want to reach out and hold the hand he had on the center console, but I couldn’t because: a) I still didn’t know him that well, and, b) that’s just weird. So I kept two hands on the wheel and my eyes straight ahead until Peter started talking.

“What else can you do?”

I scrunched my eyebrows in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“You said you can tell when people are lying. What else can you do?”

I glanced at him before the road captured my attention again. “Um,” my fingers tapped the steering wheel, “I can open metal locks. Like, if it’s metal, I know how it’s made.”

He peeked up considerably at that. “That’s so cool! Does it work with everything?”

“I mean, I guess? I haven’t tried it on much, just like locks and if my computer starts acting stupid.”

“Could you do it on Mr. Barnes arm? Or my nano-tech suit? Or-“ His face paled immediately. Was he going to burst into tears? To vomit? I couldn’t tell, but I really wanted the answer to be “no.”

“I could try it on Bucky’s arm. I’m not sure it would work, I haven’t tried something that complicated, but that’d be pretty cool.”

Peter didn’t talk much the rest of the ride. May was waiting outside to greet him, and she kept a secure arm around his waist while they followed Pepper inside the compound, Happy not far behind. I was left outside with the car.

My first instinct was to call Jess, because even though it wasn’t me directly affected, I still felt like a pound of bricks fell on my chest. But I picked up my phone and called Mom instead, because my shrink told me the relationship wouldn’t get better without some work. And she is my mom; it’s not like I don’t love her, we’re just different people now, and we have to learn each other all over again.

“Mom?”

“Hi, sweetheart. How’s everything going?”

“Not too great, if we’re being completely honest. I- I don’t know what to do.”

Mom had exactly 8 days of superhero-parenting under her belt, but I’ll be damned if she didn’t give it her best effort. “What do you usually do when you feel this way?”

Wow, she really is learning. “Something productive.”

“You did say they had a training room.”

Genius. “Yeah, I did. Thanks, Mom.”

And that’s where I was found an hour and a half later by Sam Wilson. FRIDAY had a lot of fun creating new simulations for me and it kept me distracted enough to not focus on the complete ass Quentin Beck and the primal urge I felt to pound the face of his carcass in. Not to be morbid or anything.

“You okay, kid?”

One last fireball at the bad guy and I had won my fifth round in a row. “Sure.”

“That wasn’t very convincing.”

“It wasn’t supposed to be.” My water bottle lay helplessly empty on the ground next to a small towel, both of which I picked up to avoid a tripping hazard later. “How’s it going in there?”

“They’re looking at all the different ways to get the video down and find the creator and clear Peter’s name, but FRIDAY hasn’t been able to get past the firewalls.”

I swear my neck popped my head shot up so fast. “Firewall?”

“Yeah. Wanna take a crack at it?”

I followed him out of the training room and into a huge lab I had only had the pleasure of walking past. Now I was standing in the center of technology heaven.

“Are we going to get technical with legality here?”

Sam held his hands up in surrender. “I won’t tell, do what you have to do.”

This. This was my element. Beck forced me to make an Elemental for him and tried to force me to kill hundreds of people, thinking I could do it because I could control water, earth, fire, and air. But little did he know he was creating something that dropped the ball completely in my court.

“Okay. Let’s blow the bastard up. FRIDAY, I want you to observe only.”

Then I got to work.

////////////

“Where did Y/N go?” Peter and May were still in the conference room, talking in hushed voices, while Pepper continued to talk to the lawyers, drawing up a new game plan. Happy was the only one to wonder where I went.

“She’s in the lab.”

“Did you take her in there?” Happy started to get defensive, especially about anything Tony related, but Sam just set his glass down and motioned for him to follow.

“She broke into the archives on a laptop in Prague. If anyone is going to have any luck at that video, it’s her.”

They walked along the outside of the lab. “She locked the doors the second I left. Probably doesn’t want us screwing up her process.”

Happy’s eyes crinkled around the edges as he smiled. It was almost like Tony was back. The loud music in the background, thirteen different screens open at once, fingers and brain moving faster than the eye could see.

Sam glanced over at Happy and smiled too. “It’s almost like the good ‘ole days.”

He coughed, trying to get over how choked up he was feeling. “She and Peter both have it. They— they both make it seem less- less empty.”

Sam clapped him on the shoulder. “Keep an eye on her? FRIDAY knows to let someone in if she’s crashing.”

“How does she know that?”

“It’s the same protocol Rhodey had installed for Tony.”

/////////////

Stark Industries computers are a dream to begin with. Actual Tony Stark tech? It’s like I died and went to heaven. That was probably insensitive to say, but hey, someone’s gotta appreciate the man’s work. And I will happily do so.

I didn’t come out for hours, probably days. The only time I let someone into the lab was if they were bringing me coffee, and even then it would go untouched half the time.

“Y/N.”

“Shut up I’m almost there.”

“You said that six hours ago.”

“And now I’m six hours closer.”

“This isn’t healthy.”

“Isn’t it?” I took a sip of the blessed espresso and kept typing. “Seriously, Bucky, I’m almost there, I can taste it.”

“You’ve been at it for-“

“Got it.” I saved the video to the personal system then took it down, bit by bit until it was completely erased from every hard drive on the planet. (Stark Tech can do that. It’s totally invasive but I don’t care enough to worry about the ethics of it.) “Let me follow the source.” One hundred and twenty four clicks later, “I got them.”

“Them?”

“All of Beck’s bitches.” I pushed back in the chair and let myself feel exhausted. “Can you get Pepper? She seems way more qualified to deal with this. FRIDAY?”

“Yes, Ms. Y/L/N?”

“Keep surveillance on these twelve will you? All movement needs to be tracked.”

“All movement?”

“Even when they take a piss.”

I was happy to just curl up in the chair and fall asleep, but Bucky had other ideas. He put an arm under my legs and carried me to the room I stayed in over the weekend. He was even thoughtful enough to take off my shoes before he pulled back the covers and tucked me in.

“Wait, Bucky.” He turned around and took a step forward, just within reach. I stretched my arm out and let my fingers touch his vibranium arm. “There’s a wire in your pinky that needs to be replaced soon.”

Then my arm fell and I lost all consciousness.

/////////////

Apparently I slept for fifteen hours. At least, that’s what FRIDAY told me. She also told me that my parents were at the compound, which freaked me out more than how long I slept.

I walked into the communal kitchen and was met with the afternoon sun blazing through the wall-long windows. After blinking several times I realized I was definitely not alone.

Almost everyone was there. Pepper, Happy, Sam, Bucky, Peter, May, and my parents were dispersed around the kitchen and connected living room. “‘Morning.”

Everyone’s heads turned to me. “Y/N!”

It was Peter that rushed forward and wrapped me in a hug. I have to say, I was thrilled it was him. I got a good look at his face when he pulled away and he looked a lot better. No bloodshot eyes in sight. “How are you?”

“Starving.”

I sat beside Mom at the huge island, a stack of pancakes immediately put in front of me by Sam.

“I thought you didn’t want me eating that sugar shit?” Mom pinched me in the arm for my swear, but I didn’t care, not when I could get a rise out of Samuel.

“I’ll make an exception just this once.”

With half a mouth full of pancakes I asked Pepper, “What happened?”

What was that look on her face? Pride? Relief? I couldn’t tell. “All twelve of them were arrested and are currently being tried in court.”

“And the whole Peter dilemma?” I glanced his way, but he didn’t look nervous. He looked… happy.

“Taken care of. Fury was able to pull a few strings and we’ll be able to get live news coverage of both Peter and Spider-Man at once so no one can question his identity. Spider-Man will remain anonymous. There’s still the matter of clearing Spider-Man’s name, but for now at least Peter will be safe.”

Peter looked at me with a huge smile on his face. “It’s all working out, Y/N. All thanks to you.”

I shrugged. “All I did was get past a few firewalls.”

Mom set a hand on my back and I smiled at her.

Maybe it was all working out.

tags: @eridanuswave @vampirestrawberries

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker series #peter parker oneshot #marvel #marvel comics #peter parker x mj #mcu #ned leeds #michelle jones #flash thompson #spiderman far from home #reader insert #spiderman #avengers

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hollyxqx · 4 years

Text

ALWAYS : NAMJOON : EPILOGUE

↪ PAIRING: Kim Namjoon x Reader ↪ GENRE: idol!au | ex’s to lovers | angst | smut ↪ SUMMARY: the story of how almost divorced, disgraced idol kim namjoon tries to put his life back the way it was after the world found out he was married and had a kid. ↪ WORD COUNT: 6k

↪ WARNINGS: angst angst angst, smut, nj has a mild pregnancy kink, oc body shames themselves a lot, milddddd drug references, tooth-rotting fluff

a/n: sorry this was delayed but here it is! thank you for being so patient and i really hope yall enjoy/are satisfied with the ending . my ask is always open if you have any questions or comments :):)

ONE : TWO : EPILOGUE

By day number four of avoiding Namjoon you knew it was time to relent and at the very least speak to him. Days one through three were spent using your mom's house as a temporary hideout. You knew there was a million questions whirring around in her head at your surprise visit, but you kept quiet, merely stating you wanted a break. She had given you the kind of look that was equal parts disapproving and disappointed, in only the way a mother could combine those expressions. It made you wonder if you made that face too.

Namjoon had called and texted everyday, each time begging you to talk to him. Your fingers would itch over the messages, tempted to just give in. You hated this as much as he did. After finally, finally, getting what you'd wanted for years - your family whole - it felt like it was slipping through your fingers again.

It was a loss you weren't sure if you could endure again.

Siwoo sat happily on his play mat, toy car in hand while you kept a careful watch on him. He had a tendency to put things in his mouth that didn't belong there, so you made sure to pay attention.

You were extra thankful for him as of late, your ray of sunshine in these dark few days. Though, when he went to bed in the evenings everything hit you the hardest, raw and painful. You'd had such little sleep in the last few days it was a miracle you were functioning as well as you were. Months of sleepless nights when Siwoo was a newborn had trained you well, you supposed.

The tea in your mug had gone cold and it tasted as bitter as you felt. You had gone back and forth several thousand times about whether you were over-reacting or not. The initial knee jerk reaction you have is to run when things get difficult. You'd been that way your entire life, often times to your detriment.

Over the course of your entire relationship with Namjoon that had been a recurring issue. Every argument, every fight, squabble, disagreement or otherwise, you were the one that bailed. The one that needed time to cool off. Which ultimately led to you filing for divorce in the end. Maybe it was time to confront your issues instead of running away from them.

The doorbell rang exactly at four p.m, signalling Namjoon had arrived. He knew the passcode and could easily enter if he so much as wanted to, having done so for the last few months. But you knew Namjoon. This was a way of showing you some respect, showing you he was giving you your space and would wait for you to come to him when you were ready. The same pattern as always.

With a heavy heart you trudge to the door, nursing your still cold tea. When you open the door Namjoon stood on the other side, looking as awful as you felt. "Hi." He said quietly, rubbing a sheepish hand over his unshaven face.

"Hi."

You step to the side, allowing him to cross the threshold into the apartment. A surprised, hesitant look crossed his face but he stepped inside regardless.

"Siwoo is in the living room." You told him, straight to the point. He nodded. After all, that was the reason he was here. You were forced out of your silence because you'd never keep his child from him, no matter how bad things got between you.

You hung back in the kitchen and busied yourself with making another cup of tea that you didn't particularly want. It was just an excuse to hide and you knew it. Coward that you were.

You could hear Siwoo's delight at seeing Namjoon as you waited for the kettle and it made your heart ache. He had missed his dad, having been used to his presence much more. The guilt it caused you plagued you constantly, since you were the reason for the separation.

Namjoon appeared in the kitchen a few moments later, Siwoo perched on his hip. A small smile escaped you at the grin on your son's face as his tiny head rested against Namjoon's chest. He still clutched the toy car.

"I'm all set to go." Namjoon announced. He shifted somewhat awkwardly. "Unless you want to..."

"Not yet." You didn't know exactly what he had in mind but you weren't ready for that talk at this moment in time.

He nodded, looking disappointed. "Will I still see you on Sunday?"

"Yeah, why wouldn't you? You're not keeping Siwoo forever." You knew instantly what you said had been far too harsh and definitely out of line. Namjoon's face flashed with pain. "I don't mean it like it that - " You attempted to explain that you weren't infact referring to your son as an object but you were cut off.

"I thought you might send your mom or Jess or anyone else in the world to do it." He informed you.

"It'll be me on Sunday, Namjoon."

"Can we have dinner then? If not for me, for Siwoo." He asked expectantly. You didn't have the heart to refuse him again, not when he looked at you with that desperate longing in his eyes.

"Okay. Dinner, then."

*** Standing outside Namjoon's extravagant house two days later you felt sick, absolutely sick to your stomach, throw up in a hedge nauseous. The combination of nerves, the secret pregnancy and the fact that the last time you were here was one of the worst days of your life had bile creeping up your throat.

When Namjoon finally answered the door, you hurried past him to the bathroom, muttering something about needing to pee. He could only watch you with a bewildered expression, clearly he'd expected a repeat of the awkward interchange from the other day.

You made it to the toilet just in time, praying he didn't hear the sound of you heaving your guts out over the porcelain. As you borrowed some of his mouthwash and cleaned your hands you debated what lie to feed him. Thankfully it wasn't the morning so you hoped you'd be able to get away with food poisoning as your excuse.

You returned to a worried Namjoon. "Are you ok? I heard you throw up." He asked, concerned.

"Yeah, I think I've just got food poisoning."

He stared at you curiously for a beat. "Do you want to lie down before dinner? It won't be ready for another 45 and I'd rather you felt alright."

You shook your head no. "Thanks Joonie, but I'm okay."

His expression softened at your use of his nickname, he hadn't heard it in a while. You didn't intend to use it but it slipped out so naturally. Especially when he was concerned about you.

The kitchen smelled incredible as you entered. Namjoon didn't cook often being the clumsy chef that he was, opting for takeout usually, sometimes multiple times a day. "What are you making? It smells good. Hi boop." You gave Siwoo a cuddle from behind as he sat in his high chair. He squealed with joy in your arms. "Mommy missed you."

"Lamb curry." Namjoon stated. "And just plain pasta for the kiddo."

"And how much has Seokjin helped you with all this?" You couldn't help but tease. Namjoon smirked.

"Alot." He turned away from you to fuss with the pot on the stove. "I wanted to do something nice for you. Figured you'd appreciate the effort."

You made a non-committal noise as you slotted yourself into the chair next to your child, still feeling a little queasy. It was silent until Siwoo's food was ready when Namjoon offered to feed him for you, but you declined. You were happy to do it. He could mostly feed himself anyway but sometimes needed a little help.

With nothing more to do for the time being Namjoon sat opposite you. You could feel his eyes on you but you deliberately kept your own on Siwoo. "What did you boys get up to then?" You murmured, trying to get Siwoo to eat with his small cutlery and not his hands. "The food is hot Siwoo, use this."

"Nothing too exciting. Mostly swimming, I've got the pool up and running again. That kid is a water baby through and through."

You nodded in agreement, having witnessed it first hand yourself. Ever since he figured out what water was you could barely keep him away from it, essentially making bath time a messy affair. "He especially loves your pool since you got that slide."

"I did it for him."

"I know."

Namjoon stood after a while and went to the cupboard, taking out two wine glasses. He placed one in front of where you sat, setting the other at his side of the table. "I got your favourite sauvigon blanc. The one from the top shelf." He mumbled, corking open the bottle he'd grabbed. "Here."

He began pouring you a glass. "Oh no, no thanks, I'm not dri - Siwoo don't throw your pasta."

Namjoon stopped mid pour, raising his eyebrow at you, ignoring the macaroni that hit the floor. "No wine?"

"My stomach still doesn't feel right." You lied, giving him an apologetic look. "Better avoid the alcohol."

"That's not like you." He paused giving you a curious look. "Is everything okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine. I just don't want to drink. I'll be driving again soon anyway."

He didn't know that you physically could not and would not touch alcohol due to tiny life that was growing inside you. The tiny life you still didn't know what the fuck you were going to about. Your stomach flipped anxiously.

"Okay." He said staring at you for a little too long. He swapped your slightly filled glass with his empty one. Namjoon poured sparkling water in yours in lieu of the wine. You knew he knew you were lying about something, but he said nothing, still on emotionally shaky ground with you. You wondered if he had anticipated you staying the night to offer you alcohol.

When Siwoo had finished eating and all the pasta had been cleaned from the floor you put him down for a nap. It was cute how sleepy he always got after food and it was nearing his bedtime anyway, heavy eyelids drooping as he sipped on water.

The only evidence that Namjoon even had a child was Siwoo's bedroom, the rest of the house looked like it belonged to a bachelor. As you walked through the vast space you found yourself getting somewhat irrationally angry about the fact. No wonder that girl felt so comfortable here. You found yourself scowling when you sat back at the dining table.

"What?" Namjoon asked, sensing instantly the shift in your mood.

"Nothing."

"Liar."

"You're one to talk." You shot back. He sighed.

"Don't be like this just because Siwoo isn't here. Can't we keep being civil?"

"Fine." You mumbled.

He dished the food and you ate in stony silence. The sound of the cutlery scraping on the plates soon became deafening to you, grating on you and worsening your mood. Namjoon had asked you to be civil but that girl hadn't been to you, or to him for that matter and that was the only thing on your mind as you ate. The hormones raging through your body were certainly making you more quick to anger than usual.

"Is it okay?" Namjoon asked, pointing to your plate with a fork. "The food."

"Perfect, thank you." You replied. He looked crestfallen at your curt reply.

"Can we talk properly tonight jagi?" He asked.

"Don't call me that." Instantly you were transported back to the night when this mess started, the night you slept together for the first since breaking up. You'd had almost that exact exchange, although it was a playful one and didn't have the sombre atmosphere his kitchen had.

"All I really need is for you to listen." He sighed. "Can you do that for me?"

You owed it to him at least. "Alright."

He inhaled a deep breath before releasing it slowly, as if he was unsure where to begin. "I didn't cheat on you. I wasn't lying about that. If you take anything away from this conversation, please let it be that." His gaze was so intense you couldn't help but believe him.

"Did she kiss you that day?"

"Yeah." He looked down with a grimace. "I didn't initiate anything, she lunged at me. It was an attack."

"She called you Joonie."

That caught his attention and he looked at you in surprise, eyebrows shooting towards his hairline. "That bothered you?" You nodded.

"It didn't feel like a casual hookup, Namjoon. She seemed very familiar with you. She was in your home calling you what me - your wife - calls you." You voice got higher the more emotional you got, tears burning your eyes. Namjoon shushed you gently, telling you to calm down. "And then there was the other girl from the pictures. What do you do to these women to make them think this behaviour is ok?"

Namjoon gave you an infuriatingly blank look. "That was the girl I was papped with."

"No it wasn't." You sniffed.

"Baby," He huffed an incredulous but humourless laugh. "I promise you. Crazy girl from the photos is crazy girl that was here. Those pictures were dark, you probably just didn't recognise her."

"Why does she keep showing up?"

"We did hook up, but once a long time ago. I made the mistake of taking her home. I saw her once after that, but we didn't have sex. Other stuff happened, I won't lie."

You felt uncomfortable, hot, prickly jealousy constricting in your chest. "I don't need details."

"I don't really remember it to be honest. I was wasted." He explained further. "She turned out to be a big fan of mine and was - is - having a hard time dealing with the fact that I don't want her. That's it. That's the story. I swear."

You searched his eyes with your own for a few moments and he held your steely gaze.

"You could get a restraining order." You grumbled.

"They're not as easy to get as you think."

You crossed your arms and looked away. Although you believed every word he said you still weren't happy. Maybe it would take more than a conversation this time.

"Anything else you want to know, just ask." Namjoon told you softly. His hand twitched on the table and you could tell he wanted to reach for yours. "I'm an open book."

You knew exactly what was niggling at your conscious. "What else have you lied about?"

He paused for a moment and your heart dropped, anticipating the absolute worst. "I once jerked off to a picture of your feet."

Your scandalized expression was enough to have him laughing, easing some of the tension in the room. "I'm serious!" You scolded.

"So am I." He smirked and you rolled your eyes. "I'm sorry baby, I just wanted to see you smile."

"You're ridiculous."

He stood and walked round the table, taking your hand in his forcing you to stand. He pulled you into a hug and your arms automatically wrapped around his waist. "Am I forgiven?" He mumbled into your hair.

"No." You said but your body contradicted your words, melting even further in to him. "I'm still angry at you for lying and nearly dying of an overdose too. It's scary to think you can keep such things from me. I'm waiting for the next lie now Joonie."

He squeezed you tighter. "I understand, I do, but does a tiny part of you not see why I would hide those things from you? It was to stop you from getting hurt."

"I guess." You know he has a point and you do feel better for having this talk with him but jumping back to fully trusting him feels frightening. You hate being vulnerable and right now, that's what you are.

"All I want is for us to be together, and whatever you need me to do to get us there, I'll do it." He said with strong conviction.

You surprised him by standing on your tiptoes and pecking his lips, his eyes remained open in shock. "You're a good man, Namjoon. I'm lucky I have you." He smiled. "But if you ever lie to me again, I swear to god I'm done."

"Never." He swore.

***

It took three more nights of intense conversations with Namjoon before your relationship started to return to normal. Getting everything out in the open was a little painful for your both but once everything that had happened during your separation was no longer shrouded in darkness, you felt better. You both did.

Namjoon had bravely opened up about how he struggled with pills and drugs. You'd learned he'd been partying a scary amount and that's where he met 'crazy girl'. Apparently she was a big party girl and drug user herself, which made sense, considering her erratic behaviour. She was an amateur model and had access to a lot of free drugs, so Namjoon was unfortunately drawn to her.

It wasn't exactly easy nor fun to hear about the women that he'd been with. It was with an embarrassed flush to his cheeks that he admitted a lot of his hook ups had been a blur of nameless faces. He wasn't proud of it, he'd never been a guy who fucked around, even before you met.

You were surprised to learn he'd spent time in rehab. Mostly it was just therapy but it allowed him to be in a better state mentally and therefore able to cope. Namjoon had got teary when you told him that you were proud of him. It wasn't easier to better yourself and succeed. He told you it was all for Siwoo and you understood that fierce protective desire completely.

During the third night, when you lay in Namjoon's bed, each on your side and facing each other you realised it was time to come clean about your secret now. You squeezed your entwined hands that lay on the pillow between your heads. "Namjoon, in the spirit of being honest...I need to tell you something."

"What is it jagi?" His brow furrowed at your tone.

You gulped. "I'm pregnant." He was silent and his expression never changed, which immediately worried you. "I'm sorry I didn't say anything sooner but I was going to do something cute by just giving you the sonogram instead of doing it in this lame way, but -

" - That's amazing." He interrupted your nervous rambling. A grin started to spread on his face.

"Really?" You asked cautiously.

"Are you joking? It's fucking great news!" He exclaimed. Namjoon let go of your hand and quickly placed his large palm on your lower stomach. "How far along?"

"Only 9 weeks." You playfully shoved his hand off of you. "You won't be able to feel anything yet." You laughed.

"I'm excited. I knew something was up when you weren't drinking and throwing up." He admitted. "It's going to be so different this time round. So much less stress and worry. We can actually enjoy your pregnancy."

"I'm excited that you're excited." You said. "I was scared to tell you. After everything we went through..."

"It's going to be different this time." He repeated. He kissed you passionately, lips crashing against yours as if he was trying to show you just how much he meant his words. Arms snaked around your torso as he held you close. "We're going to have two kids soon." He murmured. "Are you ready for this?"

"Nope." You laughed and he joined you. "But I wasn't ready the first time and we managed."

This time when he kissed you, you could feel him smile against your lips. "This feels like a dream. I'm so happy." He managed to get out in between presses of his mouth against yours. You were elated. "Can't wait to see you pregnant again."

"You mean, fat." You corrected.

"Noooo," He groaned, frustrated. "You looked so sexy when you were pregnant before." His hands slid underneath your shirt, along your stomach to cup and squeeze at your breasts. "You had big ass boobies." You can't help but laugh, he was like a horny teenager when it came to boobs. "Filled with milk for my baby."

His thumbs brushed against your nipples and you stiffened at the sensation. He kept repeating the action and you could feel a dull ache in your core at the sensation. "s'feels good." You murmured, trying to concentrate.

"Yeah?" He pulled back a little to gauge your expression. "Can I keep going?"

You nodded, appreciating the fact that he was asking for permission since you hadn't slept together since your argument. He peeled your shirt from your body and leaned down to plant kisses all over your breasts, thankful you weren't wearing a bra to bed. A dreamy sigh escaped you as your hands carded through his hair.

"D'you know what else I liked about you being pregnant?" He said huskily, still fondling you.

"Tell me." You had felt insecure at the time, and had been feeling it again after seeing the model you knew Namjoon had slept with. Some reassurance would be welcome.

"You were swollen in all the right places." The heel of his palm began to grind down slowly against your panties, having worn only those and a shirt to bed. Namjoon's lips wrapped around a nipple and your pussy pulsed in response. "The curve of your stomach, hips and ass was so fucking sexy."

"Really?"

"Mhmm," He hummed and your underwear was moved to the side. "It was sexy because you looked like a woman. Not just a hot girl." His fingers moved in slow circles against your clit and you feel yourself growing wet especially fast. "And you were off-limits to any other man than me. I put my baby in you and every other man could see it."

"Fuck, Joonie." You whimpered after he hit one particularly sensitive spot, hips jolting slightly. "I didn't know you had a pregnancy kink."

He smirked against your skin, his breath fanning across as he laughed a little. "Me neither, until I saw you."

Briefly he stopped to pull the remnants of your clothing off leaving you fully naked. "Namjoon?" You asked hesitantly, feeling shy. He hummed in response, sliding his fingers into your wet heat once more. Something had been playing on your mind this entire time. "That girl was beautiful."

He groaned. This time it wasn't a sexy groan. "Don't talk about her when I'm touching you like this."

"I keep thinking about her. She's prettier than me." You admitted. He stopped what he was doing, gripping the bottom of your chin, forcing you to face him when you tried to hide the fact that tears were welling in your eyes.

"She's nuts."

"You didn't disagree with me." You pouted. He sighed. "I'm feeling really insecure right now. I'm about to have another kid and my body is going to be wrecked, again. And girls like that are incessantly throwing themselves at you."

"I don't think she was prettier than you. And even if I did, who cares? She isn't beautiful where it counts. I just told you how sexy I think you are and you still don't believe me." He looked sad, it made you feel guilty.

"Sorry I'm being stupid." You mumbled.

"Don't be afraid to tell me when you're feeling like this, I don't want you to feel bad while I'm trying to make you feel good." He insisted. "Just remember that what I feel for you is so much more than how you look. But you're sexy, you're pretty, you're kind and you're an amazing mom. I'm so attracted to you that I'm still hard even through all this just because I'm near you and you're naked." He laughed, guiding your hand to his crotch for emphasis. He wasn't totally hard but that was an erection if you ever felt one.

"I love you so much." You told him sniffling. "Sorry for being a moodkiller. I'm hormonal and emotional right now."

"Tell me about it." He teased. "Can we carry on or are you out of it completely?"

You answered him with a kiss.

He took his time with you that night and you knew that extra effort came entirely from a place of pure, authentic and true love in his heart. Namjoon ate you out until you were a mess beneath him, able to coax two orgasms out of you before agonizingly pushing his stiff length into you.

Whispered praise in your ear made you feel desired in a way like you hadn't experienced before. He cradled you as he fucked into you, encouraging you to keep your legs wrapped around his waist, ankles locked around his lean body.

"Don't think I could never want you, especially like this." He breathed into your ear, slowly pounding into you. "You're the love of my life."

"Joon..." You moaned, tears stinging your eyes, leaking onto the pillow. You were too emotional right now for sex like this. "Please." You begged.

"Tell me you love me, tell me how good I'm making you feel." He commanded as his hips slapped into you faster this time. All you could think about was his bare skin against yours while you clung to him as if your life depended on it. Every drag of his cock inside you felt like you were made for him.

"I do, I love you so much." You moaned. "You're perfect. No one has ever made me feel like this."

When he came he groaned loud enough that you were certain he woke the sleeping child in the next room.

Your suspicions were confirmed when the pitter patter of tiny feet echoed down the hall. Namjoon leapt away from you so fast, he tangled himself in the sheets and fell over, emitting a loud curse word.

Once Siwoo had been successfully put back to bed (and escaping unscarred, having seen nothing a three year old shouldn't witness) you and Namjoon stifled silent giggles. "I guess I enjoyed that a little too much." He laughed, getting comfortable to sleep.

"Top 5?" You asked, climbing into bed beside him. It was a running joke between you about your favourite sexy time moments. You don't remember when it started and it's hard to remember every single time but there are definitely some stand out moments.

"Top 10." He yawned. "It would be higher up, but I hit my shin pretty hard when I tripped."

"I love you, you clumsy idiot." You whispered, kissing him on the nose.

"I love you too baby."

***

You loved how Siwoo looked in his father's arms. Really, you should gently remove him from the tight embrace Namjoon held him in so he could sleep properly but the sight of the two asleep on the sofa was turning you to mush. They both slept with their mouths hanging open in the exact same way, the only difference was Namjoon snored lightly.

You couldn't resist and snapped a few pictures.

As you watched them you were glad you couldn't move on whilst you were technically single. Even a small part of you regretted attempting to even be with anyone else when this was the only man you wanted right here.

You thought of Mark and the other two guys you'd dated and how empty you had felt, how you'd had to force feelings most of the time. Actions speak louder than words and the fact that neither of you had been able to get close to moving on spoke volumes.

Namjoon was home and always had been.

***

Early pregnancy was a lot more tiring than you remembered this time around. With Siwoo, you'd been relatively lucky and for the most part it had been smooth sailing. New baby was not giving you an easy ride. You'd convinced an overbearingly concerned Namjoon you were well enough to go for a walk but the five times he'd already asked if you were alright showed his worry.

His hand laced through yours as you strolled through a park near your home. It had a beautiful selection of cherry blossom trees, a long time favourite spot of yours. It was his suggestion to get some fresh air after morning sickness had claimed the first half of your day.

The occasional stray blossom petals floated through the air, giving the worn path a story book feel. Even though you weren't 100% you were glad you'd made the choice to go outside, the fresh air smelt sweet and calming.

"Jagi, I've been thinking." Namjoon announced, opting to sling an arm over your shoulder instead. You realised it was the first time he had ever been able to be affectionate with you in a public space. You leaned in closer to his side.

"Do tell."

"Let's have a wedding."

You looked up at him, perplexed. His gaze remained straight ahead. "We had one. You should remember, you were there."

"That wasn't a wedding, that was standing in an office." He corrected with a scoff. "What I'm trying to say is lets have a big celebration. One all our friends can come to. Would you like that?"

"Maybe? I don't know. I've never thought about it." You mused. "That could be fun."

"I thought it could be like an official fresh start. We never had the chance to do it like everyone else." He shrugged. "Only if you want to though, baby."

"I think I want to." You smiled. Namjoon hummed a good, squeezing your shoulder affectionately. You carried on in a comfortable silence.

"One more thing," He said after a few moments. "You need this back."

A hand slipped into his pocket and out came a small jewellery box. Without having to peek inside you already know what it contains. The ring you had given back in a fit of anger nearly a few weeks ago. He flicked the box open and offered it to you. "You're not going to get down on one knee?" You joked. He rolled his eyes.

Willingly you accepted it from him and put on the ring. "I had it cleaned for you."

You admired the silver that adorned your hand for a moment before handing him back the box. "Thank you."

The two of you didn't talk much more as you finished your route through the park. You didn't need to. Everything he'd done for you (and not just today) had said enough.

***

"Siwoo, I have told you to pick up these toys five times now!" You yelled down the hallway, exasperated by your seven year old's will to ignore simple instructions. After escaping the infamous terrible two's with him you noticed he was barrelling to being a defiant child. You raised your voice a lot more these days. "Don't make me tell you again!"

You knew it was futile by the distracted Yes Mom that he replied with. You instantly could tell he was either playing video games or on youtube, both his new favourite pass times. As you attempted to grab a ready made bottle, a loud smash came from the living room and you hurried through, worry clenching your chest.

"Oh baby girl..." You cooed once you'd noticed what had caused the noise. Your two year old, who was just figuring out that she could walk had accidentally smashed a picture frame when she'd tried to use the coffee table for balance. "I left you alone for half a second and you're trashing the place." You sighed to her.

Quickly you checked her over, ensuring she was unharmed. She was. Gently, you slung her over your hip, this time taking her to the kitchen with you. She struggled the entire time, eager to get back to her new found freedom of walking. However as soon as she realised she was getting fed, her mind was quickly changed.

The sound of Namjoon arriving home caught your attention. You were glad he was home. As much as you loved your children, an entire day alone with them was harder than any job you'd ever worked. You were still between nanny's and were picking the slack up yourself.

"There's my girls." You could hear the smile in his voice before you saw it. Namjoon reclined in the doorway, watching you and Eunha, an enamoured look on his face. He crossed the room, kissing her first on the cheek before meeting your lips in a peck. "Where's Siwoo?"

"Bedroom," You sighed. "Tell him to get his toys please." Namjoon nodded, able to read your frustration straight away as his phone and keys where placed on the kitchen counter. He left to do what you'd asked of him.

Once you'd managed to get Eunha down for bed, you joined Namjoon and Siwoo who were picking the toys up together. You picked up the smashed picture frame that you'd momentarily forgotten about, smiling at the image. It was an official photo from your 'second' wedding, you and your husband smiling like lovesick kids with Siwoo between you, looking adorable in his tiny suit.

It had been a wonderful day, being able to celebrate properly with your loved ones. The day had been a blur, but the best kind of blur; ending it with sore cheeks from smiling so much.

"What's that?"

Namjoon's question brought you back to the present. You flipped the picture frame round to show him it was broken. "Courtesy of Eunha on one of her missions."

"You look so pretty in that picture Jagiya." Namjoon stretched over and kissed your cheek. Neither of you missed how Siwoo's face screwed up in disgust at the sight of his parents kissing. A knowing smirk was shared between you and your husband.

"Thank you for that boop!" You kissed your son's head when he was finished the task. It was frightening how tall he was getting, you suspected he would be taller than Namjoon when he was older. He trudged back to his room grumbling about how he was too old to kiss his mom. You couldn't help but laugh.

Namjoon wrapped his arms around you as soon as you were alone, kissing you properly this time. "How was your day?" He asked quietly against your lips.

"Long." You sighed, resting your head on his chest. "You?"

"Busy."

Lately he had been putting in more and more hours at the recently expanded studio. Ever since Yoongi had started a family of his own they'd even hired an entire crew of people. Things couldn't be better for your husband's career and you were more than thankful how lucky the two of you had been.

His hand stroked the back of your hair lovingly. "The best part of my day is coming home." He yawned, holding you tight. You hummed in agreement, that was the highlight of your day as well. Ten years total together and that had never changed.

Not one moment was taken for granted anymore and when all was said and done, you knew you would be with him, always.

MASTERLIST

#kim namjoon fic #namjoon fic #namjoon fanfiction #bts fanfiction #namjoon content #bts fanfic #bts ff #bts fic #namjoon fanfic #namjoon smut #namjoon angst #bts smut fanfic #bts smut #bts angst #kpop smut #kpop angst #kpop fanfiction

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captcas · 3 years

Text

Screwed (A Destiel AU)

Screwed by capthamm (Part 1 of 2)

Dean inherits the old family inn and has to move home to fix it up for selling. When the work proves to be too much, he enlists in the town's only contractor's help– his neighbor, Castiel. Dean is short on time, stuck in a hometown riddled with old flames, and falling for the man who lives next door. He's screwed.

notes: I'm halfway through season 7 and missing Mr. Castiel on my screen so this poured out. I'm almost finished but here is part one. My first ever attempt in the Supernatural fan fiction world... please be kind. Thank to my lovely beta, Luke <3 (@bawley_bug) read on ao3

At this point, Dean’s left thumb had been hit by the hammer more than any of the nails and he was regretting every single choice he ever made that led him to this exact moment.

Why the fuck did he think he was cut out for restoring an inn? Not just any inn– the inn. The one John ran before he got too old and retired, eventually– well let’s just say Dean isn’t here out of any sort of living guilt.

Dean’s not sure why he’s here.

If he breaks it down, it’s because he received a letter in the mail exactly two months after the passing of his father detailing how Lawrence would have no choice but to tear down the old inn unless someone from his family claimed it.

Sam’s not going to leave his law practice and the life he built for Jess and the twins, out in California.

Dean’s the only one left.

So, taking things extremely literally, he’s here because a bunch of lawyers told him he needed to be.

Another slam into his thumb jolts his train of thought off its tracks and convinces him to pack it up for the night. He snaps the tools back into his massive toolkit and stands back to look at the old built-in shelves he decided would probably be the easiest to tackle on his own. Nodding at the good-enough outcome, he turns to scan the rest of the main floor.

Maybe the built-ins are the only thing he’s going to be able to do alone.

Dean doesn’t like the thought of teamwork– especially not with the grumpy prick who lives next door. His neighbor stopped by the day Dean arrived because apparently it was John’s dying wish that their neighbor offer his services when his estranged son eventually showed up to fix the inn. (Leave it to his father to leave Dean feeling inadequate from the great beyond.)

“No, thank you.” “Excuse me?” “You offered, I’m declining. Debt, paid.” "As you wish, Winchester.” Even wrapped in the neighbor’s deep lumbering voice, Dean winces at his last name– it feels just as constricting as it did when he thought he’d be stuck in this town forever, “Dean.” “Whatever.”

Dean thought that’d be the last he’d see of the guy until he marched away and slammed the door just across the small garden. That house used to be for whatever innkeeper his parents had hired, but when the inn closed they rented it out to whichever soul felt like a one bedroom one bathroom home was enough to live in.

Apparently that was this asshole.

They’ve seen each other three more times since then, but never long enough to even exchange names. Dean isn’t sure why he’s keeping track– each time just as unpleasant as the first. Sure, Dean could’ve been friendlier, but warning bells rattled through him every time the neighbor’s stormy eyes met his. Dean may have sworn off unnecessary human interaction for the foreseeable future, but he’s not blind and his neighbor isn’t hard to look at.

But his life has no room for attractive neighbors with an attitude problem.

Convincing himself there must be someone else in this town who knows their way around a fixer upper, Dean heads to the Roadhouse for dinner and hopefully the name of someone else to help him get the inn fixed up enough to sell.

Walking through the front door of the restaurant-meets-dive-bar, the familiar smell hits him like a breath of fresh air. He can’t believe he held out for almost a week before eating here. The Roadhouse is one of the few places left in the town left untouched by rotten memories and painful nostalgia. Nothing but good ever happens once he crosses this threshold and it’s that fact that allows him to relax for the first time since moving back to Lawrence.

He starts to order his usual and Jo winks signaling she remembers even after all these years– Dean can’t believe she runs this on her own now. Jo always swore she’d get out of this town, break the chains of her mother’s legacy, but nevertheless here she is– here they both are.

Jo looks happy, maybe even at home– Dean? Not so much.

The plate drops in front of him and Dean catches his old friend lingering a bit. He looks up and says thank you and that was all it took to spark some small town gossip from Jo. While he didn’t come back to rekindle any old relationships– friendly or otherwise– Dean doesn’t mind her company and before he knows it he’s laughing and taking his last bite of burger. The conversation starts to die and Dean remembers why he came to town in the first place, “Oh! Jo, I meant to ask. I’m fixing up the old inn and I need help. Do you have the number of someone who–”

“Of course, Dean! Chuck retired, but Castiel took over, after Gabriel ran off to Thailand.” Dean raises his eyebrow and Jo laughs, “ That’s a story for another meal. Here,” she hands over a napkin with a number scrawled across it, “Castiel is the best in town and will fix up that inn in no time.”

Castiel.

Dean racks his brain for any recollection of someone named Castiel from their childhood but the name doesn’t ring a bell— and a name like that definitely would ring a bell. He supposes people must move to Lawrence, just like any town, and resigns it to someone new since he left.

He can’t expect everything to stay the same while he spent the last 15 years trying to change in every way imaginable.

Thanking his friend for the help, Dean pays and heads home for the night. Finally having the name of someone to help has lifted a huge weight off his chest. He sighs as he crawls onto the old mattress in the first floor suite, thankful it’s dark enough that he can’t nitpick all that needs to be done. The sooner he can get the inn fixed up, the sooner he can sell it and go back to Sioux Falls and the life he chose rather than the one his parents forced on him.

Maybe it was the comfort of the Roadhouse or the knowledge that this process will move twice as fast with a little help, but Dean sleeps better that night than he has in years. When he wakes with the sun, he feels energized and ready to continue his work on his family’s property.

He decides to start with disassembling the kitchen cabinets and it doesn’t take long for him to find a rhythm in his work— four screws and a trip to the pile, four screws, trip to the pile. Lost in the easy monotony, Dean forgets his decision to call for help until late into the morning. Hoping to catch the contractor before lunch, he brushes the dust from his hands and digs in his pocket for the napkin Jo had written on last night.

He’s not sure why he feels so anxious as he waits for the man on the other end of the line to pick up, but he supposes it rests on the fact that this man only knows Dean by the reputation he left town with— John’s other son.

Sam was always the golden child— pretty blonde cheerleaders and a full-ride to Stanford are not even an exaggeration when it comes to his younger brother.

Dean, on the other hand, was always rough around the edges, emotional, and different — let’s just say he’d go for the cheerleader or the quarterback.

As soon as Dean was shoved out of the closet— his dad walking in on him and Benny not leaving very much up for debate— John shut him out completely. Dean brushed it off as his dad’s way of fighting every piece of homophobia he was raised with, but the fact is: it was more likely he was disgusted by his own son.

But that was ages ago and, from what Sam’s told him, John died swearing his love for both his boys.

Not that Sam would tell Dean otherwise.

“Hello?” A gruff voice breaks him out of his daze and he’s startled back to the present day.

“Uh, hi. Yeah, uh, is this Castiel?” It’s the first time Dean’s said the name aloud and he can’t help but notice how easily it rolls off his tongue.

“This is. How can I help you?” The man is all business, clearly not as affected by Dean’s use of his name as Dean was.

“Oh yeah, uh, I got your name from Jo at the Roadhouse? My name is Dean Winchester and I’m fixing up the old Winchester Inn and I’m realizing the job may be too massive to handle on my own.” Dean winces at his blatant request for help, never one to ask outright for assistance, but as he looks at the pile of kitchen cabinets which need to be sanded, painted, and rehung, he knows he can’t do this alone. He realizes the man on the other end of the line hasn’t said anything when he continues, “Uh, that is if you have the bandwidth for that…”

Another pause before the man, Castiel, speaks again, “I can be right over.”

Dean didn’t really know how to respond, he was expecting to bargain for payment or at least for a delay in starting the project. He’s not used to this immediate willingness to help a complete stranger. He’s about to stumble through a response when he realizes Castiel is no longer on the other end of the phone. He shrugs, and sets it on the counter as there’s a knock on the door.

Shit. The only way Castiel could’ve gotten here that fast is if he’s...

Dean opens the door to the man he’s now seen a mere four times despite his permanent residence on Dean’s property. His neighbor— Castiel— looks different today. The usual softness that accompanies the man overtaken by strong arms, an AC/DC t-shirt, and a tool belt placed perfectly on his hips.

Whoa, Dean.

“Uh, hi?” Dean isn’t sure how one goes about re-introducing themselves to apparently the only help in town after being an ass before. But he’s here and Dean introduced himself on the phone and he still came.

“Hello.” The man– Castiel– greets Dean so matter of factly as he glances around Dean quizzically, presumably taking in the whole of the inn. Dean is a little taken aback by this whole interaction and the way it’s entirely different than any they’ve shared previously. Castiel’s eyes meet Dean’s and Dean can’t help but notice a hint of playfulness before Castiel speaks again, “So you do need help?”

Dean rolls his eyes and Castiel laughs sending a shockwave through Dean he hasn’t felt in ages. He promptly ignores it before motioning towards the foyer and inviting his new contractor inside. They don’t exchange any pleasantries, but rather head right to work. Castiel asks questions about everything from the crown molding and stair railing to Dean’s plan for the half shattered French doors.

The man is thorough and he knows his stuff.

Maybe teamwork with him won’t be so bad.

They finish their walk through and Dean is relieved to hear that Castiel agrees the upstairs mostly needs some fresh paint. John left some money to fix up the inn, but not enough for a total overhaul. After working through the budget, they decide it’ll be more cost effective if it retains its original charm.

“Well, Dean, I like what we’ve got here and I think we can make something out of this.” Castiel slouches into one of the bar stools near the kitchen island as he surveys the room one more time. Dean does his best not to notice the sweat slowly making its way down Castiel’s collar bone and beneath the collar of his t-shirt, and the way he says Dean, and his implication that this is theirs . Dean hasn’t shared anything for most of his adult life– mostly because he hasn’t had anyone worth sharing something with.

But this inn feels like it’s meant to be shared, and Dean can’t seem to find any reason not to do so with Castiel.

“I’m glad you think so. I suppose we should discuss payment…” Dean trails off as Castiel’s gaze becomes confused.

“I don’t intend on charging you a dime, Dean.” Castiel’s matter of fact smile returns and Dean can’t ignore the way his gut flutters.

He’s not a nun, Dean’s been attracted to people for as long as he can remember being alive. From Lucy Jones in kindergarten to a myriad of characters in his adult life, he’s always been a people person loaded with an innate attraction for the kind of itches you scratch and forget ever existed.

Castiel is beginning to feel like an itch he’d like to scratch.

But that’d ruin everything, especially Dean’s plan to sell the inn for as much as humanly possible and then get the hell outta dodge.

“I appreciate that, but I have to give you something…” Castiel waves Dean off and he realizes arguing would be useless. “Thanks.”

Castiel nods before taking time to study Dean until it almost feels awkward. Dean is typically the one doing the studying, and he feels naked under this man’s gaze. They remain in a silence delicately balanced between comfortable and awkward until Castiel speaks again, “Well, best I get back to my place. I will see you tomorrow morning, Dean.”

As Castiel stands, he adjusts the toolbelt around his waist and Dean forces himself to look away, not willing to tempt himself with the flash of skin exposed during the adjustment. The contractor must notice because he smirks slightly before nodding his head in goodbye. If he didn’t know better, Dean would swear Castiel walks a bit closer to him than is necessary. He shakes it off before heading to the bathroom to shower off the grime of the day before checking in with Sam, Jess, and the kids.

. . .

They work surprisingly well together.

His new partner is a quiet but sturdy presence throughout the day– rarely chatting about more than the weather or whatever task needs to be done– but on occasion Dean will learn a bit more about him. He’s started to compile a list of Cas’s likes and dislikes– for example, Cas likes that Dean gave him a nickname.

“Hey, Cas, can you hand me the socket wrench?” "Cas?” “Uh, yeah, short for Castiel. You got too many syllables, man.”

Cas nodded and moved on with the task, but Dean can’t help but notice the small smirk everytime he has to call Cas by name. Cas also smiles whenever a screw goes in without a fight and when the first raindrop of an impending storm hits his forehead.

Dean likes it when Cas smiles. (Apparently Dean’s compiled a list for that, too.)

He’s tried to largely ignore the growing attraction for the man he’s working with for more than eight hours a day, but it gets more difficult with each glance to make sure the other is still in one piece and every accidental touch of hands when they pass off a tool.

At least Dean tells himself it’s accidental.

He hadn’t gotten enough out of Cas to even know if he “plays for that team,” as Sam likes to say. Dean is almost positive John wouldn’t have encouraged the two work together if Cas is gay, but there are moments that give him more hope that he deserves.

“Dean!” Cas’s steady voice startles him from the monotony of painting kitchen cabinets and his overflowing thoughts.

He puts down the paintbrush and walks over to the fireplace where Cas is supposed to be sanding down the mantle, “Yeah, Cas, what is it?” There’s that smile– sometimes Dean wonders if he uses his nickname for Cas just to get a glimpse of it.

“I’m hungry and I’m out of sand paper.” Cas looks up from the stool he’s been sitting on for hours with a hint of puppy dog eyes. Dean isn’t exactly paying Cas so he could definitely come and go as he pleases, but they tend to stick to a similar schedule everyday. Checking his watch, Dean sees it is lunchtime and agrees to head into town for a sandwich.

“I should probably get cleaned up a bit…” Cas trails off as he surveys his dusty jeans and sweat drenched t-shirt. Without trying to, Dean gets lost in the unfairly attractive mess of it all for a moment too long. He looks up to speak again and Cas is smirking almost knowingly.

Shit.

“Yeah, sure. You can use the shower here if you want but no promise there’s any hot water.” Dean scratches behind his ear nervously. This wasn’t any sort of purposeful invitation, but he can’t help but feel a wad of want fall into his stomach. Cas simply nods his thanks before heading into the main floor bathroom with a change of clothes he brought “just in case”. Dean laughed when Cas told him that he’s always that prepared and cited the fact that Cas only lives thirty steps away from the inn. He simply shrugged and said “You never know” and that was the end of that. Dean supposes Cas was right and the change of clothes had come in handy.

Though, not exactly how Dean thought they would.

As he hears the shower turn on, Dean goes back to painting kitchen cabinets in hopes of distracting himself from the very attractive, very naked man that is showering in the next room. It works for a while but eventually the knowledge feels stifling and Dean decides to clean up quickly and wait for Cas on the porch.

“What’re you waiting out here for?” Cas walks outside, resting his arm on the doorframe to only accentuate his bicep muscles. Dean knows if he looks at what is probably disheveled and wet hair from the shower it’ll take every piece of willpower he has not to jump the guy right then and there.

“Let’s go.” He leads Cas to his car without looking in his direction or answering his question. As Dean walks around the back of the impala he sees Cas smirk again.

Bastard.

They take the short drive into town before stopping at the hardware store. Dean needs to pick up some new screws so he can finish the cabinets and Cas needs some more sand paper so they decide to split up and grab what they need. Cas cuts right, beelining for the aisle like he lives here– now that Dean thinks about it, Cas probably does come here a lot– and Dean wanders to the left looking for the screw aisle.

He ends up finding them along with a confused pre-teen boy comparing screw sizes to an outlet cover. Dean laughs to himself before offering his help, “Anything I can help with?”

The boy turns to Dean, startled at first, but then relaxing when he doesn’t sense any immediate threat, “Yeah, that’d be great. My mom sent me in here twenty minutes ago, but I don’t know anything about this stuff.”

Dean laughs, “Well, your Dad should’ve taught you screw shopping at the very least.”

“How could he do that when he doesn’t know I exist?” The kid says it so matter of factly, Dean isn’t even sure he heard him correctly. He scans him for signs of distress, but whatever therapy he’s getting must’ve worked because the kid goes back to comparing screws without missing a beat.

“Fair enough. Here, you’ll want these ones,” Dean grabs a four pack of the screws the kid is looking for and hands it to him. “Then you’ll have extras in case you need to replace another one.”

“Awesome, thanks! My names–”

“Ben? What’s taking you–” Dean winces, he’d know that voice anywhere and the fact she paused means… “Dean?! What are you doing talking to… what’s going on here?”

“Mom!”

“Lisa…”

Ben (apparently) and Dean speak at the same time, both turning towards the woman Dean hasn’t thought about in years. They were something– more than something– for about a year, but John’s pressure pushed Dean out of town and Lisa refused to leave Lawrence... so now they're here, awkwardly looking at each other in a hardware store.

“Lisa, look, I can explain–”

“Dean, I found the sandpaper and I also grabbed some extra paint for that wall in the living–” Dean’s cut off as Cas rounds the corner looking down at the sandpaper packaging and clearly missing all the fun in aisle nine, “Oh. Hi!”

Then Cas waves , an adorable wave that if Dean wasn’t so goddamn turned around probably would’ve sent him spiraling. Dean facepalms to hide his smile and proceeds to rub his calloused hands through his hair trying to decide what to say next. But Ben must be oblivious to the absolute shit storm happening a foot above his current height because he chooses this moment to chime in, “I was confused about which screws to get and Dean offered to help, Mom. That’s all. And look,” Ben holds up the package Dean handed him what feels like an eternity ago, “Got ‘em!”

That kid just saved Dean’s ass.

Lisa still looks a little stunned to see Dean– his return had seemingly not reached the far ends of the town gossip chain quite yet– but then she glances back towards Cas… and then back to Dean.

He’s about to correct her when she surprises him with a hug.

They didn’t exactly end on bad terms, but he probably could’ve been nicer when he told her he was leaving.

Hence why the hug catches him off guard, as does what she quietly whispers in his ear, “I’m glad you found someone that makes you smile like that again.”

Dean can't even formulate a correction before Lisa’s telling Ben to thank Dean for his help and the pair is heading down the other end of the aisle. He turns towards Cas who is staring intensely at a speck on the floor by his feet, but seems to be smiling all the same.

Maybe Dean isn’t wrong about him.

They check out and head back to the Impala in silence. It isn’t until they get home after swinging through the drive thru that Dean even realizes he forgot to grab the screws.

#Destiel #destiel ff #dean winchester #castiel #deancas #castiel owns my soul #where the fuck did destiel come from?#capthamm #please be kind I've only watched halfway through season 7

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justwritethatdown · 4 years

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Bechloe Week 2020 – Day3: Drunk Texts

We were bound to be together

An au where Beca didn't get together with Jesse and that allowed her relationship with Chloe to grow.

The way Pitch Perfect 1 should have gone ;)

Set during Beca’s first two years at Barden; everything goes as it should, nothing angsty happens and everyone is happy. Just a sloppy falling-in-love story between two college girls, told through their drunk texts, kind of...

Rating: T

Words Count: 2.5K

Thanks to @viharistenno for being my beta

Read here or on AO3

She took my arm, I don’t know how it happened

After Hood Night, Beca was lying on her bed; the weird buzzing in her brain caused by alcohol made it hard for her to fall asleep. She wasn’t used to drinking and partying with strangers until late night, but she had to admit it wasn’t the worst thing she’d done. That Jesse seemed nice after all, a little pushy maybe, but Beca knew she needed a push sometimes, maybe she should give him a chance-

Her phone buzzed on the nightstand

CHLOE BEALE: Im so glad that I met you xx

BECA: Yeah, you kinda mentioned that…

Beca bit her bottom lip and a bright smile formed on her face. There was something about Chloe, that didn’t make Beca want to push her away. On the contrary, it was rather a pull, that made Beca want to get closer to her.

She placed the phone on her stomach, letting out a heavy sigh, smile still present on her lips. Beca couldn’t believe she actually auditioned for an acapella singing group, just because a crazy – naked – girl told her to, after crushing her shower and forcing her to sing with her; it was a situation that normally would have made her run for the hills and yet, she went to the audition – and she got in – and to the following party. Beca didn’t even know how that happened, Chloe had dragged her into this whole new world, and she was kinda okay with that.

It confused Beca; for the first time her instinct didn’t tell her to push this person away, it told her to get to know her better, to become her friend, but most of all Beca wanted Chloe to like her, she wanted to impress her. She checked her phone to see if Chloe had texted her anything else, but there were no new messages, so she let out another sigh – a disappointed one this time – and put the phone away.

Maybe Chloe was still with shower guy, they seemed to be pretty close at the party. Her stomach twisted and Beca huffed again; the way Chloe had grabbed her arms and how close she got to her while talking, gave her some vibes, for a moment she’d thought that the redhead was flirting with her – a thought she wasn’t completely opposed to – but then she saw her with that guy while she was busy talking to Jesse, and kicked herself for being so delusional, she was well aware they were having sex in the sowers, they were obviously together.

Beca shook her head and rolled her eyes to herself, turning to her side to try to sleep.

I felt it in my chest as she looked at me

CHLOE: Admit you had fun tonight! :P

Beca was a bit more tipsy than usual – okay, let’s say she was drunk – but it wasn’t her fault; Amy arrived there with the clear internet of getting the brunette drunk that night. She dumbly smiled at her phone and almost gave in, but then she remembered their bet.

“I don’t know why I let you drag me to this stupid party” she spat out when they arrived at the ΣΒΘ frat house.

“Come on, I bet you’re going to have fun” cheered Chloe making Beca roll her eyes.

“I doubt it” stated the brunette.

“We’re here bitches!” screamed Amy going straight for the alcohol table, followed by Stacie.

When her head started to spin, Beca realized that maybe she’d let Amy fix her one drink too much, but she didn’t care, not when Chloe was leaning in so close to whisper things in her ear – shout actually, to be heard over the loud music – and had one arm wrapped around Beca’s shoulders; the weight of Chloe on her felt amazing and the way Chloe looked at her made her heart do funny things in her chest.

Beca definitely blamed it on the alcohol, but deep inside she knew it was the same feeling she had the first time they met at the activities fair; that smile Chloe gave her and those blue eyes, so deep that Beca felt like she was drowning in them, knocked all the air out of her lungs and she felt her heart racing.

Even if she did run away that time, Beca just couldn’t stop thinking about her, until that girl jumped in her shower, making Beca incredibly frustrated and embarrassed. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t help but looking – more than once – at the girl’s naked body and her mind wandered without her permission. Chloe was undeniably beautiful, and her confidence made her even hotter.

Beca should have known then that she was gone, but – always oblivious to her own feelings – it took her several weeks of parties and rehearsals to know that she had, in fact, fallen head over hills for the redhead.

Suddenly Beca felt Chloe stepping away from her and saw the girl launching herself into Tom’s arms. The brunette found herself downing the remains of her drink and accepting a new one from Amy. The rest of the night is still a blur, she vaguely remembered Jesse helping her through her dorm room door and saying good night, at which she believed she grunted before the guy closed the door behind him.

Beca frowned at the memory and looked back at her phone; there was a new message on the screen

CHLOE: you disappeared tho. Stacie said you left w Jesse :(

BEC: yoy wr wit Tom

CHLOE: I told you I was going to say hi and when I came back you were gone >.<

BEC: are u tofether?

CHLOE: No, I’m alone

BEC: no I mwan ar you datingm

BEC: ?

Chloe started typing and deleting and Beca started to freak out; she’d known this girl for less than a year, she saw her with Tom from day one, she had no right whatsoever to be upset about them dating, even if Chloe had been sending her mixed signals from the start and was annoyingly touchy and loving and not-so-unintentionally made Beca’s head spin more than alcohol did

CHLOE: No, he’s not my boyfriend. We used to be fwb but I ended it a while ago because I started to like someone… :)<3

Just keep your eyes on me

The following day Beca felt like shit; her head hurt, and she felt nauseous, that’s why she was immensely grateful to Chloe for dragging her to that stupid party the night before their special rehearsal’s session.

“Remind me to kill you when this is over” she lamented when Chloe greeted her with her usual bright smile – the girl clearly didn’t drink as much as Beca did the night before – and a quick hug

“Can’t wait” winked the redhead, making Beca’s blood boil in her veins.

Chloe really looked amazing that morning and was clearly making an effort to be noticed by the brunette; she managed to make even that idiotic hostess choreography look beautiful. It wasn’t just the dancing, Beca found every movement Chloe made incredibly sexy, maybe because of that half confession she had made the night before, or maybe because Beca knew Chloe was doing it on purpose; she knew it because Chloe basically never dropped her eye contact with Beca, almost like she was trying to cast a spell on her, and maybe she did.

“You’re on a mission today huh?” Beca hushed to her during a break

“I don’t know what you’re talking about” answered Chloe wearing a shit eating grin

“Well, better for me then, I’m enjoying the show” she shot back without thinking too much about it and regretting it right away, but the fire it lit in Chloe’s eyes told her she’d said just the right thing.

“What’s with all this eye fucking?” suddenly spat out Amy, making the room giggle. Except for Beca who became bright red, and Aubrey who cleared her throat glaring at Chloe, who innocently smiled biting her lip.

“Did you finally hook up or something?” asked Stacie in amusement

“Can we focus on the damn choreography?” asked Aubrey grinding her teeth.

Deep in her eyes, I think I see the future

Beca’s plan was simple: to go to college for one year, convince her dad that she tried and have him send her to Los Angeles the following year to finally start working towards her dream of producing music. However, something along the way went incredibly wrong, or rather incredibly right, and now all she wanted was to stay there with those nerds who somehow became her family.

The look on Chloe’s face when they won the finals made Beca realize that her future wasn’t in LA, her future was right there with those girls, with Chloe. In that moment Beca felt like she belonged there; she saw her next few years at Barden, with the Bellas, and in the hug they shared, Beca felt that Chloe would be part of her life forever.

The girls celebrated in the Bellas’ sorority house and they all, even Aubrey, got incredibly wasted. Most of the girls had already moved there from their dorms and wouldn’t have to go anywhere after their party.

During the night Chloe made sure to let Beca know, more than once, how sad she was that the brunette had decided to really leave for Los Angeles in the end, instead of moving in with her, and she never left her side the whole night. They drank together and laughed and danced, and they almost kissed, but Chloe pulled away last minute confusing Beca. When Beca asked her why, Chloe mumbled with watery eyes “you’re leaving, what’s the point?”, but immediately cleared her throat and dragged Beca to dance with the others. In her inebriated state, the music and Chloe’s body moving rhythmically against hers, were enough to distract Beca from that statement. Only later, walking back to her dorm, it carved its way back into her mind.

BEC ♡: I not gng to LA

CHLO: ???

BEC ♡: im stang heee

Chloe’s reply was a string of emojis Beca was too drunk to interpret followed by

CHLO: yoy styng w the bellassssss

BEC ♡: im staying fr you

CHLO: were gnna be cocaptnsss!!!

This woman is my destiny

Beca’s second year at Barden started out completely differently from her first one; she was living in a sorority house along with eight other girls and was co-captain of the acapella group she led to victory the year before.

Her relationship with Chloe evolved in a strange way; they acted like a married couple now, but they never crossed the line, both too scared of ruining what they had. With Aubrey gone, the Bellas were their responsibility and Beca knew that was what mattered the most to Chloe, so she chose to focus on their acapella group. For Chloe, not because she was scared of fucking things up, obviously.

Their mutual pinning was clear to all their friends; some of them – Amy – teased them about it, while others desperately tried to help them figure it out.

One night, during one of their let’s-get-drunk-because-why-not nights, they were playing truth or dare

“Beca” started Stacie “truth or dare?” she asked with a wicked smile, making Beca sweat

“Truth…” tentatively answered the brunette

“Do you have more than platonic feelings for anyone in this room?” asked Stacie raising an eyebrow. Chloe held her breath at that and Beca was the only one to miss it, too occupied freaking out

“Dare” blurted out Beca “dare, I meant dare!” Beca’s heart started beating dangerously fast, hoping that Stacie would have let her change her reply, but the girl’s eyes twinkled and Beca knew she’d fallen right into her trap.

“I dare you… to kiss the girl you have the biggest toner in the world for and release us all from this ridiculous sexual tension you two generate” commanded the tall girl rolling her eyes.

Beca felt all the air leave her lungs. Everything was silent around her and all she could hear was the uneven beating of her heart. She swallowed hard looking at Chloe to see what her reaction had been and the girl’s hesitant smile calmed Beca a little.

Beca wasn’t one to back down from a challenge and the alcohol in her system only made her more competitive, but most of all, there was nothing in the world she wanted more than to finally kiss Chloe, so she crossed the circle they were sitting in to reach the redhead on the other side of it. Chloe was biting her bottom lip in anticipation and Beca could see in her eyes that the girl wanted to kiss her just as much as she did.

Beca gently rested her palm on Chloe’s cheek. They didn’t speak, but they didn’t need words to communicate; their eyes were saying all they needed to say. They expressed how much they both wanted to do this, but only if the other was okay with that, and that it was going to be okay. They completely forgot they weren’t alone.

Beca leaned in and kissed her, Chloe wrapped her arms around Beca’s neck and pulled her closer, letting out a sigh that made Beca’s heart flutter. They stayed there, kneeling in the middle of the living room, kissing slowly and deeply, their lips moved together as if they were dancing. Beca wasn’t sure who deepened the kiss, but as soon as their tongues touched, a million fireworks went off in her brain, covering the sound of their friends whooping and clapping and wolf whistling – Amy – and making her forget her own name.

Beca couldn’t have enough of Chloe’s lips. When the kiss ended and Chloe tried to move away, Beca desperately chased her mouth and started kissing her again, gaining a chuckle from the redhead. The two girls were only separated by Amy accidently bathing them in tequila while waving a bottle in the air, shouting that they had to drink to that.

After two – or was it three? – Bhloe drinks, as Amy had named them, Beca was still snuggled up next to Chloe. They shared some quick kisses during the rest of the night and when they decided to go wrap it up, Beca really wasn’t ready to sleep. All she wanted to do was kiss Chloe all night long and the morning after, and for the rest of her life. When Chloe pulled her in for another kiss, she was happy to welcome Chloe’s tongue in her mouth again

“Good night, baby” whispered Chloe against her lips before leaving.

Beca was lying awake in her bed; she could still feel the ghost of Chloe’s lips lingering on hers. She took her phone and started typing.

BEC ♡: I lied at trth o dre I dont have a tner for you

CHLO: Bec…

*CHLO IS TYPING*

BEC ♡: Im crazy abt yoy! youre my destiny

BEC ♡: you’re

CHLO: you jst gve me a heartattack yoi asshole1

BEC ♡: srry xD

CHLO: wnna cme here to sleep w me?

BEC ♡: we r drnk…

CHLO: I jut wanna slp

BEC ♡: Any wll tease th shit out of us

CHLO: I don’t care

CHLO: I miss u

Beca didn’t really use much her bed in the Bellas’ house.

#bechloe #bechloeweek #Bechloe week 2020 #beca mitchell #chloe beale #pitch perfect

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crackerjackawrites · 3 years

Text

Dante's Divine Disappearings (2450 Words)

A trans girl with disapproving parents is invited to meet Dante, a mysterious spellcaster who claims he can help her get away from her current life (originally written January 2021)

I change people’s lives. It’s quite easy actually, people who need me will find my flyer:

DANTE’S DIVINE DISAPPEARINGS

Want to get away from your current life?

Want to change who you are forever?

Want to leave it all behind and start afresh?

Well come down to Dante’s Divine Disappearings and we’ll whisk you away from your current plight and land you in a new, much happier life.

Then there’s an address beneath, but it changes depending on where the person lives. It’s always in some creepy alleyway that no one goes down. What can I say? I still have a flair for drama.

As a Private Transmuter, I’ve changed people into all sorts. Made them older, younger, a man, a woman, someone in-between and - get this - even animals. In fact, a new customer is on their way now.

“So Harry,” that wasn’t Jess’ name, not anymore, “When are you going to finally grow out of this phase of yours?”

Jess had come out to her parents months ago now, it was the worst mistake of her life. She knew that trying to get them to understand was a lost cause at this point. Jess just sat there, her arms crossed over her chest, refusing to discuss the matter with her parents anymore.

Her mother pointed an accusatory fork her way, “It’ll happen eventually, it always does,” her father chuckled at that.

This was hell. Jess focused on her meal, a slice of chicken pie with mashed potato. It was one of the last good things that came from her parents now, most of her time at home was either spent alone in her room or hearing this constant barrage of bigotry from the two of them. She tried to be out of the house as often as possible. After finishing her meal, Jess quickly got up, took her plate to the kitchen, and marched upstairs to her room.

She practically collapsed onto her bed, letting out a large sigh as she did so. She couldn’t wait until she was finally old enough to move out, then she would be happy and free. She opened her window to let some air into the stuffy room. Hell, it would be great if she could get out of here now.

There was a rustling from outside, Jess stuck her head out the window to see what it was. As she poked her head out to find the source of the noise, a paper crane was blown through the window. She jumped back. The paper danced around the air for a while before Jess snatched at it abruptly. She unfolded the note, it read:

DANTE’S DIVINE DISAPPEARINGS

Want to get away from your current life?

Want to change who you are forever?

Want to leave it all behind and start afresh?

Well come on down to Dante’s Divine Disappearings and we’ll whisk you away from your current plight and land you in a new, much happier life.

Head to:

The alleyway between 31 and 32 Jackdaw Street

Philadelphia

Pennsylvania

USA

That was three blocks away! It seemed suspiciously perfect, but Jess had only ever come out to her friend Max - and her parents of course - so who could try and trick her with this?

She called Max.

Ring!

He picked up, “Hey Jess, what’s up?,” it was good to hear his voice after that ordeal downstairs.

“Hey Max, could we meet up? I have to go somewhere but I don’t want to go alone.”

“You have to go somewhere? What does that mean?”

“It’s hard to explain, I’ve just been given this address.”

“Doesn’t that sound sketchy?”

“I mean, yeah… that’s why I need you there.”

He sighed, “Okay fine, meet at my house?”

“Sounds good.”

Max always knew that if Jess was determined to go somewhere then it wasn’t worth trying to stop her. He doesn’t even try and resist anymore.

Jess didn’t want to deal with her parents. She walked over to the open window and looked down. Was she really going to climb out of her house at 9 o’clock at night to leave her whole life behind? Of course she was. She could quite easily slide down the drain pipe. She didn’t want to disappear without saying anything though, so she grabbed some paper and a pen:

Mom & Dad,

I’m leaving. You’ll never see me again. I cannot stand living in this house anymore.

I hope that, eventually, you can overcome your hate but I’m not sticking around waiting to see it.

Yours confidently,

Jessica.

She folded the note and placed it onto her pillow. Then ran back to the window for the last time. It was a long drop if she fell, but it was worth it. Jess grabbed on to the drain pipe and slowly slid down it until she hit the ground.

She’d finally done it! She’d escaped!

It was a 25 minute walk to Max’s place, but Jess ran it in 15. Max was already standing outside the apartments when she arrived.

“You look warm,” said Max.

Jess panted, “I ran the whole way. Plus it’s the middle of summer so it’s not exactly a cold night,”

Max chuckled, “So where are you taking me?”

“Ummm,” said Jess, pulling out the note, “The alleyway between 31 and 32 Jackdaw Street.”

Max snatched at the note, “Let me read this!”

“Hey!” Jess called, but she let him take it. She was too tired after the run to resist.

He studied the note for a minute as they walked.

“This is super sketchy, dude.”

“Yeah, I know...” she sighed.

“Don’t worry, though. I’ll stick with you!”

“Thanks,” Jess smiled, “I’m glad.” Max smiled back.

The pair stood at the opening to the alleyway, between a small fabric store and an independent café. Garbage bags were littered down the alley, one had a large gash in it that was spilling used coffee cups and cake wrappers. A tall, black door stood at the end, dwarfing the kids with its grandeur and intricate carvings. Multiple different animals were carved into the door; a frog, a tiger, a toucan and a bear - a peculiar line-up to be sure. Jess creeped up to the door and reached for the knocker but before she grabbed it, the door swung open.

The room was pitch black, save for a single candle that’s fire highlighted a small chair facing away from the door. As they approached the door, someone spoke from the darkness.

“I’m sorry, Jessica. I wasn’t expecting you to bring a guest,” two quick claps sounded from the shadows and the whole room lit up. A tall figure stood across from Jess and Max. He was wearing a black suit and jacket with a red tie and gloves. His skin was a dark brown that, along with his outfit, stood out from the pale peach walls of the room. He also held a long, black cane with a model rabbit’s head at the top.

“How do you know my name? Who are you? What is with this place?” Jess had so many questions. She’d been so taken aback by the person that she hadn’t noted the rest of the building’s interior. It was an absolute mess. Shelves lined every wall, filled with all sorts of peculiar objects: a large jar containing a lizard floating in a pink liquid; a vial of something green that seemed to be boiling at room temperature; and what looked to be a raging storm trapped inside of a bottle, to name a few.

“I’m magic, I’m Dante, this is my house - it’s also magic.”

Dante walked forward and Jess could finally see him in detail. He had a very young-looking face with fierce, brown eyes. His near-black hair was short, so short that it must have been shaved only a few weeks ago.

“Hey!” called Max, “Get back from her!”

“Calm down, kid,” said Dante, strolling past the pair, “I’m getting you a seat” Dante had met Max for all of a minute, his patience was already being tested.

Max flinched at being called a kid. Jess knew that, while he was only 16, Max thought of himself as very mature, and hated being seen otherwise. Dante opened the door the pair had entered through. Instead of the alleyway, Jess could just make out a large hall with rows of metal folding chairs, there were also a few balloons scattered on the floor. It looked like some sort of sad party. Dante snatched up one of the chairs and brought it back through. He placed it beside the other.

“Here you go, kid,” Max and Jess could only stare, blankly at what they’d just witnessed, “Sit down.”

The pair instinctively took their seats, and Dante moved to stand before them.

“Jess, you’re going to have to introduce me to your friend here. Like I said, I wasn’t expecting company.”

“Umm,” Jess was taken aback by Dante, she didn’t know what to say, “This is Max,” she looked over at Max, he had his arms crossed and was narrowing his eyes at Dante. Jess couldn’t blame him.

“Well hello Max,” Dante reached one hand to each of the kids, “And hello Jess of course.”

They each shook Dante’s hand. Jess asked, “How do you know my name?”

“Well I already told you, I’m magic,” he smirked, “If it helps, I’ve been spying on you for quite some time,” Jess’ eyes widened in disbelief, she couldn’t believe that he would admit to that, “...or maybe that didn’t help.”

“You-”

“Yep!” said Dante, trying desperately to divert Jess from accusing him of anything, “I’ve seen your situation at home. You want out, don’t you?”

“Well… yes, but that doesn’t-”

“Yes!“ Dante cut her off again, “And I have a solution. However little Max here has certainly become a complication.”

Max scowled at that.

“What if I were to tell you that you could leave it all behind! Finally escape this place you call home. With one catch,” he paused (for drama), “You have to leave everyone from before.”

Jess and Max recoiled in unison, “What?” they both cried.

“I’m sorry, it’s part of the method. You have to leave it all behind.”

Jess started, “But... but-”

“Look, like I said I’m sorry. That’s why I was hoping you’d come alone. So you didn’t have to face this - face him - in person,” Dante gestured to Max.

“Please, Jess,” said Max, “You can’t just leave, can you? I mean, you can be happy here.”

“Max I’m really sorry. But I don’t think I can be happy here anymore. I know you think you know nearly everything about me but the truth is that you can never understand what it’s like to live my life. There’s no way I could make it out of that house alive.”

Max looked down and sighed.

“What if Max came with me?” Jess blurted out. Max’s eyes darted.

“I suppose that could work,” said Dante.

“Jess, no!” Max waved his arms up, “I’m sorry but I couldn’t. I’m really happy where I am.”

Jess looked down at her legs, “I’m sorry. I didn’t even consider whether you wanted to,” she said, “You’re right. And I can do this on my own. Thank you, Max.”

“Alright kids, are you done? I’ve got a schedule to keep. Actually, I don’t. But this is getting boring.”

“Obviously it’ll be a shame to lose you, but if you’re happier there - wherever there is - then I’d be happier for you too.”

Dante looked at Jess, “Are you ready? Have you made peace with everything?”

“Yes,” she stood up and looked at Max.

“I’ll miss you,” he said, smiling up at her. Jess shed a tear.

“I’ll miss you too.”

Dante has taken Jess into a new room, leaving Max alone with his thoughts. That really was the last time he’ll see Jess. His best friend since they were six. She’d changed so much in that time, grown into the best person he’d ever known. He’ll miss her, obviously. But he knows this was best for her. For... who? The name slips from Max’s head. No! This was his best friend! How could he forget their name? He has memories with them! No, they were gone! He can’t even remember what they looked like! What who looked like? Where is he? Max started to panic.

The door behind him swung open, a man and woman walked out; the man in a black suit and jacket, the woman in a flower-patterned summer dress, she looked almost familiar, she was only a few years older than Max. He stared at them in confusion.

“Scram, kid!” said the man. And Max vanished in red smoke.

“What happened to him?” asked Jess, her hand still held up to her chest from before.

“Don’t worry, he’ll wake up in bed tomorrow. Anyway, we need to talk about you, young lady.”

Jess squirmed with excitement, “I know!” she was still getting used to her new voice, “I look great! Thank you so much!”

“So. You are Jess Bennet, a Philadelphia girl who just moved to England to study. I’ll get your luggage now,” Dante walked back through the door, which now led into a cloakroom, and returned with a large suitcase with the same daisy pattern as Jess’ dress. Jess giggled with excitement again.

“There’s all the I.D. you’ll need in there, some clothes, and some cash,” Jess’ face lit up at that, making Dante smile too.

“Thank you, again.”

“Hey, it’s what I do. If you’d just step this way,” he walked over to the door again and opened it. This time it opened to a bustling square, students could be seen walking between the buildings that surround it.

“Wait,” said Jess, “It’s like 10pm here. Shouldn’t it be really early in England?”

“Oh yes it should be,” said Dante, “But time doesn’t exactly work how it’s supposed to in my place. Right now it’s 8:43am and you’re nearly late to the first day of the rest of your life,” Dante said with a smirk.

Still smiling, Jess walked, perhaps for the first time in her life, with true purpose. Here she was, a fully grown woman, living the life she’d always dreamed of, even if it meant leaving some things behind. She’d miss Max, of course she would. But she knew that he would be happy if he could see her now.

Max woke up in a sweat. That was a weird nightmare. It felt like one of those dreams that lasted way longer than the time you spent sleeping. He’d made a new friend, Jessica, grown up with her through their entire childhood, and then had all the memories with her drained from his mind. He could remember them all again now though, it felt like a story now. Good times. It was a shame he’d never get to meet her.

#writeblr #writing #writblr #lgbt fiction #urban fantasy #lgbtq #transgender #fantasy #fiction #crackerjackawrites #dante

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spaceskam · 4 years

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our fainted thrill carries on (1/13)

and the season 2 fix it is here! warning for anxiety, ptsd, canon referenced violence (aka mentions of jesse), etc!

ao3

Michael watched Isobel drag Max’s body across the ground.

She was yelling at him to help, Liz was arguing with her, Kyle was trying his best to subdue the situation, and Rosa had left the cave pretty much the moment he entered to get away from Isobel. It was all too much for him on top of all the other bullshit he was already feeling.

His hand throbbed, aching with a dull handprint with nothing on the other side. He was attached to nothing. He supposed this was the true feeling of emptiness. The worst part was that he was still pissed at Max. He was pissed at him for being selfish, for shooting at him, for healing him, for acting like his problems didn’t matter. But wasn’t he the dick for hating a guy who was dead in front of him?

“Michael! Help me!” Isobel spat.

“That pod’s broken,” he offered limply. They all gave him their attention for some reason.

“What do you mean it’s broken?” Kyle asked. He seemed to be the only one with a level head which made sense. He was a doctor and all. Plus, he’d been slightly less likely to die in the last 48 hours than the rest of them. Felt fair that he played the calm guy.

“You put him in that thing and he gets fucked up like Noah.”

Isobel gave an irritated, mournful whine and then started tugging Max’s body in the other direction. How much did Max weigh? Over 200lbs? Probably. He was tall and he worked out, so over 200 made sense. How did alien BMI work?

“Michael! Why are you just staring?! Help me!” Isobel spat, dragging him out of his thoughts. Or, kind of. He tried to focus, he really did. It didn’t seem to work, his mind drifting away soon after she got his attention.

He didn’t like this feeling, this emptiness. It brought him back to nights alone in the airstream when Max was always busy being a cop and Isobel was always busy with everything she could get her hands on. Bringing him back to those moments brought him back to missing Alex. It ripped that band-aid off, pushing him towards that crash landing like always. He hated it. But in the moment? In the moment it felt good. Maybe he could figure out a way to have both…

“Guerin,” Kyle suddenly said, right in front of him. He genuinely looked concerned which was strange. “Are you alright? Are you in shock or are you having a panic attack? Or something else? Are you sleep-deprived?”

Michael blinked a few times and then looked around. Liz and Isobel had gotten a blanket and were in the process of getting Max’s body in that blanket to make him easier to carry since Michael was useless.

“I’m fine,” he said. Kyle gave him a look.

“Go home,” he said. Which didn’t sound right and apparently his face betrayed that. “You’re not in a good state of mind and you’re not going to help anyone, especially not yourself, if you stay here. So go home and get some sleep. Can you drive?”

Michael nodded, “I can drive.”

And drive he did.

Alex eventually gave up waiting outside Michael’s trailer, realizing that he wasn’t coming home.

He tried not to jump to conclusions about why. He knew Michael had to be going through some shit on top of what happened the day before if that little moment he’d seen him said anything. He could give him some space until he was ready.

Or, at least that’s what he thought until he entered his cabin and found Michael sitting on his couch in the dark.

“Hey,” Alex said when he saw him, locking the three locks on his door behind him. Michael didn’t look up at him, face just so painstakingly sad as he stared at the coffee table. Alex dropped his keys in the bowl beside the door and just waited for him to say something or do something.

“Max is dead,” he whispered, voice breaking, “My mom is dead and Max is dead and Isobel told me I need to move on and I tried, but I… I don’t know why I’m here.”

Alex slowly walked towards him, deciding the best option was to treat him like a wounded animal. He didn’t ask any questions as he made himself known by stepping in his line of sight. He wasn’t sure if he could actually see him, but he was trying his best. Alex noticed his hand was no longer scarred, a glowing layer on top of his skin. He ignored the mixed feelings that stirred in his stomach at the sight.

“You’re always welcome here, okay? No questions asked, no matter what you do or need,” Alex promised. Michael blinked slowly and his eyes drifted slowly to meet Alex’s, his current state of mind portraying how much he didn’t believe him. “I’m not going to be another person you lose, alright? It’s not happening. Tell me what you need.”

Michael was silent for a moment and then another before Alex realized he didn’t have an answer. He didn’t know what he needed. He wondered if anyone had actually ever asked him that before. So, he stepped a little closer and slowly but surely pulled him into a hug. They didn’t hug often, but he needed it. Honestly, they both did.

What Alex didn’t say was that he was thankful he was here. Caulfield was all too fresh on his mind and, even someone as great at compartmentalizing as he was, it was hard when it involved someone he loved and that someone was not doing well in its aftermath. It was just more shit and he knew if he felt like that, Michael must’ve felt it even more. So he wasn’t going to add to it, he was going to take some away.

“I’m gonna go get you a blanket and you can sleep on the couch. I’ll call Liz or Kyle and have them fill me in, you sleep,” Alex whispered to him, trying his best to be some form of comfort. Michael held onto him for a little bit longer before eventually letting go.

Alex did as he promised, fetching a blanket from his bedroom as well as a pillow. Michael pulled off his boots and curled up on the couch while Alex covered him up. He watched him for a moment, watched him cocoon himself for some semblance of comfort. Alex’s heart ached for him, but he couldn’t just watch him all night, so he went to his room and got his phone.

He called Kyle and grabbed a notebook, taking notes as he got filled in so he’d be able to order his thoughts better. Max was dead, Rosa was alive, Isobel had insisted they work on bringing Max back, and Liz was refusing to acknowledge the facts.

“Okay, what do you need me to do?” Alex asked, drawing a line under the top half of his notes and starting his first bullet point.

“Um, I-I guess we’re going ahead and trying to fix Max,” Kyle said, his voice hesitant and unnerved. Which made sense. In the margin of the page, Alex scribbled ‘make Kyle talk about Caulfield’. “So if you can help me find a space to make a lab, I guess?”

“I can do that,” Alex agreed, “Guerin’s here by the way. I know you don’t care, but I figured Isobel might.”

“Okay, good, good. I’ll tell the girls,” Kyle said. Some rustling sounded on his end and then he spoke again in a hushed voice, “I, uh, also need to talk to you about your dad.”

Alex sat up straight, his eyebrows furrowing. His heart skipped a beat involuntarily and he grabbed the remote on his bedside table, turning on his TV that showed a screen of all the cameras he had around his house. No one was trespassing outside, the doors were all locked (though he’d double-check before he took his prosthetic off), and Michael was still in a ball on the couch.

“He tried to shoot me,” Kyle said, voice still soft but he was clearly on edge.

“Excuse me?”

“I was wearing a vest and I put him in a medically induced coma. I just got him in the hospital when Liz called me, so I know where he’s at and he’s incapacitated as of right now, but this isn’t forever. We need to move Project Shepard headquarters soon or it’s going to get bigger than this,” Kyle warned. Alex decided not to tell him that it already was bigger than this.

“Okay, I’ll work on shifting everything I’ll work on finding a lab space. Hopefully in the same building and we’ll see what we can do. We can talk more about the specifics tomorrow, I guess. Are you good, though?” Alex asked.

“I’m as good as I can be. Sore, a little confused on how to be a brother all of the sudden,” Kyle sighed, “Look, I gotta go. Liz is trying to fill Rosa in on a decade of information, so I’m gonna try to help or something. Fuck.”

“Okay, take care of yourself. Call me if anything goes bump during the night,” Alex told him.

“I will.”

They hung up without saying goodbye.

“Michael.”

Michael sighed and looked up from the car he was working. Isobel stood a few feet away, face cleaned up and dressed almost regal as if that would cover up the fact that Max died last night. He was dead. Dead, dead, dead.

“What?” he asked. She scoffed, shaking her head.

“What is going on with you? That was so uncharacteristic for you to just leave and then I find out you went to Alex’s? After everything you said yesterday?” she laid out, not wasting any time. He didn’t respond right away. He didn’t really know how to. There wasn’t much to say. He’d hit his limit.

“What do you want me to say, Isobel? Nothing happened between us, I just ended up there because…”

“Because you love him,” Isobel filled in. Michael turned his focus back to the car. “And I know nothing happened because there’s something wrong with you and I don’t know Alex that well, but I know enough that he wouldn’t do anything when you’re... like this. You were off before Max decided to play martyr. So, what happened? Tell me.”

His jaw clenched, gripping the hood of the car until his hands ached. His left hand had a glove on it, hiding the handprint that felt like a taunting reminder of everything, but it still seized up far too fast. It’d been hurting all night and now all day and Michael had to wonder what exactly Max did to him if he didn’t heal it.

“Michael,” Isobel said firmly.

“What? What do you want me to say?” he demanded, “If you knew I was so off, why didn’t you say anything when we were talking yesterday? I thought my relationship problems weren’t that big a deal compared to yours?” Her eyes narrowed at him.

“This isn’t a relationship problem,” she said, scoffing, “It feels closer to the way Max felt after he brought back Liz. Like something is literally wrong inside your head, you’re on edge.” Michael scoffed, slamming the hood and turning to face her. “I didn’t say anything then because I didn’t feel it as strong until Max’s went out. Liz thinks that since my connection to him is shut down, the one I have with you is stronger.”

He felt something hit him deep in his gut. How was she doing that? How was she talking about Max dying as if it was just a small inconvenience? Hell, he barely even liked Max half the time and it felt like much more than an inconvenience.

“Okay,” Michael said, waiting for her to go on. Waiting for her to give him more of a reason to speak.

“What is wrong with you?” she said, ordering him like always.

“Honestly, Iz, none of your business.”

He pushed past her, heading towards the airstream so he could try to order his thoughts. But she followed because of course she did.

“I reported Noah missing this morning,” she said, dropping the subject of him. That got him to stop walking. This was too much. As many times as they’d been involved with a murder, they never had been so close to that person when they were alive. Reporting him missing meant it was real, meant they were going to find him, meant they were on the radar. Isobel stepped closer, lowering her voice. “I did it so I wouldn’t be as suspicious, I need to play the part of a grieving widow and I need your help.”

“Need my help? For what?” Michael sighed. He was tired again. He’d slept so hard at Alex’s, how was he so tired already?

“Liz is going to be working on the science-y part of bringing Max back,” she said. He furrowed his eyebrows.

“What does that have to do with you playing widow?”

“I need you to help me work on my powers and work on the science part with her,” Isobel said. He still stared at her, wondering how overworking him meant helping her play a role. “But, when the time comes, I need you to be on your best behavior, okay? People know I’m friends with you and I don’t need them thinking one of us killed Noah to be together.”

Michael stared at her for a little while before nodding. What else was he supposed to do except agree? Still, she took it as a positive and hugged him.

“Also, I think I’ll have to keep some space from Liz and Rosa. Rosa kind of wasn’t happy about me staying at Max’s last night and looking at Liz kind of pisses me off right now.”

“Iz…”

“I know, I know. It’s not her fault Max did what he did, but I’m still working on that, I’ve only had a few hours,” she said. Michael nodded and she again gave him that look. “When you’re ready to talk, I’ll listen, okay?”

He wasn’t sure if he could believe that.

“So Rosa’s good and my dad’s stable?”

“Yeah, I did tests on both of them. Max literally healed her completely, like any sign that she’d ever abused narcotics are gone. Guy gave her a brand new brain,” Kyle said, rolling his eyes. Alex couldn’t help but give a little smile. “And, like I said, I’ll make sure to keep your dad under until you’re ready for it. It’ll be hard since Flint is technically his medical power of attorney, but I’m already breaking rules for worse shit, so.”

“Thank you, man, I really appreciate it,” Alex said, sipping on his beer. Kyle gave a warm smile.

“Rosa said she wants to see you, by the way,” Kyle said, sipping on his beer. Alex tilted his head. “Yeah, she told me she asked Liz to tell you, but I honestly don’t think Liz is on par with where Rosa is. Like, Rosa isn’t really adjusting to having everyone back in her life, just the time jump, so she wants her friends around and Liz is… struggling.”

“I mean, I don’t blame her. It’s gotta be hard,” he agreed. Kyle gave me a look that said ‘you have no idea’ and then took a large swig of his drink. “But, yeah, I’ll make time and I can go see her tomorrow morning.”

When Alex had woken up that morning, Michael wasn’t there anymore. However, his dirty clothes were and he’d stolen some of Alex’s because they were apparently on the level of relationship where he did his fucking laundry. Besides that, though, he made a pot of coffee before he left and Alex was content enough.

“Speaking of, uh,” Alex said, eying Kyle, “Are you good? It’s been a rough couple days. Where’s your head at?”

Kyle raised an eyebrow. “Alex Manes, are you trying to talk about feelings with me?”

Alex rolled his eyes. “Fuck off, I’m trying to be a good friend or whatever the fuck. Nevermind.”

With a laugh, Kyle said, “I’m okay, I’m just a little more paranoid which isn’t a bad thing considering. Are you okay, though? You and Guerin cut it close getting out of there.”

Alex shifted in his seat. He’d slept twice since Caulfield, but he could already tell he had a brand new shade of red added to his nightmares. Hell, the only thing that got him back to sleep the night before was seeing that Michael was safe on his couch through the cameras. Part of him wanted to ask Guerin to keep coming back every night, but he didn’t want to sound needy.

“I’ll be okay. I’m more worried about him though,” Alex admitted. Maybe he had too much to drink or too little to eat or both. Kyle didn’t say anything. “He was so shaken up.”

“Where’s he at now?”

“Knowing him? Drinking and fucking with shit to pretend like he’s fine,” Alex sighed.

“Pretty sure Liz is doing the same,” Kyle said, tilting his beer bottle behind him. Sure enough, Liz was a few seats away talking to Maria and taking shots. She didn’t seem to notice that they were there.

“He did what?” Liz said, her face twisted in response to the tequila and doing a fantastic job at hiding the fact her boyfriend just died and that she was harboring a zombie.

“He just left without telling me why and now he won’t respond!” Maria groaned, rolling her eyes, “Boys are so stupid.”

“I can’t believe he was even here yesterday,” Liz laughed. Alex couldn’t help but furrow his eyebrows, listening a little closer.

“Yeah, it was honestly kinda romantic before he left. He came in after the storm and just kissed me then played guitar for me, we kissed some more,” Maria said, giving an overexaggerated pout, “But then he ruined it by ignoring me, so.”

“Give him some time. I’m sure he had a good reason,” Liz said. Maria leaned a little closer.

“You know what was weird though? I noticed when he was playing‒his hand was healed. Like, I know it wasn’t like that two days ago, that’s weird, right?”

Alex felt his heart drop, confusion tying knots in his stomach. He kissed Maria. He went to Maria after he promised he would meet Alex, but then chose to go to him after Max died. What the hell did that mean? Was he too embarrassed to be sad in front of her? And to think he almost bought that she would actually step away.

But they weren’t together. Even if Caulfield happened, even if he tried to get his point across, even if he threw his dirty jeans in with his uniform that morning. They weren’t together.

Alex cleared his throat and tried to focus back on Kyle who was already watching him.

“You wanna go?” Kyle asked before he could even try to act like that hadn’t thrown him for a loop.

“Yes, actually.”

“Got it.”

“Oh, shit, you got buff.”

“Don’t tell him that.”

Alex grinned nonetheless, rolling his eyes as Rosa felt his biceps during their hug. He’d forgotten how much he missed her. It felt weird, hugging her and being reminded that she had been his idol back in the day. He’d wanted so badly to be like her when he was young, but now she was still 19 and he had grown out of everything she taught him.

“He already thinks he’s hot shit,” Kyle added once they pulled away.

“As if you don’t think you’re hot shit,” Alex shot back.

“Boys, boys, don’t fight, you’re both pretty,” Rosa insisted. They both let out soft laughs, sitting on the couch of Max Evans’ house like it was normal. But he supposed it would have to become normal.

“Where exactly is Liz?” Kyle asked, “I mean, I know they found Noah’s body this morning, but I thought she’d be here with you.”

“She left this morning to go to work and I think she has plans to meet up with the aliens to discuss what to do with the white savior,” Rosa explained. Alex snorted, folding in his lips to suppress a laugh.

“So, just a question, who all knows about this alien bullshit? Like who am I allowed to talk to?” Rosa asked, “Because the idea of being stuck here forever with just Liz and Isobel Evans dropping by kinda makes me want to scream.” Alex laughed, rubbing his leg mindlessly as he readjusted on Max’s stiff couch.

“Um, I think you’re all caught up on who knows. Me, Kyle, Michael, Isobel, Liz. That’s it, I think,” Alex said. He was technically leaving out a couple people, but that was territory he wasn’t in the mood for. Besides, those were the only people that mattered.

“What about Maria?”

“Why do you know, but not Maria?” Rosa asked, gesturing to Alex. That confused him and he looked to Kyle as if trying to understand why that had anything to do with anything. However, it became a little more clear when he remembered just how much of a package deal they’d been at one point in life.

“So, I don’t really wanna get into all the gritty details, but my dad was involved with alien shit. I found out through that and I’ve been using my military clearance to make sure no one gets caught when they do things like resurrect dead girls,” Alex pointed out, giving a teasing smile. Rosa snorted.

“You went into the military?”

“Air Force,” he said. She scoffed and leaned back into the couch, shaking her head at him.

“No wonder Liz thinks you’ve changed.”

Alex cocked an eyebrow. “She said that?”

“I mean, yeah,” Rosa said, “I asked if you could come over, but she acted like you weren’t the same person that you were when I saw you last and I had to ask Quarterback here to even get in touch with you.” Alex tried to not let that hit so hard. It made enough sense. It must’ve been hard to like him now that he wasn’t so nice, right? He shifted in his seat and Rosa, of course, spotted it immediately. “But fuck that, you know? I know Alex and you still own a room, so you’re still there.”

“He definitely does more than own a room now though,” Kyle jumped in. Rosa made a face like she didn’t have to be convinced to believe that.

“What about your music, though? Or boys? C’mon, give me all the gossip, I’ve missed out on a decade of boy drama. Spill.”

“Okay, I can’t really help on this topic, so I’m gonna raid the kitchen,” Kyle decided, earning laughs from both of them as he exited. But Rosa just leaned forward, eager for whatever he had to say.

“I don’t have much boy drama, sorry to disappoint,” he said, smiling sweetly. She rolled her eyes.

“Bullshit, you’re a fine piece of ass and you always have been,” Rosa insisted. Laughter bubbled out of Alex easier than it had in weeks. “At least what about Michael? He’s still around, so, like, something happened.”

Alex smiled a little sadly as she brought him up. He’d almost forgotten that she was the only one who knew, mainly because she was the only one who could see it from a mile away. He didn’t have to tell her anything, she just knew. She felt like his only safe space for so long and it was strange to remember that maybe, just maybe, he could have that back.

“Well, to shorten a long story, we’ve been kinda on and off since high school. We’re both just… It’s hard to be with someone when their family literally hunted your entire family, you know? I don’t blame him for not wanting me anymore,” he blurted. Rosa tilted her head, looking at him without a single ounce of pity. He loved her for it.

“Alex, fuck that. You’re a good person and if he doesn’t get that, then fuck him,” she said. He smiled and tossed his head back on the couch, groaning slightly.

“No, no, it’s just a lot. We keep just fucking up around each other. I push him away, he pushes me away, we never seem to be on the same page,” Alex tried.

“Then get on the same damn page,” she insisted. He looked over to her.

“How?”

“Alex, I know this sounds scary, but you speak to him.”

He huffed a laugh, glossing over how terrifying that actually sounded.

Talking with Rosa again felt like a certain type of therapy he didn’t know he needed, even if it was weird to throw Kyle in the mix. She was always able to unscramble things in his brain in a way that he understood. Even if right now, they were simply talking about what she’d missed over the last decade and they were skipping the serious stuff. This felt good.

A few hours passed and they’d agreed to hang out more until they could figure out what they were actually going to do about her. Honestly, it felt like the first conversation Alex had had in a while that wasn’t life or death. It was casual. And you know what?

Alex felt better.

The night before, after Alex had gotten back from the bar, Michael had shown up and let himself inside.

He was wearing his own clothes, the ones he stole from Alex nowhere to be seen, and crawled onto the couch without a word. Alex had watched in silent amazement as he re-locked the door without looking. He hoped one day he wouldn’t be so impressed every time Michael used his telekinesis. It would have to happen one day. Today wasn’t that day, though, and they shared no words as Alex let him sleep there. As confused as he was, he promised him a safe space and he wasn’t going to take that away.

If he slept a little better that night having Michael so close, no one had to know.

Tonight, Michael did the same thing. Alex, however, feeling a little more confident after his talk with Rosa, walked over to the back of the couch. With a mug of tea in his hands, he peered down at the man he loved more than anything in the world. He looked rough and sad, but equally adorable as he had the blanket pulled up to his nose. Eventually, he felt eyes on him.

“Is this your way of telling me to go?” Michael asked, his voice set like he expected this to happen despite the fact he never opened his eyes. Alex shook his head.

“No, I said you’re welcome and I meant it,” Alex told him, “But I do want to make it clear that I meant what I said before that too. I want to feel like myself and I want to stop fighting stupid battles and work on separating myself from my father. That means if we’re going to be around each other, things have to be different. We can’t repeat. We need to be completely open with each other so I can help you and your siblings.”

Michael opened his eyes, looking up at him with skepticism. He was always so skeptical of Alex unless they were fucking. What did that say about them as people?

“What if I don’t want your help?”

“Well, too bad. I’m doing it for more than just you. Which means I’m re-enlisting and I’m finding a space for you, Kyle, and Liz to use as a lab while working on whatever the hell Isobel is trying to do with Max that’ll be under military-grade protection,” Alex said honestly. Michael sat up so quick he almost fell off the couch. “But that being said, I would like your permission to look into your mother for just you.”

“Alex, I can’t let you‒”

“I want to.”

They stared at each other for a moment, letting the words sink in.

“Okay. Only if you want to,” Michael said, clearly still processing everything despite his words. Alex licked his lips and took a sip of his tea.

“And I know that you kissed Maria the other day,” Alex said boldly. Michael’s eyes flickered back up to him, frozen like he expected that to be the moment he was kicked out. “We’re not together, so I can’t be mad. But I’m letting you know I know.”

Michael just stared at him, not knowing what to say. That felt good. No wonder Michael left him speechless all the damn time. The power that held made him feel like he had control for once in his damn life.

“You’re still welcome here,” Alex told him before saying his goodnight and letting him curl back up on the couch.

Because, as honest as Alex was feeling, he couldn’t tell him how much he needed him only a few feet away.

#malex #malex fic #michael guerin #alex manes #roswell new mexico #my fic #our fainted thrill carries on #season 2 fix it

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catalinaroleplay · 4 years

Photo

Gender & Pronouns: Cis man, he/him

Date of Birth: March 17th, 1983 (37)

Place of Birth: San Francisco, California

Neighborhood: Ventura

Length of Residency: Native — Returned December 2020

Occupation: CEO of Meadows Real Estate

Face Claim: Jesse Lee Soffer

BIOGRAPHY

TRIGGERS: Parental Abandonment, Death Mention, Infidelity.

If you would've told anyone 16 years ago that Sebastian Prescott would one day be considered the outcast of his family… they would've laughed right into your face. There was a time when he embraced the name and everything that came with it. Sebastian became a member of that kind of world by proxy through his father's networking and connections. The Prescott children all lived the fast life, the one where money can buy you anything and everything to the fullest. As one of the middle children, there was a certain kind of freedom where nothing was set in stone, and he was allowed the liberty of choosing his life. Well, until his father Hugh disowned him.

Hugh Prescott grew up one of five children in a lower-middle-class home in Nottingham, a city in the East Midlands region of the United Kingdom. Gabriel, his father, operated a small wholesale produce store while his mother Frieda stayed home, bringing up the children and washing the neighbors' laundry. Money was always scarce. Frieda kept the kids full with bread and vegetables, and when Sunday rolled around, the seven of them would share whatever meat had been cheapest at the store. Given how smart Hugh was, he attended Oxford University after graduation from school in 1955, juggling several jobs to cover expenses. Hugh ended up playing soccer professionally before quitting after a year because of his teammates' frivolous behavior. He then started working for a commercial real estate firm near London and left Nottingham behind. Ten years later, luck struck, and Hugh met Perry Richards, an ambitious man with money who was looking for a business partner with a brain. Wife and kids in tow, Hugh left the UK for what would become the Silicon Valley in the United States.

Their business was to become Richards & Prescott. From years of working in real estate, Hugh had developed a good sense of what land to buy, and Perry handled negotiations with suppliers and tenants. Now a developer in California, he juggled the hard work, first wife Frances, and their now two children. In the following years, the former farmland turned into a considerable profit. It took time, of course, and time wasn't always easy on Hugh. After 14 years in the States, Hugh had to bury his first wife and take care of four children in total while working hard to turn his business into an empire. In 1980, he met Genevieve, a beautiful, smart woman fifteen years younger, and in 1981 he married her. Slowly but surely, the Santa Clara Valley was establishing itself as America's tech hub. As a family, Genevieve and Hugh added four more children to the mix in 1983, 1986, and then twins in 1991.

Sebastian Prescott was born in San Francisco, and two years later, his family settled on Catalina Island, enjoying a private life where no one really knew the business of any of the Prescotts, aside from the fact that they owned a huge house that housed nine people. Given the vast age-gap between the siblings, Hugh's oldest was already attending Stanford University when Sebastian was only two. While the oldest Prescott was making headlines in San Francisco and the Californian mainland, people rarely associated that Prescott with those living on the Island. Not unless they were seen together. It took a couple of years, but things started becoming different once the other two entered young-adulthood. It wasn't hard for gossip to spread in such a small town, and with now more familiar faces being featured in tabloids, people quickly made the connection. They were seen for their money, and life as Sebastian knew it, laidback and normal, was over. The loss of privacy wore Hugh down and turned him into a different person over the years. Something the younger Prescott children always had a hard time dealing with. Genevieve remained the same on the outside but was always worried about her husband on the inside. The three oldest's actions had consequences for the younger: The once laissez-faire lifestyle was over, and rules and obligations followed everywhere.

But rules are meant to be broken. Sebastian grew up in the lap of luxury. Everything he ever wanted was handed to him, regardless of the changes in the upbringing and education. When Bash was younger, he was always easy to get along with. He liked seeing people happy with the choices he made and the actions he took. He was bright and, frankly, the epitome of innocence: Looking to please people at whatever cost, wanting to do and be good. Sebastian felt like he was really getting somewhere with his father, who was so distant from him as he grew from boy to man. But the man Hugh turned into liked to see faults wherever he looked, always displeased and never satisfied. Sebastian could come home with an A, and Hugh would ask what happened to the plus. So, the boy gave up trying and searched for a different source to pour all of his energy into: Friends, girls, and parties. When the last two years of high school rolled around, his mother's role as principal ensured everything worked out perfectly for him regardless. Classes were jostled around to ensure her son would take all the right courses with the right teachers -- anything to make his grades look good for Stanford.

He noticed something was missing by the time he turned eighteen. Once you tasted every kind of expensive liquor, went to California's best clubs, and hijacked a private plane to go to France... there was little else to live for. His life started feeling incredibly empty being surrounded by fake friends and people who only liked him for the money, and where once was the need to break the rules, now laid an inexplicable void that no amount of alcohol or sex could fill. The lack of real friends and a good relationship with his parents became apparent when school ended, and Sebastian was left with practically no one once he distanced himself.

Sebastian's redemption arch would take place over the span of years. Entering college, it took a while until he settled into his 'new' self. By the time parent weekend had come, he'd managed to make one friend and managed to piss off three other people. Things really weren't working out well for him -- especially when he met the one girl that would change his entire life (or, well, a big part of it): Georgina Livingston. Upon meeting her, he used his usual tricks, and when they didn't work on her, he turned to the only other thing he knew to do: annoy the hell out of her. Honestly, she couldn't have been more disinterested. Up until the faithful moment, he'd accidentally tripped her, causing her to spill iced coffee all over her on parent weekend their freshman year. It could've gone better, but soon after the incident, they laughed about it together. Sebastian Prescott had never been in love before, but god, it was a wonderful feeling.

Their relationship wasn't perfect by any means, but Sebastian was willing to work for it. It was honestly the first thing he wanted to keep in his life, wanted to see last forever. But given their ages and sometimes different opinions, their fights tended to escalate more than a couple of times. Of course, they never turned physical, but both knew where to hit to hurt the other person. During one of those altercations, they tossed the word 'break' around, and when Sebastian left that night, he made the mistake of taking it too seriously. All it took was a bar, a girl, and enough liquor to let him wake up next to a random girl the next morning, leaving Sebastian utterly distraught. It could've broken them, it could've driven Geo away, but Bash fought hard to get Georgina Livingston back. Sebastian Prescott bought a ring soon after getting her back, waiting for the perfect moment. But that moment… it never came. At least not until his one-night-stand called him up, informing him that he had an almost-two-year-old daughter and that she couldn't do it anymore. Torn and confused, Sebastian left his home almost immediately, leaving a confused Geo behind.

The news of a kid didn't sit well for his family. In fact, his parents almost went above and beyond to keep him from getting to his daughter. Hugh Prescott was many things, but Sebastian never thought his father would keep him away from owning up to something he considered beautiful. The circumstances were, of course, anything but perfect, but Sebastian knew he had to own up to his mistake and take care of his kid. It was the right thing to do. When he returned home to Catalina, two-year-old Gianna in tow, his father practically closed the door in his face. Disowned; for doing the right thing. So he left Catalina Island and moved to San Francisco, got himself a job, and went to figure himself out as a father of a toddler. Once he felt secure enough, Sebastian returned to Catalina again on a mission to get the love of his life back, to fix what he had broken for a second time. But he came too late; someone else had already picked up the mess he made and fixed his girl. Geo looked so happy, and he couldn't get in the way of her happiness.

It was hard to juggle a job, toddler and dad duties, but Sebastian felt needed. Something he desperately searched for all his life. His daughter Gianna really was the turning point for him. A couple of years into living in San Fran, he reconnected with Gianna's mom Antonia on their daughter's eighth birthday. On a hunt for some happiness of his own, they began dating, first casually, and then it eventually became the real deal. Things looked actually good. Things felt good. At least for a while. They were a real family for about four years before Antonia confessed to being unfaithful. The mom role wasn't for her, at least not for Gianna, who was a full-blown child already. She wanted to do the whole being a mommy thing from the start and actually see her kid growing up without feeling ashamed of having abandoned it early into its life. So, she packed up and left. Leaving Gianna with Sebastian again. It felt like a blow to the face for a while, and while Bash would've loved just to let his disappointment in people take over his life, he couldn't let himself wallow in self-pity forever. Instead, he began to pour his energy into building a business.

Just like his father did all those years ago, Sebastian began working on his business plan. Hugh Prescott always made sure to educate his children about the world they grew up in, which also meant taking them along to Richards & Prescott to show them the ropes. If it were up to Hugh, his children would take some position in his business, just like a couple of them already had. Given that Sebastian disowned, though, he used his knowledge elsewhere. Meadows Real Estate was born on a whim and after a couple of drinks with his friend-turned-business partner.

As Meadow is Gianna's middle name, they chose the name for her, who was the biggest inspiration in his life. His business focused on finding the best houses, apartments, and places for his clients, buying cheap homes and properties, and, most importantly, flipping them into something grand and beautiful. That was the part Sebastian enjoyed most about it. He also prided himself in actually doing the work (or, well, part of it) himself. Gianna's independence was a huge help. When Sebastian was asked about how he did it all while being a single parent, his answer was always easy. Gianna felt more like an adult than a child. She was the one making sure he didn't forget his lunch, did laundry on some days, and was always on top of her school activities. Sebastian got absolutely lucky. Meadows Real Estate turned out to be something outstanding. It didn't take long for it to be successful in the San Francisco area, so an expansion was next.

Sebastian always wanted to return to Catalina Island, just not without having something up his sleeve. Returning home without showing his father he could do well on his own had always been out of the question. Expanding the business to the Los Angeles area, with extra office space on the Island, seemed like a great idea -- especially considering the properties and land the Island had to offer. It also opened the option to work on a couple Bed and Breakfast and vacation home ideas. The permanent move, however, was postponed until everything was sorted out. Gianna needed a place in school, they needed a place to live, and Sebastian needed to work out the client base's nature first. Honestly, so much of his thinking now is thanks to his daughter. While his parents may think stepping up to take care of an unwanted child had been the wrong decision, in reality, it was the best thing that could've happened to him. Gianna changed him for the better, made him a better man.

PERSONALITY

Positive: Outgoing | Responsible | Kindhearted

Negative: Stubborn | Competitive | Impulsive

Sebastian Prescott is portrayed by Nessa.

#all #male #ventura #jesse lee soffer #parental abandonment tw #death tw #infidelity tw

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